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smolvenger · 1 year

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The Cure for Virginity

Robert Laing x fem! Reader Oneshot

Summary: Charlotte thinks you have been a virgin for too long. You should take advantage of a certain fellow tenant at the High-Rise, she says. The best amenity in the building- Doctor Robert Laing.

Word Count: 8K

Warnings: 18+, SMUT Y'ALL (First Time, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, Doctor kink, Virginity kink, dirty talk), Cursing, Mentions of drinking, and loss, Richard Wilder being a prick. But some moments of fluff and romance.

A/N: My first time (heh) ever writing for High-Rise! I hope you guys like it! Comments, Reblogs, Private Messages, and asks about my work are always appreciated!!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @villainousshakespeare(I hope y'all don't mind me tagging away)

"You should be adding on the vows of poverty and obedience!"

“I’m not a nun, Charlotte!” you shot back.

“At this point, you might be!”

You huffed as you kicked your feet in the water of the pool. It was packed with people that afternoon. It was one of the new joys of the place. Even the janitors glided by to clean the floors with mops on their shoes as if they were skates, smiling.

You were getting to know the residents one by one. So far, you had befriended some of the women. Like sweet, quiet Helen with her soft brown hair and a baby bump that was overdue. Helen sat on a chair. She read a magazine as her kids played Marco Polo in the pool. And Charlotte- tall, slender, with dark hair and always a laugh in her smile. But now, the laugh was at you as she waded through the waters.

“Please shut up, we’re in a public space! There are kids everywhere! Can we discuss the sale on baked goods they have in the grocery store here instead?” you begged.

“They might as well learn! Gave Toby the Talk when he was five!” Charlotte shot back.

“Uh-Uhm- anyone watch any good shows on the television lately?” you then changed desperately.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. She shook the water from her ears, her beautiful black hair covered by a white swimming cap. She went up to the pool’s edge and folded her arms over it, resting her chin on them.

“This place has everything for you, Y/N- A grocery store, a spa, a school, a gym, and even a sex life if you want…” she continued.

You splashed the water on her face, and she laughed as she held her arms up in defense.

“But the thing is…I know someone for you. Someone more than able to take care of it…” Charlotte began.

“I’m pretty sure any average penis can do the job! And why do you care so much? It’s a personal choice about my body- none of your beeswax!” you retorted.

She raised one of her eyebrows as she swam to you.

“Not even oral?” she asked.

She would not be silenced by a refusal. You leaned in.

“No!” you whispered.

She pulled herself to the edge. Water splashed as she emerged to sit on the edge next to you.

“Y/N, I have a tip for you- two words!” she said.

She held up a fist and uncurled two fingers with the first and last names.

“Robert Laing.”

“Oh my god, you’re setting me up?” you sighed.

She shrugged.

“Why not? His tongue reached places I never thought it could!” she recalled.

Your jaw dropped.

“Are you seriously setting me up with your boyfriend?!” you cried, leaning forward.

“No! He’s not…” she answered.

“So, he’s your ex…you’re setting me up with your ex!?” you questioned.

“It was a fling- long over now. We’ve moved on. But we’re on good terms! All the women love him for a reason- he’s incredible! You’re going to lose it once, Sister Y/N, it might as well be someone who knows how to do the job. Listen to me-“

She pointed up to the above floors.

“Men have the brothel. Women have Laing.”

She flipped her legs up and walked over to the chairs.

“What do you think, Helen?!” she prodded.

You looked over to see Helen as she reclined on the pool chair. She tipped her lovely face from her magazine.

“Of Robert Laing?” she asked.

“Yeah-in bed!” Charlotte asked.

“Incredible! Nothing like it!!” Helen agreed.

Are you kidding me? Oh god- this place has a gigolo! you thought.

You forced your jaw to shut. High-Rise life wasn’t like normal life. It was a culture shock for you. Here, any proper rules about what was good or bad were out the window. People lived as they wanted and did what they wanted. There was no consequence. Each night, in the middle of the Twentieth floor, you could hear giggles and laughter. You passed people groaning and screaming with sex from their rooms. If not in the halls. The loud music from the constant partying was everywhere the second it was dark. You even heard housewives discussing what drugs they inhaled as they carried brown grocery bags.

“He’s a Shy boy. At First. But if you're alone with him in a bedroom…well, it’s a different man. But it’s not so intense that your first time with him would be too much. Unless you want to try anal,” Charlotte informed you.

You shot a look at Charlotte. Kids ran around the pool and tried to cartwheel into the water by you.

But Helen nodded and smiled. She spoke with the cherubic cheerfulness of a Disney princess.

“Oh yes, even anal with Robert is fantastic!” ❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Besides, you had more pressing matters. There was a party that Royal’s wife, Ann, invited you to. A full 18th-century style ball complete with costumes! And what luck that she had costumes in your size available to rent!

Your gown was a lighter color- a creamy white, right in a shade that flattered you. Every guest was dressed in white or cream in their Rococo attire, like you. Your stays loosened now that they adjusted to your body. There were peals and beading on the bodice. Your large skirt swished as you moved, enjoying a fresh glass of champagne in hand.

You went by to try and make small talk when you felt something hit your skirt and on the ground. It was a bottle of wine. Fallen to the floor. A baritone voice behind you muttered “shit!”

Your stays prevented you from slouching, you squatted down to get it. You saw a long, elegant hand also reach for it. You looked up to see a young man who was not in 18th-century wear but a modern suit. In the black jacket and pants. He stuck out like a sore thumb against all the white of the guests.

But Holy Crap he was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, a soft crop of hair a color between blonde and red, and his suit held a tall, lean frame.

“Oh- I’m so sorry! Did I get your dress?” he asked.

You both got up. Your stomach flipping, you felt self-conscious. The cut of the gown and the stays were better than any push-up bra. It was bumping up your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down there and then jolt back up. Your hands clasped and you brought them up to your neck in both surprise and a surge of modesty.

“No, you didn’t at all!” you insisted.

You glanced at the bottle of Riesling he had- you liked that flavor. You enjoyed getting it from many an evening at the grocery store. Especially when your bank account was low. It was affordable, crisp, and delicious.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You gave him your name. He reached his hand with a smile.

“I’m Laing. Doctor Robert Laing.”

Doctor Robert Laing? That Doctor Laing?! The gigolo!? That was who the ladies were discussing?! You thought.

You stared at him, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Oh! Doctor Laing! I heard of you,” you replied out loud.

You didn’t need to tell him the context though. You offered your hand and offered it for him to shake.

“Good things, I hope!” he added with a wink that made your heart stop.

He accepted your hand, his hands felt ice cold, but soft.

“And how do you know Royal? He wouldn’t invite you if you didn’t know him,” Robert asked.

“Not well. I do see his wife around. Got to chat with her. We wound up getting along. She invited me here. She insisted I go out and get to know the people here…moved in two weeks ago,” you explained.

“Guess I’m still new here too-Month and a half!” Robert chatted.

“What room?” you asked.

“2505,” he answered.

You got to about talking where you came from as he began to light a limp cigarette, puffing at it lightly. He was very polite. His eyes were on you, listening more than talking. You discussed what you thought of the High-Rise. If you have been to the spa yet. Who you met. You then discussed the music playing at the party. You told him the orchestra was playing ABBA. One of your favorite bands!

“Y/N, that glass is already empty- could I fetch you another drink?” he offered.

“Sure thing!”

Right as Robert turned to get your drink, a burly, bearded man in costume blocked him.

“Hey there, dickhead- this is a themed party!” he declared.

Robert Laing could hardly say a word before the brute half-picked him up, dragging him off. He held onto the Doctor’s collar like a cat carrying a kitten. Guests seeing him pass by snickered at Robert’s modern attire. But you followed.

“Hey! Put him down! He didn’t do anything!” you tried to protest.

You beat your fists at Jerkass’s arm, but he swiped you away. He ignored you as he grabbed the wine bottle from Robert’s hand. He tossed the handsome doctor into the elevator roughly. Then pushed the button for it to close.

The Doctor locked eyes with you as the doors slid shut and he vanished. His face looked sad and scared. Far from the swaggering sex maniac you heard of. “Cheap bastard” the Jerkass cursed at the bottle before tossing it on the white fur rug.

Royal’s dog, a white German Shepherd with a bow tie, approached the bottle to sniff it. You bent your knees and picked it up. Yes, it was a cheap brand. But it tasted good. And Robert was trying to be a good guest.

You hid the bottle behind your back until you snuck into the bedroom. The bed was piled with the coats and purses of the guests. You planted it in your large purse by the pillows amongst everyone’s things. Then you turned back to enjoy the party. After an hour, you left, saying you had work early tomorrow. You got your purse and punched the lift to the Twenty-Fifth Floor.

You went to room 2505 and knocked. Robert opened, bewildered. A strand of his hair had flown out and he lacked his jacket. Not that it detracted his looks, not at all.

“Here- your wine,” you offered.

You pulled the bottle from your purse and handed it to him.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he answered.

“Are you okay-You look like you’ve been in a fight!” you asked.

He let out a deep sigh, pressing a hand to his head.

“No- lift broke for a bit,” he explained.

“Oh, that’s miserable! As if being kicked out wasn’t bad enough!” you commented.

He looked down at the bottle. He turned to put it on a chair and then returned to you, leaning closer against the doorframe.

“You seemed to be happy there. I’m sorry I had to make you leave,” he apologized.

“It’s alright. I came to wear this costume. Nothing more.” you added, giving the skirt a swish with your hand.

He leaned a little closer.

“You do look beautiful in it,” he complimented.

Lightning struck you. The edges of your vision had stars and you tried to even process if what you heard was real. He took a step aside, gesturing to his flat.

“But that wine…it’s not as good to drink alone. How about…how about we split it?” he offered.

You froze where you were. Your breath stopped, becoming a lump in the middle of your throat. Your hands turned sweaty.

“I don’t have any food in my stomach for that much booze…” you answered.

His eyebrows lowered, yet there was an honesty in his eyes. Even innocence. No guile to have his way with you. Not like Helen’s husband, Wilder. Wilder would charge at you. Making offers of his bed or the nearest surface. Not caring when you said no. You’d slap him and flee before he could grab you.

The soft way Robert looked at you suddenly made you panic with regret. The words flew out of you like a burp.

“Serve it with dinner and I’ll call it a deal!” you blurted.

Shit, Shit, shit, what the fuck was I thinking? you thought.

Your pulse raced. That was too forward, too bold. But then he nodded.

“Alright. I’ll make it. You don’t have to provide a thing.”

Time stopped. You could hardly believe it.

“Then it’s settled. Are you free tomorrow?” you asked.

“Yes,” Robert confirmed.

“What time?” you asked.

“Let’s say Seven.”

“It’s done. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

He smiled at you.

“I look forward to it,” he answered.

You said your goodbyes. The second you got back to your flat, you threw yourself onto the couch in a pile of white silk of your dress. You put a pillow to your face and screamed into it, kicking your legs in giddy joy. Your maturity level descending.

A date! A date! I have a date! I asked a hot guy out! And he said yes!!!! Oh my god, oh my god, how am I even going to sleep tonight??? ❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The next day, you were out of coffee and bread and headed down to the grocery store. But who should also be there, wheeling a cart, but Helen. She waved at you, gesturing to you to come near her.

“What’s up, Y/N- there’s a look on your face! Was Royal’s fun?” she asked.

“Helen-I met Laing last night,” you reported.

She gasped and then smiled.

“See- lovely fellow! And a looker too, isn’t he?” she teased.

You looked down at your hands on the grocery cart with a smile that confirmed- Yes, he was handsome. Helen kept giggling, a blush on her cheeks. Then you returned up at her, an idea making you frown.

“And are you sure he’s available? I don’t want to make some poor woman miserable, even by accident!” you asked.

“Yes- not committed to anybody…he’s been around. But no attachments. If there was, I’d know!” she confirmed.

Your carts paused in the cereal aisle. You took a deep breath.

“I’m having dinner with him tonight” you announced.

“What! That’s wonderful! You did the work for us!” she chirruped, clapping her hands together.

“What do you mean ‘work’?” you prodded.

“Charlotte and I had a chat, and we had a plan- we were going to set you up with him. I’d go to you and tell you everything about him. Charlotte would go to Robert’s and sing every bit of your praises. Then you’d both agree to meet up or exchange phone numbers!”

You gave a smile and shrugged.

“Thank you-I appreciate the thought! But I’m able to find my own men and set up my own dates of course!” you replied.

You pushed your carts to a corner to talk. You then explained how you met him and the party. Returning the wine bottle and everything.

“He’s even going to cook- isn’t that thoughtful?!” she commented.

“I’m just nervous about it. Dates make me nervous,” you confided.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” Helen comforted.

A lady passed by with sunglasses over her eyes and a bold shade of lipstick. Passerby’s from the aisles asked for her autograph. She half-smiled and signed notepads with a flourish. The dog in her cart leaned his nose close at them to get a whiff, wagging his tail.

“Think of this- you’ll have a lovely dinner at minimum. And at maximum- you won’t be walking when I see you tomorrow,” she reasoned, raising a hand to rub her pregnant belly.

You felt your entire face get hot with embarrassment.

“I’m not the type to kiss on the first date, much less shag! It’s only a dinner-not a wedding night! But I’ll let you know how it goes. So don’t get your hopes up! And Helen, And that goes for Charlotte too! I know you’ll tell her!” you insisted.

Both of you wheeled your carts to get in the long line for the cashier.

“But I still have to…impress him,” you blubbered. Could you even live up to the other women here?

Helen rubbed your back, “If he didn’t like you, he’d say no. Y/N, you know he’s nice! Just wear your best dress-that should make you feel confident!”

You let out a deep exhale. Your carts moved forward in the line.

“Part of me is tempted to cancel. Save myself the embarrassment. Or the heartbreak,” you confessed.

Helen leaned into you.

“Charlotte says he sunbathes in the afternoons. Naked. Get to her place and look down if you want a peek at what to look forward to. That might convince you to go forward.” ❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

Holy shit, this can’t be real. I can’t be doing this, you thought.

Your heart was racing, your finger shaking as you pressed the button to go to the Twenty-Fifth floor. Up it went, up, up, up. You could chicken out and run away, but no- that was being a coward. Didn’t you want this in the first place? Hell, you were the one who flat-out asked him!

What if it all went wrong? What if then he hated you? What if you hated him? Yes, he was incredibly handsome but handsome men could be total pricks. Wilder was as handsome as they come. But the man was a slimy, creepy rat bastard you wanted to shove off the highest balcony. If only Helen would divorce his sorry ass by now. She didn’t deserve him. But what if Wilder was a sweet guy back then? What if when Helen began dating him, he wasn’t like that? People change. What if Robert seemed okay at first and then turned into an asshole who broke your heart or hurt you? What then?

But all that was for later. Now was now.

It’s a free dinner, at least you thought remembering Helen’s words.

Taking a deep breath, the elevator dinged, and you stepped out to the hall.

You checked a hand mirror in your pocket to make sure your makeup was right, and that there weren’t any noticeable stains in your teeth. Your dress was blush pink, showing your shoulders and snug on your body with a flared skirt. Pink, how ironic- that mix of innocent white and passionate red. You had jewelry and earrings complete with heels. The heating broke throughout for a few hours, and you wore a coat over your dress from the chill of the building.

There it was, checking the notepad you had in your pocket and then double-checking, it was the right room- 2505. You entered, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

You knocked on the door and saw him. Your body froze at the sight of him. If this was real. If he was real. He was in a white dress shirt with a grey jacket and black tie. So simple, but so becoming. His eyes were soft when they looked at you, like the gaze of a doe. This couldn’t be the wild sex maniac the women of the High-Rise gossiped about. The man they went to for sex as they went to the spa for massages. Or was he?

“Hello, Robert….” You greeted.

He opened it.

“Please…come in…can I take your coat?”

“Yes…”

You sucked in the air when you felt him behind you, his hands raised up. Taking your coat. They were gentle as they brushed against your shoulders. You felt his eyes drink you in from behind. Seeing your dress. Seeing the outline of your body. But you did not raise an arm or hand to cover yourself, you let him look. He walked over and put the coat over a hook on the wall.

“Welcome, Y/N. You look lovely again. Make yourself at home,” he greeted with a smile.

Your chest fluttered as you mumbled a “thank you.”

You noticed the room- one wall had a tiny square of grey paint on it. But the other walls were tall and brown with rectangular columns- sleek and modern. A few boxes were in the back. There was a photo pinned to one wall of him in a casual shirt smiling and hugging a young woman. You thought you glimpsed a bed in one corner and promptly turned your head away to ignore it. Near the dinner table was a sliding glass door to a balcony like every house as the sun had finally set and it darkened to nighttime. The room was lit a little low- not garishly bright. But not too dark.

You saw him in his lovely suit and his tie. You smiled at him.

“Thank you so much, Robert. The place looks wonderful,” you complimented.

He gallantly pulled out the chair at the table for you. You made a smile too big for your face and your stomach fluttered. Robert made his way to the other end. There was the Riesling along with a small salad bowl and a meal.

“Well, what brought you here?” you asked.

Robert’s hand froze, fork in mid-air.

“It was my…my sister,” he answered.

“She invited you?”

“No, she died…” he replied.

This man at the party held himself like a demigod, a touch of the divine within him. But at the mention of his sister, here you were with the mortal half.

“Oh, Robert…that’s awful…” you said.

He began to blink. He then reached into his pocket, lit a cigarette with shaking hands, and began to smoke. His hands were still shaking after a several puffs with the cigarette. You saw a tear in the duct of his eye. You got up, went to your coat pockets, retrieved tissues, and hurried over to give him one.

“Here…here…” you said.

You heard sniffs. You then handed him a glass of water from the kitchen, and he began to gulp it up. His eyes were puffy with quiet tears. He then glanced at the photo.

“We were close. And she was the nicest, most genuine person you could imagine. She had a full life…but not a long one…” he continued.

“Robert, that’s still a tragedy…and you should grieve how you want….” You comforted, leaning closer to him.

Looking down at your hands, you saw they fidgeted. Glancing around the room, you wondered if now the right time was to even have this dinner. You retreated two steps from him.

“Do you need some space? I can go back to-”

“No! No- please! Please stay…” Robert pleaded, leaning forward in his chair, a hand up to stop you.

“Alright, I will.”

You returned to the chair and sat down.

“Sometimes, I’m over her. I think I’ve stopped crying…then it hits me…I’m sorry, Y/N, you weren’t expecting a crying mess….” He confided.

“I’m pretty sure losing a beloved sibling would make any person into a crying mess…” you reasoned.

He then looked at the dinner…

“We should start. The food might get cold,” he reasoned.

You sat down and began with the rolls in a basket on the table.

“So, tell me…tell me more about your job! I know you’re a doctor,” you queried.

“Well, I’m a physiologist. And a professor…” he said.

As he dug into the salad, his shoulders began to lower. His lips curled to a small smile as he looked at you.

“Not just a medical doctor? That’s impressive. That requires lots of studying to get approved!” you praised, nodding your head.

“I teach physiology to medical students in training. How to do autopsies. One poor chap flat out fainted once in the middle last month.”

“Well, can’t blame him! I see too much gore in a horror movie, and I have to cover my eyes!” you commented.

“It’s the human body! It’s fascinating!” he said, gesticulating with his hands.

He grinned wider and set the cigarette on an ashtray on the table. The salad and main course and side dishes vanished. Time passed easily talking to him. One topic you discussed excitedly so much that you had to freeze your hands from knocking over the Riesling bottle placed next to you. He lit a new one, and began to absent-mindedly smoke, but kept his eyes on you. You sipped on your glass and realized he had finished this.

“Oh, the bottle…it’s on the other side,” he commented.

“Here, let me bring it over. Would you like me to pour it for you?” you offered.

“Yes…”

You went over and poured the glass. He picked up the cigarette, the smoke curling up to twist and melt into the air. Then he looked at you with reverence above him. It was a nice picture. Domestic even. Your gaze met his and you pulled up the wine bottle before you could overflow his glass by accident.

Feminism was leaving your mind like filtering sand each second you laid eyes on him. Could you see yourself as his wife already? Was it too soon?

You could see yourself waking up next to him. Fixing him coffee in the morning. Adjusting his tie before he went to work, asking for him to tell you every bit of it as you gave him a demure kiss on the cheek. When it came to the time, he would be back home, you’d dress up with lipstick, skirts, pearls, and perfume just like now. You would have dinner prepared on the table or a hot bath too for good measure. He would enter and greet you with one of the smiles that made you flutter and a deeper kiss than that in the morning. You would pour him a drink when he came in. He’d praise the dinner but then look at you. Saying he’d rather devour you. Then pick you up. Carry you to the kitchen countertop. Shove away the leftover ingredients. He’d make hickeys across your pearl-draped neck. Then he'd push you to lie down on it. He’d lift your skirt, drop his pants and fuck you senselessly on the countertop until….

The footsteps of people out in the hall snapped you back. You felt your entire body clench, arousal already soaking your panties. A pit in your stomach with the food. You made yourself swallow the fantasy out. That was for later. You had to be present. Your body felt hot like it had a fever. Returning to your seat, you poured yourself another sip of Riesling. Grateful that he chilled it. Robert turned his head to the outside balcony, gesturing to it.

“Ah- look outside! It’s beautiful tonight! Sometimes I can hear the crickets…or see the stars,” he suggested.

The two of you went out to the balcony and looked up and out. You saw some stars, whatever wasn’t blocked by the fog of London nearby. Crickets chirruped from below. Both of you admired it for a few minutes.

He turned to you, flicking his cigarette off the end. It was like a tiny, red star before blinking into nothing. As if it dissolved into the night air before hitting the pavement.

“Y/N, thank you for earlier…and for returning the bottle…” he said with a smile.

“You’re welcome. They were dicks to you. And it’s a good wine. And thanks for opening up about your sister-I think there are half-off roses at the store. I’ll send some to you in her honor, just tell me a color…” you offered.

“I should be the one getting you flowers. I had work and had to cook the food- ran out of time,” he explained.

“Well, I’m not the one who needs it!” you quipped.

He chuckled warmly. You realized he was leaning closer. And you could pick up his scent- cigarette smoke and cologne mixed up in the drink that was Doctor Robert Laing. His eyes hypnotized you. His face, smooth and handsome, transfixed you. You felt his hands on your waist. You felt him lifting you up, sitting you down on hard brick and mortar. But your gaze never left his. You looked down and he up.

“Robert, I…” you began.

But the words stopped. Your thoughts stopped.

His eyes went to your lips. Then he touched your cheek. That cold, soft hand. He began to lean forward.

Oh God, Oh god, oh god, ShitFuckShitFuck, it was about to happen! You thought in a thrilled panic.

Before you could close your eyes and seal the kiss, you felt a gust of cold wind on your back. You were so transfixed by him that you didn’t register where he put you. Blinking and then turning around, you saw he had set you to sit on the balcony. Right over the twenty-five floors below to the hard concrete. A push of his arms and you were a goner.

You let out a scream.

You wrapped your arms around him. You clung onto him like a koala and buried your face into his neck.

“Robert! Please!” you cried.

You could feel his smile, but he wrapped his arms around you. His hands were on your back, supporting you, keeping you safe.

“Okay- it’s okay, I got you,” he assured.

“Take me off- now!” you insisted.

He wrapped his arms around you, picking you up like you were as light as a toy doll and setting you down. He wiped his hands on his sides.

“I’m so sorry. Some of the women liked that. I should have asked,” he apologized.

“It’s okay-you got me off!” you assured him.

“Here, I know what’ll make you feel better. I brought my records with me…would you like to hear one?” he asked.

You nodded. He brought out a box. There was such a wide variety that he collected. He insisted on not sticking religiously to one genre. Good music was good music. He offered you your choice of albums. You selected one of the old-school crooners from the fifties. He set it on and began to play it. The album started as you both sat there, listening. The music melting your adrenaline from the balcony. You turned and felt him look at you. He then offered an open hand.

“Can we…can we dance?” he offered.

“Yes.”

You felt him pull you up. You felt him take one hand in your other and you felt him reach an arm around your waist to your back. You both moved. It wasn’t as much dancing as it was gentle swaying. But he was so graceful, so soothing you didn’t care.

“Robert, why did you say yes to dinner?” you asked.

“I’ve been lonely here, Y/N. I wanted company. And after that party, I wanted your company…you made this lonely man feel a little less lonely in this place here.” he explained.

The crooner’s voice went up to end the song and a new one began.

“Your hands…they’re cold. Doctor’s hands are always cold,” you commented.

“Then here,” he offered.

Robert put one hand to his face, letting out an exhale. on the palm. Then he rubbed it on his pants. The friction creating more heat. Then he grasped your hand again.

“No cold hands, no?” he asked.

“Much better,” you nodded.

“Y/N, would you like to learn something medical?” he asked, continuing to sway with you.

“Yes.”

“You can feel the pulse in various places in the body, yes, but that includes your stomach. And that’s for a certain kind of pulse- PMI. Point of Maximum Impulse,” he explained.

“Where is it on me?” you asked.

“Well, can I touch you with my cold doctor's hands?” he quipped.

“Yes,” you answered with a giggle.

He lowered his hand to press the flesh gently beneath your left breast, and between rib bones. You inhaled sharply at his touch.

“There. That’s the PMI- one of the strongest beats from your heart. You can guess certain heart diseases feeling it,” he taught.

“And what can you tell about my pulse, Doctor Laing?” you asked.

His cheeks became pink at the word.

“That it’s…it’s racing…very fast.”

“And why does the heartbeat race? You’re the expert,” you teased.

“Anxiety or danger… but also excitement…”

“What about yours? How is your pulse?” you asked.

“Here…why don’t you tell me yourself…” he offered, smiling back.

You lifted your hand from his and placed it on the left side of his chest, over his grey jacket. You could feel it starting to race.

“It’s going fast too…” he whispered.

“From anxiety, danger…or excitement…”

“Yes…”

Robert then leaned forward, his nose grazing yours. An inch before, almost seeking permission. You gazed at each other’s eyes and then lips.

And finally, they touched sealing into a kiss. You felt him press you tight- an embrace you would never want him to release from. He held onto you. The music swelled- it was now a romantic ballad. He let go.

“I had a good night tonight,” Robert told you.

“I did too…”

His hand dropped to touch the side of your face. He kissed more and more. He pushed his tongue in, and you made a noise at the feel. Only to kiss him more. You felt his hand on your lower back press you closer. Your hips were connecting. Arousal soaked you down below. But even more this time. This time it was real. The friction made you chilled, hypnotized. Nothing, no one else mattered- except him.

“I…I don’t want it to end now….” He confessed.

He kissed you, but then you realized he had guided you right into the column before the kitchen, and he was pawing at your clothes, looking for the zipper in your back. Your mind then went blank in surprise.

“Robert- wait! Please, wait!” you pleaded breathily, putting a hand on his chest to stop.

He paused. His arms fell. A strand of hair was loose and his lips were bright pink.

“Did the ladies tell you about me?” you asked.

“No,” he reported.

“I know you’re experienced but I never…never did this before, Robert…” you explained.

“Oh...alright…” he nodded.

No comments. No words of lack of surprise nor total surprise. No laughter and no judgment. No teasing. He only accepted it as a fact, like the earth was round.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away. I got excited. I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot- but I’ll stop,” He apologized.

He took a few steps back.

Yet the look of him made you light-headed with lust. All yours if only for this night. The raving reviews of the women taunted your mind. And the creeping, slivering desire you felt for Robert Laing overwhelmed you. You realized you didn’t want to call it a night and return home. It was the first step of a steep hike. The view from above would be worth each nerve-wracking step. And that he felt for you…

Your heart was racing out of control. Your head was clear despite the wine, the pooling in your body was urging at you, telling you. It's time. You're ready. And you know it. You want this. You want him.

“I told you to wait… not to stop. Not completely. I trust you. I want this. And I want it to be you…” you directed.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied, stepping forward.

You slide a hand behind his head, through his hair. He kissed you further, deeper. You moaned into it.

“The bed. If it’s the first time, you need the bed…” he whispered.

You would let him have you anywhere, but you still smiled. He led you over there to that bed. He laid you down.

“Look at you in that dress, it made me want to ruin you the minute you came in,” he growled.

He kissed you hard and passionately. You sighed into it. Some gentle pressure from his push and you laid down on the bed. He laid on top of you and you felt his weight. It wasn’t to crush you, but just enough that it was like an embrace. You felt a gasp from your lips as he undid his tie and tossed it to the side. His hands raised your skirt. He grinned seeing the nicest lace underwear you had selected. Already visibly stained by how wet you were.

“Here…I’ll make you ready even more, darling…” he said.

He crept a finger down the hem. He then looked up.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes, you can…” you nodded.

You let out a gasp feeling his finger inside you. He moved it around and you shuddered. A gasp that stopped in your throat as he stretched you out, felt your walls, getting deeper. He explored you and you had to get used to it- the newness, the intrusion. But you didn’t want him out yet. He licked his lips as he curled it up, eliciting a small moan from you. You felt him move up your folds and then finding your clit. As he began to circle it, you splayed a hand over his back and grabbed onto his jacket. A shuddering sound escaped you. The man was fully clothed but you were already a mess for him. You began to writhe as he circled it more, in response, a groan came out of you.

“There?” he asked.

“There!” you confirmed in a gasp.

“More, my dear-more?” he asked.

“Yes…then keep them- oh!” you cried, interrupted as he put in a second finger.

You felt your own legs open wider for space. He found the right spot, and you began whimpering. Neck arching and close your eyes to keep feeling it. Then he removed it, wiping the juices on your thigh. You felt cold, and empty without them in you. But that was only the first stage; preparation.

“Can’t believe I’m your first. First to touch you. First to ruin you. First to fuck you. I don’t want any man after to compare to me,” he boasted.

Your fingers began to grip the sheets to steady yourself. Both of you tossed away your shoes.

He unzipped the back of your dress. You pulled him forward, kissing him again, but moving to the lobe of his ear, his neck. He removed your dress. He took off your stockings, kissing your stomach as it glided over and letting it float down to the floor. You were in a bra and underwear. You raised a hand to cup his cheek. Despite the shakiness in your hands and your own brain racing through the fog of arousal, fear, and thrill. You pulled him in to kiss him again, not caring that your teeth clank. He wrapped an arm around you, and you felt the warmth right on your skin.

“We have some walls to test here. I want you to be screaming for the neighbors to complain,” he voiced, taking off his jacket to toss on the floor.

You half sat up and helped him to undo the buttons of his white dress shirt. With a smooth movement, he removed his pants. You saw the erect outline through his white underwear. You felt your eyes widen as you saw him. Tanned and ripped, clear muscles, strong biceps, and a wide chest and shoulders. He smiled proudly as you sat there ogling him.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said.

“That’s good. I like what I see too. There’s just one thing that could be better,” he said.

He went back to kiss you and felt one hand reach to your bra strap in the back. Both of you forgot about the enforced chill of the apartments. You had the fire of bare skin on bare skin. He paused and looked down at your exposed breasts with a smile. He raised his hand, grazing a thumb over your nipple. You shivered from it.

“This exquisite and uninvaded. Untouched. Looks like I’ll have to end that…” he mumbled.

He wrapped his arms around you to pull you back down, and you peppered kisses all over his jaw and his neck. You even found his earlobe and pecked it. You felt his own hardness press on you as well as his leg. A thin line of cloth on both of you. Nothing more, nothing less. Keeping your bodies from joining. Ache. Need. You felt him against you. Your hips rocked to his and Laing let out a groan. He teased his hardness against your clothed entrance.

“And you know the procedure, Doctor?” you teased with a heated giggle.

“I know it well if you want it,” he replied, his breath hot against you.

“Yes, please…I need you to fuck me,” you mewled, arching your shoulders back, tits splaying.

You never heard this tone in your voice. Wanton. Downright pornographic. But here it was.

You felt his own hips against yours and a shudder between you both. Then he crawled up, and you felt his hardness outline on your stomach. He looked at you.

“Then, keep laying supine…and keep calling me Doctor…” he requested.

He kissed one breast, eliciting a moan from you. He moved on to the other. Your arms reached down until your fingers traced his shoulders. You found his hair and combed all ten of your fingers through it. He moved down to kiss your hip bone. His own hands went up, tracing the side of your leg.

You felt his long fingers splaying over your hip bones and the hem. He was slow- as if enjoying feeling every inch of you. Curling around the hem, he pulled the panties down your thighs. He put them through your knees, through your calves, and off. As if this was a ceremony. Your heart drummed further, your head spinning as he looked down on you. He looked at you bare. His eyes kept between your legs, licking your lips at the sight of your sex.

He removed his underwear and kicked it away. He was already dripping small pearls. You swallowed a gasp. He was monstrous…not that you had any before to compare it to. He returned to hover over you. He pried your legs open with his hands, warm from his breath but also the touch of your skin. You felt your own hips arch forward for him.

