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favefandomimagines · 2 months ago

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Simp (f.l)

Summary: Frank is pining hardcore after his coworker…very hardcore

Request: the lack of frank fics on here is crazy cos he’s so gorgeous and complex but anyways i see you write for him so i was wondering if you could do like hardcore pining, yearning frank x reader where everyone in the pitt can see the tension between them but they are both too stubborn to make the first move

AN: I love a man who yearns

The Pit never really slept. Even when the halls were quieter, and the monitors only beeped sporadically, there was a pulse in the place—steady, stubborn, alive. Dr. Frank Langdon liked to think he was much the same.

After the messy collapse of his marriage and the months of slow, aching rebuild afterward, he carried himself with a certain armor. Confident, cocky even. Unshakable.

Except, of course, when it came to her.

Y/N.

Y/N was chaos and kindness bottled in one person. She had this way of commanding a trauma bay with a clipped, efficient voice that left even seasoned nurses scrambling to follow her orders. She was brilliant, stubborn, and sharp-tongued enough to keep up with Frank—and that was saying something.

The worst part? She had no idea.

Or maybe she did.

Frank leaned against the nurse’s station, arms crossed, pretending to review a chart on his tablet while sneaking glances at Y/N across the ER.

She was laughing with Dr. Mohan by the vending machines, head thrown back, one hand lightly resting on her hip. Frank could feel the tug in his chest like a goddamn fishhook. He swallowed thickly.

Mohan said something else—probably an inside joke between them—and Y/N laughed again. Frank had never envied a vending machine so much in his life.

"You’re staring again," muttered Dana, sliding past him with a smirk.

"I’m not staring," Frank grumbled, heat creeping up his neck.

"Sure you're not," Dana sing-songed, disappearing into a patient room.

Frank sighed and ran a hand through his messy brown hair. How had it come to this? He, Frank Langdon, reduced to a pining idiot over a woman he couldn’t even bring himself to properly ask out.

Because it wasn’t just a crush. Not anymore.

It was the way his stomach twisted whenever Y/N smiled at someone else. It was the way he tuned into her voice automatically, even in a packed trauma bay. It was the way he noticed when she was tired or when she had a new pen tucked behind her ear.

It was the way he caught himself thinking of her, constantly.

And it scared the absolute hell out of him.

Meanwhile, across the ER, Y/N was not as oblivious as she pretended to be.

She could feel Frank's eyes on her sometimes—okay, a lot of the time. She could hear the subtle shift in his voice when he spoke to her, the way his teasing banter always edged just a little closer to sincere when they were alone.

And she wasn’t blind; Frank Langdon was absurdly attractive. Even after a 15-hour shift when his scrubs were wrinkled and his hair was a mess, he somehow looked like he belonged on the cover of a medical drama poster.

And God, was he good at what he did. Watching Frank run a code was like watching art happen in real time—sharp, smooth, unflinching. He had a gift.

But she also knew his history. Everyone in the Pit did.

The divorce. The bitterness that had curled under his skin like smoke. The wild, reckless way he’d thrown himself into work afterward, like if he stayed busy enough, he wouldn’t have to think.

Y/N had spent too many nights nursing friends through breakups to not recognize the signs.

And she wasn’t about to be anyone's rebound—not even Frank Langdon's.

Even if her heart did stutter every time he flashed her that cocky, lopsided grin. Even if she found herself looking for excuses to team up with him on cases. Even if she felt safer with him in a trauma bay than almost anyone else.

Especially because of all that.

She was too stubborn to make the first move. Too scared of getting her heart broken into something small and unfixable.

So she played the game, smiled back, flirted when it felt safe—but always, always kept the line between them firmly drawn.

Even if she wanted to cross it more than anything.

It wasn’t until the accident came in that night, right before shift change, that Frank realized he was absolutely, irrevocably screwed.

"Mass casualty incoming," the charge nurse warned, sticking her head into the lounge where Frank and Y/N were both trying—and failing—to eat dinner. "Multi-car pileup on 76. Five patients at least. ETA three minutes."

Frank immediately shoved his food aside and rose. Y/N was already moving too, grabbing gloves and snapping them on with practiced ease. Their eyes met briefly, and Frank felt it—an electric charge sparking between them.

"You ready, partner?" he drawled, bumping his shoulder lightly against hers.

Y/N smirked. "Born ready, Langdon."

God help him.

The first ambulance screeched into the bay, and chaos bloomed like a stormcloud.

