❝and when i say i'm in love with you,❞ a long pause lays between his words, so much emotion lacing throughout his eyes, ❝i fucking mean it.❞
-⚘ in which i had a smut book with 400k reads and it got deleted. now, i'm writing new, original chapters (l...
03: AH, WE ARE APPROACHING MARTINIQUE by: acefusti138 (ao3) r+e
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'Where the fuck is this place?' Richie had been driving around aimlessly for what felt like an hour trying to find the office building of the doctor his agent had found for him to see. Mandatory physicals before gigs or tours were routine, but why Richie couldn't see his regular G.P. in LA and was being sent to one that had been arranged for him by the production company presenting his new tour was beyond him. His GPS was no help navigating the unfamiliar New York City streets in the posh, upscale area and a migraine was quickly forming. Luckily, he had finally arrived at the correct building which looked, to his complete lack of surprise, fancy as fuck.
The inside of the particular doctor's office was just as ostentatious, and Richie had to wonder if the doctor's taste in ornate décor was responsible for the look or if the office just came like that. He signed in and waited.
After flipping through his phone for a bit and checking out the Twitter feed for his upcoming tour announcement, he thought maybe he should look up this doctor he'd been sent too. There weren't many plaques on the wall with degrees, accolades, or even pictures to give him a bit of an insight into just what kind of quack he was getting stuck with. The only thing he had was a name, and just as he was about to Google it, a nurse announced his name and ushered him into the private examination room.
"Just have a seat and relax. Doctor Kaspbrak will be right with you." The cheerful young nurse informed him.
He gave a cheesy thumbs up. "Groovy." Then proceeded to hop up onto the examination table. His nervous pan around the room, accompanied by his fidgeting hands and the slight swinging of his legs, distracted him from the odd look directed at him by the nurse on account of his weird behaviour and word choices. She shut the door with a puzzled shake of her head, and Richie was once again alone with his thoughts.
The exam room, though still befittingly cold and sterile looking, was also nicely decorated. Although this space's walls shared the abstract expressionist paintings with quite a few more degrees and articles of the doctor's, along with some pictures. Richie got up to get a closer look.
"That...can't be him." His eyes shot back and forth to the few photos of the doctor on display. Most were quite academic looking; poses for professional shots used in medical journals and for other scholarly purposes, but there were a few candid photos of the man smiling, in normal (though still very nice looking) attire, looking playful and genuine with what seemed like a group of close friends. The most shocking (and unnerving) aspect of these pictures for Richie was the fact that apparently this doctor was fine as all hell. Petite yet fit body, beautifully sultry brown eyes, light brown hair expertly coifed in that 'sexy, messy, just-got-out-of-bed look', and, oh yeah, the most beautiful smile surrounded by the sexiest DSLs he had ever seen. Before Richie could calm his brain down from the induced panic of having to be up close and personal with a man straight out of one of his sexual fantasies, or talk himself into realizing this guy couldn't possibly look this fucking perfect in real life, in walked the vision himself.