You glanced over to the side, seeing the night. It was dark against the soft lights of the apartment. The sky was clear. Stars finally outshone the city smog. A beautiful, peaceful night indeed. A perfect night to lose your innocence to Laing.

He then tipped a finger beneath your chin, moving you to face him.

“I want to see you, I want to look in your eyes when I’m the first one to fuck you, the first to enter you. I want you to look at me,” he rasped.

“Yes, Doctor.”

Looking right into his eyes, you opened your shaking legs. He sank into you. Bit by bit. Inch by inch. Moans coming out of you. Then he moved his hips and let it all in.

You let out one little cry when he was fully inside. You felt his own heartbeat over you, his skin, and his moan right next to your ear. Your walls adjusted to him. You felt yourself clutch onto his back. He panted right next to you. He kept his eyes on you. Knowing how special this moment was. He finally claimed you. Nothing else would change that now in the future. Robert Laing was the first to enter you. The first to show you sinful bliss.

Then he pulled his hips back. You sighed at the feeling of the coldness from lack of him, and he brought it back with a sloppy thrust.

Your breath hitched when finally, he was inside. You felt his own heartbeat over you, his skin, and a moan right next to your ear. Your walls adjusted to him. You felt yourself clutch onto his back. Then he pulled his hips back. You sighed at the feeling of the coldness from lack of him, and he brought it back with a sloppy thrust.

“There…there’s a good girl…like that…” he rasped.

He thrust into you again, and again. A voice flew out of you, a voice you never knew you had. He began to pick up only slightly. You gasped- you liked this.

“Yes! Yes, yes! Doctor-fuck- yes!!” you hissed.

You tilted your head back, eyes closing to enjoy the sensation when he cupped your jaw and pulled it down. You opened your jaw as he traced a finger over your lips.

“Remember-eyes on me….” He panted.

You let his face meet yours. His lips grazed yours in an open kiss. He even took his forehead and pressed yours against it. You felt his breath hot against you.

“Angel, can you…can you take more?” he asked.

You nodded, your hands reaching to that strong back and digging your nails in. He responded by snapping his hips right into you, such a hard pull you felt the invasion arrange your insides.

“Doctor!” you cried out.

It was the sweetest invasion, the pinprick of pain that brought pleasure. He picked up the speed. His own groans from his pink lips serenade your whorish moans. Then more.

“Fuck, you’re-you’re tight. Shit-shit- taking me so well, there- there’s- fuck!-my good girl,” he whimpered as he picked up the pace.

You felt yourself get dizzy. Your hands around, reaching his hair and raking your nails deeper onto his back. He had found the right spot, your hips meeting his, but angling- deeper, with the speed increasing. You were sliding against the bed, yet you weren’t stopping him. He then took your lower thighs and lifted them, he reached the upper angle, near your clit. He was getting rougher.

“Doctor-Yes-oh, Jesus- Yes-yes!” you were yelling.

His thrusts were wilder. Faster. He grunted and groaned, eyes down on you. Here was the passionate man the women raved about. The desk next to the bed was shifting around with how deeply, quickly, and powerfully he was fucking you. And the bed itself was denting against the wall.

Something was bubbling inside you. Building up. He was cursing, then crying out your name. Something was building in you. Like you were going to break if you let it grow. Like you would die. But you wanted to. at the sound as he slammed you, hips slamming into yours as he kept up the fast rhythm. All as he looked you in the eye and you in his eyes. Then he put a finger in your slit and curled it on your nub.

The pleasure was rising. More moans came out of you. Not quiet ones. Bubbling up wilder as he stroked you there. About to spin out of control. You weren’t going to last.

“D-Doctor- I think I’m- I think I’m going to-“

“Cum-darling-cum, cum with me!” He was yelling as well, meeting your volume.

It built higher, higher, until-

You let out a last, loud cry.

The spinning pleasure snapped in you. You took in a slight gasp as the shockwaves of your peak. You felt him give a last shout of your name as he came too. He was pulsing inside you, and you felt yourself shake, an ache in your own pussy and legs. The record had stopped playing and there was only the white noise of the vents above you. The heat had come back on. Not that you or Robert needed it.

You fell together, feeling the eclipse of your shared high. You saw the ceiling spin above you. Slowly arriving back to. The apartment reeked of sex, of your bodies, of sweat, and the heat of passion. He pulled out of you; you could hear his own quick breaths. Trying to catch his own. Your entire body was heavy from your climax, craving sleep.

“Are you okay?” he asked, touching a hand to your shoulder.

“I’m…I’m tired…tired and wonderful,” you replied.

He smiled.

“I’m glad then…” he said.

You nestled close and wrapped an arm around him. Good night, you couldn’t have asked for a better hour.

“Robert, Thank you. I’m glad it was with you…” you complimented.

“So, I take that you liked it?” he quipped.

“I loved it- Doctor,” you answered with a giggle.

As you nestled closer to him, he laughed back with you. The laughter made his body under your arms jilt up and down. The sound rumbled and echoed through your skin. There was something pure about it. Sweet.

He let go. But it felt too soon. You wanted to hold him for longer. Cuddle him. Kiss him on the cheek and forehead. Call him every pet name under the sun. You leaned on your side and traced the outline of his cheek down to his shoulder. He blinked and watched your hands, unused to the intimacy. Then he shifted closer to lay on his side parallel to you. You wrapped your arms around each other.

“Can I stay?” you proposed.

His eyes went wide. His jaw went slack. Then he nodded.

“Yes- Y/n, please! I never had anyone stay over the night…” he confessed.

Your eyebrows shut up.

“You’re kidding!” you gasped.

Comparing you to his ex-lovers on a first date wasn’t a wise choice for a man. But there was a sadness in his voice. It made you halt. It made you listen.

“They’d take me. And then they’d leave. Not say a word when I passed them at the store. Like I was no different than their plumber…”

You traced a finger over his bare chest. Drawing figures as he beamed down at you.

“Then I’ll stay…but I might need my toothbrush tomorrow. My breath will stink if you kiss me in the morning,” you reminded him.

“I’ll brave it then,” he responded.

He leaned in to kiss you. Both of you settled in closer. Never letting go of the other. Discussing everything. Discussing nothing. Your exhaustion from your orgasm won over and you both melted into a peaceful sleep, there in room 2505.

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vbecker10 · 1 year

Text

I was looking for a good reaction and ended up with these... I don't even remember what I was looking for lol

@michelleleewise @lokisgoodgirl @animnerd @peachyjinx @simplyholl @mochie85 @gigglingtigger @fictive-sl0th @holdmytesseract @lunarnights95 @cheekyscamp @maple-seed @coldnique @alexakeyloveloki @liminalpebble @mischief2sarawr @marygoddessofmischief @lovelysizzlingbluebird

*I'm not getting banned again lol

#tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #tom hiddleston characters #twhiddleston #hiddlesarmy #dr laing smut #dr robert laing #robert laing #crimson peak #thomaswilliamhiddleston #thomas hiddleston #sir thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe #thomas william hiddleston #tom hiddleston high rise #hiddlesverse #twh #twhiddles

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ladycamillewrites · 1 year

Text

▻ 𝙻𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

▻ “One bed with Laing“ request by the lovely @muddyorbs

▻ warnings: 18+ smut, alcohol, light voyeusism, bit of choking kink, language, dom!Laing vibes

“Laing?” you called out as the door to the bathroom in apartment 27 b was opened.

It wasn’t your original apartment though. Since the high rise 'still has to settle' to quote Royal some pipes were mocking, spilling water all over the 25th and 28th floor.

Fate had decided doctor handsome also known as Robert Laing and you were paired up to share one of the apartments still for sale to bide your time until the tinsmiths were done.

You were sure the building just wanted to punish you. Doctor Laing was incredibly fine, his face a work of art. His body in no way inferior when he sunbathed on the balcony, making your panties suffer.

“Yes, darling?” his soothing voice snaked across the corner so smoothly. Your knees feel like jelly once again. He had started to call you darling yesterday morning as you bumped into each other in the bathroom.

Awkward was not a way to describe how you had felt almost naked in front of the tall man who was soaking wet, only a towel hiding his privates women were lionizing.

But you just couldn't manage to speak freely to Laing, needless to say the plan to ask him out never became reality.

“I… erm, listen I work here in the building but your Job is so hard and you need the good sleep” you answered from the kitchen not really getting straight to the point.

Casually looking like elegant sex on legs the doctor strode in your field of view, doing the final touches of a black tie. He looked neat, precisely composed by daylight whereas the whole high rise knew that Laing could be an insatiable party animal.

“Beautiful woman, listen…” he purred coming closer, his cologne mingling with your freshly poured coffee. A kind of weird mixture you would be pleased to wake up to every day.

Stunned, you stood there, eyes glued on his veiny, big hand that wrapped around yours holding the mug. His unique oceanic gaze captured you with a wave of suave whispers, his voice now even deeper.

“What kind of gentleman would deny you the only bed in here?”

Your grip around the porcelain melted underneath Laing’s tender but determined hand.

“But like I said, we can-“

“No” the doctor simply chuckled, smirking as he hoisted the cup to his lip level. Your hand quickly surrendered and slipped off. A kind of submission you haven't planned.

“We will not ask Royal for permission to move in a three chambers apartment, dear.” Laing noted before taking another big sip of your coffee.

“Rules are designed to be followed, are they not?” Carefully, he slid the mug back in your meanwhile frozen hand and turned around with his open jacket swaying in the swift motion.

But the tall blonde whose tantalizing legs went all the way up to the rooftop, stopped for a second when he grabbed the silver doorknob.

“See you at the party, darling”.

“Have a good day, doctor” you chirped seeing him wink at you before there was only silence surrounding you in the apartment that wasn’t yours.

Sighing and mourning the majority of coffee Laing had claimed just like that, you weaved past the kitchen counter, eyes falling on the couch that was his makeshift bed.

“Fuck this” you murmured to yourself, eyeing the neatly folded sheets with curiosity sparkling in your eyes.

He had such a calculated, correct nature to himself yet shamelessly drank your coffee and always came home with his dress shirt sluttishly open and appearing ready for some debauchery.

Which he often caused or at least relished in a few floors above.

Tonight, the party at Charlotte’s… Laing had asked you to come but normally those things weren’t quite your thing. All the drunk people, drugs, loud music and so on.

Fumbling with the hem of your skirt your thoughts trailed off to your wardrobe, the black silk dress to be exact. No, it was too expensive to just bide it’s time on a hanger.

Perhaps the parties here were different to all the college booze-ups, you mused enjoying the last drops of hot coffee. Butterflies tormented your belly when your lips met the exact same spot Laing’s had caressed the red mug.

Clenching your thighs at the lewd thought of him kissing along your shoulders, suckling on your collarbone you made a decision; the handsome man with this special note of madness would see you at that fucking party.

“Where the hell is Laing?” Charlotte yelled, her voice barely audible between heavy beats and her hand resting on your ass. The slutty silk covered your upper thighs but that was it.

Two glasses of white wine had worked reliably, pulling your consciousness in a spiral of false bravery and sexual confidence.

Your friend was damn right.

Where was mister handsome now that you felt loosened up?

“Ladies… lookin’ sharp tonight, don’t ya?“ Wilder’s agitated voice suddenly made you flinch, the liquid in your glass gushing and splashing as you tripped over the rolled up carpet edge.

With a shriek you found yourself in strong arms keeping you from falling, a familiar cologne send hints through your nostrils.

“Wilder, my boy... You’re scaring her“ Laing chuckled, a blurry warning embedded in his quip.

You looked up, Laing looking down at you with his charming smile. A thousand sweet needles pricked your skin as the goosebumps spread across your legs. There he was.

How the hell were you able to withstand this god of a man’s magnetic pull for such a long time?

One of his dirty blonde eyebrows were raised as he sucked in his lower lip, completely fascinated by your cleavage on full display in that position. But you let him, marinated in the handsome doctor’s hungry gaze every single woman in the high rise tried to attract shamelessly.

“You did have quite a few drinks, huh darling?“

“Maybe… It’s Charlottes fault tho“ you giggled, a disoriented hand reaching out for your friends reassuring touch.

The alcohol did help to feel flirty nevertheless, Laing was weirdly intimidating like this; hair sleazily disheveled, jacket god knows where and dress shirt halfway open exposing his chiseled chest adorned by subtle hints of blonde curls.

But she was gone, yelling across the room from a free couch instead.

You took a glance at Laing who had pushed you back on your legs now, hand lingering on your ass for an inappropriate time. Whereas everything going down in the high rise was highly inappropriate, needless to say far from legal or sane.

And the man who looked so neat in the mornings was inhaling the poisoned air as if it was clean oxygen.

“Come, sit on my lap, y/n“ it sounded as sugary as a romantic ask yet making your lower muscles tense up in magical anticipation. You’ve never been that close to Laing except of a few hugs before he was off to university.

Everyone knew his thighs were a dangerous place to be.

However, when you finally straddled him, his sharp jaw resting on your shoulder while he spoke to his friends with that low timbre, you nearly imploded.

Track of time was long lost with Laing, Charlotte and countless other residents forgetting about the world and going feral.

“Could you prescribe me some uppers?” Charlotte mewled trying to hinder Wilder from biting her exposed thighs.

Laing’s “no” was a deep gravelly eruption, the vibrations transferring to your already sizzling core.

His demanding hand snaked underneath your arm, dexterous digits sprawled across your lower belly as the doctor held you firmly in place.

“Á propos, did you know the female orgasm can be just as effective?”

Gasping, a cherry tone shot up to mingle with your rosy blush. As if under a spell, your body leant closer to explore the sensation of his bare chest against your back while your mind drowned in his suggestive words.

“I bet Doctor Laing is experienced in anatomy” something drove you to coo, making him shift underneath you.

A rock hard erection was pressed against your clothed pussy. Laing made zero effort to hide his obvious arousal.

“Especially in female anatomy” the lewd oath accompanied a wanton twitch of his length, drawing a dirty moan from the depths of your lungs.

The last bits of shame and common reason let your hand fly to cover your scarlet lips.

But Laing’s elegant fingers wrapped around your own, gently but dominantly pulling them down, the tips lewdly hooking in your lower lip.

He tasted clean, the aura of disinfectant embracing a sweet hue of cranberry syrup.

“Look around, pet” he purred in your ear, his hot tongue tickling your earlobes as he spoke. You knew you would never be sated with his rich voice and the English accent dripping like molten gold let him appear so snobby.

And you obeyed, head tilting to the right as your eyes, sensitive to every flash and motion, scanned the loud party. Clothes were scattered on the floor or adorning men and women in a halfway ripped state.

Feeling your jaw trying to drop against Laing’s hand, you took in the obscene images of people naked, panting, moaning… fucking.

Charlotte was on her knees for Wilder, the alcohol not leaving her unfazed as well while the young woman from the 26th spread her legs for a manager from the upper thirties.

It was heavy yet incredibly salacious to your mind.

“Can- can we le-?“ But your question faded with a subtle buck of Laings hips allowing his clothed cock to slip between your wet folds.

The lack of panties wasn’t helping your working nerves, eager to find out what more of his body against yours would feel like.

How he could make you feel with his cock… maybe even better than his teeth sinking in your neck?

“Apologies, what were you saying?“ The smug man chirped, winking as you looked back at him. His cheeks were painted with a subtle red only underlining his bone structure that was nothing but the one of a Greek god; sharp, accurate and alluring.

“More…I want more of you“.

A ridiculously short time later you found yourself in the huge bedroom of your shared apartment, swaying in Laing’s arms after he had put 'My Way of Life' on the vintage record.

One of the few items he had brought along from his original apartment and what made you even more curious about this complex man.

“You want me to show you pleasure?“ Laing purred, his big hand still resting on the small of your back, drawing seducing circles.

As if he was clinging to the gentleman that was lingering somewhere deep within him but had long lost to a more primal nature.

Sinatra’s melodic voice still rung in the background as you lost yourself in the baby blues, feeling the white wine bubbling on your puffy lips. Doctor Laing was a twisted drug, even more arousing than any alcohol Charlotte had talked you in…

Your demure nod brushed his agape mouth as he leant down, guiding his hot breath to fan the fresh bite marks on your neck. He smelled like luxurious Champagne goading you to accept and await his feverishly skimming lips.

The passionate kiss was promise and salvation at the same time, his rough tongue objecting to Laing's gentlemanly image.

Probably the sexiest discrepancy.

“I will now, darling. But you’re too fucking sexy to claim with those men around. I know what they’d try but the doctor doesn’t share“

Laing snapped, inviting the maniac that slumbered within to get a hand tight on the steering wheel.

Greedy hands clasped around your waist, suddenly pushing you backwards on the bed, hoisting and guiding your body like it weighed as light as a feather.

You could swear you saw the white fabric of his shirt almost burst from his flexing trained shoulders.

“I thought I should take the bed for myself?“ You giggled, gasping for air as his pearl white teeth sunk in the soft flesh under your breasts. Those have been his own words the day you involuntarily moved in together.

You were just giving him a taste of his own medicine. Or chivalry as Laing would call it in the sober mornings.

Perhaps he was some weird kind of gemini; two-faced like the 24 hours of the day split into daytime and night.

A dark chuckle greeted your ass when Laing roughly gripped your ankles, flipping you around and roaming across your beautiful butt cheeks while his nose pushed the hem of your dress up.

“Yes, for sleeping. But for now I will fuck you so thoroughly, the only thing you need to worry about is walking tomorrow“.

You whined, bursting with anticipation for this irritatingly handsome man to make true to his words. It felt too good to be on full display for Laing hungry with need and desire.

Staying down, enjoying the view of the most alluring woman in the high rise, Laing's left hand found your neck.

Twitching at the feeling of fabric slipping across your head, caging your throat you tried to find out what was happening.

“Shhh...hold still for me, dear“ Laing pulled his black tie, now adorning your neck, tighter, chuckling when you tried to wriggle out. I vain, of course what mercilessly goaded his pulsing cock.

A kinky man, you grinned silently, ready for him to push you in his own twisted world.

“Fuck“ his baritone rung from behind before he redirected his attention, nibbling on the soft flesh “you’re gorgeous“.

“Gods, doctor Laing would you fuck me already?“ Your ass wiggled wantonly, accompanying your decadent plea so the blonde man couldn’t help it but loose himself completely.

“Up on all fours and spread, darling. The doctor needs some space to work“.

A rough tug of the tie around your throat made you gasp but rapidly transformed in the ardent sensation of submissiveness.

His voice was dripping with a wicked dominance nearly finishing your wet pussy. However, his charming coos of 'darling' wooed the shit out of your heart feeling like a reward for the subtle tries of flirting for days.

The unbuckling of his belt, hidden by the dress shirt hanging sluttishly open, rung like a church bell inviting you to sin.

“La- Laing… please“ you shuddered, nails buried in the duvet as he dragged the wide tip of his cock through your throbbing folds, relishing in every visible twitch of your muscles.

The smug smirk was audible when he rasped in your ear from behind “It’s doctor Laing, hm?“ And then he breached you for the first time.

Slowly, intimately inch by fucking inch until your parted lips summoned the sweetest sounds underneath him.

“Come on…ahhh fuck…y-you almost made it“.

His words send sparkling stars to flash in front of your eyes when the promise became too sweet. Fuck, you didn’t even know if you could take it but your dizzy body was more than willing to try.

“You are my way of my life - The only way I know“ Sinatra sang in the background while the intoxicating man from the 25th floor claimed you, and overwhelmingly so.

Bucking your hips when you felt his cold hand against your sex, Laing scoffed through gritted teeth, the sound something primal and needy.

“You did it. Good girl“ he purred leaning over and circling your clit in lavish strokes before finally withdrawing to grip your hips.

Moaning like a whore as you realized he was checking if his cock was fully buried within you, Laing started pulling out.

The black fabric that wantonly connected his hand with your sensitive throat occasionally jerked, opening the heavy doors to hyper-stimulation.

Hundreds of stars you had seen a flash of before returned as colorful fireworks with the brutal pace he was setting. An obscene smell of sex infiltrated your shared apartment, the bed creaking and shaking from his recklessly snapping hips.

Bruises would adorn your hips soon but you couldn’t care less. The handsome doctor pushed you closer to release with every thrust knocking the air out of your exited lungs.

“Oh godd… do-doctor Laing, please“ but you had long forgotten what exactly you were begging for.

His whoreish grunts and slaps of your reddened ass were more aphrodisiac than you could take. Hearing his breath quickening, you awaited the next slap because you learnt it would mean a soft caress after.

“Ngh shit... y-you’re so tight“.

For you, you thought, completely numb to the terrific thoughts of what could happen tomorrow morning when you both would wake up sober again.

“Are you coming for me, darling? Oooh, you are…I can feel your perfect pussy gripping me… f-fuck“.

Robbed of control over your body, your head dropped down in orgasmic defeat. Glassy eyes watched the decadent way you were united, Laing’s wide cock wet and disappearing inside your core over and over again in a dizzying pace.

“Uh-huh“ was all you were capable of with mouth agape, hormones running riot in your system.

“Do it, gorgeous. Show me how…ohhh damn…much you need me“ he grunted, own head lolling back with his disheveled curls bobbing in the doctor’s relentless thrusts.

Increasingly, your nerves began to sizzle like electric wires out of control. But it all wasn’t enough Laing decided under a heavy moan of your name when your knees lost contact to the bed, floating under his powerful grip.

His cock was triggering every sweet spot in this new angle, making the unbeatable sensation of the first penetration make do with the second place.

All the tension suddenly snapped as you cried out, feeling like dying the most enticing death life had to offer.

As if he wanted to hear every tone and note you had to give to praise him, the tie dropped from his grasp.

Laing made you ride out your orgasm, giving you long, deep thrusts to sweetly remind you of his presence until your feet hit solid ground again.

Panting with legs wobbly and slowly giving up under your own weight, your eyes fluttered shut.

Thoroughly spent but still burning like a wildfire.

“Ah, ah!“ Laing chided “I'm not done... you better start counting now“ his voice husky from suppressing his own climax and moaning loud enough for the whole 27th floor to hear.

“One“…

thank you for reading!! I hope you liked it Ally 💚

tags / fyi: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtigger @mochie85 @coldnique @springdandelixn @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @toozmanykids @simplyholl @michelleleewise @sarahscribbles @peaches1958 @joyful-enchantress @thomase1 @vbecker10 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @huntress-artemiss @lunarnights95 @ladymischief11

#doctor laing fic #doctor laing smut #request #robert laing #robert laing fic #doctor laing x fem reader #laing smut #laing fanfic #high rise fic #dr laing smut #18+#dr laing fic #doctor laing x yn #laing x you

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yarpiebrit · 1 year

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Winning Afrikaner Hearts and Minds

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#1938 Great Trek Centennial #Adolph Gysbert Malan #Dolf de la Rey #Dr Ernest Malherbe #General Jan Smuts #Jan Smuts #National Party #Ossewabrandwag #Sailor Malan #South African Union Defence Force #Steel Commando #The Torch #Torch Commando #UDF #United Party

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macfrog · 9 months

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sex on fire | masterlist

ceo!joel miller x f!reader | ao3 | playlist

you've worked for joel miller for three years now, as his personal assistant. answering calls, organizing his schedule, fulfilling every request he could dream of. it pays well, you know you're good at it, and you get along with all of your coworkers. there's just one you get along with...a little too well.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading!!! this series features adult content.

series warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel is late 40s), inappropriate work relationship, cursing, alcohol + dr*g use, displays of wealth, daddy kink, sugardaddy!joel, themes of abandonment, mentions of pregnancy & periods, smut, angst, fluff.

main series

chapter 1: you shook me all night long

chapter 2: state-of-the-art

chapter 3: mile high

chapter 4: la petite mort

chapter 5: faire l'amour

chapter 6: ace

chapter 7: 1691 maple

chapter 8: you'll hurt me if you don't trust me

chapter 9: little aphrodite

✨ chapter 10: champagne problems ✨

chapter 11: coming soon!

chapter 12

epilogue

bonus

➵ hanging on the telephone

drabbles

➵ joel taking reader on his sailboat

features ➵ sex on fire wallpapers by @dundienominee

➵ sex on fire moodboard by @5oh5

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sbdskate · 3 months

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Laws Of Attraction (Epilogue 1) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: Daniel signed with RB at the end of the 2022 season, ending your attorney-client relationship. You decide to give romance a try in the off season.

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): fluff, language, *SMUT*: p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap)

Word Count: 2,291

February 2023

You woke up to his breath tickling the back of your neck, which you had now grown pleasantly accustomed to over the last few months. His arm snaked over your waist with his hand lightly resting just below your breasts. Sometimes his face nuzzled into the back of your shoulder so that you could feel his stubble lightly tickle you. You treasured these soft, quiet moments that were hidden from the rest of the world.

By a miracle, your budding relationship had not yet been sniffed out by paparazzi or investigative fans, but you knew it wouldn’t last forever. The distance was hard, as expected, but ended up being more manageable than you originally thought. Of course it helped that one of you had almost unlimited resources. He ended up spending a good chunk of time at his property in Beverly Hills which at least got you in the same continent and country. You would make up excuses to work out of the LA office for a week or so and The Firm suspected nothing of it or didn’t care enough to ask why. During the day you worked on other client matters while he hung out with Scotty and other friends, allegedly figuring out plans for the next Enchante drop. At night you stayed with him, cooking dinners together, throwing small parties, watching the sun set over the hills.

When you weren’t on the West Coast, he occasionally stayed with you in your small NYC apartment in the West Villiage. At first you protested that he should stay somewhere else, that there wasn’t enough room for the both of you, and that your accommodations were far too modest for the extravagant lifestyle he had become so accustomed to. Fine, you book the hotel, he would say with a smirk knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to afford the reservation to override him. But he so desperately wanted to a glimpse into your home that you could hardly say no.

It was easier for him to explore the city in the dead of winter where he blended in with everyone else on the street, bundled in at least four layers to keep warm. With a hat and scarf covering most of his face, he went about his day with the rare freedom of being unidentified and anonymous. When you were done with work you would sneak into the diviest dive bar you could find, consisting of dark basements with dark liquor. Or you would order takeout for dinner and eat it out of the container on your couch with a beer or glass of wine.

The two of you relished these moments of normalcy. Including moments like now, in that tiny apartment, on a chilly Friday in February where you bathed in the rays of sun that began to poke through your curtains in the light of morning. He had been on Stephen Colbert the night before and you watched in awe from the comfort of your couch that the man on the screen, in a suit you picked out, would be coming home to you at the end of the program.

Your eyes fluttered open before your alarm went off, Daniel’s breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. You smiled to yourself, still unable to believe this was your new reality. Just to be sure, you gently grabbed the hand positioned on your upper abdomen to move it to cup your breast. Perhaps you should have let him sleep, but you couldn’t pass up the chance to have extra time with him. You felt his breath pattern change as he slowly woke from the delicate touch. The silver lining of long distance was that neither of you were lacking in libido. Granted your relationship was still in its infancy, of course you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.

He pulled you in close flush against his chest and gave your shoulder a kiss.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice muffled by skin. You held your hand over his, squeezing it.

“Mmm good morning.” The crook of his nose caressed the path that followed the trails of kisses along your shoulder blade. He began to move his thumb over your sensitive nipple, feeling as it puckered under his touch. Your breath hitched as you squirmed, molding yourself into him. You partially turned your head to face him without disrupting your position. He propped himself on his elbow to meet you halfway and planted a messy kiss on your lips.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look in the morning?” You used to think he was joking, not that you could blame him if he were. There were people who were elegant sleepers, but you knew you were not one of them. Your hair almost always ended up looking like it could home a few birds or small rodent. Your eyes were puffy, slightly crusty, and every now and then there was some dried drool for good measure. Now that you had been at this for nearly two months, it was evident he was very serious each time.

“You have, but you can tell me again,” you mumbled as a smile grew on your face and stretched your limbs.

“You’re beautiful.” It came out muffled as your lips pressed together again, as his thumb continued to lazily graze your nipple.

You gently dragged his hand from your chest to the growing heat between your legs. You pressed against him again, feeling his hardened member against your ass. You smirked, satisfied with the results of your minimal efforts.

He kissed the crook of your neck as he drew tiny circles around your clit with his middle finger. You reached your arm behind you to gently scratch his head as little moans escaped your lips, breath becoming uneven with desire.

“Are you going to be late for work?” Ever the gentleman, you could tell he asked to be polite but it wasn’t actually a point of concern. You grinded into his groin in frustration.

“Not that I care at the moment, but no.” You moved his fingers even further south so he could feel your neediness. “I have twelve minutes and I don’t want to think about responsibilities until then. Do what you will with that information.”

A husky groan escaped his lips feeling how wet you were for him. His hand left you momentarily to stroke himself a few times before aligning with your entrance and you reached down to help guide him.

Two months, and it still took your breath away how full he made you feel. Your back arched into him and he caught your hips in his hand. Laced with sleep, he held on as he dragged in and out of you in deliberate, languid motions as though time didn’t exist. His hand moved slowly up your body, to your waist, over your soft stomach, the swell of your breast, where it snaked over your chest and enclosed around your throat with a gentle firmness that made your core clench. It was equally delicate and possessive. It delighted every surface of your body but his leisure pace now maddened you.

“Faster,” you choked out. He smirked as he slowed down the roll of his hips, tightening his grip around your neck. If he wasn’t awake before, he was now. Daniel was fascinated – you ordinarily enjoyed lazy morning sex but today you were extraordinarily needy for some reason. Not that he was mad at it. Your eyes twisted shut and you moaned through gritted teeth, simultaneously aroused and frustrated. “Fuck you.”

“Happily,” he taunted. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please.” He felt your body quiver around him as you begged for more of him. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would last for the remaining six minutes.

He obliged your pleas, only letting go of your neck to lift your leg up.

Right there

His thrusts deepened with the new angle and watched excitedly as your arm moved down. He couldn’t see you playing with yourself but knew you were as your moans became louder and more frequent and he felt your walls squeeze and twitch. The image seared into his brain and he knew he was done. He inhaled the scent from your hair in his face and he wished he could see you. But you were warm and tight and wet and perfect and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Fuck, I’m-”

“Yes”

Your hips stuttered and muscles spasmed around him. He spilled into you as his fingers sank into your skin, his vice grip unable to let go. You both laid limp for a moment, panting to catch your breath. Eventually you pulled yourself away from him to roll over.

Your hair was knotted and your flushed face was adorned with a shit-eating grin. You were stunning. Glowing.

“Good morning,” you said cheekily.

“Good morning,” he responded. He lifted his arm, inviting you to use his chest as a pillow. You did so gladly, intertwining yourselves in each other once more like vines. It was nice for all of forty-seven seconds before your alarm went off. He pulled you tighter before you could try to get up.

“Now I have to get going.” He placed a kiss at the top of your head.

“What if we just stayed in bed all day instead.” You groaned in silent agreement, but nonetheless peeled his arms off you.

“I would love to but I have to work. And so do you.” You kissed him before hopping into the shower.

Right. Daniel had almost forgotten that today was his first official day back as a Red Bull employee. His presence was requested for the livery launch set to happen in Midtown in a few hours. He laid in bed and smiled to himself as he listened to you sing I Just Had Sex by The Lonely Island.

“I still can’t believe it’s in New York,” you said casually as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. He hummed in agreement. “Suspiciously convenient, really.” You glanced at him through your peripheral to gauge his reaction. Nothing. Though he did look oddly pensive. You turned suddenly to confront him. “You’re sure you didn’t say anything to Christian?” He laughed at your skeptic accusation.

“Not a peep.”

“You swear it?” You held out your pinky.

“I swear it.” He linked his with yours.

“Kiss it,” you demanded. He rolled his eyes but obliged lowering his lips to his knuckles as you did yours, his focus on you never wavering.

You continued getting ready, though you couldn’t shake the sense that there was an uneasy intensity to him this morning. At first you thought it might just be nerves about the livery event, but then you caught him staring at you in the mirror while you were brushing your teeth. You spit and turned around.

“Ok you’re being weird. What is it?”

“I’m not being weird!” he said defensively. You brandished your toothbrush at him threateningly.

“Yes, you are. You’ve barely said two words since we had sex.” He scoffed.

“I’ve said lots of words. That was five just now –“

“There’s nothing wrong with being nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous –“

“Then what is it?”

He both loved and hated that you could read him like a book. You seemed to be intuitively aware of all of his deepest thoughts - though maybe not this one. He watched as you walked into the kitchen to pack your work bag. You filled your travel mug as you patiently waited for his response. He took a deep breath before jumping into the metaphorical deep end.

“Since things are official with Red Bull as of today, I figured we should be too.”