Frank and Y/N fell into a rhythm instantly, as they always did. Y/N took charge of a young woman with a chest wound while Frank handled a man with a broken femur and a possible spinal injury. Orders flew. Hands moved. The ER buzzed and roared around them, a living thing.

Frank could see Y/N out of the corner of his eye the whole time—focused, calm, impossibly beautiful under the harsh fluorescents. Her hair was tied back messily, tendrils falling around her face.

And she was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.

He almost missed the nurse asking him for a medication dosage.

"Uh—yeah. One milligram. Push," Frank barked, shaking himself. He could not afford to be distracted right now.

They stabilized their patients, pushed them off to CT and trauma surgery, and somehow—somehow—managed to get a breathing space. Frank peeled his gloves off with a snap, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.

Y/N slid down to sit beside him on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her.

"You good?" she asked, voice soft.

Frank turned his head and looked at her, really looked. At the exhaustion in her shoulders. The stubborn strength in her posture. The little curl of hair that had escaped her ponytail and clung damply to her temple.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

He wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.

Instead, he said, "You were amazing in there."

Y/N smiled, a little bashful, a little amused. "You weren’t so bad yourself, Langdon."

Frank chuckled and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "Stick with me, kid. I’ll teach you all my tricks."

"You wish," Y/N shot back.

But she said it warmly, almost fondly.

Frank cracked one eye open and looked at her again, heart thudding against his ribs.

One of these days, he swore, he was going to stop being a coward and ask her out.

Just... not today.

The lull after the trauma surge lasted all of fifteen minutes.

Frank barely made it back to the lounge before being paged again, this time for a nasty lac to the forearm—a teenager who’d slid off a skateboard onto broken glass. Frank stitched quickly, his hands steady even though his brain was still half on Y/N, still replaying the way her fingers had brushed his wrist when she’d handed him a clamp in the trauma bay.

When he finally escaped again, it was to find Y/N sitting sideways on the worn leather couch, her socked feet tucked up under her, flipping through a dog-eared medical journal. A fresh bandage peeked out from beneath the sleeve of her scrub top.

He crossed the room before he could think better of it.

"You didn’t get that cleaned up properly," he said, nodding at her arm.

Y/N raised a brow. "It’s nothing. A scratch."

Frank gave her his best unimpressed doctor stare—the one that usually made med students wither.

"Sit still," he said, grabbing the basic wound care kit from the cabinet.

Y/N hesitated for a second, searching his face, and then—maybe to humor him—stuck her arm out.

Frank perched on the edge of the couch beside her, heart beating far too fast for a guy who'd been covered in other people’s blood less than an hour ago.

He cleaned the scratch carefully, too carefully, aware of every tiny shift of her muscles beneath his fingertips. She smelled faintly of antiseptic and soap, and something warmer underneath—something that was just her.

"You're being very dramatic about this, Dr. Langdon," Y/N teased, watching him work.

"You're my partner," Frank said, more gruffly than he meant to. "Can’t have you bleeding out in the middle of a code."

"How heroic," she said dryly, but there was a small smile playing around her lips.

Frank pressed a bandage gently onto her skin, then looked up—and realized how close they were. Barely a foot between them. He could see the faint spray of freckles across her nose. The glint of amusement in her eyes.

For one reckless second, he thought about leaning in.

Instead, he cleared his throat, dropped his hands into his lap, and said, "All patched up, doc. Try not to injure yourself again for at least an hour."

"Guess I'll try," Y/N said, laughing under her breath.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Frank thought maybe—maybe—he wasn't completely imagining the way she looked at him.

Later, Y/N leaned against the nurse’s station, charting on a patient, when Dana sidled up to her with a knowing smirk.

"You know he's basically in love with you, right?"

Y/N didn’t look up. "Who?"

Dana snorted. "Langdon. Dr. Broody over there."

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, but kept her voice even. "He's like that with everyone."

"Uh-huh," Dana said skeptically. "Sure. He totally volunteers to clean people’s wounds at random. Super normal."

Y/N tapped the tablet harder than necessary, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped in her chest.

"Anyway," Dana went on, "the entire ER has a betting pool on when he’ll grow a pair and ask you out."

Y/N's head shot up. "You're joking."

"Dead serious. Robby’s got fifty bucks on you two hooking up by Halloween."

Y/N opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it, though?" Dana wiggled her eyebrows. "You like him too. Don't even try to deny it."

Y/N shook her head, laughing nervously. "Even if I did—which I'm not saying I do—it's complicated."

"Life’s complicated," Dana said cheerfully, then wandered off to help a patient who was throwing up in bay three.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, her heart thundering in her ears.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew what she felt for Frank wasn’t casual. She knew that the part of her that held back—the cautious, wounded part—was getting harder and harder to listen to.

But if she fell for Frank Langdon, really fell? She wasn’t sure she could survive it if he broke her heart.

And God, she would fall. She was already halfway there.

It got worse when another trauma rolled in an hour later.

An elderly woman with a head bleed, confused and combative. Frank jumped into action, voice calm but commanding, and Y/N found herself standing beside him almost instinctively, reading off vitals and helping to restrain the patient gently but firmly.

At one point, Frank looked up at her, and the world narrowed to just the two of them.

"You good?" he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N nodded, feeling breathless.

Frank’s hand brushed hers briefly as he reached for a clamp. The touch was featherlight, accidental—and yet she felt it like an electric shock all the way to her bones.

They worked seamlessly, saving the woman’s life with a coordinated dance that didn’t need words.

When it was over, when the patient was safely whisked upstairs to neurosurgery, Frank turned to her with a grin that made her knees weak.

"You’re a damn rock star, you know that?" he said.

Y/N laughed shakily. "Coming from you, that's high praise."

Frank’s grin softened into something else—something almost tender.

"I mean it," he said, voice rough. "I’d trust you with my life."

Y/N’s heart twisted.

And she realized—maybe he was already trusting her with it.

Maybe he was just as scared as she was.

Back in the break room, Frank slumped onto the couch, scrubbing his hands over his face.

He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep orbiting her like a satellite too scared to land.

Every part of him wanted her. Needed her. Not in the reckless, self-destructive way he’d used to need people, but in a way that felt terrifyingly real.

And if he didn’t tell her soon, he was going to lose his damn mind.

The next shift was somehow even worse.

Frank had never been this distracted in his life.

He nearly forgot to sign a trauma note, practically ignored the med students. Robby caught him staring into space during a chart review and gave him a look that screamed, get your shit together, man.

Frank knew exactly what the problem was.

Y/N.

Y/N, standing three feet away in her black scrubs that maybe Frank thought fit her too well. Y/N, tucking a pencil behind her ear, and making Frank want to do completely inappropriate things in the supply closet. Y/N, being brilliant and fierce and so far out of his reach it physically hurt.

And the worst part—the absolute worst part—was that he could feel the wall between them cracking.

She looked at him differently now. He could see it in the way her eyes lingered, the way her smile faltered sometimes, like she was trying to stop herself from doing something reckless.

He had to do something. Had to say something.

Or he was going to lose her before he ever really had her.

Meanwhile, Y/N wasn't faring much better.

Every time Frank laughed, every time he teased her with that crooked smile and that infuriating wink, she felt herself sliding closer to the edge.

She was tired of fighting it.

Tired of pretending she didn’t want him.

But still—still—fear gnawed at her.

What if he wasn’t ready? What if this was just loneliness, desperation, looking for an easy out?

She couldn’t survive being another casualty in Frank Langdon’s messy post-divorce world.

And she couldn’t survive losing him as a friend, either.

So she waited. And watched. And hoped he’d make the first move.

It was nearly seven in the evening after a long shift, when Frank decided, screw it.

He found her in the back hallway, fiddling with the vending machine, trying to coax a granola bar loose.

"Come on, you stupid piece of shit," Y/N muttered, whacking the side of the machine.

Frank leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with a fond smirk.

"You know, if you wanted a snack that bad, you could’ve just asked me," he said.

Y/N jumped slightly, then rolled her eyes. "I’m fine, thanks."

Frank pushed off the wall and wandered closer, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He felt about a hundred years old and fifteen again all at once.

"You’re not fine," he said lightly. "You’re hangry. It’s a public health emergency."

Y/N laughed despite herself. "You’re impossible."

Frank took a breath. Now or never.

"I was wondering," he said, casual, too casual, "if maybe you wanted to grab dinner sometime."

Y/N blinked. "We grab dinner all the time. Cafeteria food doesn’t count."

"No, I mean—" Frank faltered, scrubbed a hand through his hair. God, he was bad at this. "Like. Real dinner. Plates and silverware. Maybe even something that costs more than five bucks."

He risked a glance at her.

Y/N was staring at him, wide-eyed, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.

Frank’s stomach twisted. Had he just made a huge mistake?