You snorted coffee through your nose. A not-so-subtle tomato hue dusted your cheeks immediately. Yet again, you weren’t sure why you were so surprised. The man was traveling half way around the world for you. With the amount of time, effort, care, and money spent, how could you ever believe he would lull you into something as malignant as a situationship? As it was in the beginning, you were the stop-gap preventing things from progressing. He had been respectful with taking things at a glacial pace, as you kindly requested. He had given you the proof you needed that there was a way to make the relationship work when you weren’t traveling constantly together. When you considered that you had now existed in each other’s orbits for nearly five months, he really had been as patient as a saint with you.

But he misconstrued your stunned silence as confusion, so he rephrased his proposition.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your timing was impeccable as always, as you choked on your own saliva before breaking into a coughing fit. He sighed and poured you a glass of water, slightly disgruntled by your antics.

He had been putting this off. He had wanted to wait for the right time, for it to be romantic and dreamy, everything you deserved. But each time the opportunity arose he lost his nerve, and now here you both were: in your kitchen, before you had to go to work, choking on thin air, decidedly unromantic.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You shook your head ferociously before attempting to sip the liquid. He frowned “Well shit, you don’t have to be so enthusiastic about it.” You shook your head again, then nodded. “Yes, that’s right, you’re not interested?” You decided that this was the worst game of charades, ever. You shook your head again.

“Yes,” *cough* “I want,” *cough* “to be your,” *cough* “girlfriend.” Despite the fact that you were barely breathing, Daniel’s thousand-watt smile appeared before you.

“Drink your fucking water and stop coughing so I can kiss you.”

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

A/N: Please don't be a ghost reader and thank you for reading! I'm happy I've been on a roll with my posting schedule but I know the next Epilogue part will not be ready by next week, so expect a little bit of a break after this (hopefully not four months again).

And thank you @thef1diary for your help

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bratzforchris · 1 month

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pleaseeee do a part two of the body piercer johnnie x fem reader 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

Come Over

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

Summary: You finally decide to make good on the phone number that Johnnie gave you during your piercing session. Part 2 to this fic <3

Pairing: Body piercer!Johnnie x feminine reader

Warnings: Smut, hooking up, non established relationship, mentions of genital piercing, oral (m receiving), face fucking, making out

Word Count: 1010

A/N: Thank you for the request! So sorry it took me so long to get out :)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

It had been two weeks since you had met Johnnie and received his phone number, but you had yet to text or call him. It wasn’ that you didn’t want to, rather, you were just rather worried about how hooking up with him would work, especially considering your new piercing that was still healing.

You were sitting on your couch, having a quiet Friday night. In an unusual turn of events, you didn’t have anywhere to go or anything to do. And so, you decided to text the number on the business card Johnnie had given you, figuring your lack of plans would give you time to think through each response.

You: hey johnnie…it’s y/n. i hope you remember me lol :)

Anxiously chewing your thumbnail, you watched as typing bubbles appeared on the screen, and then disappeared. This continued for a good five minutes, until you finally received a reply that made you smile. You barely knew Johnnie, despite your rather intimate appointment, but he came across as so loving and sweet.

Johnnie: of course i do :) what r u up to?

You: nothing really…it’s actually surprising for a friday night lol

Johnnie: oh same

Johnnie: hey i hope this isn’t too weird but i have a question :p

You: go on!

Johnnie: would u wanna come over? it’s okay if not!!

Your heart dropped, not in a nervous way, of course, but more in an almost excited way. You didn’t think Johnnie was the type to move fast, even with hookups, but apparently he was. You quickly shot back an enthusiastic yes, only for Johnnie to reply immediately with the address. You thanked your lucky stars that you had shaved and done all your other body care earlier in the day.

Johnnie’s apartment was a surprisingly close walk to your own. He lived in a nice, modern area of LA, which kind of surprised you for a guy like him. You would’ve thought he lived in some sort of Gothic mansion. But as you rang the doorbell, you realized that whatever tattoo and piercing gigs Johnnie was getting paid extremely well. The raven haired boy immediately opened the door, a smile on his face.

“Hey! Come on in!” Johnnie greeted you like an old friend, or dare you think, girlfriend, as you stepped inside the apartment with butterflies in your tummy. “Do you want something to drink?”

You shook your head softly, simply just admiring how beautiful Johhnie was. You couldn’t deny it any longer; he was gorgeous, almost akin in a way to the night sky that shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment. Johnnie cracked open his own Dr. Pepper with an amused look in his blue eyes.

“So, how’s the piercing healing?” he asked with a smirk.

You blushed, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Oh, um, it’s healing great…you did a really great job.” You whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you became suddenly shy.

Johnnie smirked, coming around the island and staring you and up down. “Did you come dressed up for a reason?” he asked, eyeing the short miniskirt and corset top you had changed into.

“Maybe I did.” You purred playfully.

Before you knew it, you and Johnnie were kissing, hands tugging at each other’s hair and clothes. You tangled your hands in Johnnie’s black hair as he kissed you, his lip rings brushing against your skin. You let out a soft moan at his pleasures as he slowly pushed you onto the couch, fisting your hair.

“Just because your pretty little pussy isn’t healed yet doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.” Johnnie explained with a smirk, undoing his studded belt and shoving down his black jeans and boxers.

You felt your mouth run dry as you stared at his hard-on, the tip already glistening with pre cum. Johnnie was huge. You were quite unsure how you were going to fit all of him into your mouth, and you definitely knew that you wouldn’t be able to take him with your rather new Christina piercing. You scooted closer to him, beginning to suck and lick Johnnie’s cock as he moaned, thrusting closer to you.

Eventually, you took him into your mouth from tip to hilt, adjusting your jaw so that you could take all of him. You moaned around his dick as you sucked him off, thrusting your head forwards and backwards as you gripped Johnnie’s hips. He was boldly face fucking you, hands tangled in your hair as he threw his head back moaning.

“Oh my god…oh my god, Y/N. That feels so fucking good,” Johnnie panted as his orgasm continued to build. “Fucking hell, ‘m gonna cum.” he whined.

That just motivated you more, and you took his dick further into your mouth, staring up at Johnnie with wide doe eyes as the combination of your drool, lip gloss, and his pre cum dripped down your chin. Finally, Johnnie couldn’t hold it in anymore, letting out little whimpers and grunts.

“I’m gonna cum…” he panted. “You better swallow it, too.”

Just as he spoke, Johnnie came down your throat, letting out a heavy moan as he did so. You slid off of his dick with pop, licking your lips as you swallowed his load. The raven haired boy collapsed beside you on the couch, pants still around his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. After a moment, Johnnie stared at you, eyeliner running from his blue eyes and down his face from the mixture of sweat and tears that had collected during your blowjob.

“I am so fucking glad you came to get that piercing.” he told you huskily, leaning in and beginning to suck on the spot behind your ear.

You moaned, maneuvering yourself so that you could kiss Johnnie. You had never experienced anything like him before, but you couldn’t say that you were mad about it. You kissed him back just as heavily, feeling the coolness of his piercings against your skin. “Me fucking too.” You smiled.

tags ♡: @aemrsy @jake-and-johnnies-slut @mattsfavwh3re @suyqa @chrissturnswife @mbsbaby @stingerayyy2 @strnlvr @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @idek3000hi @runasvengence

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie guilbert fanfiction #johnnie guilbert fanfic #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x y/n #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie and jake #the tinas #jake webber #jake webber fanfic #jake webber imagine #jake webber x reader #jake webber smut #tara yummy #johnnie jake tara

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gavisuntiedboot · 9 months

Text

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 10

Warnings: SMUT!! and also BAD WRITING!! TYPOS AS WELL PROBABLY!! BUT MAINLY THE SMUT!!!

Word Count: 21.5K (Fun Fact: If you have read all of JP, that's 159 pages single space of reading.)

A/N: Here it is. The finale of my heartfelt daydream, laid bare for you all to see. I hope you've enjoyed the ride: the road ends here.

GIF: @gavidaily (i've been waiting since part 1 to use this mf gif)

Previously on Just Pretend

"Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises."

"You're late. It's 6:45." "Good morning to you too, Gavira."

Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else.

"Are we not friends, y/n?"

"I'm not sure, Gavi. We could be if you stopped hating me."

"I don't hate you. I think."

Gavi stopped thinking. He acted on impulse only. He tugged the wrist that was in his hand, pulling you in. Your head met with his hard chest, and you felt one arm circle your shoulder. You remained like this for a long moment: up against Gavi, his arm pressing you into his chest, his shirt soaking up the wetness on your cheeks.

"'m sorry. I won't let him talk to you that way anymore."

"It's okay, Pablo. I can take care of myself." A tear finally rolled down your cheek.

"I know you can, Doctora. I know you could take on the world if you wanted to. But you shouldn't have to. You deserve to be loved and spoiled. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"You saved me Pablo." You whispered out against him, needing to tell him someway, somehow, how much you appreciated him.

"Anyone would have interfered, doctora." He whispered back, being bold and caressing the skin of your arm that he encased with his.

"Not just today. In general. Since I met you, Pablo, you've made my life better. I just wanted to let you know. Good night."

"Because from the moment I laid eyes on you, I felt like I knew you. I don't know if I saw you on the street or in a dream, but a part of my brain recognized you, and since then I've been in pain. Pain that you can't even help me with. Nobody can. It's so hard to watch everyone take advantage of you all the fucking time. It tears me apart constantly. But it let me get closer to you. You let me get closer. And I tried so hard to keep it at bay, to be the friend that you need."

"My heart, doctora. When I give it to you, please keep it. Forever."

Now...

"Miss y/l/n, due to the... historic lack of women in the club, we do not have internal policies regarding relationships between players and employees. We just use the ones that La Liga as a whole have put in place. Those are quite forgiving, in my opinion. You can enter a romantic workplace relationship as long as it is appropriately disclosed, and you cannot be terminated as a result of that relationship ending. I saw the photo of you being pulled onto the field during the final of the Supercopa. Do you mean to tell me it was not with romantic intent?"

You had never experienced more severe whiplash in your life. First, you had been reprimanded for being too close to Pablo, for showing what Xavi classified as 'favoritism', as it hurt the team dynamic. Then you had been ridiculed by staff and players for allegedly sleeping with Pablo, and had been told you could be fire for doing so even if it was a bold faced lie. And now, months later, you were being told that it was not only okay for you to be in a relationship with Pablo, but you literally couldn't lose your job if you did? Someone in the family must have been praying for you. Or for Pablo. Was Pedri religious?

"Dr. Gonzalez, I think there has been some sort of misunderstanding. Gavi and I are just friends. Not even - we're just coworkers that get along well! There was no romance happening anywhere on the field."

And it was true. Well, sort of. You couldn't speak for Gavi's intention, but you would bet that he hadn't meant to do anything that could be perceived as romantic. Not only was he incredibly shy when it came to anything to do with his private life, but moreover, you had started to toy with the idea that maybe you were wrong about Pablo. Maybe you had misread the signs. Maybe Pedri's stylist, who you now also so lovingly referred to as naranja, had only fed into your delusions instead of delivering the hard truth to you.

"He's in love with you, stupid."

That's exactly what she had said to you when you answered the question 'so are you close to Pedri?', stating that the things Pablo did for you were far from the actions of a friend. And she was right. Friends didn't need to be physically touching in order to have a peaceful night of sleep. Friends don't feel the need to always be near the other, unable to focus if one wasn't near. Friends certainly didn't imagine each other in compromising situations: shirtless, panting, trying so hard to control his throbbing- no. Friends certainly didn't imagine such scenes. Most of all, friends didn't find themselves in these intimate moments, the air thick with anticipation, where lips were centimeters from meeting, and seconds away from saying something that would change the dynamic forever. Well, at least that's what you thought. Maybe Naranja would be your friend long enough to see if these were truly just normal hallmarks of friendship (although Pedri might be a tad upset if the two of you started sleeping together). You're glad she offered her cellphone number to you.

But this was not the only opinion that was presented to you. You had been sitting on your couch one night, a rare evening when Gavi had promised to accompany Ansu to one hangout or another, his absence felt greatly. It had been weeks since you had a moment that wasn't filled by Pablo's voice, his laughter, his breathing as you completed an assignment while he scrolled through TikTok. There was an eerie silence to the house now, and you needed something to take your thoughts off of your maladaptive daydreams of Pablo laying on your couch, looking up at you through long lashes with a tender gaze. It was almost as if you could run your hands through his messed up brown locks, watching his eyes close as you massaged his scalp, feeling him lean more into your touch.That's all you wanted. Not even for Pablo to come to you with a grand confession of love, but just to be with him with no boundaries, no fear, no awkwardness. Just love and safety and the freedom to exist as you were. Together.

But there was no idle chatter or TikTok sounds to fill the silence, and so you had to do so yourself. You made yourself a delectable cup of tea, favorite mug warming your palm as you tried to balance your plate of snacks in the other. The camp nutritionists had been testing recipes all week, and had sent you home with some of the best food you had ever had, including a tupperware of cookies that could give those little Nestle birds a run for their money. Comfortable on the couch in that same black hoodie with the embroidered '6', you qued, rather ironically, He's Just Not That Into You (a great romcom, but not for people doubting if they're deserving of being loved). Your phone had lit up with a familiar name that you hadn't seen in months now.

"Angelika! How are you? How was fashion week? I saw the collection on Instagram. It looked stunning!"

Since her announcement about moving to Paris, you hadn't heard a peep from your 'best friend'. A mutual friend you ran into at the market had told you her move had been delayed until after the collection had shown at fashion week since the creative director had surprisingly quit, so everything was on ice until he was replaced. You had seen her collection on Diet Prada, not questioning why you hadn't seen the posts that she had made celebrating her work.

"Oh it was fabulous, and Alessandro just got replaced so Paris must be coming soon. I would have invited you, but I only got 6 invitations, and you're always so busy. Didn't want to have an empty seat."

She knew she had made a mistake when she saw your face on the screen drop. You had been the main supporter of Ang's career since you met her, and yet she didn't even bother sending you an invitation or seeing if you might be able to attend.

"Anyway, how have you been? What's new with you?"

You spoke briefly about school and work, before taking a deep breath and opening up the gnarly can of worms that was you and Gavi's current situation. You had no other people with enough context or who you felt comfortable enough with to reveal all your thoughts on the matter. All your hopes and dreams that he would sweep you off your feet. All your insecurities and fears that you had created something unhealthy, something that would dissolve into worse than nothing. No matter how you spun it, it was nice to have a friend, even if you had to ignore that you were walking a mile to see an inch in return.

Angelika listened rather silently to the entire series of events, asking one or two clarifying questions, but for the most part allowing you to monologue. When you finished speaking, you sighed rather dreamily and fell back into your couch, pulling your (Gavi's) hoodie closer around you. Sometime you forgot how much he had bulked up, until you were drowning in the shirts he had donated to you. Maybe there was something there. Now that Dr. G had confessed he thought you two were already in a relationship, the only missing piece was Pablo. You had tried to hint to him that, if he felt even the slightest affection towards you, he should go for it. Make the shot. The goal was empty - hell, the goalie would even guide the ball in for him. Had you been too subtle with your affections? Or had he purposefully ignored the brush of your lips on his throat in order to preserve your pride?

“Don’t you think you’re being a little bit delusional?”

Angelika’s statement was like a splash of ice water on your warm and fuzzy form. You looked at the FaceTime call like the woman on the screen in front of you had grown horns from her head.

“I’m … what?”

“Delusional. I mean it seems like you’re reading too much into his actions. So he what? Used you as his driver and let you keep a hoodie he got from the staff for free? Nothing super special.”

“But… but it wasn’t just that. He-“ She hadn’t even let you finish your sentence, not so subtly rolling her eyes, like she was so utterly bored with your story.

“Yeah, yeah, he punched your ex boyfriend who cheated on you. But I mean, cmon, you like, refused to fuck him. This is the second guy to cheat on you. Maybe it’s you, ha. And Gavi is literally just a raging teenager who has been looking to hit someone. I don’t think you should fly into your princess fantasies because he he finally lost his shit. And now you’re sleeping next to him every night and he’s waiting for you to give him some pussy. Better melt up quick, ice princess, before he gets tired of waiting.”

There it was again. The nausea. The head pounding. The vision blurring and room spinning. The sinking feeling that you were being betrayed by someone you had let in again. If you squinted your eyes a little, she might have even slightly resembled Martin.

“You… think he’s only being nice to me so that I’ll sleep with him?” You asked, voice soft and slow to hide the shake desperately wanting to emerge.

“Oh, absolutely. It’s not like there’s much else there. Now you look upset, but don’t be. I’m just telling you the truth so you don’t get hurt.”

“No, you’re just being a bitch.”

Your response seemed to have caught the both of you off guard. Your face had gone red with frustration, hands trembling with rage that you were desperately trying to quell. What a funny thing, rage. Feminine rage to be exact. The rage of men is common place in society - sort of like bullets. Everyone has heard a gunshot or seen what a bullet can do, in their personal life or on a screen. Male rage and fury is a normal part of life that everyone expects and respects. People bite their tongues hard enough to draw blood before they dare lash out at a man, fearful of sharp words and blunt fists. But feminine rage wasn’t a real threat. Oh no, it was more of a concept. A black and red Pinterest aesthetic in red and black, with pinups and devil horns and swirling script. It was only a danger to the self; a threat of implosion with no shrapnel to hit anyone else. A star dying, a mind shattering, as entertainment to those around. There was never an expectation for her to lash out and defend herself against those who poked at her until she bled. But should a cornered lioness cower in fear rather than attacking?

“What… what the hell is wrong with you?”

“No, what the hell is wrong with you, Angelika? All I’ve done since the day I met you is try and be there for you. All I’ve done is support you through everything - relationships, family drama, you’re entire fucking career! You had professors tell you that you would be a generic designer for H&M, and I was there for you. I was the only person with you at three in the fucking morning telling you that you could do better, that you could be amazing. I was a pincushion, a mannequin, a personal chauffeur to the fabric store. And I didn’t ever do these things because I wanted something in return. I genuinely cared about you and just wanted to see my closest friend succeed! But you couldn’t even pretend to care about this obviously one-sided relationship. All I ever was to you was a person to use when you needed and thrown away when you didn’t. I was preparing for my dream interview, my biggest career goal since I was a fucking child, and not only did you ‘forget’ to give me one word of encouragement, you asked me to be your fucking ride home! And you know what? I made my peace with it. I came to terms with the fact that you thought I was incompetent at my job because everyone seems to think I’m a physio ditz. But for you to call me the nickname people called me in college to objectify me, and then say all I’m worthy of is sex?!”

Angelika was now teary eyed and red in the face. She was shaking her head, unable to respond, acting like the spitting image of a deer caught in the headlights. She was now stumbling over her words, unable to string a complete sentence together.

“That’s … thats not true I didn’t say that.”

“No, that’s exactly what you just said. Don’t be a liar on top of being a shit person. You just said it was my fault I got cheated on by my last two partners. And now I’ve still decided to give you the benefit of the doubt after you straight up admitted to me that you didn’t think of me as one of the top six people in your happy moments. I’ve poured my heart out to you and you don’t even have the decency to lie! You either said that to purposefully hurt me, or you never cared enough to listen when I spoke. Either way, you’re just the last in a long line of people who I have let walk all over me.”

Your expression was steeled and icy. You hadn’t even raised your voice once during the entire exchange, remaining calm and level headed despite the deep cuts you had made in Angelika’s self-confidence. Your lips were downturned and brows knitted together, looking at her with all the loathing she had caused you to feel for yourself. It was hard to be alone, but it was better than being surrounded with people who convinced you that you would never be enough if you didn’t fit their mold. The girl on the other side of the FaceTime call was clearly experiencing every stage of grief all at once, unsure how to respond. She had gotten through the denial, and was knee-deep in the anger. But anger did not spark eloquence, sparking the simple response of,

“Fuck you. You can go to hell.”

And you could swear you saw genuine fear in her eyes as a bright, beaming smile spread across your face. Maybe you had never seen love, but you had seen friendship. You had seen that there were people ready to carry your entire world on their shoulders. And no matter how slowly, you were working to believe that you could be loved, even by yourself. The rage had evaporated and recrystallized as content. So you smiled sickeningly sweetly at Angelika, and gave her a heartfelt response.

“I’ll see you there, darling.”

Pressing the bright red button to end the call was one of the most satisfying things you had ever done in your life. The headache and nausea and ‘I want to die’ feeling that you usually had after a confrontation was nowhere to be found. Quite the opposite, actually. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Your entire chest felt like it had more room for air. Was this what every day was like for people without anxiety? How glorious. Pressing play on Gennifer Goodwyne’s best work, you made a mental note to speak to a therapist the following morning. This felt amazing. You were genuinely smiling at… what exactly? The loss of a friend? No, no - liberation from someone’s foot on your neck. What new and exciting things could you do with this new found freedom, this fresh lease on life? Naturally, you did your favorite activity: picking up the phone and texting Gavi.

Gone were the days of Pablo wracking his brain for any excuse to email, text, or call you. It was almost funny how much he had to talk himself up, looking at his reflection and reiterating how much of a 'cool, suave guy' he was before typing out a very intelligent and eloquent 'hi'. Watching a series that he had no interest in initially just to have something to talk to you about that wasn't one of his leg muscles (no interest initially - now he was patiently waiting 4-6 weeks for his neon sign in the shape of the House Stark sigil). Now it was you who couldn't leave Gavi alone, using your messages to him as a pseudo journal, spewing your entire stream of consciousness into little blue bubbles.

[You]: PABLO

[You]: YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT I JUST DID

Locking your phone and resting it on your chest, you refocused on the chick flick illuminating the darkness of your living room, the device vibrating against you less than 30 seconds later. As much as you would like to pretend it was surprising to receive a response so quickly, this was the normal routine the two of you had created. One needed merely call out, and the other would come running.

[Pablito]: whoever u killed they better be small

[Pablito]: bcs pedri doesnt have a lot of space fr bodies in his car

There it was again: the giggling, the lip bite, the stupid half smile that made you look less like Cindy Crawford and more like the Grinch after Christmas was destroyed. But it was the natural way your body reacted to Pablo - like a schoolgirl with a crush on a boyband member in a brightly-colored magazine. Lord, how were you supposed to be normal around him? Oh how wonderful it would be to have even one inkling that Pablo reacted this way when he heard from you. But in your head, he was still Pablo Gavi with capital letters, who was standing ever so coolly with a beer in hand as he laughed with his other hot rich young athlete friends. You could never picture him as he truly was, shy and puppy-like, beer not even touched as he held his phone in one hand and twirling his hoodie string in the other. He bit down on his lip as well, eyebrows together as he waited for a response. Despite the relationship that had grown for the last six months, he still held his breath slightly when he saw the three little 'typing' dots float on his screen.

[Doctora]: i don't think i can convey the full force over text

[Doctora]: i can come over and explain it to you in person tho

"Guys, I think I need to leave." Pablo said abruptly, looking up at the group of boys, causing a record-scratch moment that abruptly ended the conversation. The heated conversation over whether the Drake curse was real had screeched to a halt, and now all four of the young Barca players were staring in disbelief.

"You haven't even been here for an hour. Where the hell could you need to be right now?" It was Alejandro who spoke up, the only one of the four who was not acutely aware of the fact that Gavi was borderline prepared to give up his entire career for you. He only had a mild inkling.

"Um... one of my friends is coming to my house and I'm going to meet them.''

"Who? We know all your friends. Who is coming over?" Ale asked, draping an arm over fellow La Masia baby Ansu, who smirked at the Sevillano as well.

"Yes, Pablito. Who is it? Ilias?" Ansu asked, obviously enjoying the bright red that seeped into Gavi's face.

"Or maybe Alvaro?" Ale seemed to be enjoying this too much, smiling brightly as Pedri tried to sip his beer without suffocating due to laughter.

"If it's one of the boys, then maybe we should come with you! Beers from the convenience store are cheaper anyways."

Pablo was sweating bullets. How could he say that he wanted to run home to hear what might possibly be the most mundane story about keeping houseplants alive?

"No, no it's... someone from back home. You guys wouldn't know her-HIM! You wouldn't know him." That may have been the worst save Pablo had ever made in his life, including the time his friends made his 5'0 self play keeper in a pick up match. Pedri finally lost the battle and spit out his beer, laughing loudly with the rest of the boys.

"Bro, why can't you just admit your massive crush on the doctor already. It's honestly getting a little tiring at this point. You've been in love with her for like three months now-" Ansu started, moving towards Gavi and clapping him on the shoulder before being interrupted by Pedri, who corrected,

"More like six months actually."

"Ah! There is no way!" Now Pablo was being ping-ponged between his two school friends, trying to keep himself from imploding from embarrassment.

"Why haven't you told her yet? Seriously now." Ale asked, pulling up a chair for himself and Pablo, the group sitting back down, conversation topic having changed into something juicier.

"You forget that he like stopped hating her and then she directly got a boyfriend, right?" Pedri said, signalling for another round of stellas to be brought over to the table.

"I don't think we should order another round. I was going to-" Pablo started, trying to nervously get up. Would he be able to find a taxi? Or should he just order an Uber? Neither possibility was explored as Pedri stuck his arm out and pushed him back into his seat, where he was now firmly locked in.

"Spill your guts. The quicker you talk, the quicker you can tell her to come over. I'll drive you home."

"Should you really be driving if you're going to be drinking?" Pablo asked cautiously as the four beers were placed on the table.

"oh, no, I'm done for the night. Two are for Ale and Ansu, and the other two are for you. For, ya know, confidence."

[Pablito]: u wnna met me at my hosue in an hours

The six minute pause between the 'Read' notification and the response from Pablo had worried you slightly. It was just enough time for the anxiety to seep into your bones. Did he find your desire to see him overwhelming and (God-forbid) clingy? Was he showing the message to Pedri & Co., laughing at your desperation? The misspelling made you even more worried. The spiral of thoughts was taking a sharp turn in the downwards direction. Was he even looking at his phone while typing? You didn't want to be a burden to him during one of the rare nights he could enjoy himself.

[Doctora]: are you sure? i don't have to come over if you're busy

"See now she doesn't want to come." Pablo said, now two beers deep with one more to go so that Pedri would let him leave.

"You're so stupid, Pablo. She wants you to want her to come over." Ansu said frustratedly. Pablo was trying to say as quickly as possible in between gulps what was stopping him from confessing his feelings to you. It had gone along the lines of,

"Well, first I thought I hated her, then I realized I was attracted to her as soon as she got an awful boyfriend, then we became like friends, I guess? Then I just kind of never wanted to ever be away from her. I had a hard time picturing a future that she wasn't a part of. Like, it started to make me have this weird aching feeling in my chest. And now I want to tell her all of this but she like, sees me as a friend and has had a shit time with her male friends and I don't want to permanently traumatize someone I love."

There was definitely more beer spit into the air and on the floor than there was in anyone's mouth.

"What did you just say?!" His too schoolmates echoed loudly, while Pedri just stared at him in a shocked state.

Pablo's brain was swimming in beer bubbles, unable to connect any dots and make intelligent, let alone sit and explain the process and intricacies of figuring out that he was, in fact, in love with you. So he ignored the question, asking rather for advice as to how he could get you to come over to his house.

"I don't think she needs that much convincing, seeing as you guys literally sleep beside each other for the majority of the week."

"Pedri, please. Enough details. You're just going to sit here and casually tell us the doctor has been in Pablito's bed repeatedly and he has yet to ask her on a date? I might collapse if I hear another shocking piece of information." Ale exclaimed, one hand over his heart as he leaned over, Ansu above him in what appeared to be genuine distress for his cardiac health.

"Pablo," Pedri started, sitting up in his seat and placing his elbows on his shoulders, obviously meaning business. "Now it's time to exercise that one petite little romantic muscle in your body."

"Isn't every muscle in his body petite?" Ansu braced himself for the punch in the arm that he received, but it was softer than previous attacks. Maybe the alcohol was really hitting him.

"Does it bother you that she asked to come over?"

"No!" Pablo responded quicker than his teammates thought possible. "I always want her to come over. She doesn't even need to ask. I would give her a key to the place if she wanted. Hell, I would sign the house over in her name. Do you think I could ask her to move in with me as friends?" His foggy brain registered the laughter, but didn't quite understand it. He would love for you to be in his house, walking through the door with you every evening, eating on the couch, fighting over the comforter and cuddling in the cold.

"See now that's... kind of a lot for a girl who doesn't know you have feelings for her. Which is a whole separate issue of oblivion that we can address later. Let's edit it down. Hand me your phone."

[Pablito]: never too busy for you. see you in an hour ;)

You stared at the wink on your screen with wide eyes. Had Pablo's phone been hacked? He had sent emojis before, but usually when he was making a cheesy joke or mocking someone else. This was ... well you actually couldn't say. Calling this behavior 'weird' would really make everything you two did, like cuddling and sleeping over and trauma-dumping, seem 'weird' as well. The only time he had ever been so outwardly flirty with you was when...

[Doctora]: Pablo are you drunk?

[Doctora]: I'm coming over to kick ur ass

"I think I got you in trouble." Pedri said, sheepishly handing back the device. Pablo groaned, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more strongly, head spinning and stomach churning at the thought of getting scolded by you. But something in him also burned at the idea of you getting worried about him when you weren't being paid for it.

"Alright boys, let's head out so Romeo can get back to the castle on time." Pedri ushered the three tipsy boys to the car, Ansu and Ale hunched over and giggling in the back, and Pablo slumped with a cheek pressed up against the passenger window.

"Wait! I just thought of something really important!" Ale practically yelled, leaning against the car in front of his place, Ansu waiting by the door to be let in for their own sleepover and gossip session (which may become a breakfast and gossip session given their current state).

"If the doctor tries to kiss him, will Pablo have to get on his tiptoes?"

The uproar of laughter was so loud it could be categorized as a public disturbance. Ale stood, mind foggy but genuine, watching Pedri clutch both the steering wheel and his ribs. Ansu was worse for wear, falling to his knees and gripping the sidewalk for dear life, all while Pablo gripped his head in pain and embarrassment.

"Ale, please, please open the door. I'm going to piss myself laughing from the mental image. Please, Ale."

"I'm actually taller than she is, just for everyone's information." The rebuttal was coupled with crossed arms and a pout.

"With or without shoes?" Ale's follow-up question set off another round of rambunctious laughter. Pablo was now properly tipsy and overly sensitive, and was ready to go home. Ale finally let go of the coop, preventing Ansu's public urination, and Pedri could finally make his way to Pablo's place. The green vehicle pulled into the driveway, and you followed just minutes later.

"Pedri, I'm worried."

The Canarian stared at the boy beside him. That's still what Pablo was. At his young age, he was bearing the back-breaking pressure of being the best right out of the gate, and soul-crushing weight of being in love. It was more than Pedri knew himself and many of his friends able to withstand. And though he understood the sentiment clearly, he asked anyways.

"What're you worried about?"

Pablo was many thing when he had a few drinks. He was noticeably louder, more vibrant and talkative. His usual shy self loosened up, and he was much more vulnerable. He did whatever he felt like: danced, flirted with women, made bets - anything he could imagine that would make him feel alive before the liquid courage wore off and he was back to silencing the bickering voices in his head.

"I'm worried that I'm going to say something stupid and scare her off."

"Ignore what people say online, hermano. You're not actually that scary." The giggle in return allowed Pedri to breathe a little easier. He tried to push away the twinge of guilt that reminded him he had been the one to pressure Pablo to drink, and he had been the one shoving this relationship forward at a faster pace than the participants may have liked.

"No I mean... even if the 1 in a million occurs and she gives me a chance, what if I come on too strong and kill it instantly? Can you come with me?" The request and the puppy-dog look both worked to catch Pedri off guard.

"Come with you to hang out with your girl?"

"You don't have to sit with us. You can fire up the PS5 and do whatever you want. But I won't tell her I want to grow old with her like the couple in The Notebook if you're in the house."

"You want to live out the plot of The Notebook with the doctora?"

"How did you know that?" Pablo asked with wide eyes, fully convinced that the older had read his mind.

"You just told me! How much alcohol did you actually have?" Pedri was now concerned. Could he not count? Pablo had only had three beers. He didn't remember him being such a lightweight, but it probably would explain a lot.

"Ugh, see! Pedri please, I need you. Just come with me!"

Before Pedri could protest again, a small knock was heard on Pablo's window, causing both the Barca boys to jump slightly.

"Ugh, fine. But only because your gameshock controller has never been thrown into a wall."

As the two stepped out of the car, your nose was instantly assaulted with the scent of alcohol and smoke. Pablo looked at you with a red face and slightly unfocused eyes.

"Doctora! Hey!" As he moved in to give you a hug, you stepped back from him, covering your nose with the sleeve of your (Gavi's) hoodie. You looked harshly at the boys, glare flipping between the two boys.

"I can't believe you asked me to come here while you're wasted. And you! What the hell do you think you're doing driving drunk?" You yelled, and Pedri ran forward to prevent the neighbors from hearing your misconception.

"I'm not drunk! I had one beer and waited more than an hour before driving. Pablo had three beers. We smell like shit because a waitress spilled a tray full of shots at the table. Let's continue arguing inside."

You looked at them skeptically, trying to find a smidge of deceit in either of their faces. Pablo approached you and draped an arm around your shoulder. Pressed up against you, it seemed like the smell of liquor dissipated, replaced by the last traces of his cologne and his own signature scent. Leaning down slightly, his lips brushed against the shell of your ear, sending shockwaves throughout your nervous system.

"Come on, Doctora. You know I'd never lie to you. Come inside now. I need to get in the shower."

Speechless and wide-eyed, you were helpless to do anything but nod your head and be lead back inside the house that you had come to know so well.

"I'm going to get in the shower. I think it will help me sober up a bit. And help me stop smelling like Kettle One."

"Oh."

"Don't seem so disappointed, Doctora. I'll only be gone for five minutes. You can wait for me on the balcony; you won't even miss me. Or if you really can't be without me for a single moment, I have a very large shower."

You had stared at Gavi in shock for the umpteenth time that evening, unable to process how he was being so... unadulterated with you. It reminded you of that very first night in the club, when he had stared you up and down and commended Angel on his ability to pick girls.

"Wait you have a balcony?"

That's what lead to your current situation: sitting with your knees pressed to your chest, breathing in the early April Catalan air, and staring at the beautiful view from the window. The street was illuminated in a soft yellow glow, people roaming with hands held and laughs exchanged. The moon was full, shining its beauty down onto the street, painting everything a soft silver color that contrasted with the hazes of gold. It was one of those moments you wish you could trap between plates of glass and visit at a moment's notice. One of those moments that reminded you how far you had come. That dream, that life you had worked, cried, and prayed for - you were in it right now.

The glass door slid open behind you, ending the trance as Pablo stepped out with more blankets over one arm and two mugs in hand. You took them from him, hands warmed as he draped a blue and red blanket (his favorite, unbeknownst to you) around your shoulders. He wrapped himself in a pale yellow one and took his seat next to you, legs also by his chest as he retrieved his steaming mug. Taking a sip, the thick liquid coated your tongue, sweet and rich and reminiscent of childhood.

"So you can't even boil an egg correctly, but you know how to make perfect Chocolate Caliente while tipsy? How does that make any sense?"

Turning to you, he took a pause. The wind gently pushed your hair back, allowing the moonlight to fully illuminate your eyes, and his already hazy mind struggled not to just let himself drown in them. He was beginning to sober up, but it was nowhere near how he wanted to be in your presence.

"It was my favorite breakfast as a kid. My dad used to take Aurora and I to have them for breakfast on the weekends. When I came to Barcelona, I didn't really have anyone to take care of me like that anymore, so I learned to make it myself." Pablo hadn't meant for this to be a sad story, but apparently his tone came across as such, demonstrated by your scooching over to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. No matter the cause, he accepted the invitation to lean against you, sharing your body warmth.

"Must've been hard for you, moving here alone." Your voice was far off, as if spoken to a different person and in a different time. Flashes played in your mind of teary goodbyes and security gates, only one of your parents caring enough to drive you to the airport.

"You know what it's like," Pablo responded. "You did the same thing." He wanted to life his head and look at you, but you move first, resting your temple against his, slotting perfectly together like a teacup that had found its saucer.

"Yeah but I was 18. You were what? 11?" Your voice is still heavy with a burden that Pablo can't understand. His parents had gone with him when he first moved - and you knew that. They had only gone back to Sevilla when Gavi, shy and petite little thing that he was (and remains) told them he was fine to stay in the dorm. He had made friends quick and been praised for his football skills quicker. His parents were only two hours away, and visited semi-frequently. Life at La Masia had been Disney Channel-esque. So why did you speak about it with the same somber tone as old war stories?

"I hate that you say 'I was 18' like it was a thousand years ago, Doctora."

Pablo could feel your cheeks form a wide smile, and wrapped an arm loosely around your waist as you leaned deeper into his orbit. Of all the times the two of you had been cuddly, this was quickly becoming his favorite. Because he wasn't holding you like a secret, in the dark of night when all you wanted to do was pass out. He could see you, here in his arms of your own free will, not running away, but rather leaning in. He got to sweep the hair from your eyes, and if he focused hard enough, the dull beat of your helping the tension dissipate from his bones.

It was moments like these when Pablo knew that he was wholly and completely in love. His heart didn't race around you anymore. It wa quite the opposite now: only when he was around you could his heart beat like it was intended. It felt full. Otherwise he was walking around with this tugging in his chest, begging him to drop everything and run to wherever you were. And once he arrived, he would tear the beating organ from his chest for you upon request. It was your property, anyways.

"But I was 18 like a century ago. I'm old and withered now Pablo. What you're doing now is taking care of the elderly."

His laugh in response made him fall forward, burying his head in your lap as you blushed profusely, laughter light and breathy as to not draw attention (or get him to move). His face pressed against one of your thighs, giggling a bit too hard at a very generic joke without a singular care in the world. He leans back slightly and places a kiss to your thigh, so quick and delicate you almost missed it.

"I'll always take care of you, Doctora. As long as you let me."

You couldn't bring yourself to speak at that moment, opting to instead bring a hand up to play with his hair. Gently, you wove your fingers through the locks, softly scratching at his head like the sleepy puppy he resembled in that moment.

Several minutes of comfortable silence elapsed before he spoke again.

"Remember the first time we met?"

"Vividly." The response came quickly and honestly from you, and you were banking on Pablo's slightly incapacitated state to prevent him mocking you. But it was one of those moments seared into your memory. The lights, the sweat, the deep urge to pull Pablo against you and kiss him until that perfect pout disappeared.

"You didn't think I was 18 then. It was a hard blow to my ego. I didn't want a pretty girl to think of me as a child. But now, I'm glad we met when we did."

Soft music floated in the air towards the balcony, the performers a few streets over finishing off the night with something soft and romantic to tug on the heartstrings of passing couples in hope of separating them from some Euros. Gavi lifted his head, body following shortly as he stood. He held out a hand to help you to your feet as well. "Come and dance with me." Rising, Pablo never released your hand from his, pulling you in as close as possible, keeping you pressed to him with one arm. He began swaying and you followed his lead, now your turn to rest your head on his shoulder and simply enjoy the euphoria of being in his arms. His breath was next to your ear, raising the flesh on your neck with every exhale, before finally saying,

"Because in the future when we're real senior citizens, I get to tell people I've known you my entire adult life."

You faltered slightly, stopping Gavi in his tracks as he met your eyes. God, those eyes. If only you knew the power they had over a certain Sevillano.

"You think I'll still be around when you're an old man?" You asked, trying to stay light and airy and nonchalant as your heart hammered against the confines of your ribcage.

"Of course, Doctora. Where else would you be other than beside me?"

This was it. This was the moment. You were dancing on his balcony in his hoodie as he told you that he never wanted you to leave his side. This was the time to agree, to jump and have those strong arms catch you as you said those three words that could show you the gates of heaven or the depths of hell. You traced shaking fingers down one of his biceps, eyes meeting as with ragged breath you began.

"Pablo..."

The response was the sound of the glass door being shoved open, causing the two of you to jump a foot apart. Pedri stood there, cheeks flushed like when Xavi played him all 120 minutes.

"Pablito!! You had a case of beer in the fridge to reward me for being the DD!" This man was on another planet, bringing you back down to earth.

"You should get him to bed. I need to get going anyways."

"No!" The protest was louder than anticipated, startling both you and Pedri, who had gotten bored of playing sober FIFA and may have over-indulged when Pablo's balcony date with you entered its second hour.

"I mean, I'll get him to bed. You haven't told me your story yet. I would hate for you to leave without finishing the reason why you came. Wait for me on the couch, I'll be five minutes."

There was a pause, almost a reluctance from you to break the strong eye contact. He knew that there was something else you wanted to say. There was always something left unsaid between the two of you. He watched your form disappear down the stairs as he guided Pedri to his room (he didn't want his soon-arriving sister to sleep on dirty sheets). "You have the worst timing imaginable, hermano." Pablo muttered out, blood boiling at how the evening had gone from 200 back down to zero in a matter of seconds. When did he even put a case of beer in the fridge? Neither of you were drinkers. His fridge was always stocked with every delight and craving you had mentioned in passing.

"You told me to make sure you didn't say anything stupid." Pedri responded, making Gavi squint at him in suspicion. He must have not as been as out of it as he let on.

"Yeah but I think she- nevermind. Go to sleep."

"Calm down Pablito. It's not like I interrupted your first kiss."

Forcing himself to take a deep, self-soothing breath, Pablo turned from his inebriated friend and shut the door.

Making your way to the living room, you once again filled your senses with the boyish football decor of the living room. Checking to make sure he wasn't coming down the stairs, you sped over to the front door. The pictures on the wall remained as they were previously: childhood, family, football. Your heart sank slightly at the thought of your Christmas present sitting ripped and crumpled at the bottom of his club-issued backpack. You turned back into the living room, making your way to the couch.

Flopping on the soft material, you kicked your feet up on the table, glancing over to look at his obnoxiously large Barca book. And there, sitting on top of it, was a simple black frame, slightly dented in one corner like it had been dropped. The frame held the two of you, angry and standoffish and forever frozen in that moment before the floodgates had been irreversibly opened. He had framed it. Pablo Gavi, the busiest boy in football right now, had decided you were worth the frame and the position front and center on his favorite book.

"So, what was so groundbreaking you needed to see my reaction in person?" His question snapped you out of your trance, and you sprung up from your place on the sofa, needing to get the photo out of your field of vision for your own sanity. Making a B-line to the fridge, the cold was inviting to your flushed face. Fruit, bread, cheese, cold cuts - no Spanish boys here. Just the comfort of food.

"Do you want a sandwich?"

"There's no way you said that to her! Who are you and what have you done with the Doctora I know?" Despite his reprimand, the beautiful boy before you joined in the fits of giggles that had taken over you. Having deprived yourself of a decent meal for the last week due to work (they had finally handed over all of Antonio's medical notes and they were in shambles), you fixed yourself and Pablo the most impressive sandwich you had ever conjured in your adult life. After filling his arms with every possible accompaniment, he plopped himself beside you on the couch, crossing his legs so his knee rested against yours. Before he got comfortable, he jumped up, stating he had forgotten something.

"I got these for you." The jar he placed on the table was filled with green liquid, and as you leaned in closer to inspect the label, your eyes lit up.

"You... bought me a jar of pickles?"

"Yeah. Remember one time you said you liked them so I got these. They look like the same jar." That's when you let yourself burst into tears.

The hour following had been you and Pablo in various states: his arm around you as you cried into his shoulder about how shit the people in your life had been, then hunched over plates stuffing your faces and joking around, and finally the current one of eating pickles and chips and whatever else was on the table as you recounted your demonic phone call.

"I did but like I've wanted to say it to her for months now! You don't understand, Pablo, because you're friends with the amazing, caring, thoughtful being that is me." More giggles as he shoved a pillow into you, smile so bright it could light up the entire first floor. He was never afraid to be like this around you: silly and playful and just comfortable.

"La la Doctora, ladies shouldn't use such foul language." It was your turn to shove his shoulder, probably causing you more damage than him due to the rock-solid muscle.

"Thanks papa, appreciate the advice. But like seriously, she asked me to drive her to Madrid one weekend - as in like Madrid five hours away - to go to a specific store. You know what she bought there? Buttons. 10 hours of my life and a hell of a lot of gas so she could get buttons! And it's not like I expected anything in return-"

"No of course not. It's just when you do nice things for people and are kind to them, you want them to act the same. Treat others how you want to be treated." Pablo bit his tongue there, scared he would sound immature or stupid. You were several years his senior in age and education, and the last thing he wanted was for you to water-down your feelings because you thought he wouldn't understand.

"Right?! See, you get it! And I just, ugh, I feel kinda bad because like she didn't really do anything directly. Like yeah her show and stuff but there wasn't really a moment or like a fallout." You moved towards Pablo, leaning on his shoulder as the moment took a more serious turn.

"But that's the whole point isn't it? That she didn't do anything, she was just kind of there and reaping all the benefits of friendship with no effort. And-"

"Doctora, can I interrupt you for a minute?" You felt Pablo's shoulder dip slightly, and disappointed as you were, took the sign to lift your head.

"Sorry I didn't mean to take over your personal sp-"

"Ay shut up about my personal space. I'd handcuff you to me if I had the chance." He quickly looked away from you, processing his comment after he had said it. Nice one Gavito - real friendly. He moved some of the cushions to the end of the couch by the arm rest, kicking off the more decorative ones and leaning down. Honey eyes looked at you between thick lashes, and patted the narrow sliver of space beside him. Rolling his eyes at the confused raising of your brow, he verbalized his request.

"Come lay next to me while you rant."

Oh. Oh. Had he ever asked you outright to cuddle with him? The first time, you had been the instigator. You had taken that leap off the bridge - no, the cliff - and yet there he had been, warm and welcoming, catching you with grace. Ever since then, there had really been no words. Talking about his desires and feelings didn't come naturally to Pablo, and so he steered clear of them all together. It was always something unspoken: he would be at your apartment and just follow you down the hall when you declared it to be bedtime. Or when you had spent too much time at the Gavira house watching reruns of the same telenovela, and Gavi just switched the TV off and guided you up the stairs. No matter the location it was always the same. Him on the right side, you on the left, but both magnetically drawn to the center and one another. You slotted into his side, head on his heart, and stabilized by his embrace. Sometimes he wore a shirt - most times he didn't. He hugged you a little closer whenever you were in his clothing, trying to dispense his scent onto it anew and make sure you would think of him whenever there was a breeze. But there were never words. Only feelings and longing gazes and that same settled silence.

"You want me to?"

"Why would I ask if I didn't want you to? Last time you fell asleep on my shoulder you almost broke your neck. Now if you fall asleep you will only be semi-sore in the morning. I mean you don't have to if you-"

"No. I mean yes. I mean no I don't not want to do that."

"Is your Spanish getting worse or did that make no sense?"

You sighed in defeat, laying beside Pablo on the couch, sinking into the fabric and into him. One of his arms was acting as your pillow, and his hand made its way upwards to softly play with your hair, an instant soother. Body turning inwards toward him, your arms were up and palms gently pressed to his chest.

"Am I too close?" You asked, Pablo's previous comment about wanting to be physically attached to you seemed to have evaporated from your mind. His second arm fell around your waist, pulling you closer in. Your thigh was now pressed between his legs, and you both seemed to hold your breath for a moment. The alarms went off in his brain while his eyes held yours. He just stared at you. That's all he ever really wanted to do nowadays. He unfroze and shook his head before prompting you to continue your story.

"Oh, right - where was I?"

"She never put any effort into the relationship."

"Oh, right." You sat up to grab one of the blankets, draping the warmth on the tangled mess of limbs, and laying back down. It was not lost on you that Pablo, despite all the jokes, had listened intently to every word you had said. Nothing Pablo did, from the way he shifted his misaligned hips to his soft breathing to the way his fingers traced shapes in your side, was ever lost on you.

"So..." and on continued your rant for about an hour. It was a different kind of catharsis to speak about your pain and receive empathy in response. To be told that the feelings poisoning your spirit were ones that had been planted and could be weeded out. It was a relief that also brought about a tiredness, where once your emotions were freed, your eyelids grew substantially heavier. But the fingers remained soothing against your hair, twisting and smoothing the locks. He pushed a few stray pieces from your face, smiling at the sleepy state on your face.

"Excited for this last month of the season?" The short international break had allowed for the season to be neatly wrapped up by the first week of May, with the Champions League final and awards ceremonies following directly after.

"Mhm," you hummed back, eyes now fully closed and cheek pressed against Pablo's warm skin. "But it's not really a month for me. It's more like a week left of the season. Copa Del Rey in three days, then you score a screamer in the net at home to win La Liga three days later. Once the season is decided, I'm back at school for practical exams." The vibration in his chest reverberated throughout your entire being, and your semi-sleeping form nuzzled deeper into Pablo, which neither of you thought possible. Fingers tightened around the semi-exposed skin of your waist, and he felt a sensation akin to weilding fire at will. Knowing full well the flames could engulf him in a torturous inferno, but oh how beautiful to hold and let dance at the tips of his fingers.

"So we have two more matches with you?"

"Three if you choke again and let the other borderline relegation team score three goals." He tugged lightly at your hair as a reprimand, your smile spreading against his neck.

"I wasn't even on the field for the full 90 minutes last game. Don't worry, we're bringing home both trophies this week. And you're getting that screamer of a goal. Make sure to record it so I can gloat forever." A gentle nod and a hum, but the sleep was slowly seeping into your senses.

"So after that, what? What's next?"

"Well you already know that Xavi offered me a permanent position for when I graduate next year. So I'm at the club on automatic placement renewal. He he I was the first one in my class to get it."

"Of course you were, Doctora. You're the best there is." Warm cheeks yet again. Pablo must think you're a natural furnace, not realizing that his sticky sweet compliments were always triggering the "Heart Overheating" alarms in your mind.

"You think too highly of me. I'll see you when you come back for preseason medicals and training. They might let me run it this year. Oh, and at the Bondor. I'll be there, too."

"At the what?"

"The Bondor." You repeated, unaware of how much you were mumbling as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Slow down for me, Doctora. One word at a time. Where will I see you?"

"Ballon. D'or." You repeated for the third time as slowly as possible. It was too hard to stay awake now, and let yourself slip fully into the depth of relaxation, tangled in a web of warm Pablo, basking in this moment where you could just rest contently.

Pablo on the other hand was now on high alert. There had been a lot of commotion in the club when the nominations were announced. Pedri had pulled up the livestream on the projector, the entire squad waiting with baited breath for the categories of interest. There mutters all around about how the whole ceremony was a scam and had royally screwed over Robert, but who was going to turn down the honor? You had seen the stampede (led of course by Luca, who was always at the head of any effort to get out of doing his job) and followed quickly, afraid someone else had passed out. The players had been pushing themselves to stay miles above Madrid in the league, and it was taking a real toll. You looked up at the ceiling as you speed-walked, praying that everyone (especially Dembele) was okay. You would really like a calm week.

"Now, the nominees for the Kopa Trophy, awarded to the best player under 21 years of age..."

Ansu caught your eye as you entered and waived you over, instructing you to sit with him and the other young Barca boys. Gavi had been given a seat in the middle, the throne of the meeting room, as the murmurs circulated once again. You hadn't been aware that Pablo was a contender for this award - not surprised, but your schedule didn't allow you to keep on on Twitter as you once had. You wrung your fingers, heart hammering as the presenter spoke with that slow TV drawl that made everyone want to commit arson.

"Jude Bellingham, Jamal Musiala, Bukayo Saka, Eduardo Camavinga, Gavi-"

You were sure there were other nominees, but the shouts of joy and thunderous claps on Gavi's shoulders prevented any more information from entering your ears. The coaching staff and older players commended him on the achievement, and you had to wait until the room was essentially cleared to stick out your hand and offer a congratulatory message.

"Are we doing handshakes now?" He asked, eyes flitting between you and Pedri's gossip circle occupying the far corner.

"It feels more professional. This is a professional achievement after all."

""I haven't achieved anything yet." He said shaking your hand firmly and lingering much longer than was appropriate for the workplace (and 'friends').

"What are you talking about? You've been nominated! That's huge in itself given that a lot of your teammates also qualify for that award."

"Yeah but Pedri snatched it last year. They won't hand it over to the same club two years in a row."

"Doesn't Messi have like 27 Ballon D'ors in a row?"

"Please don't use Leo as an example. I am just a regular human being." As the two of you made your way into the hall, out of the line of sight of Pedri's tea spilling team, the laughter and teasing died down. You turned to Pablo, bringing one hand to rest on his arm, smoothing the fabric of his training jacket with your fingers as you looked up at him.

"You're a brilliant player, Pablo. One of the best this club has ever seen. You are incredible and have the brightest future ahead of you, and I just hope I get to be a part of it. That award it yours - I can feel it. But even if it isn't, don't sell yourself short. You amaze me every day."

This was the best news since his promotion to the first team. He had been pushing the Paris trip to the far recesses of his brain, a bout of nausea and anxiety striking him every time he conjured the thought of walking down that carpet or speaking on stage. But now you were going to be there. You would see him in the finest suit D&G would lend him, hair perfectly gelled down (he would need a trim). And he let himself ever so briefly entertain the fantasy of you watching him win. Of the announcer calling out his name, the crowd rising to their feet in deafening applause as he accepted the trophy from Pedri. He would look out into the crowd and see you there, sending a wink your way before thanking everyone who helped him achieve this, especially the medical staff. He drifted off to sleep replaying this scenario in his head, a trophy in one arm and the girl of his dreams in the other.

Pedri woke up with a minor headache in the morning, sunlight pouring through the large windows directly into his eyes. He would be buying Pablo some blackout curtains for Christmas. Descending from his place, he walked across it: a real sight to behold. You and Gavi were tangled together on the couch, legs an absolute mess with the blanket pooled around them. Your head was on his chest, face nuzzled upward into his neck. Your hands were fisting his shirt, as if afraid someone would rip him from your clutches. Pablo wasn't much better. He had his arms wrapped around you, one on the back of your head and one around your waist. He had managed to pull you on top of him in the night, his back flat on the sofa and your weight pooled on his chest and bringing him tranquility. His lips rested against your forehead, his face perfectly positioned with yours. He held you tight against him, and your unconscious form rose and fell with each of his deep and even breaths. Despite his best efforts, Pedri couldn't stop himself from snapping a picture of the moment. Thank God his ringer was always off. He did have enough self restraint to prevent him from sharing the photo with his group chat with Ansu, Ale, Eric, and surprisingly Robert (he just likes to be included). The name had changed numerous times in the last several months, and was now simply called "friendship" my ass for obvious reasons. He knew this would be a picture Pablo and you would look back on fondly when one was finally courageous enough to just let go. But until then, it sat safely in his hidden folder, and he tiptoed out the door, sparing one last look at the pair of you, sleeping more deeply than well-fed toddlers. The tension in Pablo's face was gone. Pedri hoped it would stay that way.

"And we are just minutes from kicking off what could be the league-winning match for Barcelona here in Spotify Camp Nou! Set to be an exciting game against Atletico Madrid, and the crowd is absolutely on fire."

"Just as well, Peter. I mean Barcelona have the ability to make this an incredible three trophy season right here today. They're coming off a massive win against Sevilla in the Copa Del Rey final, at home for what could be the league winner, and the performances we're going to see today are going to be full energy full power now that the Ballon D'Or nominee list has been announced."

"That's right we have Robert Lewandowski shortlisted for the titular award after two incredible seasons at Bayern Munich. We also have Pedri potentially passing the 'Golden Boy' torch onto his fellow midfielder Gavi, who has had an absolutely stellar season."

"Who can forget about that performance in the Supercopa, Peter. Three goal contributions in a Classico no less, the likes of which we haven't seen since Leo Messi stepped up to the plate, and we all know how that played out. He's really been putting in amazing performances week after week, and the most surprising thing is the level of health Barca have been able to maintain. For a team riddled with injuries all of last season, it is a miracle turnaround. Kick off right here after the break."

The tunnel was always busy right before kick off, but today it was quadruple-fold. You weren't sure if Barca was just extra confident in a victory today, but the media passes had tripled, and everyone was eager to get candids of the young blaugrana boys. You were pushing through people's shoulders, 'excuse-me' shifting very quickly into 'get out of the way' as you made your way to the players line up to adjust resistance tape and back braces. You were in the official physio uniform today, Nike jacket hugging your skin and tucked neatly into your trousers. The entire staff had been gifted with a new pair of cleats with the date on one side and a number of their choice on the other.

"I'm assuming 6 for you?" You had been caught off guard by the assumption from the brand rep.

"Why would you assume that? Have other players been telling you things about me?" You must have looked genuinely afraid and shocked, as the rep raised his hands in innocence, face going pale.

"No no no. I have absolutely no idea who you are. You have a 6 on your hoodie, so I thought you would want something to match."

It was discreet, a small black number on the back of your heel, and yet it was the only thing that Gavi could see as you worked to adjust Frenkie's shoulder. Did all of you have numbers? Were they in order, yours just happening to fall in the 6th position? Were there even 6 people on the physio team? His eyes stayed on your shoes until they were in front of his. He looked up to meet you raised brow.

"Why are you staring? Your shoes are nicer than mine."

Turning around, he let you test his hip alignment as he allowed himself to speak away the nerves buzzing throughout his system.

"Think we're going to win?"

"I always think you're going to win. I'm just waiting for that incredible goal you promised last week."

"What, the three goal contributions in the Supercopa weren't enough for you? You have high standards, Doctora."

"Of course. That was back in January. It's April now, Pablo. I want you to make my last game good." As you released him from your grip, he turned to face you, putting both hands on your shoulders. A few players turned their heads, but only for a cursory glance.

"If I score today, you let me pick you up as a celebration."

"Are you allowed to do that?"

"Who's going to stop me?"

"One of your fangirls might dive onto the field and tackle me."

"I have faith in you, Doctora. You seem like a fast runner."

"Always nice to have your unwavering support. Deal. Better be a good goal."

"A screamer."

You moved onto Pedri, who was next in the numerical line up, and his eyebrows did all the talking for him. You muttered a quick 'good luck' before continuing your duties in the remaining minutes before they walked out for the match.

"What a friendly little deal you've made, hermano." He leaned over and said, but the players began walking before Pablo could respond. Post -anthem, you took your place on the sidelines, jittery from the electric energy ricocheting around the stadium. No Joao for Gavi to shove around, but Griezmann was going to be a problem. The first half was rough and fast-paced, but remained scoreless. As the players came off for half time, you were instructed to help out the ones with high muscle tension. Passing Pablo, you placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke into his ear, quick and soft: "Looks like I'm staying seated all game."

Pablo turned just in time to watch you scamper off, a smirk on his lips. Pablo loved a challenge, and it was all the better to have it come from you. He had a couple opportunities during the first half, but he was scared of getting fouled too early on. Now was the time were he was able to push, with the anxiety from the beginning of the game shaken off. He tuned back into Xavi's pep talk and instructions for the second half, lips still upturned.

The media was always puffing up players, but it was true that Pedri was a magician with the ball. There was something captivating about the way he calmly danced between players, maneuvering skillfully. A pass to Araujo, then back to him. The roar of the crowd was dulled by the thrum of your heart and the snapping as you bit at your nails in anticipation. The boys had been pressing hard, and a score seemed eminent. Pedri lifted his head, looking for his striker. Lewa was locked up on the right. It seemed the moment to move back, alleviate the press and recalculate. But then a flash of blue and red streaked across his vision and his foot reacted faster than his brain. Minute 85, a scoreless game, and a ball crossed high and fast towards the menace that was Gavi. His foot connected in the far left corner of the box and there it went, screaming past the goalie's fingertips before nestling in the top corner of the net.

An explosion. You were the slowest person to react, slack jawed as the other physios shoved and shook you in celebration. Hands coming to his chest, he gripped the crest like it was a crown jewel, looking right as you as he brought it to his lips, kissing it with a force and passion that had flowed in him since he was 11 years old. He ran towards you, teammates following swiftly, and suddenly there were arms around your thighs as he lifted you. He bounced you in the air as his teammates clapped him on the shoulders, congratulating him and showering him with the well-deserved praise. You looked down, hands rested on Pablo's shoulders. His gaze was locked with yours. you wanted to tease him or commend him but there were no words. He released you, pointing at ou before taking his position.

They lifted the trophy shortly after, the players looking like children as they danced and sang in a circle. The players all took their turns squeezing the living daylights out of you.

"Doctora!" It was Dembele who called out to you, waving you over. Under the watchful eyes of his coaches, Gavi was more careful not to get too close to you (even though he had just Lion-King lifted you during the game).

"Come take a picture with all your patients and their trophy!" The request was made with laughs all around as you stood behind the trophy, Ousmane on one arm and Pedri on the other. Balde and Ansu got into the photo as well, arms all around each other.

"Gavi! Get in here! You're the one with the most clinic hours." Ousmane called out to him as well. He blushed as he walked (waddled) over, stopping to pick up the trophy and dropping it into your hands.

"This is your achievement too, Doctora. You should be proud." Pedri shoved him in beside you, claiming it helped 'balance the photo'. The flash went off twice. Once with Pablo paying attention to the camera, smiling brightly having just won MOTM in their league decider. The second was almost identical, but his head was turned to you. The smile was softer, the eyes kinder. He looked at you like the ultimate prize. As he said his goodbyes to you, promising not to miss you too much in the month you would be seperated, he realized one thing: he was going to need more frames.

@gaviraconcubine: ok i thot it was stupid but maybe gavi is actually w his physio???? just look at them

1,272 Likes 677 Retweets 385 Replies

@blaugranaboy: if you FEMALES knew anything, you would know barca has had shit physios and is always getting injured. since she came on staff they staying healthy. i would pick her ass up to

@barbiebalde: @blaugranaboy *too. Sexist AND bad english? pick a struggle

@88rizzing: ok but theres also pics of her out with pedri at a prada store so idk anymore???????

@gavitaylorsversion: her instagram is private :( can someone drop clearer pictures of her

You had been through some difficult situations in the last ten months, but these practical exams were the biggest challenge you had faced in your existence. 8am to 8pm lectures for two weeks, followed by a week straight of performing concussion protocols, lifting stiff boards, and demonstrating a whopping 6 different types of sutures had finally come to an end. It was May 5th, the final day of your exams, and three days before your flight to Paris for the ceremony. Your phone had been discarded for practically the entirety of the month, logged out of all social media and having your focus set to only let through emergency calls (and, of course, texts from Pablo). They had been less frequent given his understanding of your schedule.

[Pablito]: i know you have stitches today. Good luck <3

[Pablito]: Kounde asked about you today. He hasn't realized you've been missing the last two weeks. He really isn't on this planet

[Pablito]: the finale of our show came on last night. I recorded it so we can watch it together after your exams.

And now the most recent one had come through:

[Pablito]: Congrats on surviving the epic battle of your practical exams. I sent you dinner. Have a great night!

The doorbell rang in some scary accurate timing, and you graciously accepted the package from the delivery driver. Sitting on your couch to watch any comedic show that would help you decompress. The bag was huge, and seemingly filled to the brim with containers. Pasta, pizza, two types of bread, fried chicken, and three slices of cake (chocolate, cheesecake, and tres leches). There was also a bottle of sugar-free soda, for balance apparently. As you picked up your phone to ask Pablo if you were meant to feed the whole building, another text popped up on your screen.

[Santa Naranja]: Hi! I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm the stylist who worked with Pedro for his Prada shoot? I got this number from him. You should yell at him for giving out your number so easily.

[Santa Naranja]: Anyways, I just got the list for the Ballon D'Or ceremony and I saw your name on there. How exciting! My company is styling Barca for the event, and I wanted to reach out personally to see what you would be interested in wearing.

[Santa Naranja]: Because I'm assuming you don't want to be in a suit? But I could be wrong.

You replied instantly, telling her how grateful you were for contacting you. You had been planning on wearing one of your old wedding-guest dresses, not having the time to go pick up something else. The two of you arranged to meet tomorrow at her studio, and you went back to your original mission: snapping a picture and sending it to Gavi.

He opened the message instantly, feeling all warm and fuzzy staring at the food spread on your lap and his old shirt hanging off your shoulders. You hair was up, face bare, and he wanted to reach through the phone and kiss you on the forehead.

[Doctora]: thanks for the food, pablito <3 see u in paris

"Ouch!" He yelled out, taken out of his daydream by a needle shoved into his wrist. "Pedri! Tell your friend to be gentle."

"First of all, we're not friends-"

"We're not?" Pedri asked the stylist, the smoke practically rising from her ears. She glared at him, looking extra menacing with the pins between her teeth.

"No. We're not. You're only allowed to be here if you're silent, remember? And second of all we are tailoring your suit sleeves. You're going to get stabbed if you keep moving your arms! Now hold still. She's still going to be there in 15 minutes for you to gush over."

"How did you know who I was talking to?" Pablo asked, genuine shock and curiosity across his features.

"Oh please, for the love of God, don't tell me you think you're being subtle?!"

"Hi! Come in come in! I didn't even realize it was raining."

Santa Naranja was, as you had recently discovered, not just Pedri's stylist. She wasn't even a Prada stylist. She was now a senior assistant stylist for Style Di Fortuna, a global firm that worked to style celebrities for different events. Since Herno and D&G started dressing the club, management had received official notice regarding their event attire.

"You should have seen the letter they sent. It was like a scolding from the school principal. 'Players must be formally and professionally styled during all official events as to avoid conflict in brand image and the tarnishing of the brand's respectability. Can you imagine dressing so poorly that you could ruin the reputation of an entire brand? Although I shouldn't expect any less. Pedro's jorts could bring about doomsday."