"Like a date?" she said slowly.

Frank swallowed. His throat was dry as hell.

"Yeah," he said roughly. "Like a date."

The silence stretched between them.

Frank wanted to crawl under the vending machine and die.

Finally—finally—Y/N smiled. Soft. Shy. Beautiful.

"You’re serious," she said, almost wonderingly.

Frank stepped closer. "I’ve been serious for a long time," he said quietly. "Just too much of an idiot to say anything."

Y/N's lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something—and then she shook her head, laughing a little under her breath.

"You’re ridiculous," she said.

"And yet," Frank said, grinning now, "you’re still here."

Y/N hesitated for a heartbeat longer—then reached out and poked him lightly in the chest.

"One date," she said, mock-stern.

Frank caught her hand in his gently, holding it for a second longer than necessary.

"I’ll behave," he promised, voice low and sincere. "Scout’s honor."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. A real smile. One that made something warm and unbreakable light up in Frank’s chest.

“Promise me, this isn’t because of the divorce. You actually want to pursue this and not some mid-life crisis.” Y/N spoke softly.

Frank looked down at her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I promise. I want you Y/N.” He said.

"Okay, Langdon," she said. "You’re on."

Frank grinned like an idiot.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt exactly right.

They didn’t kiss. Not yet.

Frank figured he could wait.

After all, he’d already waited this long.

What was a little longer, for something—someone—that might just be worth everything?

#imagine #imagines #the pitt imagine #the pitt #frank langdon imagine #dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon imagine #frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #frank langdon

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oceantornadoo · 3 months ago

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idiots doctors in love

dr. michael robinavitch x resident f!reader

smut. oblivious reader. down bad robby. jazz obssessions.

based on the vibe of the music robby was listening to in ep1 and 15, i headcanon he's a jazz man. SORRY NOT SORRY.

"what do you mean you can't go?"

you frown at dr. mohan, your pain-in-the-ass best R3 friend who's currently breaking your heart. "you're telling me you'd rather stay here than go out?" you gesture to the ER, workers fluttering around as day shift turns to night. out of the corner of your eye you catch a head of almost-silver hair and smirk. "so that's why you want to stay?" she finds the man in your line of sight and immediately shakes her head. samira unclips her clip, shakes her head, and reclips it -- something she never does in the ER. it's a sure sign of her crush on dr. abbot, even if she won't admit it.

"it's not even a crazy club, samira." you hook your arm through hers and drag her away from the board that she was scanning with a single-minded ferocity. "it's r&b night at this new jazz club. we can sit and still have fun! you don't even need to wear heels." she's already dragging you back to the board and shaking her head. "i came in late today. i need to finish my 12 hours." by late, she means the two hours she spent throwing up from food poisoning. even robby told her she could go home and here she is, staying. "fine. but you better text me, i expect you to leave here by 9pm sharp. no more than what you were supposed to work." you squeeze her arm and only let go when she smiles at you. what a liar. you know she'll work way into the night. "sure thing, mom. i'll text you what i eat and when i go to bed, too." she shoots back, smiling. you nudge her side before locating your water bottle and gathering yourself, mentally, to leave the chart board. "i expect nothing less. see you sunday!"

when you turn, your water bottle smacks into your attending.

"shit, i'm sorry." you look up and there he is, crow's feet crinkling as he smiles. rounded black eyeglasses compliment the black ipad he holds, likely updating someone's chart before you whacked his hand with your sturdy bottle. "what's that thing made of?" he lowers his head like he's examining the pink steel of your bottle, and it's hard not to feel giddy under his full attention. stupid, stupid crush.

"confidential weapon materials. it's indestructible." you grin as he shakes his head, clearly done with your antics. "get out of here, doctor. there's only room for so many dad jokes." you roll your eyes, untwisting the cap of your water bottle and drinking just so you can have a few more seconds with him before you really have to go. today was one of those days where you still feel human when you leave work -- no soul-crushing experiences. you're sure one will come on your sunday shift, but the rest of friday night and all of saturday scream freedom to you. a drop of water escapes your mouth and trails down from the corner of your lips to your chin. a lapse in control, something you usually have in spades, but never around robby. how embarrassing, not being able to drink water with more etiquette than a child-

a warm finger brushes the skin of your chin, wiping away the droplet.

you lock eyes. his are brown and a little out of it, his nose flaring and immediately condensing when he retracts his hand. he tucks it in his cargo pants and it's like you've imagined the whole thing.

must be ER-induced delirium.