It was the other girls in the office that had given her the nickname 'Santa' for her saint-like patience in dealing with Pedri for... reasons. She was a completely different person when his cheshire cat smile and bushy brows were not in the room. She was calm and fun and humorous. She scurried around the workshop, pouring you a cup of cinnamon tea loaded with sugar, before running back into a warehouse closet and throwing about twenty garment bags over her arms.

"Did you have anything in mind for your look? I know that the club must have given you some basic guidelines, but what about your personal style?"

"Oh yeah, they came with the invitation. Long skirt, no slit, no trains, no plunging necklines, no open backs, no beading or gems, no appliques, and no bright colors."

The poor stylist stopped in her tracks, returning virtually every dress she had in her hands.

"Okay, let's go to the nun section of the closet. What colors would you like? Keep them boring and muted." You giggled at the remark, rattling off a list of colors. She either hummed in agreement or gave a slight pause, allowing you time to retract the wrong choice. Green, red, and white were all off the table, seeing as the wags had already claimed them.

"What's Gavi's favorite color?" She teased, shoving a garment bag at you and ushering you behind the separator to change.

"Haha, very funny. I'm not going as his date."

"You can add the 'unfortunately' to the end of that. I won't judge you."

"Sure. It's unfortunate I'm not Pablo's date in the same way it's unfortunate that you're not Pedri's."

"Please don't speak such wicked thoughts about me and Pedro into the universe."

After cycling through about 15 dresses, the weight of the event and the pressure of traveling in two days was beginning to weigh on you, a tightness settling into your chest and disrupting your breathing.

"I'm going to look so stupid at this event. Nothing looks good." You huffed as you resisted the urge to face plant into the million euro pile of fabric on the floor. Your companion huffed as well, racking her brain for any guidance on how to dress you without making you look like a churchly sister or a plastic bag.

"Okay. Do you know anything about fashion?" She asked. Her tone was soft and delicate, like a kindergarten teacher asking a poor 6-year old if they knew how to tie their shoes.

"I try and keep up."

"If you could pick any look from the last like 10 years on the runway that you would wear to this event, what would it be?"

"I can't afford-"

"Not telling you to buy it. Just imagine. If you could wish a dress into your hands right now, what would it be?"

You sat and thought for a moment. It had been a long time since you separated yourself from the imposed masculine nature of your job. Your hair stayed up, your nails stayed short, your face always painted naturally (you had gotten dress-coded for winged eyeliner once). It had been years if not a complete decade since you allowed your thoughts to be pink and flowery. You had put girlhood on pause, allowed it to hibernate for the harsh winter war of professional success. But now it was spring, and the blossoms emerged once again. You weren't a physio going for a meeting. You were a princess preparing for her magical night in Paris, your fairy standing before you. This was one of those moments where you just had to take a pause. You had worked to hard to make it here. Now that you were here, enjoy it.

"Well, Viktor and Rolf had the most gorgeous tulle dresses ad fashion week. They were all strapless and tight at the top, and they had these beautiful full skirts and velvet ribbons. If I was a wag or a footballer accepting my own award, I would wear that." You said, still allowing the rose color of your imagination to tint your reality. You entertained the thought briefly that this is the first time Pablo would see you properly dolled up, and it made you want to squeal and kick your feet like a girl waiting for prom.

"Oh my God you're so smart!" She yelled, running back into the dark passage of the closet. She returned a moment later with a black fabric bag, gold filigree embossed onto the material. She hung and began to unzip, unveiling the most beautiful dress you had ever seen in your life. It was a pale nude, almost the color of beach sand, with a fitted corset top that came down to the top of the hip bone. It then flares slightly into a layered tulle skirt, the color solid except for one band of pale blue that wrapped around the skirt, the waist accentuated with a velvet bow in the same dusty blue. You reached out one shaking hand to smooth down the fabric, almost afraid it would disintegrate in your touch. (dress inspo for those interested)

"Bouguessa just sent us this. It's more subtle than the Viktor and Rolf ones, it goes with gold and silver jewelry, won't draw too much attention, and follows that ridiculous novel of rules." She said, hands on her hips behind you.

"I can't wear this." You said, trembling at the very thought of spilling a drop of... well anything really on this dress.

"You can and you will. We had it shorted for some actress wearing it in Cannes later this month, so wear nice shoes. Nothing too tall though - Pablo is 5'7 after all." You turned to her, and the face she had expected to smile back at her held eyes welling with tears. You pulled her against you, too fast for her to process, and let the tears stream down your cheeks.

"I have never had anyone be so kind to me. I can't thank you enough."

"I'm just letting you borrow a dress," she said, arms wrapping around you as well. "Do you not have friends?"

"Let's not open that can of worms."

"Hi, Dr. Gonzalez. You wanted to see me?" Your head peaked in ever so slightly to catch his hand waving you over. Despite knowing on a deep psychological level that he respected you as a professional, he still scared the bejeezus out of you.

"Yes. I forgot to give you your passes for tonight's flight. You'll be able to use this to get directly into the lounge and then on the jet we have chartered this evening."

"The... what?"

"How were planning on getting to Paris exactly, Miss y/n?" He took off his small glasses, a gesture to emphasize how stupid you were being at the present.

"I was going to take the train in tomorrow?" You responded extremely unsure of yourself.

"Take the train in the morning of the ceremony? Oh this generation. No foresight. You'll meet the team in the lounge at exactly 8pm this evening."

"So what I'm hearing is... I'm going on the private jet with Xavi and the squad?"

"Yes."

"And my accomodation..?"

"You will have a room in the hotel on the same floor as the rest of the team. Any other logistical questions? Do I need to explain what the Ballon D'Or is?"

"No, no, of course not. Thank you so much Dr. Gonzalez. I'll be sure to represent Barca well as an organization that loves women!" You got up hastily from your chair, exiting the office with Dr. Gonzalez yelling behind you.

"We didn't send you because you're a woman! Don't say that to any reporters!"

The Barcelona airport was, in your opinion, nothing special. That was until the woman at the check-in desk saw your badge and personally guided you past security and into a private Air France lounge. The room was decked out in plush sofas and chaise lounges, soft spa music bouncing between the walls. Enough food to feed the entire terminal had been laid out on stone and marble platters, and three girls in matching dark blue uniforms strolled around the room, waiting to be flagged down for assistance. This was nice. Maybe gold digging was really the best choice. It's a miracle that not everyone on the quad had Ferran-sized heads if this was the treatment they were used to.

"Ay look who finally made it." The voice greeting you belonged to Xavi, who was the first to stand up and embrace you. You greeted the rest of the group and introduced yourself to both Xavi and Robert's wives, thinking it more appropriate to sit with the other women on the trip. You chatted with them until it was time to board, at which point you could no longer exercise self control. You walked up to Pablo, tapping him on the shoulder.

He couldn't suppress his smile when he saw you, and Anna whispered to her husband how you had not introduced yourself as Gavi's girlfriend.

"Well, they're not together. She's a physio at the club."

"He looks at her like he's in love."

"Yeah. Everyone has noticed except the two of them."

Fighting the urge to stuff you into his hoodie so you could never disappear for a month again, Pablo opted to instead put one arm around you, embracing you in a tight side hug. You two walked onto the plane together, effectively abandoning Pedri, while catching up on everything that had gone on since your last meeting. He sat beside you on one of the couches, spinning around to lay with his legs on top of you, which were swiftly pushed off. The two of you now sat side by side, eating from a bag of sour gummies.

"I missed you." He said softly as you watched Barcelona grow smaller and smaller beneath you. You turned back to him resting your head on his shoulder. "I missed you too. A lot more than I thought I would." There was no more talk after that. No mention of feelings or trophies or anything really. Just sour bears and that telenovela finale he promised to watch with you.

The clock in the hotel lobby read 11:44pm as you fought with Pablo to try and carry your own bag in. Well, fought is a vague term - you tugged on his bicep while he dragged you and your suitcase inside.

"We're only here for two days - what on Earth could you have brought?" He asked, letting out an exaggerated huff as he set it down on its wheels.

"Makeup is heavy, my dress is heavy, my shoes are heavy - society's beauty standards are just weighing me down at every turn." He smiled back at you, your fingers itching to pinch his cheeks and kiss him on the tip of his nose and tell him that he had a smile that could bring cities to their knees.

"Pedri! Gavi!"

You turned around to the source of the voice, watching Pedri embrace a very tall and very familiar Spaniard. As he made his way over to Gavi, he gave you a once over that indicated his brain was still trying to figure out who you were. As his hand connected with Gavi's, it was like the electricity had switched back on.

"Oh, hey! You came and interviewed at Chelsea. Convince her to stay then, hermanito?" he clapped Gavi on the back of the neck.

"No, I didn't have to say anything. She spent an afternoon with you guys and came running back to the better club." You smiled shyly, feeling a little awkward at your once potential club interacting with the one you had chosen to stay at. You stepped to the side, noticing Perdi deep in conversation with someone else. Tan, tall, and beautiful, he turned to you, smiling wide and approaching.

"Ah hello again." You were in a hug before you knew it. You reciprocated, wishing one of the boys would take a photo so you could send it to ever girl in your high school.

"Joao! Great to see you again. How have you been?" He pulled away, hands still on your upper arms as he ranted to you about his difficult second half of the season had been. Pablo sat back, loosely listening to the exchange between Pedri and Kepa, with most of his energy focused on seething at the sight in front of him. Joao had talked to you for what? An hour? Why did he feel so comfortable touching you like this? His tongue found purchase in his cheek, his arms crossed over his chest. Xavi tapped him on the shoulder to hand him the key cards for your three, giving him a perfect excuse to break up your conversation.

"Here you go, Doctora. This one's yours. Doing well Joao?" There was an obvious hint of animosity in his voice that was evident to the both of you. Nevertheless, Joao released you to shake Gavi's hand.

"I saw you on TV the other day getting picked up by this one. Twitter went crazy speculating about you two dating. You guys.. aren't dating, right?" Joao directed the question to you, now fully turned away from Gavi, whose body temperature had exceeded 100 degrees.

"No, no. We're..." your eyes flashes to him, "just friends".

"I guess anyone would be grateful to have someone like you caring for their wellbeing. A shame that you didn't come over to us for this season. But I may get the privilege if I can get Xavi to place a bid on me." Pablo let out a laugh that was too loud and enthusiastic to be polite. If Joao had been offended, he didn't let it on.

"Oh, Mason is here, too! We're going out with him and his friend Jude for drinks here at the hotel bar. You should come with us! You can come too, Gavi- oh wait, are you even old enough to drink?" The question was punctuated with a smirk, an obvious rebuttal to Gavi's humor at him joining the club.

"I'm flattered but I need to get some rest for tom- wait Jude as in Bellingham?" You asked, eyes wide.

"Of course. Know any other Jude's being nominated?" You heard Gavi breathing loud and heavy beside you, taking this as your cue to call it a night. Before you left, Joao grabbed your wrist, taking a look at your card.

"Floor three. Same as us. Maybe we'll see you around." He hugged you once more as a good night, then headed over to Mason, who waved at the group of you with Jude beside him. You made your way to the elevator with Gavi and felt embarrassed. You hadn't even done anything but be polite, but in some way you felt like you had committed a sin in talking so freely with Joao. Engrossed in thought, your face met Gavi's back as he suddenly stopped in front of a door.

"This is my room. I'll see you tomorrow." You stopped him in his tracks, one hand preventing him from crossing the threshold.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked, voice soft and even, trying to disguise the hurt.

"I- no, of course not, Doctora. Just nervous. Didn't think I'd be seeing my competition tonight." You pulled him into a hug, hands around his waist and your head on his chest with his above it. He let out a shaky breath, and all his fears with them. Joao had invited you out and yet you were still here, in his arms and in front of his door.

"Will I see you tomorrow? Before the 'big show'?" He asked, keeping you against his chest, just for a moment longer.

"Staff aren't allowed on the carpet so I'll see you inside the theater."

"Don't sit next to Joao tomorrow." He said with a slight pout, and you wanted to just pull him down and kiss him so hard he lost consciousness from the lack of air.

"I don't think they'll let me sit next to the players. Not important enough."

"You're going to be one of the most important people in that room. And just, don't sit next to him."

"I won't Pablo."

"Promise?" He said, sticking out his pinky. You rolled your eyes and wrapped your finger around his, bringing your conjoined hands upwards. You twisted them so that your thumb was facing him and vice versa. You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to the skin of his hand. His breath caught in his throat, and he swallowed audibly.

"What are you.. what was that?"

"You have to kiss it to seal the promise."

He brought your entwined hands up to his lips, looking at you once more for any objection, before closing his eyes and kissing your knuckles.

"You have soft lips." You said looking between his lips and his hooded eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm two rooms over. Good night, Pablo. Good luck."

He watched you walk down the hall and enter your room, only returning to his when the door clicked shut. He pressed his back to the wood, allowing it to cool the sweat pooling under his hoodie. He was so thankful that he wasn't sharing a room with Pedri, because the feeling of your lips on his skin, soft and plump, had made him so incredibly hard.

"We are here live from the red carpet of the annual Ballon D'or ceremony, and the stars of the football world have come out in full force. On the carpet now Xavi Hernandez and his wife Núria, as well as Ballon D'Or contender Robert Lewandowski and his wife, champion in her own right, Anna. These are the veterans of football, and they should be shortly accompanied by the young trailblazers leading the New Era of Barcelona football."

It was three minutes until Gavi was supposed to step onto the carpet, and he was panicking. His breathing was shallow, his collar felt like it was suffocating him, and he was sweating bullets under his suit.

"Pedri, I can't do this." He said, genuine fear swimming in his eyes as he looked to his friend for comfort.

"Yes you can, hermano. All you have to do is walk and smile. Maybe answer some questions. You can absolutely do all of those things."

"What if I make an ass of myself?" He said, hiding behind Pedri as their handler signalled 30 seconds until they walked.

"You are here being told you are one of the best under 21 players in the world, and then you get to walk into the theater and see the best person in the world."

"I do really want to see her in a dress."

"I was talking about Leo Messi." Pedri deadpanned, and Gavi was shoved on the carpet genuinely laughing, a million bulbs flashing to capture his joy. He was here. He was 18 years old and on his way to shake hands with greatness. He was walking the carpet with his best friend in the world in a five thousand euro suit. He thought to his younger self, eleven years old and hiding behind his mother on his first day at La Masia. All the dreams he had were now the blueprint for his reality. Barca first team player? Check. Goal scorer? Check. Trophy winner? Check. Beautiful girl to share every euphoric moment with? Pending.

He took a few steps forward, waiting for Pedri to be photographed before he walked down to the end of the carpet, taking a group photo and heading to the microphones.

"Gavi! You look wonderful this evening. Are you excited for your first ceremony?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. It's something that I always dreamed about and now that my dream is a reality, I am just trying to enjoy every moment."

"Well you have had an absolutely stellar season playing with the reigning Kopa winner here, Pedri. Is it something you're thankful for, to play with him and to play with Barca?"

He looked over at Pedri, whose eyebrows were wiggling causing his serious demeanor to break.

"I'm absolutely so pleased to work with this guy here. He's just incredible on the field and we work well together. Barca is my lifelong club, and I am grateful to play there, to have them take care of me and keep me healthy." The reporter gave a thumbs up, and the boy stepped to the side to allow Pedri to finish his interview, wanted to have company as he entered the theater.

"Taking care of you and keeping you healthy, hm? Why didn't you just say her full name?"

The theater was glorious, all gold ornaments and plush red velvet, giving it a timeless and glamorous look. He craned his neck, looking around for those familiar eyes and inviting smile that had made his life so much worse and simultaneously so much better.

"Pablo." The voice came from behind him, and when he turned around, the world moved in slow motion. Your dress, pale nude and powder blue, made you look like a Greek deity. You could give the entire Spanish royal family a run for their money with the way the bodice seemed to mold against you, flaring out into a beautiful cascade of material. It ended at the bottom of your ankles, your feet hugged by blue heels, an anklet handing off that Gavi couldn't quite make out. Your jewelry glinted in the lights, the necklaces sitting between your collar bones drawing in the eye to the expanse of your chest and neck, and he had to try so, so hard to tear his eyes from this. He focused on all these details because looking at your face made him go slack-jawed.

Your hair was cascading freely, front pieces twirled away to show off the beauty of your feature. Your makeup was simple - glowing skin with rosy cheeks, black liner framing and highlighting your eyes, and glossy pink lips. Pablo knew nothing about makeup, but he knew for certain that if he got his hands on you, he would destroy whatever you had painted on your lips to make them shine. You batted your long lashes, and smiled shyly as Pedri let out a low whistle.

"Wow, who knew you were hiding all of this? Were you looking for husband tonight? This is the way to get it." He offered a hand, spinning you around so he (or rather Gavi) could get a full look, the blue bow in your hair flowing beautifully.

"You're too sweet, Pedri. I just didn't want to embarrass the club."

"Embarrass?!" They both exclaimed loudly, catching the attention of a few bystanders.

"You're on track to upstage us. They pay you enough to afford Prada?" Pedri asked again, pointing to your shoes.

"Your mortal enemy lent them to me."

A friend of Pedri's came up to whisk him away to another group, leaving you standing with Pablo.

"So, what do you think, Pablo? Too much?" You were nervous, resisting the urge to clench your dress in your fists and scurry off. You smoothed your clammy palms down the fabric as well.

"Doctora, you know I'm not super smart like you. I don't even know the words I want to tell you right now. So I'll use one I know: you look breathtaking." He practically whispered out the last word, causing your head to snap up, eyes meeting. "I think you might be the prettiest girl in the room right now." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, swallowing back his nerves and pride. You were absolutely stunning, and no friendship or professionalism would stop him from letting you know.

"Thank you, Pablo. You have no idea how much that means coming from you." You moved forward, adjusting his bowtie as an usher came to guide him to his seat. You moved to the back with other team staff members, waving to him as he walked off. You were independent and a girlboss and all that, but it felt good to have him think you were pretty.

"And the winner is... Gavi."

The crowd erupted in cheers, the clapping so loud it was deafening. Pedri smiled from ear to ear, watching as his friend came up to the stage to take his place as Europe's shining star, their Golden Boy. Gavi had been frozen in his seat for a second before Robert pushed him up, clapping him on the back and congradulating him. As he placed his hands around the trophy, his peripheral vision registered the people moving from their seats, standing and clapping for his success. Pedri was smug in his congratulations, reminding Pablo he never had a doubt he would be handing off this trophy to him. And as Pablo took his place at the podium, the gold statue adorning his side, he saw you. In the third to last row of the theater, you stood, by yourself in a row full of staff, clapping excitedly for his achievement. Your smile was bright, teeth on full display to convey the level of genuine joy you felt in that moment. You almost looked happier than Gavi himself. And as the applause died down and people retook their seats, he watched you sit back down, hands crossed over your chest in pride and admiration. He looked straight at you, a point of comfort in the large crowd, and only then did he allow the unbridled joy of being the very best to fill him.

"Thank you. I am so proud to have achieved this, to have won such a prestigious award in my first full season with Barca's first team. Thank you to my family for standing by me in the good times and the bad, and for believing in me. Thank you to the club, who gave me every opportunity to play and show my skill this season. A huge thanks to my coach and teammates for helping me succeed. And finally, I want to recognize and thank the Barca staff, especially the physio team, for all their hard work this season. I wouldn't be here without their dedication. Once again, thank you very much for the honor. Visca Barca."

All he wanted was to run off the stage into your arms, to ignore the questions about his season and his success, but there would be time later. You, on the other hand, were trying to recover from the shell shock of Pablo recognizing you specifically during his acceptance speech. Your phone buzzed in your lap at a mile a minute, text messages flooding in from friends and family telling you they had watched Gavi's praise of you on TV. You sat in that same shocked state until the ceremony ended.

Why on Earth did so many people want to talk to Gavi? Sure, he had just won one of the most important awards in football, but they had already played his highlight reel. What else could they want to know that wasn't on YouTube? He still smiled politely, congratulating Luka and Robert on their awards before he was able to catch a spare moment alone at a far table, Pedri pulling up to his side shortly after, also fatigued from small talk. His trophy was in hand, a little less shiny now that every person who greeted him had asked to hold it, the luster dulled by grease and fingerprints. The two stood in a comfortable silence, exchanging remarks about the room or the guests at the function every once in a while.

"Pablo! There you are!"

He looked up at the sound of your voice, but not nearly fast enough as you came barreling into him, arms thrown around his neck and embracing him so tight he thought he might pass out (not that he was complaining).

"I'm so, so proud of you." You whispered in his ear, squeezing a little tighter before releasing him, smoothing the soft material of his blazer to release the wrinkles you caused with your attack.

"I'm so glad all your hard work had amounted to this, and I hope I'm around to see how amazing you'll be in the future." You said, emotion making your voice crack slightly. There was something about Pablo that convinced you, deep in your soul, that you were two halves meant to come together. He was young, passionate, ambitious - a reflection of yourself. And to watch him succeed? To see him soar to heights previously thought impossible? It was something you wouldn't trade for the world.

Gavi's heartstrings were so tight they were ready to snap. He had prayed to hear so many different things from you, but never realized that this recognition, this pride expressed so freely, would be the most meaningful. This was it. This was the moment. Suit on, trophy in hand, this was the moment to express how much needed you in his life in a different way. How much he needed to keep making you proud.

"Y/N! There you are."

Joao's built arm was wrapped around you, smelling slightly of whiskey and Dior Fahrenheit. The anger vein in Gavi's forehead began to make a reappearance.

"Mason had to see you and introduce you to some of the boys." Mason greeted you as well, and called over his 'friend Jude' to be introduced. Jude Bellingham was an absolute sculpture, holding a glass of God knows what in such an effortless manner, his tie also abandoned in favor of leaving his first two buttons popped.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jude. I've heard about you from this one - thinks you're a medical Godsend." He ended with a wink. Pedri could feel the heat radiating from Gavi's side, and apparently so could Jude, who looked up and offered a wave.

"Congrats, mate. Brilliant speech." He said, raising a glass to help bridge the language barrier. You turned your head, quickly translating the sentiment.

"Oh, you're with them? The super special physio that's gotten praised in his speech? I should've known I was in the presence of greatness." You laughed politely, tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear.

"I'm really nothing special."

"Oh, well, that can't be true. I'll see for myself when I'm in SPain next year." A wink. Pedri grasped Pablo's arm to prevent blows. "Come with me, I want to introduce you to some of the boys and the staff from City."

You quickly turned around, finding Gavi and Pedri whispering to one another.

"Pablo! He wants to introduce me to some people. I'll come find you!"

Thirty minutes later, Pablo was at a table with his trophy and a scowl, moping on what should be a happy night. After his second turn around the room, Pedri joined him, hoping to alleviate the burden.

"Hermano, are you-"

"Why would she just go with him? Like, I understand not being able to turn someone away when they're in your face, but to go with him?! Why would she do that?" He asked, sounding more and more small and child-like as he continued.

"She was just networking, hermano. Trying to meet people and make connections."

"Connections. Look what her connections have got her. Other guys coming up to her, trying to flirt in the most obvious ways possible. None of them know her like I do. None of them will ever - can ever - care about her in the way that I do. She needs to realize that no one will ever want to treat her right the way that I long to."

"Maybe you need to realize that it's not always the best guy that will get the girl, but the boldest one."

"What?"

"How many opportunities have you had, hm? To tell her you wanted her, to profess your love, to kiss her in her car or under street lamps or in front of the whole world? But you just stay sitting on the sidelines waiting for her to come to you. You know what's happening during that time? A Joao or a Jude or a Martin is taking the risk of telling her she's amazing, and she's going to accept. She's going to accept love that's less than yours because someone else was willing to give it to her, proudly and confidently. And you'll be sitting next to me, twenty years from now when we're both retired, talking about how the love of your life slipped between your fingers. She's here, right now, and you are still waiting. Either take the shot or let someone else shoot."

A fear shot through Pablo that he had never felt before. The idea of you, right now, falling in love with someone else made the bile rise in his throat. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't watch you be with a man who thought you were anything less than the entire universe. It was him. Pablo Gavi was the one meant to have you, to hold you, to protect you from every evil and show you every joy. You were his soulmate, and he would move heaven and earth for his lover who was written for him in the stars.

He stood, scurrying to where Jude and the others had congregated. "Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen y/n?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady and free from the terror threatening to consume him. He couldn't see your form anywhere in the ballroom.

"Oh," Kepa was the one to reply as the official Spanish speaker, "she went up to her room a few minutes ago. I think Joao took her up."

Pablo nodded before speed walking towards the door, breaking into a full sprint towards the elevators. Please. Please no. Please not Joao. Please not anyone. The ding when the elevator reached the third floor made his blood ripple, and he speed walked to your door, muttering under his breath.

"Please don't be in love with someone else."

He reached the door of your room, paralyzed with fear. He didn't know what he was about to do, but he knew he would implode and self-destruct if he didn't do something.

He lifted his fist, took a breath, and knocked firmly on the door. A moment later, you opened the door, still in the perfect shape he saw you before, but now barefoot on the plush carpet of the hotel.

"Pablo?"

He peered over your shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the room behind.

"Are you looking for something?"

"Please, tell me he's not in there."

"Who, Pablo?"

"Anyone. Please tell me that there is no one in there now waiting on you. Please tell me," he pleaded softly, moving toward you and placing his hands on your shoulder, moving one down to rest right above where your heart beat. "Please tell me there is no one else in here. I have never begged in my life, Doctora, but I'm here now to beg you: tell me who is the one you're reserving a place in your heart for. Because I know, more than I know anything else in this world, that my soul is yours. Everything I could possibly give, I am asking you to take it without a second thought. And I have pretended, for months now, that I don't need you like the very air I'm breathing. But the more I pretend, the more clear it becomes: I have never loved anything as strongly as I love you. It is overwhelming and all consuming the way every heartbeat and breath is just for you. So just tell me how long I will have to wait. Days, months, years - tell me how long it will be until I get to love you, wholly and completely. Until I get to love you as you deserve. Because there is no other choice. There is no moving on. Every angel in heaven knows that I would struggle in vain until my last dying breath trying to get over you."

There were no words. Hell, there was no air. There was only Pablo, breathless and shaking before you, his fragile heart in your hands. Your hands moved to cup his face, and the urge to cry didn't consume you. You pulled him in, lips finally connecting with his, and the electricity that jolted through you could have lit up all of Paris. His lips were slow to react, and as you pulled away he followed, reluctant to stop kissing you in fear he would never start again.

"You, Pablo. My heart is yours. I'm yours. I always have been."

This time it was Pablo who pulled you in, his arms around your waist lifting you into him. He basked in the plump flesh of your lips, the way it felt to hold you in his arms, a million times better than he could have imagined. It was as if your hearts were racing in sync, thumping the same beat that reverberated around the little bubble the two of you were in. You shifted hands from his face to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You had craved this, to be so close and connected with Pablo. The kiss was slow, passionate, the kiss to say 'I have waited for you for so long' and the one in return to say 'I'm here to stay'.

Pedri had gone upstairs to look for Pablo, scared he had committed manslaughter, and found the two of you there, kissing in the hallway, arms enveloping each other and lips locked in a soft and tender embrace. He placed Pablo's trophy (his whole reason for finding him on the ground, turning to leave before stopping and performing his duties as a friend: taking a picture. Maybe he should buy Gavi a whole pack of frames.

You finally pulled away, face flushed and lips pinkish and swollen from the liplock. You kept your arms around Pablo, turning your face to hide in his shoulder. You spotted the golden statue on the floor and smiled as you moved to pick it up, stopped by his strong and unfaltering embrace.

"Your award, Pablo."

"You're my real prize of this evening."

"Ugh how corny." You laughed, finally freeing yourself to go and pick it up. You carried it before turning from Pablo to unlock your room door, timidly standing in the entryway.

"Do... you want to come inside?" You asked, cradling his trophy in your arms.

"Do you want me to come inside?" He asked, heart threatening to break his sternum. He had never thought of going so far so fast.

"I mean if you don't want to-"

"No I want to, preciosa. God I want- but I don't want to make you feel like you have to."

"You're not. I want you Pablo. All of you." You opened the door wider, inviting him in. "Dale, campeon."

You left Pablo on the bed while you went to slip out of your dress. As much as you wanted Pablo (in an immediate fashion), you couldn't risk stains or rips on such an expensive lended piece. You re-emerged from the bathroom in a black night gown, a satin slip that came just past your fingertips. Pablo had made himself comfortable, stripping his jacket and shoes, abandoning the bowtie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. You walked out slowly, standing in front of him shyly.

"What do you think?" You asked, giving a little spin. He reached out a hand, pulling you down to the bed and seating you on his lap.

"I lied before," he said softly. "You weren't 'maybe the prettiest girl tonight'. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. In every room and on every night." His hands found your hips and his lips found yours, and the flames were fanned. He moved with a fervor you had never experienced, like he couldn't get enough of the feel of your lips or the taste of your tongue. He bit down softly on your bottom lip, desperate to illicit every pretty sound he could from you. He nibbled gently, pulling with his teeth and then soothing with his tongue before reuniting it with yours. He gripped the flesh of your hips, and your hands leg his lower, encouraging him to find stability on the flesh of your ass.

"You're perfect." He said breathlessly, moving to kiss and nibble at your neck. You shifted on his lap, desperate for any friction to help douse the flames between your legs. He shifted the two of you so that you were straddling one of his thighs, allowing you rock yourself back and forth as he continued worshipping and lapping at your skin.

"Pablo, it's so good." You whined as he moved down to kiss the exposed tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, asking for permission to remove your nightgown, which you gave with quick enthusiasm. He grabbed at the bottom hem, lifting it over your head in one fluid motion before stopping. He stared at you, moving across your bare chest and down to your nude lace thong.

"Oh this won't do." He muttered while gripping your waist and flipping your positions so that you were laying on the mattress with him above you.

"What?" You asked while your arms moved to cover your chest. He removed them swiftly, licking his lips and giving each breast a kiss, making your nipples harden.

"I need to have you spread out underneath me so I can take in every gorgeous inch of you." He said before he trailed his lips down your entire torso.

"Can't believe someone who looks like you is all mine. I've wanted you for so long." He finished his sentence with a searing kiss to your lips.

"Just wanted you to see how much someone could love you. And I would still love you, even if you want to stop right now and never do this again." He said, pulling back slightly before you threaded your fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to your chest.

"No, don't wanna stop. I want you. I need you Pablo please." You whine out, and hoped he knew that you meant it in every possible way. He allowed his tongue to drag across your nipples before sucking one into his mouth, playing with the other as he watched for your reactions. His cock was straining against his boxers and dress pants, and he rutted against the mattress for any sort of relief.

"Pablo it's too good."

"Always want to be good for you, Doctora. Wanna give you the best."

He moved his hands to the waistband of your panties, moving them down and watching the resistance, seeing how big the wet patch was and how your thighs clenched for some sort of pleasure.

"Open up, pretty girl."

"Pablo, want you. Want you please."

"I'm right here, baby. All yours."

You grabbed on of his hands sucking two of his fingers in his mouth while keeping your eyes locked, tongue circling and his cock now rubbing up on the flesh of your thigh.

"Want you inside me. Please, Pablo."

He rubbed his two wet fingers up and down your slit, teasing and just listening to the way you reacted. The cool air heightened everything, and you could do nothing but squirm in place.

"Love the way you say my name, preciosa. Let me take care of you." He slipped a finger inside, and you both moaned in sync. You at the feeling of finally having Pablo pleasing you, and him at the wetness he encountered. He quickly put in another, lips going back to yours as if they were addictive. He leaned back, slipping out of his trousers and boxers when you put a hand on his chest.

"Pablo. I..."

"We can stop if you want." He said, already making a move to get up and redress despite his cock leaking.

"No. I want this. I want you. I just... promise me something?"

"Anything."

"Please don't leave me after we have sex."

He looked at your hurting eyes and felt his chest squeeze. He cupped your face, kissing your forehead. "I could never leave you, Doctora." Another chaste kiss, this time to the tip of your nose. "You don't have to worry. I'll always be with you. I promise." He brought you in and kissed you, lips slotting together and tongues dancing together as if they had years of practice.

"Always have to seal the promise with a kiss." He said playfully, and you looked away in embarrassment. He spread your legs and found a space between them, tilting your head with a finger under your chin.

"Look at me baby. I want to see that pretty face when I make you feel good. Wanna see how hot you are when you cum all over me. Make the cutest little mess." He said, spitting in his hand slightly and rubbing the length of his cock. You sat up on your forearms, watching the erotic sight as Pablo ran his tip up and down your slit.

"Pablo," you whined.

He lined himself up, lifting you by the back of the neck to kiss you as he pushed in, the stretch causing you to bite his bottom lip harder than expected (he kind of liked it). He stayed for a minute on his forearms above you, hoping that time would allow you to adjust and prevent him from busting on stroke three. He placed his arms beside your head, leaning down and resting his forehead on yours.

"I love you." He said, picking up his pace as he did so. Your whine was high pitched and loud, fueling Pablo's ego tremendously.