"any weekend plans, robby?" absolute insane, to ask that question after you just displayed your lack-of-drinking skills. fortunately, all robby does is shake his head. his veiny hand swipes his glasses off his face and tucks them in the front chest pocket of his scrubs. unfortunately, the fluidity of it does a lot for you. must be the competency? "don't call me old, but the record store i like is having a sale on all their duke ellington records tomorrow. might stop by, pretend i have a life." he laughs in that self-deprecating way of his, like he's embarrassed to admit he's human and not just an attending.

your heart melts.

"i love jazz." you murmur, a little self-consciously, as you set your eyes on his stethoscope instead of his face. "i know." you pick your head up immediately, brows furrowed. when did you tell him that? "i mean, i heard you talking to dr. mohan." he clarifies. you nod, a kernel of hope growing when you realize he was eavesdropping. maybe this obsession is more than one-sided. maybe.

"you goin' to that thing you mentioned?" he asks, rolling his shoulders and looking away before looking back at you. "maybe. samira, i mean, dr. mohan can't go, so i might see if my roommate wants to go. she's really into rock though, like die-hard metal fan, so i'm not too sure if she'll want to..." you trail off, a bit saddened. you do want to go, and if it was daytime you would, it's just being alone at night in the city can still be scary. especially after a long shift, even if you're sober. your senses are dulled, worn out from all-day usage. the idea of a long bath and playing a favorite playlist sounds equally appealing and way less work.

"i'm free."

you gape at him, then quickly recover before he can notice how wide open your mouth is. "really?" he looks shocked at himself for even offering, so all he does at first is nod. robby looks off-kilter, far from the confident attending you've spent your last two years with. "you don't have anyone- i mean, any plans tonight? i don't want to take up too much of your time, it starts at 8:30 and it'll probably be at least an hour, maybe two." he barks out a laugh, swiping a hand down his face before answering. "no one's waiting on me. plus, i'm not that old, doctor. my bedtime is 12 anyway." he winks, recovered from whatever shock he was experiencing. you laugh, covering it with your hand before it becomes a full-force giggle. he's not even that funny, but he's just so endearing with those soulful brown eyes and terrible humor and warmth. on hour 12 of your shift, you simply can't take it.

"let me talk to dr. abbot and then i can walk out with you. it's kind of a speakesy so there's this password and this back door and," you realize you're waving your hands around, priming him for another water bottle attack, and quickly fix them to your sides, "and, i'll be right back. don't take another case or i'll go without you." his eyebrows crinkle a little at your mention of dr. abbot but you write it off as tiredness. he nods his affirmation and you bolt through the ER, desperate to finally get out of here.

"dr. abbot!" thankfully he's charting and not gut-deep in a poor patient. he looks up and nods you over, clearly expecting an interesting case. "i need you to do me a favor. dr. mohan is abandoning our jazz club plans to work her full shift and i need you to promise me she leaves here by 9pm. she already had food poisoning this morning, she does not need to work longer than necessary." he's smiling by the end of your demand, clearly amused than angry you're making demands. "you'll make a perfect chief resident, doctor. she won't be here past 9 or i'll walk her out myself." that's what you're hoping for, but you don't mention that. "sorry about your plans." he adds. you shrug, rocking back on your feet as you try not to give away your excitement. "it's okay. robby's coming, of all people."

an odd thing happens to the attending you thought was unflappable. he looks past your shoulder, clearly searching for robby, before quickly pulling back to look you up and down. his mouth opens slightly, then closes shut immediately. "fucking finally." he mutters under his breath, underestimating how good your hearing is. "sorry?" you ask, a little off guard. he shakes his head, resetting. "nothing. have a good night, doctor. have fun." when has he ever told you to have fun? you nod, extremely confused with whatever oddness has affected the Pitt attendings. you wish him a goodnight and beeline back to Robby, who's trying not to involve himself in two GSW's that just burst through the doors.

it's intimate, walking out with him. he holds the door for you but with his hand up high, making you almost duck under it to exit. you talk all the way to the parking lot, only realizing he doesn't even drive when you arrive at your car. you explain how to get into the club, the password being "April 29th" for the NYC Duke Ellington Day in 2009. he takes all of it in stride, nodding precisely at the right points like he's actually listening. "you need a ride home?" you offer, hoping he says no. this past hour has been too much of a whirlwind and you need a moment to contemplate, but the people pleaser in you demands hospitality. thankfully, he shakes his head. "i like walking home. not too far and clears the head." you nod, completely understanding. usually when you drive home, you keep the windows down and the music low to decompress. unsurprisingly, it's jazz or more modern r&b that clears your head.