"I love you more." You retorted, moving your hips to spur him to go faster. He pulled out of your slowly once again, then re-sheathed himself with force. He was moving slow and taking his sweet time, savoring every delicious second of the evening.

"Not possible, angel." And then pulled all the way out before slamming back in. Pablo was forceful, shifting your body with every thrust. He kissed your lips and neck, purple springs blooming from each spot he touched. You loved the feeling. You belonged to him, body and soul, and you wanted everybody to know.

"Please, Pablo. Faster. I'm begging." You breathed out, and he could do nothing but oblige.

"That's my pretty girl, taking it so well. Feeling so fucking good wrapped around me. So wet and sucking me in. Fuck. You're so good for me."

You had decided to suck on Pablo's neck to prevent you from moaning your heart out to all of Paris. A large hickey was developing just above his collarbone with not one care towards its ability to be covered. You were feeling that familiar buildup in your stomach, and brought a hand down to play with your clit that was quickly swatted away.

"Gonna cum, baby? Let me spoil you. Let me take care of you." He said as he pressed his thumb to your clit and started rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. There was no more suppressing your moans as they emerged full force. It was perfect. Pablo was perfect, telling you how much he wanted and loved you while looking after your pleasure.

"Please don't stop Pablo I'm so so fucking close."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He said, and seconds later, his name was the only thing on your lips as you came, gripping onto his back and trailing your nails down, his toned back the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. He finished a minute after you, rolling over in exhaustion. You expected him to turn onto his side and ignore you like every other man you had slept with. Instead, he got you both under the comforter, laying down and bringing you to lay on his chest.

"You're so incredible, do you know that?" He asked, kissing your forehead gently.

"You're one to talk." There's giggles and comfort despite the lack of clothes. When the high dies down, you turn to his tired form, which is still smiling at you.

"What are you so smiley for?" You asked.

"I'm with the best person in the world. How can I not smile when I'm with you?"

You laid back on his chest, guilt and paranoia seeping in, obvious by the tension building in your form.

"I love you, Doctora. I love you, I love you, I love you. You are worth more than sex. And I don't love you just because you're hot. You complete me, in every possible way."

"I love you more, Pablo."

"As the medical professional, you should know that's not possible."

He released you from his grip to get shirts and underwear for the two of you to sleep in, still not used to Pablo + you + nudity. You laid back down, cuddled into Pablo's chest as you had for months now, and drifted off into the most relaxing sleep. You were in love with a boy. And he was hopelessly, desperately in love with you. And there was nothing else in the world that mattered in this moment except for the way you tangled together to feel safe. Before he could drift off, Pablo heard the ding of his phone. A photo from Pedri of the two of you in the hall.

[Pedri]: congrats on all your wins today hermano

The flight back to Barcelona was nerve-racking for you. You were anxious as to how your boss and peers would perceive your new relationship with Pablo, which he established right away.

"No 'what are we' bullshit'. You're my girlfriend, and that's only because I didn't have a ring on me to make you my fiancee."

His hand was laced through yours the entire walk through the terminal, so proud to show you off to the world as his. As you two boarded the flight, it was Anna who finally asked if something had happened in Paris.

"I asked her to be my girl and she said yes."

There was a round of cheering from those on the plane, and after a swift whatsapp message from Pedri, there were hundreds of messages in the groupchat, from congrats to jokes to utter disbelief. Neither of you looked at any of it. Pablo was too busy counting the stars he saw in your eyes, studying every feature on your face, sneaking in a kiss whenever he could. And you listened to him ramble, intoxicated by the sound of his voice, the melody bringing you tranquility. He was your peace. He was your everything.

"Ah, so you two will be needing these." Xavi said, placing the 'Relationship Disclosure' form and two pens in front of the both of you. "Gavi, don't distract her from her work."

"Hey! Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"No. You're the distraction." You teased, earning Pablo's full attention and wrath.

"I can tell by the way you've been staring at me for two days."

"Oh Pablo, I've been staring at you much longer than that."

"I hope you never stop."

A/N: and there it is folks. Almost 8 months later, here is Just Pretend. There will be an epilogue to this at some point to show what happens with their relationship (and it will have better smut), but this is it for the main story. Please share any feedback you have in replies, reblogs, or in the ask box. Thank you so so much to everyone who has stuck by this story for so long. I love you all.

*~*Taglist*~*

@l0verl4ne @vibinwkay @anastasia-nova @mxgvmiii @mads-grace4 @bubblebeep69 @katluckybear @scuderiabarca @alwaysclassyeagle @simpingmyassoff @grlwithprblms @lqvesoph @pink-manz @graziemille @xxenia14 @nngkay @icedlattewithextracaramel @gyusrose @vip-access @julianalvarez9 @lavie3nrose @ge0rg1ewaa @i8yul @lovefordilfs271 @remuslupinluver @thattaylorswiftobsessedbitch @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @kaismybabe @notanenthucutlet @fullsun9890 @venomwh0re @renaissancewhxre @gaviandgrizisgirl @altgojo @urmomdotcom5678 @eliseline @invidia-of-alhambra @pixwls @stell4rrrs @80sloverry @car1no-xx @mrsgavira @888bear @kylianmbappee @ivyhrry @gaviypedrisbride @grlwithprblms @dessxoxsworld @user6373738 @sideeblogsstuff @halaxxx @berriesaren

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 4 months

Text

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 28

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo X OFC

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Warnings: Smutty stuff.

Chapter Quote: “Oh, you know me…I’m really good at operations management. Just working through things to figure out the most efficient process for peak outcomes.”

As I sat in the lobby waiting for Dieter to change into the clothes I had brought for him and complete the discharge process, I could feel my anxiety flaring. He and I hadn’t spent any length of time alone together since he was filming in Canada, and everything felt different now. We had made it clear to each other that we wanted to be together and make this work, but we knew there was going to be some initial awkwardness to get through. We had briefly discussed it with Dr. Rosenberg, but talking about it and experiencing it were two different things. I could already feel the hum of anticipation vibrating throughout my body, but I also still had a deep seeded fear that he was going to change his mind and realize he didn’t have feelings for me any longer.

Dieter soon emerged from the double security doors that led to the back. He was in a dark gray t-shirt, medium wash jeans that were slung low over his slightly trimmer waist, and sneakers. His shirt was working double time as it stretched across his much broader shoulders and chest. He had spent a lot of his down time exercising and it showed. His hair was still a curly mess, but it looked like he had tried to tame it back some. He had his tote bag stuffed with the small number of personal items slung over his shoulder.

Several staff members followed to give their goodbyes and see him off, Dr. Rosenberg and Sharon included. Sharon gave him a teary smile and hug as Dr. Rosenberg walked over to check in with me. I stood from my seat as she approached. I knew as soon as she grabbed my hand and squeezed it, that she could sense my nervousness.

“You doing ok?” She asked quietly with a concerned look on her face. I nodded, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little anxious.” She squeezed my hand again.

“He is too. Just remember to talk through it and you’ll both be fine.”

I inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly before I nodded.

Once Dieter was finished with his goodbyes, he timidly made his way over to me with his hands clenching and unclenching into fists. He leaned in to give me a tight hug, reluctantly pulling away with a small smile. I reached down and grabbed his hand, threading our fingers together as I met his eyes.

“You ready?”

His eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened, “Yeah…I think so.”

We held each other’s gaze for a moment, the reality of the situation finally setting in. I could see several emotions playing across his face and could feel mine bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill out. I was suddenly aware of all of the eyes on us. Somehow, I managed to push my feelings aside as we waved to everyone and headed toward the exit.

Once we were outside, away from curious onlookers, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. By the time we reached the car, the flood gates opened, and my legs suddenly felt weak. I leaned against the hood of the rental to catch myself. Dieter quickly pulled me into a tight hug, cupping the back of my head and burying his face into the top of my hair. Both of us stood there, sobbing into our embrace and saying nothing as we allowed the waves of emotion overtake us. It was too much all at once. I felt thankful that he was still with us, relieved that he was healthy, happy he was finally coming home, nervous about how things were going to go, and excited about the possibilities. I somewhat composed myself and tried to verbalize my feelings to him, wanting him to know it was happy tears. He started to shake his head against mine as I mumbled into his neck, “It’s ok. I understand. I’m right there with you. It’s…a lot.”

He pulled back, looking at me with his tear-streaked face, reaching to wipe away the dampness from my cheeks with his thumbs, “If it makes you feel better, I got emotional about putting on a pair of jeans for the first time in three months. So, I get the overwhelmed feeling.”

We both chuckled, lightening the mood somewhat. I leaned my forehead against his chest as I grasped onto his biceps, squeezing to make sure he was really there, “It just felt like this day was never gonna come. It almost seems surreal.”

His rough hands slid up my arms as he kissed the top of my head, “Let’s get outta here before they change their mind about letting me leave.”

I raised my head, meeting his gaze. He seemed like he was holding back as he pushed my hair behind my ear, giving a small smile before turning to open the driver side door for me. After I got inside, he shut the door and hurried around to get into the passenger seat. As he was getting settled, I reached into the back and grabbed his tablet and handed it to him.

“Entertainment for the ride, if you need it. I also have your hat and sunglasses.”

He smiled, sliding the tablet between the seats, “I figured I’d just hang my head out the window the whole way and enjoy my freedom.”

I snorted, “I’m not sure you’ll wanna deal with the skin problems that would result from that.”

He laughed. I noticed he started to reach his hand toward mine but diverted to rub at his thigh instead. He suddenly seemed unsure of himself as he looked ahead out the window, a deep crease forming between his brows.

I figured he was most likely feeling overwhelmed and tried not to think too much about it as I started the car and made my way toward the interstate exit.

We drove in silence for a while. Every time I glanced in Dieter's direction, he was attentively watching the sights pass by, seeing them for the first time. I could tell the wheels in his head were spinning. I imagined this was a lot to take in after being in a facility for three months and hoped it wasn’t too much for him.

“You were good with driving back, right? I just assumed…”

He turned to look at me, pausing briefly to process my words. He had clearly been deep in thought, “Definitely. I’m not ready to deal with an onslaught of people at the airport. Or paparazzi. They’re always hanging out there…and I’m not sure if I can handle the questions. I need to talk to Elaine. I’m not sure how to answer…things. I know there are rumors about me being in rehab.”

I gave him a tight smile. I wasn’t sure how much he knew about the rumor mill. I knew he had talked to Ty some, but we hadn’t discussed anything related to his work much since it wasn’t the focus of our sessions.

“Are you worried about work stuff?”

He sighed, “Yes…and no. It’s gonna be a lot to deal with and catch up on. A lot of rearranging…maybe even dropping some projects. I’m not trying to rush back into things full steam either, so whatever happens, happens.”

He started rubbing at the top of his thighs with both hands.

“I don’t think I’ve even told you…Rylee quit after filming ended.”

I looked over at him, confused, but also not surprised. I reached over to grab his hand and gave it a squeeze. The topic seemed to cause him some distress, so I didn’t let go. Instead, I laced our fingers together. He stared at our entwined hands for a moment before he spoke again.

“I was such a dick to her even though she was just trying to keep me outta trouble. I don’t blame her for quitting. I would’ve too.”

He sighed heavily as he turned to peer out the window. Eventually speaking up again without looking in my direction.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me and come back to work?” He asked quietly as he rubbed at his scruffy chin with his free hand.

“I think if you’re honest with her and tell her what was going on…she might.”

He pinched his brows together, “Yeah, maybe…and apologize…or grovel at her feet…”

He briefly laughed to himself. After a few minutes of contemplative silence, he spoke up again, “I’m also thinking about letting Ty go. I’m not sure how much I trust him anymore…I don’t feel like he has my best interest in mind...and I need people on my team that are gonna be supportive…and not…whatever he is.”

“You know…you don’t have to get all of this stuff figured out immediately, right? There’s no rush.”

He finally turned to look at me, his brows drawn together as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I know. That’s just two things that’ve been on my mind. The rest of it…I’m just gonna go with the flow and not stress about it. There are people that will figure that shit out for me. I was just curious about your thoughts.”

“Well, you know I like Rylee. Hopefully she’ll come back…and if you want me to talk with her, I can. As far as Ty goes, I’ve really only had one interaction with him. So, I’m not sure I can have an opinion on that, but I’ll support whatever decision you come to.”

I glanced in his direction with a smirk, “He was a dick though…”

Dieter snorted, nodding in agreement.

Once we reached the halfway mark of our trip, we stopped for food. Dieter really wanted a greasy burger from a fast food place just to make up for the last three months of eating “healthy shit”. He felt like he deserved a cheat day. So, we went to the first drive-thru we saw and ate in the parking lot. From the way he ate, you would think they had starved him to death.

I smiled at him, “Ya know, you’re probably gonna regret that later.”

He took a quick drink, shaking his head, “I don’t even fucking care. Worth it. Get me some tums and I’ll survive.”

He shoved a few more fries in his mouth before he looked at me with a lopsided grin. I finished my meal and wiped my face with a napkin as I turned toward him.

“So…we really haven’t talked about it…but where do you wanna stay?”

He knitted his brows together as a look of confusion and panic crossed his face. He visibly tensed, “I thought I was staying with you?”

My eyes widened as I realized how my question sounded, “You are. I just mean…would you rather for us to stay at your place or mine? Together.”

He immediately relaxed, “Geez, don’t give me a heart attack like that. I’m too nervous about being alone as it is.”

I reached over and rubbed his arm, giving him a tight lipped smile, “Sorry. I should have worded that better.”

He stared at the half-eaten burger in his hand, picking at it as spoke, “Honestly, I’m not sure how I’m gonna feel being back at my place. It makes me anxious to think about it after what happened.”

I nodded, “That’s understandable. We can stay at my place then. We do need to stop by and get some of your things though. I’ve not been back there long enough to do that.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I guess I do need clothes, huh.”

After he finished eating, we got back on the road. By the time we were turning onto his street, it was late in the evening, and we were both stiff and tired from the drive. We had planned to grab what he would need for a couple of days and return for the rest later.

As we walked toward the front door, I noticed he was wringing his hands together and his face looked tense. After keying in, he walked in behind me, stopping in the middle of the living room to look around.

He had a mix of confusion and anxiety on his face, “Who cleaned?”

I walked over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder for comfort, “I did.”

His eyes turned glassy as he surveyed the area, “Everything?”

I cleared my throat as I felt a lump form, “Yeah…I ugh…fixed the drywall damage in the bedroom too and had the broken furniture hauled off. Technically, all you have for a bed right now is mattresses on the floor.”

I laughed dismissively as he turned to look at me, “You know, you didn’t have to do any of that.”

I met his eyes, fighting back my own tears, “I know. I just didn’t want you coming home to that. It was the last thing you needed to worry about.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace, “Thank you. For everything. I know I’ve said it a lot already, but I don’t deserve you.”

I sighed, leaning back to meet his gaze, “Stop saying that. You do too.”

He nodded, turning away from me as he wiped at his face. He took another moment to look around, shaking his head slightly.

“Alright, let’s…umm…get this done. Being here is making my chest hurt.”

“You sure it's not from that greasy ass burger you ate?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and snorted out a laugh. When he looked back at me, I could tell that helped him relax some, “You might be right.”

We worked in silence as we gathered his things. He was entirely focused on the task at hand, obviously trying not to think of other things. It took no time at all between the two of us and soon we were loading his duffle and backpack into the car to head over to my place.

We grabbed our bags from the trunk before heading inside. As I moved toward the bedroom, I noticed he had stopped just inside the living room, seeming unsure of himself.

I quirked an eyebrow in his direction, “Something wrong?”

He laughed nervously, “Umm, where do you want me to put my stuff?”

I tilted my head, confused by his question, “In the bedroom…”

He shifted the bags on his shoulders awkwardly, “Sorry…I just didn’t wanna assume and make you uncomfortable…”

I couldn’t help smiling at him. He was always thinking about my feelings, and I appreciated that more than he would ever know.

“I’ll work on making some space in the closet for you. I don’t want you living out of a bag anymore while you’re home.”

The cheesiest smile slid across his face as he took in my words. When I turned to continue toward the bedroom, he followed.

He stood digging through his bag that was perched on the edge of the bed as I approached him from behind, snaking my hands under his arms to rest on his chest and leaning my forehead between his shoulder blades. He tensed slightly before relaxing into the embrace and grabbing hold of one of my hands, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“I can’t believe you’re here. I’m almost afraid I’m gonna wake up and realize it’s a dream.”

He pulled my hand up to his mouth and kissed my fingertips, “I’m not going anywhere, mi estrella.”

I took a minute to inhale his scent before kissing the back of his neck.

“I think I’m gonna go shower.”

He paused his movements, looking down toward his bag, “I’m probably gonna journal for a while. I’ve been doing that in the evenings before I go to sleep…to wind down.”

I reached up to rub the hair at the nape of his neck as I moved to his side, looking up at him. He gave me a tight-lipped smile before he started to dig through his bag again, not meeting my eyes. I felt like he was suddenly putting up a wall. He had a long day, so I tried to not let it bother me too much as I headed toward the bathroom.

After showering and towel drying my hair, I made my way back to the bedroom. To my surprise, Dieter was on his side of the bed and appeared to be asleep. This was certainly not how I saw the evening ending. I sighed, making my way over to my side to get settled in, moving carefully so as not to disturb him. I laid there staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore my intrusive thoughts as I listened to his steady breathing. I was concerned that he was already regretting his decision. However, the rational side of my brain kept reminding me that he would need time to adjust. I eventually managed to fall into a restless sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, Dieter was already up. I wasn’t surprised given his previous schedule the last three months at Sanctuary Hills, but I had to admit that I was a little disappointed. I really wanted to wake up with him. I took a moment to stretch before sitting up to reach for my phone on the nightstand. I immediately noticed the open journal beside my phone. It was ours, the one we had both been writing in. I grabbed for it instead, closing it slightly with my finger still marking the page. I had a sinking feeling, suddenly worried it was a goodbye letter or something else equally distressing. I took a steadying breath as I leaned back against the headboard and opened it. My breath caught in my throat once I saw what was on the pages.

On the left side, was a rough pencil sketch of me sleeping. On the right, a journal entry from today.

This is the picture I’ve had in my mind since you left Canada…beautiful and at peace. While you were there, I stayed awake and watched you sleep for hours, trying to memorize everything I could. It’s what kept me going all this time even though I felt like I could never get the details right. Seeing you sleeping this morning made me realize my memory could never do you justice. I was naive for thinking otherwise and for trying. Today I woke up feeling whole. I can’t remember the last time I felt that. Thank you for making it possible. For the first time in my life, I’m actually excited about the future, and I can’t wait to spend it with you. D.

I could feel my heart clench in my chest. Any doubts I was having were now shattered by his words. We just needed to find our rhythm and he needed time to decompress.

After reading his journal entry a couple more times, I finally crawled out of bed. It was a little chilly, so I threw on my robe and tied it shut as I made my way toward the kitchen. As soon as I walked out of the bedroom, I could smell food cooking. I couldn’t help smiling to myself as I rounded the corner and found Dieter standing in front of the stove in nothing but gym shorts, cursing and jerking his hand back as the bacon grease popped at him. I took a minute to admire the lean muscles of his back, and how they flexed as he moved. He looked so fucking good.

I padded over and hugged him from behind, laying my cheek against his bare back. He rubbed one hand up my arm as he turned his head toward me to say good morning. I nuzzled my nose into the back of his neck and inhaled his scent before responding.

“Thank you for the note this morning. I needed that.”

Sensing the sullen undertone to my words, he turned to face me, letting one hand settle on my hip while the other reached to stroke my hair away from my face as he held my gaze.

His brows pinched together, “Is something wrong?”

I gave him a weak smile, “No, nothing now. I was just feeling a little insecure yesterday. I thought maybe you were shutting me out or holding back a little…But I realize you need time to adjust. It’s not a big deal. It’s just me being in my head.”

He sighed, pulling me against his chest, “I’m sorry. You’re not wrong. We probably should have talked about this in a little more detail…”

I felt my heart rate spike as the anxiety kicked in. That was not the response I expected. I pulled back, trying to keep my face neutral as I looked up at him. However, based on his panicked expression, I clearly wasn’t doing a good job of it. He rubbed at his face with one hand, shaking his head.

“Fuck. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded…I was…holding back some…but only because I didn’t want you to feel pressured to immediately pick up where we left off. In case you needed some time or…wanted to take things slow. I was just gonna try to follow your lead, ya know what I mean?”

I could feel the tension leave my body as he spoke. I smiled up at him, nodding in understanding, “I appreciate that you took that under consideration, but I can assure you that it’s not necessary. I said I was all in for this and that means everything that comes with it. If you wanna hold my hand, kiss me, or anything else, just fucking do it. You can trust that I’ll tell you if you’re doing something that makes me uncomfortable.”

He visibly relaxed some, smiling as he placed both hands on my hips and pulled me against his body. He nuzzled his nose against my ear, speaking quietly, “I’m sorry. I should’ve just brought it up yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, fingertips twisting in the soft curls at the nap of his neck, “It’s ok. We’ve just gotta make sure we’re communicating about everything so there aren’t any misunderstandings. Ok?”

He nodded as he leaned his head against mine. I closed the space between us, gently taking his plump bottom lip between mine. I could feel his grip on my hips tighten slightly as the kiss deepened. I pulled away, breathlessly glancing over his shoulder, “Your bacon is burning.”

His eyes widened as he quickly turned toward the stove, “Fuuuck.”

Just as I started to laugh at him, the doorbell rang.

“You expecting anyone?” I asked, surprised that someone would be here this early. He shook his head as he moved to get the bacon out of the pan.

“Huh…me neither. I’ll get it.”

As I passed into the living room, the doorbell started to ring again. Clearly someone was impatient this morning. When I opened the door, I found one of the absolute last people that I expected standing there with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked in disbelief.

She rolled her eyes, “Ty told me that Dieter is back and that he’s staying with you.”

“Did Ty give you my address too?” That guy was starting to get on my nerves now.

“Yes, because I want to see him.”

I scoffed, “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up like this. I’m pretty sure Gabby told you that he didn’t wanna see you.”

She sneered, “Like I’m going to believe anything she says. If he doesn’t want to see me anymore, I want to hear it from his mouth.”

I felt the door push open further as Dieter came to stand behind me. I could sense how tense he was from his close proximity to my backside and his sudden and firm grip around my waist. His voice was low and full of frustration when he spoke up.

“What're you doing here, Anna?”

She seemed taken aback by his tone and appearance, staring at him wide-eyed for a moment before responding.

“Ty said you were back from treatment. I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Dieter scoffed, “Of course he did. Did he tell you what kind of treatment too?”

Anna shook her head, “No. I didn’t ask. I just assumed it was rehab given what happened.”

Dieter moved forward to stand beside me in the doorway. One arm stayed around my waist while the other rested on his hip.

“Rehab…of course. That is the rumor, right?”

Anna's eyes widened in surprise to his response, like she didn’t know what he was talking about.

Dieter continued, “I wasn’t in rehab. I was in a mental health facility.”

She had the nerve to look concerned, “What? Why? Are you ok? Did SHE con you into doing that?”

I was the one with the scowl on my face now. I glanced up at Dieter, I could see the muscles in his jaw tightening.

“She had nothing to do with it. In fact, the hospital was gonna make me go if I didn’t do it myself. It actually wasn’t a bad thing…I learned a lot about myself and I’m a lot better now. Happy even. It might do you some good to give it a try.”

Anna’s eyes flashed with anger, “Excuse me?”

Dieter chewed on the inside of his cheek, fighting back a smile before he continued, “Given my diagnosis, it’s important that I manage my stress levels, which means cutting the problem people out of my life. That includes you. I don’t need your drama…negative influence…or lack of support. So…this is me telling you that we’re done. For good this time.”

Anna’s nostrils flared as she took in his words, “So what, she comes crawling back and suddenly I’m the problem again?

Dieter shook his head, “You know that’s not how it went down. I told you to fuck off before all this other stuff happened because you wouldn’t stop running your mouth and pushing me to do things…and I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been leaking shit to the tabloids.”

This was new information to me. I couldn’t say I was surprised by it. I was actually proud of him for having the sense to cut her off before now. I gave Anna a smug look. She knew she shouldn’t be here.

“You know I would never do that to you. How do you know she’s not the one leaking stuff? You really think this is gonna work out between you two this time? You already got rid of her once. You know she’s fucking with your head. Why are you allowing it to happen? You deserve better.”

Dieter inhaled deeply, pursing his lips as he eyed her. He shook his head slightly, stepping toward her, “Not that I need to explain any of this to you, but I think you need to hear it…I’m in love with her. She’s an amazing person with a good heart. I’m never leaving her again. It should have never happened the first time.”

He paused briefly, watching the fight leave her as her shoulders slumped at his words. He continued in a calm voice, “Ya know, this is exactly what I’m talking about…I’m not dealing with your toxic, mind fuck shit anymore. You need to leave. Don’t come back. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. We’re done. You understand? Is that clear enough for you?”

Anna was staring at the ground now, unable to look at him as she nodded in understanding. She gave me one last look of contempt as she slowly turned to leave.

Dieter moved to close the door, immediately turning to pull me into a hug, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Don’t let what she said bother you. She’s just trying to manipulate me like she always does.”

I leaned back to look up at him, “I don’t care about anything she says to me. It’s fine, I can take it. Are you ok though?”

He let out a measured breath as he rubbed up and down my arms, “Surprisingly…yes. Nothing she says matters to me anymore. She’s not worth the energy to be upset about it.”

My eyebrows arched upward, “I didn’t realize you two had a falling out…”

“Yeah…she kept saying she was tired of me being down and not partying with them, so she was pushing drugs and women at me constantly. When I said I wasn’t interested she would get mad and start running her mouth. I just got tired of it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him playfully, “Women? Hmm...”

His eyes widened as he vehemently started shaking his head, “Oh no, no, I didn’t…not with anyone.”

I chuckled, “I’m just messing with you. Even if you did…we weren’t together.”

His face relaxed, “Don’t worry, you were the only woman on my mind.” I cupped his cheeks, taking in the calm expression on his face before leaning in for a soft kiss. He smiled, nuzzling his nose against mine, “Let’s go eat breakfast and forget this happened.” I nodded as he took my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen.

It didn’t go unnoticed by me that he handled this confrontation with Anna completely different than the one at the restaurant. He remained calm and present the entire time. It was obvious that he was in a different place now. I actually felt proud of him and hoped it hadn’t caused him any undue stress.

The next couple of days kept us pretty busy. Ty had lined up several meetings to start getting Dieter’s contract obligations figured out before lawyers started getting involved due to delays. Since I had taken time off work, Dieter asked me to come with him to ensure he didn’t get talked into anything crazy.

As I sat listening to the conversations around me, it was obvious that Ty had a complete disregard for Dieter’s recovery as he pushed him to take on too much, too soon and couldn’t be bothered with the finer details of what would be needed for Dieter’s routine and self-care measures. I could see why Dieter wanted someone else there with him that knew his boundaries. Dieter did push back though. He got what he wanted and if concessions couldn’t be made for him, then he backed out of the projects. Ty was furious, but we ignored his outbursts. By the end of the week, Dieter had decided that he was ready to let Ty go. After discussing the change with Elaine, she happily put Dieter in touch with some new prospects that she felt would be a better fit.

After Ty got the news, it didn’t take long for new rumors to start making their rounds in the media about where Dieter had really been and the state of his mental health. We all knew Ty and maybe even Anna were behind it but had no proof. Elaine had recommended that we not address any of the rumors and deflect if questioned. However, after some thought, Dieter decided that he wanted to release a statement with the truth and maybe even eventually do an interview. He felt like it was his opportunity to address an important topic that didn’t get enough attention and was rather taboo to discuss, especially amongst actors out of fear that it would ruin their reputation. Given his own history and what had happened with his mom, he felt like it was a cause worthy of his support and he felt pretty strongly about it.

Elaine eventually acquiesced and drafted the statement. She ended it with a request “to respect the privacy of Mr. Bravo, his siblings, and Ms. Cohen as they continue to work through his recovery as a family.” Dieter had insisted I be included. He was making another statement without really saying it. I didn’t mind. We were back in LA after all, so we were bound to be seen together. Elaine agreed and thought it might cut back on some of the frenzy and speculation if we were open about being together, rather than trying to hide it. Dieter was anxious, but he didn’t second guess it as he told Elaine to hit send. The news was everywhere within the hour and the response to it was overwhelmingly positive.

Surprisingly, Dr. Rosenberg gave us a call later that afternoon to check in after seeing the press release. She was very supportive and actually thanked Dieter for being willing to share his story and raise awareness on the topic. We were still having regular calls with her until she found someone in LA that she was comfortable referring us to, but she wanted to continue to check in with us no matter what. We of course were thankful for her continued involvement and care for our wellbeing.

Later that evening, we had dinner at Gabby’s house. Everyone had called Dieter to check in since he had been home, but it was the first time they were getting to see him. Gabby wanted to give him some time to settle in before overwhelming him with a family get together. On the ride over, he admitted that he was nervous and worried that it would be awkward. However, his fears were quickly put to rest as he was welcomed with excitement and hugs from everyone. Lauren even shed a few tears. There was no awkwardness, only happiness to have both of us home.

Dieter stayed glued to my side the entire evening, constantly touching me in some way. He seemed happy and was having a good time. He didn’t appear to be anxious at all, so I was hopeful that meant he had other things on his mind. The glances that he kept sending my way seemed to confirm my thoughts.

We still hadn’t been intimate since coming home. He had relaxed significantly and had been extremely affectionate toward me after our conversation, but somehow, it hadn’t come to that. There were even a couple of instances where I felt like he was avoiding it. I had to tell my brain to stop thinking that way. However, when we got home that evening and a somewhat heated make out session started in the bathroom as we were getting ready for bed, he quickly pivoted by saying he was tired and still needed to do his journal entry before he fell asleep. I struggled to ignore it that time. My gut told me that something was up.

Several days later, we were sitting on the couch watching tv. I had thrown my legs over the top of his as I laid back onto a pile of pillows. His right hand was resting just above my bare knee, thumb occasionally rubbing in small circles. His other hand was gently massaging my feet. I absentmindedly stuck my hand up my tank to scratch at my stomach. From the corner of my eye, I noticed he was watching my hand, but trying not to be obvious about it. I did a small stretch, causing the hem to ride up further as I slid my fingers into the waistband of my shorts, looping my thumb over the top to rest there as I stayed focused on the tv. I felt the fingers on his right-hand twitch slightly before his whole hand started to rub and massage at my thigh.

He continued to stare blankly at the tv for several minutes, but I could feel the hardness forming under my legs. I moved slightly, grazing against him. His eyes shifted over to mine, and I smirked, moving my legs again. He grabbed hold of both my feet with his large hand, stalling my movements.

I bit my bottom lip, narrowing my eyes as I looked at him, “What’s going on in that head of yours today?”

He cleared his throat, “I’m watching tv. The show is on my mind.”

I slid my hand downward slightly, tugging the waistband of the shorts with my thumb. I slowly brought my other hand upward across my stomach, raising the hem of my tank further, letting it rest just under my breast. Then, I loosely clenched my thighs together. I knew he could feel it because his eyes darted down in that direction before going back to the tv. I could tell he was fighting a smile as his right hand continued its movements. The heat of his touch radiating directly to my core, now causing my thighs to involuntarily clench together, tighter this time. He closed his eyes and tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as his fingers dug into the soft meaty area above my knee.

“Sorry, I’ve got a little bit of an ache…maybe that’s something you can help me with?”

He opened his eyes and gave me a tight-lipped smile, “Alright, fine. You win.”

He laughed quietly as he shifted to move up my body, placing open mouthed kisses on bare skin as he went. When he made it to my chest, I felt his hand tentatively sliding toward the waistband of my shorts. I covered it with mine and guided it underneath to where I wanted it. Once he realized I wasn’t wearing any panties, he groaned into my neck. As his hand sunk lower, he groaned again, “Fucking hell, your soaking wet.”

My breath hitched as he slid his fingers between my folds and got to work. My hands found their way to the back of his head, tightly gripping his curls to pull him upward so I could kiss him even though I was already breathless. It had been too long, and I already felt like I was floating. It wasn’t going to take long for me to finish at this rate.

Our tongues tangled together as my hips moved in rhythm with his motions. I moaned into his mouth, pulling away to catch my breath. My eyes involuntarily squeezed shut as I could feel the familiar tingle building in my core. Dieter placed his forehead against mine, “Look at me…I want you looking at me when you come undone.”

My eyes met his as my thighs started to tremble. I mumbled something unintelligible against his lips as my release ripped through me. He nudged his nose against mine, watching as I lost it underneath the weight of his body.

Before I had a chance to completely recover, he was kissing me again. It was almost frenzied as he bucked his hips against my center, nearly making me come for a second time with minimal effort. My hand slowly moved down toward the front of his gym shorts. He broke away, leaning his forehead against mine, squeezing his eyes shut as he shook his head slightly. He sighed and moved to sit up, rubbing at his face with both hands.

My brows knitted together in concern as I set up at his side, “Hey, what's wrong?”

He laughed in disbelief through his hands before dropping them to his lap and looking at me with an odd expression that I couldn’t read.

“I can’t fucking believe this is happening…I’m sorry, I should have said something the other day, but I was hoping it wasn’t actually an issue.”

I was completely lost, “What’s going on?”

He looked at me wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open slightly for a moment before any words came out, “I think I’m having…performance anxiety or something.” He laughed again. “Talk about being ironic.”

My eyebrows arched upward, “Ooooh...Are you sure that’s what it is? Maybe it’s your medication? I mean, the doctor did say that could be a side effect.”

He shook his head as a deep crease formed between his brows, “I don’t think it’s that…I mean, I still get aroused and can…you know…”

His lips formed into a line, “Fuck. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

He put his hand back over his face out of embarrassment. I reached over and squeezed his knee.

“So, you can take care of things yourself then? Is that what you’re saying?” I wasn’t sure how I wanted him to answer that question. It was going to sting either way.

“Yeah, I mean after the other night…When I woke up the next morning…in the shower. I felt like an asshole afterwards though.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, looking away from him. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I couldn’t help feeling insecure over it and he could sense it.

“It’s got nothing to do with you. You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re…fucking perfect.” He reached over to grab my hand, lacing our fingers together, “If it makes you feel better, I was thinking about you when I did it…”

I gave him a look that fell somewhere between a grimace and a smile, before I let a small laugh escape. Meanwhile, he was slowly descending into panic.

“I promise, it’s me. I’m just getting all in my head about everything and it kind of ruins the moment.” He gestured toward his crotch with his free hand and had an annoyed look on his face.

I somehow managed a neutral expression, “Do you wanna talk about what’s bothering you then? Maybe it’ll help.” I shrugged, giving him a sympathetic look.

He sighed heavily, “I just…I dunno…I think I’m worried it’s gonna be different somehow…that I’m gonna be different. What if I can’t connect emotionally or feel things like before? I mean that’s always been kind of an important part of it for us…the emotional connection. You know what I mean? That makes me worry it’s gonna be bad for you if I can no longer give you that part of myself because something’s different in my brain.”

I could feel my chest tightening as I realized this was really getting to him, “I mean, Dr. Rosenberg said how you feel about things wouldn’t change. It’s not like your emotions are turned off. You still feel things.”

“Yeah, but it's not always as intense as before.” His dark eyes were giving me a pleading look. Like he was expecting me to up and leave over this.

“Well, that’s not necessarily a bad thing in some instances…and who knows, maybe it’ll be even better now since you’re more present and in control of everything.”

He chuckled, “God, if it gets any better than it was, I may not be able to handle it.”

I smiled at him. At least his sense of humor was still intact.

“It’s kind of a compounding thing too, because now I’m just like…fuck, I have to be able do this or she’s gonna be unsatisfied and unhappy you know? I don’t want to mess shit up again. Then it’s just…like…these negative pressuring thoughts on repeat, and I can’t make it stop.”

I gave him a smirk as I moved to wrap my arms around his neck, “You’re more than qualified to satisfy me in a couple other ways…as you just demonstrated. So, don’t even think about that anymore. I’m not going anywhere. We will figure it out together, ok?”

He nodded, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me onto his lap for a comforting embrace.

I kissed the top of his head, “Thank you for telling me.”

“So, what do you think we should do?” He asked against my neck.

“Well, I say we just try again when the mood strikes and see what happens. Maybe now that you’ve told me what’s going on…it’ll get better.”

He nodded before turning to give me a quick kiss. (More after the gif)

Over the next week, we had a few more failed attempts. It only seemed to be discouraging him further. I could sense it happening each time and there was no way of stopping it. I could tell it was starting to weigh on him, so I decided to give Dr. Rosenberg a call. Apparently, this was a pretty common issue, and she offered a few suggestions. Starting with giving him tasks to focus on while I was in charge of things. I felt like I could work with that. He did like my bossy side after all. So, I started to formulate a plan of action to solve the problem at hand.

The following morning, I was awakened to the feeling of Dieter’s rough hand slowly sliding up my bare hip to the middle of my waist, then back down again. Once he realized I had nothing on underneath the t-shirt I had worn to bed, it seemed to have the desired effect. His grip tightened, fingers digging into soft flesh as he pulled my ass backwards against the hardness that he had woken up with. I couldn’t help the sly smile that slid across my face, hoping that this might actually get somewhere if I could keep him focused on what he was feeling rather than what he was thinking.

I did a full body stretch, humming from the feel of it as I leaned my back against his chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck as he groaned, tightening his grip on my hip further and grinding into my backside. I reached up with my right hand and gently tugged the soft curls at the crown of his head as he ran his nose up the length of my stretched-out neck, then around the edge of my ear. The feel of his hot breath against the sensitive area caused me to break out in goosebumps, putting every nerve ending in my body on alert.

I turned my head to meet his lips, pulling him down into a slow and sensual kiss. I removed my hand from his hair then lightly slid it down his arm to sit atop his hand on my hip. I laced my fingers through the top of his and guided his hand up under my shirt to rest on my breast, encouraging him to knead it in the palm of his hand. We both moaned quietly through locked lips from the contact as I scooted to lay flat on my back. He settled between my thighs as I hooked my leg around his hip, rubbing my bare center against the hardness in his shorts. He pressed his forehead to mine and closed his eyes momentarily as I continued moving against him. When he opened them, I could tell he was starting to get lost in his head again, hesitating before he leaned down to kiss me.

I broke away from the kiss, snaking my left hand up into his hair, gripping it firmly between my fingers and pulling his ear down to meet my lips. I gently sucked on the lobe before whispering, “Lay down on your back and close your eyes.” The distraction of my words brought him back to the moment as he pulled away, looking down at me with a playful but questioning grin on his face. He was clearly intrigued by my instructions as he did what was asked.

Once he was situated, I moved to slide his shorts down. He raised his hips off the bed to assist in removing them. Once they were discarded on the floor, I slowly crawled up his body, making light grazes across his skin along the way. Placing open mouthed kisses on his muscular thighs before nipping and sucking on them playfully. Eventually, I moved to straddle his hips. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor before leaning down to suck on his bottom lip. After grabbing both of his hands in mine, I pulled away from the kiss with a pop. I moved to whisper in his ear again, “Don’t open your eyes. If you do, I'll stop. Just focus on my voice and what you’re feeling. Nothing else.”

Dieter’s breath stuttered as he slowly shook his head in agreement. The anticipation and not knowing what to expect causing his skin to flush. The idea of giving him a task to focus on was clearly keeping his intrusive thoughts at bay for the time being as he continued to harden beneath me. I sat upright, pulling his hands with me, and placing them on my breast. Encouraging him to let them roam and caress my body. I guided them down to feel up my thighs and around to grip my ass. As his fingers dug into the meaty flesh, I rolled my hips, rubbing my aching wet center against him.

“You feel that? You did that to me.”

He groaned at my words and bucked his hips up against me, seeking more friction. I grabbed his right hand and brought it down to rub the slick at my center.

“This is all for you,” I added before bringing his hand to my mouth and sucking his fingers clean. I watched as his eyes snapped open in shock to meet mine. I stopped and pulled his hands away from my body.

“Eyes closed or it stops.”

He huffed loudly, “You’re gonna make me have a fucking heart attack,” as he closed his eyes again.

I couldn’t help the mischievous smile that slid across my face as I took in the sight of him, already panting and his skin beading with sweat. My plan appeared to be working.

I took his hands and guided them to lay above his head, momentarily pinning them there to give further instruction.

“No baby, I’m gonna make you feel good. Then you’re gonna make love to me. Don’t open your eyes again or move your hands. I mean it, I’ll stop.”

He whimpered quietly as he let out a measured breath, nodding in agreement. I went to work, worshiping every inch of him. Starting at his neck, licking and sucking his flushed skin as I worked my way down his torso. Alternating between light touches in the sensitive areas and deep massaging over his taut muscles. With every movement my wet center rubbed against his hardness as he continued to grind his hips against me, causing that electric tingling sensation to build. However, this time was about his pleasure, not mine. So, I started to move backward to straddle his legs as I continued to work my way down his body with my mouth. He groaned at the loss of contact until I took his dick in my hand and started stroking it, spreading my wetness up and down his shaft as I nipped and sucked on his hip.

He was beginning to squirm beneath me. It was clearly becoming harder for him to keep his hands in place as he knotted the sheets in his fingers above his head and tightly squeezed his eyes shut. A sweat covered crease formed between his brows as he fought to control himself. I let my hot breath blow against him as I spoke up to remind him not to move or open his eyes before taking him into my mouth.

His elbows jerked up off the bed and I immediately pulled back, ceasing my movements. He mumbled something in Spanish that I couldn’t quite make out as he put his arms back in place. This was driving him crazy, but it was also keeping all of the negative thoughts out of his head, and I was loving every second of it.

I took as much of his length into my mouth as I could and used one hand to stroke the remainder of the shaft while the other moved to massage his balls in a wave motion with my fingertips. I could tell it was taking everything in him not to look down at me or reach for my hair. He tried to move his legs, but they were pinned under me, further limiting his response to my actions. He was quickly melting into a sweaty, groaning, writhing mess underneath me as I licked and sucked on his sensitive head.

Once his thighs started to shake and his balls began to tighten, I removed him from my mouth and stopped my motions. He growled and pulled a pillow over his face, yelling expletives into it. I couldn’t help the laughter that escaped me. I was enjoying this too much. Once he had calmed down some, I worked to bring him back to the edge, again ceasing my motions once he was there.

After allowing him to come back down a second time, I moved to straddle his hips. I placed him at my entrance and slowly sank down onto his length, allowing him to stretch me in the most delightful way. Once I was able to fully take him in, I leaned forward to grab his arms, pulling him to sit upright and placing his hands on my ass to help guide my movement. Realizing he still had his eyes closed as I placed my forehead against his, a smile spread across my face before whispering against his lips, “You can open your eyes now.”

Dieter’s eyes slowly opened, revealing that his pupils were fully dilated with arousal. There was no stopping him now. He was focused and determined as he crashed his lips against mine in a passionate kiss before tangling his hand in my hair, gently pulling my head backwards and burying his face into the crook of my neck. I continued to rock against him as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive area just above my collarbone, sending electrical shocks directly to my core with his touch and the scrap of his scruffy beard. My fingers moved to knot into his sweaty curls, pulling him tightly against me as we moved in unison.

We knew how to do this, how to read each other’s bodies and connect in the most intimate and emotional ways. Though he had been worried about it being different, about him being different, it wasn’t something we would ever lose. It was engraved into our very souls. He just needed to be shown the way back to me, to us. There was no hesitation from him now as he angled my face toward his, releasing his hold on my hair to bring his thumb to rest on my chin and stroke it gently. Our eyes locked into an intense gaze for a time while we continued to move together. My forehead eventually fell forward to rest against his as beads of sweat rolled down both of our faces from the exertion. Both of us taking turns stealing kisses from the other between the soft moans and heavy breathing. Our connection felt just as strong as it had been previously.

As Dieter got closer to his climax, he reached for my right hand, disentangling it from his hair and brought it to his mouth. After gently sucking and swirling his tongue around the tips of my fingers, he moved them to the bundle of nerves at my center, encouraging me to find my release with him while he worked to speed up our rhythm. With both of his hands placed firmly on my ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, he continued guiding my rocking movements against him. His eyes never left my face as he watched me come undone on top of him, quietly whispering praises against my lips as I got closer to the edge. Once my muscles started to clench down around him, he fell over the edge with me. Both of us letting out loud groans with our releases. His face fell forward into the crook of my neck, his hot breath blowing against me as I hugged him tightly, both of us trembling and sweaty from our activities.

We sat like that for several minutes, giving each other a chance to come down from our mutual high. He eventually lulled his head back to look up at me with a lazy smile on his face, which caused his eyes to crinkle in that way I loved. I leaned down to capture his pillowy bottom lip into a sensual kiss, knitting his hair in one hand while the other slid across the rough scruff on his cheek. He groaned into my mouth before breaking the kiss, then nuzzled his nose against mine.

Dieter let out a breathy laugh as he started twisting my hair around his fingers against the middle of my back with one hand, allowing the other to wander freely across my body as he studied my face, “I certainly wasn’t expecting to wake up to that. What has gotten into you this morning? Not that I’m complaining…”

“Well…it looks like you did.”

He snorted, “Seriously, where did that come from?”

I ran my hand down the side of his face to cup his cheek, “Oh, you know me…I’m really good at operations management. Just working through things to figure out the most efficient process for peak outcomes,” I said with a smirk.

He chuckled, “You know I think it’s hot when you’re all bossy. Give me fifteen minutes and we can test out that process again, ya know, and make sure it’s efficient…Actually, if you wanna take it up a few notches, I may only need ten.”

“Is that right?” I mumbled against his lips with a smile, he nodded in response before kissing me. We melted into each other, bodies pressed together as our tongues and hands explored every area of skin they could reach. It wasn’t long before I could feel him getting hard again.

Hours later, we laid in bed facing each other, with lazy smiles and blissfully spent. I had missed him like this, completely relaxed and carefree. Whatever block he had been experiencing seemed to now be non-existent as he lightly drug his fingers up and down the length of my bare side and randomly kissed me as we talked. The weight had lifted, allowing the spark of happiness to return to his eyes. His playfulness was on full display as he laughed at my words and threw in the occasional innuendo.

He grew quiet after a time, studying my face. His brows creased slightly as he took hold of my hand and brought it to his cheek for a moment, before closing his eyes and turning to kiss it gently. When he met my gaze again, I could see a range of emotions playing out across his expression.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He smiled as he nuzzled his face into my hand, “You’ve always been able to read me so well. No one else knows how to do that.”

I scratched at his scruffy face and gave him an encouraging smile. He sighed, wrapping his arm around me to pull me snuggly against his chest before burying his face in the top of my hair.

“I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you…just kinda taking a minute to appreciate what I have and be hopeful for the future…Our future together.”

I could sense that wasn’t everything, “Is that all?”

He huffed out a small laugh into my hair, “No.”

Of course, I could tell it wasn’t. I pulled away some to meet his eyes, waiting for him to continue. He avoided my stare as he thought through his words. His brows knitted together, eyes turning glassy. I could tell he was fighting back emotions.

“I just…it’s hard not to be angry about the time we lost. It’s always gonna be one of my biggest regrets.”

I sat up on my elbow, cradling his face in my other hand, forcing him to look at me.

“You can’t move forward if you're dwelling on the past. You’re gonna have to let that go. I’m guilty of it too. I did it first, remember?”

His lips twitched upward at the memory.

“It was months. Why focus on a handful of shitty months when we have years ahead of us to look forward to?”

He smiled, leaning into my hand before pulling me down to meet his lips. It finally felt like we had gotten over our last major hurdle and could now focus on our future together.

A/N: And there we have it! Our two lovebirds are finally back together! How excited are you for that? And that journal entry - Swoon! 😍 How amazing did it feel for Dieter to tell Anna off for good and get rid of Ty? Do you think Rylee will come back to work with him? And how about him releasing a statement...Good or bad idea? Also, how adorable is he with all his worries? Poor thing with his performance anxiety...you all had to know his love of Talia's boss lady side was going to come into play at some point, right? So, it looks like I'm still on schedule to have one more chapter and an epilogue to finish this out. I almost split this one since it came in at over 10k words but decided against it. I threw in a few gifs to break it up a bit though. Can you feel that happy ending on the horizon now? Please feel free to show your enthusiasm with messages and reblogs. 😘 👉 In case you missed it, The Knight & His Queen was posted over the holidays. This is a four-part series I completed for the PedroStories Secret Santa event, and it has been posted in its entirety. It's another Dieter Bravo fic where our beloved trash panda takes a dive into the world of mystics, tarot readings, and love. Give it a read. It's fun, fluffy, and fairly angst free.

Next Chapter

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent @pedrostories

Let me know in the comments below if you would like to be added to the tag list.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #Destiny & Deliverance Series #friends of juice collective

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sofasoap · 8 months

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Love at first sight - Epilogue

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x F!reader ( aka Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Two love birds finally got together. To the relief of everyone.

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,Part 5,Part 6

Warning: E Rating. Smutty smut. inaccuracies to medical and military related. discussion of injury.

A/N: @siilvan , thank you for being a wonderful Beta-reader *hug* @jynxmirage for giving me daily encouragements of sending me picture of delicious Bayardo De Murguia to keep me going :) Thanks to @okayyadriana and @saltofmercury helping me with Spanish words :) if there are any mistakes. Please blame me not them.

“masterlist”

You stayed on with the Los Vaqueros In Las Almas after Rudy was cleared to be discharged from the hospital.

Approaching Price a few days after in private, you were nervous as you put in a request to stay on for a bit longer while the rest of the team moved on to another mission back in Europe soon.

“I know this is a very selfish request, Captain..” You look down at your boot, feeling guilty abandoning your team while they need you. But you can’t walk away from him this time. Rudy still needs you to look after him, or so you try to justify it. More like you need him to heal your guilty conscience.

Price observed you in silence for a few minutes, brows furrowed. At last he jerks his head towards the outside, indicating to you to follow him.

The sun is slowly setting, a few soldiers returning from their patrols and training. Everything seems so tranquil and peaceful compared to the near death mission the squad was sent to a few weeks ago.

Taking out a cigar he stashed away in his vest pocket, he lit it up, and took a slow drag before turning to you.

“You've been burying yourself in work non-stop for the last few months Mini. Is this why?” He didn’t point out what exactly he was asking about.

But, you know what he is implying.

Kicking a bit of dirt on the ground and swiping the little gravel away for no reason, you let out a little grunt, acknowledging his question.

“Stay as long as you want. You have trained your team well, Dr. MacTavish.” He chuckled as you pouted like a child, he knows you don’t like to address you with the title. “I’m sure they can handle the boys without you.” He pats you on the shoulder. “Take a good break, but I don’t know how much rest you are going to have fussing over him.”

“I’ll try to behave…” You replied sincerely, finally feeling a bit of weight lift off your shoulders. “Thank you, Captain. It means a lot to me.”

Patting you on the shoulder with a fatherly smile, “Go chase your happiness, Mini. You deserve it.”

Leaning back against the wall, you close your eyes and listen to the faint sound of music and singing that could be heard from the mess hall from a distance away, as the Task force and Los Vaqueros soldiers celebrate another successful mission under their belt after months of hard work.

A shadow appears in front of you. Looking up, you saw Rudy standing in front of you, eyebrows raised, silently asking for permission.

Patting the ground beside you and inviting him to sit down, you share the brief silence.

This is probably the only time the two of you have spent time alone in the last few months, without anyone else hovering about.

To Rudy’s dismay, Alejandro forced his second in command to take an extensive break after his return from hospital.

“Rest. You nearly died in my arms, hermano. I am sure your mother will be happy to have you at home for more than one day in a few weeks.” He commented. Alejandro turned towards you and patted you on the shoulder, “I’ll get Dr. MacTavish here to check up on you, so don’t you worry about your injury.”

Mama Parra was ecstatic to see you return along with her son. You were quite touched by how the whole family welcomed your return. Camila gave you a knowing look after giving you a hug.

“Thank you for saving my brother. And, please, look after him from now on.”

The tender look he gives you everytime you go over to change his bandages, and the desire he couldn’t keep hidden sipping through when you glide your hands, deliberately across his well defined ab. You linger your hand around his pelvis area, boldly caressing the slight bit of hair showing above his pants. Oh how his eyes darken as you flash him a sly smile, teasing him.

If only he wasn’t still recovering from his near fatal wound. If only there weren’t people always out and about in the house.

Both of you would have given in to the desire, right there and then.

But his mother would always poke her head into the room every time, fussing about and pulling you out to feed you with delicious meals, trying to show you the family photos, and with your rudimentary understanding of Spanish language, along with Rudy and Camila’s translation, Mama Parra loved telling you all the family history and childhood stories of Rudy and his siblings, and all the havoc him and Alejandro caused when they were young.

You often catch Alejandro looking at the two of you, rolling his eyes while shaking his head, exasperated that the two of you are behaving like love sick puppies yet again.

“Are you two going to make a move on each other or not?” Alejandro asked you once, when you were dropping off the health assessment reports in his office. “You know there is a betting pool happening amongst the team to see when…”

You ran out of the office in a flash, not even waiting for his sentence to finish, utterly mortified.

Rudy breaks the silence first as he softly calls out your name. Turning slightly to face him.

“Cariño. Mi vida.” The tips of your ears burn as he addresses you in such an intimate manner. How would it feel if he called out like that when he was buried inside you…? “What are you thinking?” He whispered, his beautiful brown orbs filled with sadness. “Are you… are you thinking of leaving again?” Your heart clenched with pain as he looked at you with the same nervousness and distress you saw the night at the hospital. You realise the two of you haven’t sat down and discussed the future, where to move on from here. No wonder the poor man is feeling so insecure.

“Oh love.. no.. no don’t think that.” Gently cupping his face, you pull him down towards you to lean against his forehead. “I am not leaving you. Ever again. No matter what happens. I am sorry I haven’t been clearer.” You apologised as you leaned close to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “...well, barring from getting sent out for missions…” You added hastily.

You feel tension dissipate from him as you give him your words of reassurance. Taking one of his hands, you put it over your heart.

“This will be yours from now on. And this,” You put your hand over his rapid beating heart, “I hope I have the honour for this to be mine.” You drop down to a whisper, suddenly timid.

“From the moment I laid my eyes on you, I had already devoted my heart to you. I never expected you to return my feelings. I was happy to watch you from afar, assist you whenever I could; seeing that bright smile appear on your face is all that matters to me. I never expected anything in return.”

You were taken aback by his comment. You knew he had feelings for you quite early on, but from the moment you arrived at Las Almas? You didn’t quite expect that. Silently pining for you, doing what he does the best, assisting you in the background. You realise everytime the medical team has requested something, it would be done right away in the next few days. You got a complaint? Rudy would sort it out straight away.

“All done, as per your request.” You remember his soft smile and his shyness everytime he reported back to you.

It was all for you.

“Rudy… oh, Rudy…” You lamented. The guilt is hitting you again.You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face now. “I am so sorry… so sorry…”

“Cariño, it’s not your fault. You did what you thought was right at the time, and I don’t blame you for that.” He pulls you into his embrace, kissing you lightly on your head. “I admit, I was quite heartbroken, but I do understand. Duty over heart. And the distance would have made it hard.” Closing his eyes, he chuckled slightly. “I buried myself in work, trying to put it all behind me. That accidental phone call? It reignited my hope. Brought back the ache again.”

Resting your head in the crook of his neck, you enjoy the closeness, his scent, as he lightly rocks you back and forth to the music in the distance, slowly processing his words.

“I love you, mi vida. I love you so much.” He whispered into your ears. “You are so beautiful. So strong, so fierce, so loyal…” He pulled himself away slightly to face you as he took in a deep breath.

“Would it be too much to ask, for you to be mine?” He pleaded, desperately searching for an answer in your eyes.

You wrap your arms around his neck with a soft smile, “You already have my heart,” You whispered as you tipped your head up to give him a gentle kiss on his lips. “And you have my permission to take my body as yours, too.”

With that reply, he leaned down towards you for another kiss, pouring all his emotion and heart into it. You can feel both of your bodies heating up as you nudge his lips open with your tongue, teasing him.

Abruptly, he pulls you away, panting, and jerks his head towards the main building. “My room. Not here.” That was all he could get out with his mind semi-frazzled from the kiss. You nodded your head frantically as both of you made your way towards the said destination.

As the two of you passed through the mess hall towards the officer’s quarters, you thought you saw Alejandro’s quick wave and smirk. Must be your imagination?

You couldn’t help but circle your arm around his waist as he shakily tried to open the door to his resting quarters. Hands meander around his body, teasing him a little, feeling his broad muscles, his back, and coming to a stop as you palm his semi hard package underneath his trousers. As soon as the door opens, he turns around and pulls you in, and kicks the door closed. You pull him down by his collar for another kiss, desperate to show him how much you want him, to soothe his worries and doubt.

You push him to sit down on the bed, both of you still catching your breath from the heated kiss and dash.

“Please, mi amor… please, show me how you like it. Where you want me to touch…” He looks up at you, hands roaming up and down your body, voice dropping into a husky and lustful whisper.

You lower yourself to straddle him, feeling his hardness through the fabric. Rolling your hips slightly, you hear his breath catching slightly, holding back a groan.

You move one of his hands to grab your ass, and the other to slide under your top, towards your breast. “Anywhere you like, love,” You swallow thickly, body filled with want. You want him. Anywhere. Everywhere. “Just show me what your deft fingers can do.” You purred as you looked at him through half hooded eyes. .

You always wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on you after seeing him playing the guitar that night. The beautiful nimble fingers gliding up and down the fretboard, plucking away on the strings.

Standing up again to let him have better access to your lower region, he fumbles slightly as he unbuttons your pants and glides in between your pants and underwear. You let out an unrestrained moan as you feel his finger skate over your clit, before it reaches your already soaking opening.

“That’s it, my love..more… I want to feel more of you there…” You gasped and demanded as you rolled your hips with his moment. Another finger followed without hesitation, and another, until you feel stretched full of him pumping slowly in and out of you.

His thumb languidly circles your clit as you dig your nails into his shoulder, back arched and screaming his name, not caring if the whole barracks hears you enjoying the first orgasm your lover has given you.

You look down at him with your watery orbs, breathing still short and fast as you come down from the blissful high he has just given you. He pulled his fingers out of you and slipped them in his mouth.

“I want to taste more of you.” He hummed as he slowly licked his fingers, cleaning up the cum juice you drenched him with. “My mouth against your beautiful soaking wet cunt, making you happy…”

Oh, you have definitely flipped a switch on. Gone is the shy Rudy, now Rodolfo Parra, the same confidence and passion shining through his eyes that you saw from him that night playing his guitar, is requesting to please you once again. Or, is that a thinly veiled demand?

Either way, you welcome the change.

Leaning down to pull him into an open mouthed kiss, you speak against his lips.

“You will have a lot more chances for that later on, my love.” You smirked as you pushed his shoulder, making him fall back onto the bed. You kneel on the bed, legs on each side of his body. “Now, it’s my turn to give you some pleasure, as you have just given me.” You position yourself comfortably sitting on his thighs, before you start to unbutton his shirt.

Peppering kisses on his chest, your eyes soften as your hand carrases over the healed scar from months ago. That pain in your heart is still as fresh as the day you barely pulled him back from death’s door step.

“Still hurting?” You murmured as you traced your fingers over the most critical spot. “Occasional phantom pain, but I am alright now. Thanks to you.” He reassures you as he runs his hand up and down your arm.

Continuing down his body, your hands shake with excitement like a child opening a present on Christmas day, eager to see what is hiding underneath.

Your smile broadens as you pull his pants down, his impressive girth finally appearing. You heard him groaning as you gently grabbed his length, pumping it a few times before taking it with your mouth.

Rudy gasps and moans as you work away, teasing him with your tongue, sucking the tip and kneading his balls lightly. He grasps the bed sheet hard as he blabbers away in Spanish, too fast for you to follow. He took you by surprise as he let out an almost half whimper-half sob before you felt the hot cum coating the inside your mouth. You lapped it all up and swallowed keenly as he rode out the rest of his orgasm.

“I… I am sorry, mi amor. I couldn’t hold it in any longer...” He apologised profusely, clearly embarrassed. You climb back up towards him. “I am glad I have that effect on you, Cariño.” You hushed him as you showered him with kisses on his face and patted his chest.

His eyes glitter as you use the endearment in his mother tongue. “I should feel honoured that I can make you come so quickly. Now,” You stripped the rest of your clothing off. “Show me what you can do with that impressive thing inside me.”

Rudy claimed shyly he isn’t as experienced as you, but oh boy. His attentiveness, his eagerness, how much he wanted to give you a good time, all made up for it.

His hands couldn’t stop touching you, caressing you as he slowly thrusted in and out of your aching core, stretching it open, making you quiver and moan out no matter what angle and position he went for. As if the two of you were made for each other, meant to be. Your soulmate.

The two of you finally drifted to sleep, round after round of pleasure and orgasms, with his arm around you, holding you close to his chest. Afraid to let go, afraid for you to disappear again.

The whole mess hall erupted into cheers and whistles as both you and Rudy walked in, taking both of you by surprise.

You hid your face in Rudy’s shoulder, abashed by the sudden attention both of you were getting.

Rudy, calm as always, ignored all the teases as he gently took your hand, which incited another round of cheers as he led you to the back table where Alejandro and your team was sitting at the moment for breakfast. He sat you down first before murmuring into your ear and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, heading towards the serving area to grab food for both of you.

“I hope you two had a good time last night.” Alejandro smiled as he pushed the jar of sugar towards you.

“HOW–” You nearly spilled out the coffee that you were pouring into the mug.

“Why did you think the officer’s quarters were so quiet last night?” Alejandro smirked with a knowing look.

Blistering hell, he knew. He ordered people to stay away from the sleeping quarters. You wondered why the usually busy hallway was void of people as the two of you dashed towards his bedroom.

Another soldier sitting across from you laughed. " Ah, don't be so shy. We were all rooting for you and our Sergeant Major. And, you know what they say?? Tell her, mi hermanos, mi hermanas!!"

“Save a horse, ride a Vaquero!” The whole mess hall shouted in unison.

You just want to dig a hole in the ground and hide.

“...Captain.” You mumbled at Price. “Have you got Nikolai’s contact? Please ask him to take me away from this horrible embarrassment.” You buried your face in your hands. Now how are you going to face all of them?

“Might be a good idea, so we don’t have to hear your screams every night.” Soap mumbled as he took a sip of his coffee.

OH great, now your brother is talking about your sex life. Something just snapped inside you. Stuff this. If they are so interested in your life, you might as well….

Slamming your mug onto the table, you stood up on the bench, whistling to catch everyone’s attention.

“Since all of you are so interested in our love life, yes, the Sergeant Major and I finally shagged last night.” You heard your brother spitting out his coffee while Ghost thumped his back, Gaz laughing his head off. “And, ladies, his fingers are just as good, if not better than all of you imagined.” Gasps and giggles could be heard amongst the crowd. Out of the corner of your eyes, Rudy froze mid-motion while picking up some toast from the toaster, soldiers around him slapping his back and elbowing him, teasing him.

“Mini…” You heard Price trying to interject, but you held out your hand towards your captain, stopping him.

“Last, but not least, I love him, and he is off the market people! Take this as a warning, no one touches MY MAN!”

Jumping down from your bench, you walk down the aisle between the refectory tables, as if doing a victory walk between the cheering and clapping soldiers, towards Rudy, who’s now blushing from head to toe, hearing your public declaration.

“There. I think that will stop anyone from gossiping about us.” You stop in front of your lover, as he leans into the crook of your neck, feeling the heat radiating off his skin.

“Ah, querida… What am I going to do with you.” He asked, followed by a sigh.

“Well, one thing for sure, you aren’t going to get rid of me, because I am going to stick around for quite a long time.” You replied as you wrapped your arm around his torso.

“Good.” He put his plates down to the side and proceeded to lift you up high. “Because you are mine forever, mi hermosa.”

“... how much did you bet on them?”

“A hundred pounds, But that’s because I had insider information.”

“Mierda.”

Tag list:

@jynxmirage, @kaplerrr, @captainpriceslover,@homicidal-slvt,@floral-force,@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world,@iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface,@okayyadriana,@random-thot-generator,@siilvan,@crazymela,@preciouslittlecreature,@glitterypirateduck,@cumikering,@devcica,@nrdmssgs,@random0lover

@nightingal3-tales, @deakyspuff, @abbeyrjm-blog, @alypink,@liyanahelena, @loppyc

@deadbranch

#rudy parra x reader imagine #call of duty #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rudy parra x female reader #rudy parra x f!reader #rudy parra x reader #rudy parra x you #rodolfo parra x you #task force 141 #cod x reader #cod x female reader #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #rodolfo parra x female reader #rodolfo rudy parra x female reader #rodolfo rudy parra x f!reader #sofasoap writes #mini mactavish universe #mini mactavish

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smolvenger · 1 year

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Do any of y'all want to be tagged in my first High-Rise Fic?

Okay, guys. I finished a second draft of a fluff and smut fic about fem! reader being a tenant at the High-Rise and losing her virginity to Doctor Sexy himself, Robert Laing. Would anyone be interested in being tagged! Like I said, there will be smut, so 18+ for this one-shot, please!

#high rise #tom hiddleston #smut #carrie writes #I'm so sorry for yall that came here for marvel and star wars and are in the midst of my Tom phase #I am sending you guys cake #robert laing #robert laing x reader #doctor robert laing #dr robert laing #dr robert laing x reader #dr robert laing my beloved #doctor sexy my beloved #robert laing x y/n #robert laing x you #robert laing imagine

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deepinsideyourbeing · 3 days

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Holi hermanaa! Seria un abuso pedirte un smut que sea una continuación del Dr. Vogrincic?

Ya sea la respuesta si o no, adoro tu trabajo y tengo las notificaciones activadas para venir (y venirme ah) al toque 🫦

Preludio acá.

+18!

Un escalofrío te recorre al escuchar las palabras de Enzo y cuando volteás a verlo te sonríe, tan dulce y transmitiéndote tanta calma como siempre. Obedecés de inmediato, por supuesto, porque el doctor Vogrincic siempre sabe cómo ocuparse de vos y de tu cuerpo.

Tu brazo se contorsiona en un ángulo que debería ser doloroso y tomás el dobladillo de tu falda para apartar la prenda con lentitud. Segundos más tarde un sonido escapa de tu boca cuando sentís el algodón acariciando tu muslo, la sensibilidad de tu piel traicionándote en el peor momento... Pero podés fingir, ¿no?

-Dolió.

-¿Dolió?- pregunta incrédulo-. ¿Y si toco acá también duele...?

Sus dedos recorren tu piel hasta acercarse peligrosamente a tu entrepierna, rozando el borde de la delicada ropa interior que escogiste sólo para esta ocasión. El hematoma no llega hasta ese lugar, lo sabés, pero sus manos son adictivas y permitís que te toquetee cuanto quiera.

Cuando sus dígitos ejercen presión no te molestás en reprimir un gemido, sobre todo considerando que sentís su bulto caliente contra tu pierna y los sonidos dentro de la habitación son opacados por su respiración acelerada. Sus dedos tiran del elástico de la adorable prenda que cubre tu centro.

Enzo siempre te trató con cariño, pero...

-¿Qué te pasó acá, mi amor?- gemís cuando tantea tu entrada húmeda-. ¿Te duele?

-Sí.

Emite un sonido de falsa simpatía y su índice amenaza con colarse en tu interior.

-¿Creíste que no me daba cuenta?- estás a punto de reincorporarte ante la pregunta, avergonzada por haber sido tan obvia-. No, quedate quieta.

Su otra mano te inmoviliza mientras su dedo se abre paso a través de tu entrada, tus cálidas paredes reaccionado de inmediato y contrayéndose. Respira con fuerza, como si sus acciones demandaran un gran esfuerzo físico, y comienza a torturarte con movimientos lentos que provocan sonidos obscenos gracias a tu humedad.

-Enzo…

-Sh, sh, sh....- retira sus dedos y se los lleva a la boca-. No querés que nos escuchen, ¿o sí?

Negás aún sabiendo que es poco probable que alguien en el edificio se acerque a la puerta. Cuando te obliga a sentarte en el borde de la camilla, levantando tu falda y haciendo a un lado tu ropa interior arruinada por tus fluidos, no encontrás más opción que morder tu mano.

Baja su pantalón y su ropa interior lo suficiente para liberar su miembro, completamente erecto y cuya punta de un rojo furioso brilla con el líquido preseminal. Cuando comienza a rozarse con tus pliegues y jugar con tu clítoris nada es suficiente para silenciarte.

-Respirá- indica como si se tratara de uno de los ejercicios usuales.

El considerable tamaño de su miembro sumado a la falta de preparación hacen que la penetración inicial sea dolorosa, los dedos de tus pies se contraen y tus piernas se cierran sobre su cadera para acercarlo más. Tus ojos se llenan de lágrimas cuando sus dedos se introducen en tu boca para acallar tus gemidos.

-Te encanta, ¿no?- asentís enérgicamente.

Comienza a mover sus caderas y el movimiento de tus pechos llama su atención. Sus dedos abandonan tu boca, arrastrando un hilo de saliva sobre tu piel antes de perderse bajo tu camiseta y pellizcar tus pezones.

Colocás tu mano en tu abdomen bajo, la sensación de su miembro alcanzando tu cérvix haciéndote casi delirar, y sus estocadas se tornan más rápidas. Entre dientes, repite una y otra vez:

-Qué linda conchita tenés.

taglist:

@madame-fear @creative-heart @recaltiente @llorented @chiquititamia @delusionalgirlplace

#letters to enzo #deep in thought #deep answers #enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic smut #lsdln cast

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thesimulationswarm · 8 months

Text

Balsam Prelude and Chapter 1: Some Kind of Noble Calling

This is a story about trauma. What trauma does to a person, and what trauma does to a community. And how, in the midst of it, people find their way to joy, delight— even love.

Pairing: Joel Miller x original female character Summary: After the events of tlou, Joel and Ellie try to establish a “normal life” in Jackson, but neither of them are any good at normal. A town doctor tries to care for residents who have experienced unspeakable trauma, and struggles to overcome her own past at the same time. Joel finds himself drawn to her, as their lives become increasingly intertwined. Meanwhile, outside Jackson, troubling things are happening... Rating: explicit 18+ MDNI Word count: 6k Warnings: slow burn, I promise there will be smut but not yet, f/m relationship, not a reader insert, canon-typical violence, descriptions of medical situations, descriptions of trauma and PTSD, Ellie and Joel figuring out how to be family, Tommy and Joel figuring out how to be family, angst, fluff, based on show Jackson because I haven't played tlou part ii, this is the first fic I've been brave enough to put out in the world so be kind.

Series Masterlist

PRELUDE

The boy struggled to work the crowbar; his fingers were so cold he couldn’t really feel them and his grip kept slipping. Finally, though, the old wood splintered around the bolt latch and gave way. He pushed through the door of the shed and fell to the ground inside, spent.

The cold hurt. He was so tired. He’d gone past ordinary hunger, to that desperate place beyond. So now that he was out of the cutting wind, all he wanted was to go to sleep.

Coco had followed him in. She sniffed at the boy’s face, and he felt the warm breath on his skin for a brief, lovely moment. Then she padded away toward the back wall of the small room.

“Come back here, girl,” the boy called out. But she didn’t come back. Was she leaving him now, too? He just wanted to burry his face in her fur and smell her smell as he drifted off. If his father couldn’t be here with him, at least the dog he’d loved could.

He heard a brief, sharp bark. He lifted his head. Coco was sitting by a metal rack on the wall, pointing her nose at something on the second shelf.

“What is it, Coco?” She barked again, still pointing.

He moved slowly, regretfully, as he pulled his aching body up again. She was pointing at an old shoebox, and didn’t stir as he approached.

He brushed the cobwebs away and lifted the lid. It was full of small, dark brown packages. He lifted one close to his face, to examine it in the light coming through the open door.

MEAL, READY TO EAT, INDIVIDUAL, it read. CHICKEN A LA KING.

CHAPTER 1: Some Kind of Noble Calling

“You need to take her to Dr. Conner,” Maria said brusquely, as soon as she’d walked in the room. Ellie was curled listlessly on the couch, face flushed and mottled and hair slicked down with sweat.

“Dr. Conner? Where is he?” Joel asked.

“She is on 2nd street, top of the hill.”

He nodded and looked away from Maria’s icy face. Just what he needed, for her to add sexism to his list of sins. He squatted down to lift Ellie in his arms, held back a groan as his knees popped, and headed toward the door. He was always surprised at how little she weighed, given her sheer force of nature.

“I can walk. I’m not dead yet,” she whined at him hoarsely, squirming against his hold. It was half-hearted, and he kept his grip.

“Not happening.”

Dr. Connor’s was a narrow, two-story building, and the windows were covered with dark curtains. The sign above the door was painted simply with a red cross on a white background. He knocked but didn’t wait, yanking the doorknob and shouldering through the entryway.

Inside was bare, with a row of wooden chairs and a hand-written sign instructing visitors to take a seat. Two doors stood closed, and Joel was eyeing them to determine which he should open next when a breezy voice called from behind one.

“If you’re breathing and not bleeding out, hang on and I’ll be there in five.”

He sighed and set Ellie on a chair before dropping down beside her.

“Nicer than the FEDRA clinics at least,” Ellie deadpanned, her voice creaky and strained.

He looked around the little waiting room. It wasn’t exactly impressive, but if you’d only ever seen a QZ medical facility it must've seemed like the height of luxury.

“There used to be places like this. You got to see the doctor in a room by yourself instead of a big ward with half the neighborhood lined up.” He paused. “It was nice. Especially if you had somethin’ going on you didn’t want to share with everybody you knew.”

She quirked a sweaty eyebrow at him. “Like what?”

“Pass.”

They looked up in unison as a door creaked open and a woman strode in, dressed in jeans and a canvas apron. She was small, tawny-skinned and dark-haired. Younger than he’d expected, although not young-young on second inspection—the start of lines spreading out from the corners of her eyes, a resigned slope of her shoulders. In her 30s, maybe: the last generation to remember life before.

“Please, follow me.” The woman gestured into a small room with a bright overhead light. She pointed Ellie to a cot covered with a faded, flowered sheet and Joel to a stool beside it.

“I’m Nina, I work as a healer,” she said, extending a hand first to Ellie—who limply grasped it—and then to Joel.

He kept his arms down by his side.

“I thought you were an actual doctor,” he said sharply.

He didn’t come here for one of Maria’s communist friends to do some crystal healing, align Ellie’s chakras or some shit.

She gave him a small smile. “People call me that because I’m the closest Jackson has, and I’ve been treating people for years. But no, I’m not old enough to have finished medical school 20 years ago.” Her voice was mild, even friendly, but her eyes asked a question: Are you going to be a problem for me?

He set his jaw but sat back on the stool. He’d at least see if she could help.

“It’s Ellie, isn’t it?” Nina moved closer to Ellie and smiled brightly at her miserable face, looking her up and down. She pulled an old glass thermometer out of a pocket and held it up for Ellie to see before popping it in her mouth. While she waited for it to take a measurement, she slid her other hand down to grasp Ellie’s wrist and held it lightly, watching the numbers on her watch as she felt for a pulse.

“When did she start feeling bad?” She nodded her head slightly in Joel’s direction—Ellie had her mouth full—but kept her eyes on her patient.

“Two days ago. Hit her like a ton of bricks. She’s had fever and chills, and won’t eat anything. Barely takin’ sips of water when I beg her to.”

“Sore throat?”

“Says it feels like knives.” Ellie nodded bleakly to confirm.

The doctor—or the healer, or whatever the hell she was—pulled the thermometer out and nodded at it. She raised both hands to Ellie’s neck, but paused before touching her.

“I’m just going to feel here for your lymph nodes, Ellie.”

She waited to see confirmation in Ellie’s face before continuing, running her hands carefully down below her jawline.

The exam went on, through the familiar steps: Open your mouth as wide as you can, that’s good, now I’m going to check your ears.

He had a sudden, clear memory of sitting in the pediatrician’s office. Watching Sarah as she sat on a paper-covered table.

He could smell the disinfectant and powdered latex, and see the silhouette of her doctor standing there. He was a gray-haired man, always friendly in a fake-feeling way, who whore a crisp white coat over a shirt and tie. Made him feel self-conscious, looking down at his dirt-caked boots and browned forearms.

Sarah used to sit on that exam table and cry when she had to get shots. Not all hysterical or fighting to get away like some kids—just silent tears that slipped out of the corner of her eyes.

He remembered how, when she was five years old, she’d swallowed a penny and he’d rushed her over to the clinic. It wasn’t like her to do something like that: she was thoughtful and sweet even at that age, a rule-follower to a fault. His heart had jackhammered in his chest as he had visions of her intestines puncturing or her being rushed to emergency surgery.

The doc explained patiently that these things usually “passed” on their own. With a little chuckle he gave him a plastic bowl that fit inside the toilet and instructions to check it for the next week to make sure the penny came out the other end.

He recalled the rush of relief and the flush of embarrassment. Watching the doc laugh and feeling like a moron for having gotten himself so worked up.

“Earth to Joel,” Ellie croaked. He turned to see two pairs of eyes on his: Ellie’s red-rimmed and liquid brown, the doctor’s—he was now noticing— so dark they were almost black.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Most likely it’s strep throat, although there’s no way to tell for sure without tests I don’t have,” the doctor said. “I’ll give you some antibiotics, and if it is strep, it will start to get better right away.”

“What if it’s not strep?” Joel asked, heart in his throat.

She smiled. “Then it’s a virus, and she’ll get better on her own.” Her tone was reassuringly confident. Joel watched her disappear briefly out the door, then return with a paper packet she pressed into his hand.

“Take these twice a day. Even if she starts to feel better, do not stop the medicine until it’s all gone. I know we’re all used to stretching supplies, but it doesn’t work that way with antibiotics—she’ll get sick again, and worse.” She looked to him for acknowledgement, and he nodded.

“Keep pushing her to drink fluids.” She turned to Ellie now, who was hunched over and looked about ready to pass out. “You’re dehydrated, kiddo. It’s part of why you feel so bad right now. If you don’t drink, it’s only going to get worse.” She spoke pointedly but gently, and Ellie shrugged an assent. “And if you aren’t feeling better in two days, come back and see me.”

It was late when Tommy got home. Pretty much every part of his body hurt after the day’s work— fixing freeze damage to their well system— and he had been dreaming of crawling into bed with Maria.

Not the way he sometimes dreamed of crawling into bed with her, even now with her looking like she’d swallowed a watermelon. Maybe he’d have the energy for that in the morning, but tonight he just wanted to feel her in his arms and time his deep slow breaths with hers.

She was already fast asleep, so he moved as carefully as he could, lifting up the covers and sidling in behind her. She was curled on her left side and he tucked his body tightly against hers, his arm snaking gently around her bare belly. When he was lucky he could feel the baby kicking against his hand in this position, although right now both baby and mama were at rest.

He lay there, willing himself to relax into sleep. But there was too damn much on his mind these days.

This winter had been brutal, even for Wyoming. The town had held together with a lot of hard work and ingenuity. But out there in the countryside, others had not been so successful. He’d heard awful stories: starvation, cannibalism, raiding parties far and wide. The patrols kept running into trouble, and although so far the groups had been small enough to handle, who was to say they’d stay that way?

Tommy knew that people in Jackson looked to him and Maria to keep them safe. It was more responsibility than he’d ever had before in his life, really. He was proud of himself— and scared shitless.

He breathed in Maria’s smell, nose pressed against the nape of her neck. He tried to count all the blessings in his life, savoring each one. It was a trick he used sometimes, to make his thoughts shut up. This incredible woman who had saved his life. The baby she was growing for them. This town. A full stomach. A warm bed. Joel doing so good, for once, with that kid of his.

Although Joel was maybe not the best topic to think about, if he wanted to sleep tonight. Not that he wasn’t grateful, or happy to have him nearby and safe. But his feelings were complicated. Sometimes he hated to admit how much of a hold his big brother still had on him. Made him feel like a little boy, hungry for approval. And at the same time reminded him of the lowest points in his life.

If he was honest with himself, he’d felt a lot of relief along with the guilt and sadness when he’d left Boston. He’d felt the same when he cut off radio contact.

Something had changed with Joel though, lately. He was still a bitter man, tightly wound and full of pain. But Tommy had seen moments of tenderness from him that he thought he’d never see again. Even moments of joy.

He felt the prickle of tears in his tired eyes. He knew he was being naive, that a little bit of good couldn’t undo all the darkness that they’d been through. But he clung to the hope still, as he started to drift off to sleep: him with his baby, Joel with his girl—maybe they would all be okay.

“Tommy!”

He turned with a smile as the doc walked up, clapping a hand against his back. “Hey Dr. Connor! How’s it been?”

“I’m going on your next southwest patrol,” she said. Announcing, not asking, as she had a frustrating tendency to do.

He took a sharp breath through his nose. “Nina—“

“It’s time to harvest willow bark. I need enough for the next year, for all of Jackson.”

“I understand, I really do. But this winter has been rough and people are desperate. We’ve had some kind of trouble almost every patrol. It’s just too dangerous to stop and hang around out there.” He used the most authoritative tone he could muster, trying to stare the small woman down.

“And people won’t be any less desperate until we’re well into April. By then the trees will be in full leaf and we’ll be out of the window for harvesting. And I’ll have half a dozen angry locals wanting to know why I don’t have the tea for their arthritis or their heart condition.”

She fixed him with a dark stare, and he fiddled with the frayed edge of his jacket cuff.

She knew how Jackson worked, and if he said no she could and would bring it up at the council meeting. Where she would no doubt whip up the town’s crotchetiest and most infirm—who had nothing better to do than sit in on every meeting of every committee—into a rage over herbal tea. Shit.

He nodded curtly. “Friday at dawn. If there are any signs of trouble before we hit the riverbank, we’ll have to turn back.”

“I really appreciate it Tommy,” she said with what she surely thought was a winning smile. Which he did not return: he was not in the mood.

Marisa stirred the stockpot of oatmeal gently between customers, to keep crust from forming on top. She stared out at the dining room and watched the clusters of people. Some were deep in conversation; some wolfed down their breakfasts so they could hurry on with their days; others looked half-asleep still.

A group of teenagers were tucked way back in the corner, as far as they could get from the adults, clearly enjoying their morning bullshit session. She remembered doing that just a few years ago, with Anya and Jamal, when her dad wasn’t around to see her goofing off. He believed that if teenagers had energy to run their jaws, they had energy to work.

The new folks came in with a blast of cold air.

They were an odd pair. The girl was rude and mouthed off too much, but she had a lot of energy and seemed like fun. The kind of kid Marisa had always been fascinated by, when she was that age. Wishing she could move in the world with that kind of confidence.

The man, though, gave her the willies. He was intense and stern, like her dad. He never smiled, although he did at least say please and thank you. She couldn’t hardly believe he was Tommy’s brother. Tommy was his exact opposite, gentle and friendly.

She used to think Tommy was cute. She still did, really, but she didn’t think about him much lately. She was too busy daydreaming about her Beloved.

She called him that after an old romance book she’d found in an empty house and hidden under her mattress. The book took place during the Civil War, and the buxom narrator fell in love with a dashing soldier. She wrote letters to him every day, addressed to My Beloved. The soldier in the book had beautiful blue eyes, just like Marisa’s Beloved.

Tommy was out there now, talking with Dr. Connor. He looked unhappy. Dr. Connor could do that to people. She was always so nice when you were sick or hurt and went to see her. But out in the real world she could be mean as a snake. Or maybe she was more like a fox: someone sly, someone you had to watch.

Brandy Burkholder had started working with her last summer, after a several month campaign. Nina had eventually determined that she was serious about learning to practice medicine, despite the fact that she wasn’t terribly serious about anything else. She was an outgoing sixteen-year-old with a pretty smile and a flare for the dramatic, and she came by on Tuesdays and Thursdays to help Nina with various tasks.

Today it was supply inventory. Every other week she went through what she had, checked her levels on common medications and herbs, and looked through her equipment for signs of damage or wear.

Nina enjoyed inventory, even if what she had to inventory was often pathetic. There was something calming about lining up all the bottles, looking over her orderly shelves, and counting all the pills and needles and rolls of gauze.

And there was some extra excitement this afternoon: they were going through a bag of random medicines and gear to see what could be salvaged. Anya and Clemons had found in an empty house on a hunting trip earlier that week.

Brandy held up an orange plastic bottle of pills from the haul. “Dox—y—cy—cline,” she sounded out carefully. “That’s an antibiotic, right? So it goes in the cabinet above the sink?”

“Hold up. What’s the date on the bottle?”

“Um, let me see.” She squinted to read the fading print. “Damn. It’s from 1999. This is an antique!”

Nina shook her head. “Toss it. Expired tetracyclines can be toxic.” It was a shame— she really could have used it.

She pulled out a bottle of Benadryl tablets, and pried open the lid. Some of the pills had swollen with absorbed moisture and cracked, but they were mostly intact and there was no mold. She added it to the keep pile.

Brandy showed her a box of individually packaged 22 gauge needles. The plastic wrappers were warped and brittle and had cracked open along the seams. But the needles inside were straight and sharp. She would sanitize them in the autoclave and they’d be good as new. Another keep.

A bottle of cough syrup had hardened to a shiny paste— toss. Two inhalers were empty—toss again. Half a tub of vaseline went in the keep pile. Then she found something really good at the bottom of the bag: an almost-full bottle of Valium.

“Isn’t this the stuff that bored housewives used to get high on?” Brandy asked, smirking.

“Yes, and that’s why it goes in the locked cabinet,” Nina said pointedly. She didn’t need Brandy getting any ideas. “But more importantly, it’s the best treatment when someone’s actively having a seizure. It’s also very helpful for setting bones.”

“Sweet! There was some good loot in that bag.”

Nina looked over the shelves appraisingly. “Yes, but it’s not enough. This all has to last until Mo comes by in April.”

“Are you going out to meet him?” Brandy’s eyes sparkled at the mention of the smuggler. Nina knew how people talked about him: the dashing Robin Hood who stole from FEDRA and gave to the people. But it’s not like he gave them anything: they paid him, in valuable farm goods like butter and honey, for every last thing.

Nina didn’t say anything about that to Brandy, though; let the kid have her fantasies. She also didn’t mention the fear that kept her up at night— that next time she went out to meet Mo, he wouldn’t show. She knew it was only a matter of time before his line of work caught up with him, and that when it happened they would be shit out of luck. Jackson did a lot of things well, but manufacturing antibiotics wasn’t one of them.

“Yep, April ninth. Three weeks after the equinox,” was all she said.

The sun was melting into the horizon, bathing the street in golden light and purple shadows. Joel was walking to the saddler when he saw the woman up ahead and quickened his pace.

“Hey! Dr. Connor!”

She turned as he approached and raised an eyebrow. “So I’m enough of a doctor for you now? How’s Ellie?”

“Well, she’s a hundred percent better. Givin’ me shit and drivin’ me crazy.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.” The doctor seemed genuinely pleased. “I’m sure you deserve whatever shit she’s giving you,” she added.

“Look,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I wasn’t very fair to you the other day. And you helped us out anyway. I appreciate that.”

She looked at him, meeting his eyes with an intensity that startled him. There were those deep brown irises he’d noticed in her office, framed by thick black lashes.

Then she smiled, holding out her hand to him. Her grip was surprisingly firm as they shook. “You’re not the first person to doubt my expertise. I appreciate you putting your daughter in my care.”

He looked over her shoulder, at the reddish sky reflecting in the window of a supply depot, and took a breath. “I know people don’t pay for things here or anything, but I feel like—I mean, I would like to give you something at least. For the medicine.”

She waved dismissively. “I’ve seen you go out on patrol. You keep Jackson safe, I keep Jackson alive. We all do our part.”

She laid a hand on his stiff shoulder and gave him a pat. Then she turned and headed back in the direction she’d been walking, before he could figure out how he ought to respond. He watched her for a moment, her dark curls swinging over a denim jacket, his shoulder tingling with a phantom pressure where her hand had been a moment ago.

Jackson made him real fucking uncomfortable, sometimes.

He didn’t like owing people favors, and he didn’t feel like he belonged in a town where everyone was so nice all the time. The doctor was case in point— he’d been mean to her when they’d first met, and that hadn’t been right. But he’d tried to be nice to her too now, and it still felt weird as hell. Maybe he’d entirely forgotten how to be nice.

He walked on, hands shoved in his pockets. If he was honest, he didn’t want to be living here. In the house across from his little brother, like some kind of post-apocalyptic sitcom. It brought back all kinds of things he didn’t want to think about.

He was going on patrol Friday and he was looking forward to it. At least out there he knew what to do with himself. Stay alert, keep moving, assess the situation, maintain control— with force if needed.

Ellie looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then quickly opened the door below the red cross and slipped inside. She sighed with relief to see no one inside the waiting room, and sat down with her backpack clutched to her chest.

Dr. Connor stepped into the room, thankfully alone, and smiled warmly as she pointed Ellie toward a door. Ellie darted in and jumped up on the cot, then looked down at her sneakers. One had a bit of rubber starting to come loose around the toe, and she gently wiggled it with her other foot. She heard Dr. Connor close the door behind her, and then the expectant silence.

“How can I help you today, Ellie?”

Her cheeks burned, and she found she couldn’t look up. Why did the town doctor have to be beautiful? For an old person, but still. She kept studying her feet, as she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled over and the soft thump of Dr. Connor sitting down a few feet away.

When the doctor spoke again, her voice was soft. “I’ll ask you a few questions. All you have to do is say yes or no. You don’t even have to speak, just shake your head. Okay?” Ellie exhaled, then nodded.

“Did someone hurt you?” Ellie shook her head no emphatically.

“Are you having a problem with a private part of your body?” Ellie paused, then nodded once.

“Is it your related to your period?” Head shake. “Are you having pain?” Head shake. “Itchiness?” Nod. “Discharge?” Ellie felt like her cheeks were going to catch on fire as she nodded again.

“Are you sexually active?”

“No!” Ellie shouted, looking up at Dr. Connor with a startled stare.

“It would be okay if you were. You wouldn’t be in trouble. And I wouldn’t tell anyone—not even Joel.” Her voice was even and conversational, as if she were talking about the weather and not about fucking.

“Well, I’m not,” she snapped. “I don’t know why this is happening. It’s never done this before.”

“Have you ever taken antibiotics before?”

She thought for a moment. At FEDRA school they gave you pills sometimes if you were sick, but they never even told you what they were. Some of the kids said they were sugar pills, and some of the kids said they were tranquilizers designed to make you behave. She shrugged. “I don’t actually know.”

“Did your symptoms start after you began taking the pills?” Ellie nodded.

“I’ll want to do a quick exam to be sure, but yeast infections can be a side effect of antibiotics. Your vulva actually has a lot of bacteria living in it—good bacteria.” Ellie raised her eyebrows and fixed the doctor with a horrified look, but she ignored her and went on speaking.

“It’s like a garden with lots of different plants growing side by side. The plants are healthy, and there are enough of them that they fill up the space and keep the weeds out. The antibiotic got rid of the bad bacteria in your throat, but it also wiped out the good bacteria in your vulva. It’s like we picked all the good stuff from that garden, and now there’s good soil and plenty of space for bad stuff to grow. That’s allowed the yeast to take over—it’s actually a fungus.”

“Like cordyceps?” Ellie asked, eyes widening.

“Yes, like cordyceps. But it’s a different species, and unlike cordyceps we have medication that will kill the yeast. You’ll be back to normal in no time.” Ellie felt relief wash over her.

Wednesday morning was for house calls. As she left the dining hall, her supply bag bouncing heavily against her left hip, she ran into Ellie and Joel on their way in. The girl smiled sheepishly and looked away; the man twitched a corner of his mouth and held the door for her. Which for gruff types like that, new to civilization, was as good as a pledge of everlasting fealty.

She watched her breath fog through the cold March morning as she walked, feeling vaguely anxious.

Miss Nora’s house was on the corner, a low redbrick ranch. She let herself in, knowing Miss Nora’s son was out prepping the fields for planting, and headed into the living room that doubled as Miss Nora’s bedroom these days. She was sitting up in her bed, carefully knitting a big orange sweater. “Dr. Connor! So good of you to come by.”

Nina leaned in, letting Miss Nora plant a papery kiss on her cheek. “You know you can call me Nina,” she said, pulling her stethoscope out of her bag and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

She gave her brightest smile, trying to hide any trace of the dismay she felt every time she walked in there. Miss Nora was 67, and until last fall had looked a decade younger than that. Now every week she seems to age another 5 years, her face growing gaunter, her hair thinner, her skin more sallow.

Her son Jamal, ever diligent, tried to tempt her with all her favorite foods, but she would push the plate away after a bite or two. He fought with her over it, convinced that if she would just force herself to eat she would regain her strength.

Nina, on the other hand, was not so optimistic. She thought Miss Nora’s body was shutting down: the lack of appetite was only a symptom of something much more serious.

She suspected cancer, but couldn’t say for sure what kind. Obviously, it was affecting the liver or the common bile duct, based on her yellowing eyes and skin. But that could be a metastasis from a solid tumor somewhere else. She once again felt the woman’s abdomen gently, palpating for a mass. Still nothing. Not that it mattered, ultimately—even if she could magically intuit that it was, say, pancreatic cancer, she wouldn’t be any closer to being able to treat it.

At least her lungs still sounded clear. Nina pulled the stethoscope from her ears and slung it around her neck. “Are you ready for your breathing treatment?”

The woman nodded enthusiastically as Nina carefully packed the pipe she’d brought with dried leaves.

It was old, crumbly, and low quality, and it was hell to get ahold of. But like the opium she kept carefully hidden away in her locked cabinet, marijuana was one of the more potent herbal medicines in her arsenal.

She had nothing else to offer Miss Nora.

She saved Maria for her last stop of the morning. Maria could have easily come to her clinic, even 7 months along, but Nina wanted to confer with her anyways. And she loved Maria’s house—with the late morning light pouring through the windows she could almost believe she was in the suburbs of her childhood.

Maria was making tea when she arrived, and they sat in the living room with a mug each. The steam felt good against her face—while they were out of the worst of the winter, the wind was still brutal on these mornings as she walked from house to house.

After a little small talk she eased Maria backwards on the couch and pulled out her Pinard horn, rolling it between her palms for warmth. Nina had carved it herself out of maple wood, shaping the little trumpet painstakingly to match the illustrations in an old midwifery book.

She could still remember the sense of triumph when, years ago, she first pressed it into a woman’s belly and heard the fetal heartbeat buried inside. People thought medicine was some kind of noble calling—and there were moments when it felt that way to her, too. But more often she was driven by that magic feeling of the body yielding up its secrets to her.

Everything looked good on the exam, despite Maria’s “advanced maternal age.” The same as it had been every week of her pregnancy so far.

Still, Nina worried.

There was a lot that could go wrong bringing a baby into the world, for both baby and mother. Maria was her friend, and she knew how devastated she would be if she lost the child. She also knew how much Maria meant to Jackson, and she worried about the impact of losing Maria even more.

“I’d like your thoughts on something.”

Maria fixed her with one of her looks. “It’s usually not something good when you say that.”

Nina sighed. “I had a patient come in yesterday with what was almost certainly the clap. I treated him, but the man in question was married, and I have reason to believe he didn’t get it from his wife.”

Maria’s brow shot up. “Jesus, Nina. That’s not something I want to know about.”

“I would rather not have to know about it either. But we need to know about it. Both women he’s sleeping with could have infections.”

Maria’s expression hardened as she listened.

“And if the women have other partners, who knows how many people in Jackson are affected? Gonorrhea isn’t just a drippy dick. People could have pelvic inflammatory disease, ectopic pregnancies, miscarriages. Babies can be born with infections.”

“Do you know who the other woman is? You could treat her, too,” Maria offered.

“I… have my suspicions. But I’m not 100%. And he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

She thought about Derek Starkey sitting in her clinic, head buried in his hands. Starkey’s wife, Jenna, had given birth to their first kid last summer. They’d always made a beautiful couple: Starkey was a big guy, tall and broad, with ruddy cheeks and icy blue eyes. Jenna was tough and sweet, with a blonde ponytail and freckles across the bridge of her nose. The son they doted on took after them both, depending on the day.

She was inclined to hate Starkey’s guts.

A guy who couldn’t take it when his wife wasn’t dressing up as prettily as she used to or wasn’t as available as she once was to him, because she was busy caring for his infant child. Marisa Robinson, who worked with Starkey in the kitchens when he wasn’t on patrol, was younger and needy and made puppy dog eyes at him while he kneaded dough with his big strong arms. It was a tale as old as time: another shitty man behaves badly.

She struggled to hold onto her resolve, though, as they spoke. Starkey’d been barely sleeping since the kid was born. Every night in bed he was flooded with images of terrible deaths. He saw his child infected, shot, decapitated, drowned. All those monstrous things he’d seen over the years and had been powerless to stop, and which he now felt powerless to protect his beautiful boy from. Life in Jackson had given him a measure of peace, which had seemed like enough when it was just him and Jenna. But it felt too horribly tenuous now to trust. And Jenna didn’t get it. She slept like a rock between feedings. She told him to get over himself, had no time to talk him down from his panic attacks. Someone else had been willing to hold him while he shook with fear.

“Then we have to tell the wife, at least.”

Nina shook her head. “I keep going back and forth on it. It might break up a marriage, and that could have reverberations throughout the community. And the other woman, there could be consequences for her, too.” She thought of Marisa’s controlling father, who always creeped her out.

“But also the next time someone has symptoms like this they might not come to me, because I wouldn’t be a safe person to tell. Then this stuff would spread around town and we wouldn’t even know.”

Maria gave her an exasperated look.

Nina wasn’t sure what she had expected. It would feel so nice to off-load this problem onto Maria. But her friend was maybe too absolutist to navigate this one. Or else there just was no way to resolve things that would feel right.

“I’m going to have to think on it some more,” she said, as she packed her supplies. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

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