"i'll see you there, then. text me if something comes up or you'll be late." you tack on, trying not to seem desperate. not to seem like this is a date, of course, which it is not. he's just being friendly, eavesdropping on your personal conversations and connecting over hobbies and offering his time outside of work when he could be, for one, sleeping. "i'll see you at 8:30, doctor."

you splurge for a cab, figuring the moment allows for it. plus, your feet ache from hours on your feet and the kitten heels you're wearing don't exactly help. after paying the fee, you step out onto the sidewalk and smooth out the creases in the dress you chose. it's the original outfit you were going to wear: a little black dress that hits above the knee paired with black heels that have bows on them, a small purse around your shoulder. except, you did your makeup instead of going bare face like you originally would've. it's armor to face multiple hours with the man you've been crushing on for months. sure, you've shared beer in parks and much-needed coffee on the roof, but nothing outside of the confines of work. nothing like how he looks now, waving at you awkwardly as he walks down the street in dark pants and a button-down paired with a jacket to stave off the chill. it shocks you for a second -- the first time you've seen him out of his scrubs. he comes to stand in front of you and beams a little, his cheeks pulling up. he's more relaxed without the weight of the ER on him and you yearn to see him like this a thousand times more.

"hi."

you stare for a second before reminding yourself that you are not a teenager and can have adult conversations. except this is your boss, a fact you keep forgetting. "i honestly imagined you showing up in scrubs." you tease, gesturing at him to follow as you make your way to the entrance. he chuckles, a low tone that hits like a shower after a long shift, needed and soothing. "i like your dress, too, doctor." he replies. your skin heats at his compliment, glad you're not facing his direction. you wander through the side hallway that accompanies the front of the restaurant, pausing a little before the secret door. before you approach, you turn to him. "you don't have to call me doctor, robby." you remind him, tilting your head a little. he takes the moment to scan the length of your dress, the sheer tights that feed into your heels, before landing back on your face and saying your name. your first name.

it's the first time he's said it, you think. like a shock of epi to the veins, waking you up. his eyes darken and it must be a trick of the light, but you see his pupils expand. you grin shyly before turning and approaching the door. a gold-embossed slit in the door slides open and a pair of blue eyes blink at you. "password?" there's a sudden presence behind you as robby hovers, a touch away from your back. not the closest he's ever stood but you feel practically naked without your scrubs, like he's seeing your bare skin. "april 29th." you supply, clearing your throat as you remind yourself he's just being courteous.

the door swings open and you stifle a gasp. it's all mahagony wood and low lights, candles on every table with velvet-covered chairs and clinking bar glasses. an acoustic version of a leon bridges song plays as you make your way inside, robby only a step behind you. "isn't it pretty?" you turn your face up and there he is, staring down at you. "very pretty." he refers to the room, but his eyes stay on you, warm pools of chocolate in the lamplight. you find a table far enough away from the band where you can talk, even though your tongue is currently tied. robby murmurs something about getting drinks and you sit gladly, your feet straining from being put through even more walking. you set your purse on the table and close your eyes, letting your body finally relax as you take in the music. your head sways a little, the rhythm soothing you after another long-but-worth-it day in medicine.

"i wasn't sure what you wanted, so i got the specialty drink they were serving." he sets down what looks like a fancy dirty shirley with edible gold glitter swirling around. it catches the light and reminds you of the gold flecks in robby's eyes, illuminated by the candles. he sits down in the chair next to you, the table small enough for your knees to brush as you both face the stage. neither of you pulls away.

"they must have upcharged an extra $10 for the glitter." you take a sip and close your eyes, loving the fruitiness. a look left reveals his own drink, dark liquid in a glass tumbler. "part of the experience." he shrugs, nudging you with his knee. "plus, i know mohan wouldn't comp your drinks like i will." you giggle at that, keeping it at a low volume as the band continues. you take another sip for courage before putting the glass back down. "thank you, robby. for the drink and for coming." he takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. the table must be too small or his eyes really that bad, because he sets it so close to you that your knuckles brush. these accidental touches keep sending ill-advised sparks to your core, making you shift in your spot and press your thighs together.

when you gather the courage to look in his eyes, they seem to be on your thighs. a trick of the light, as they flick up and catch yours, no apology on his lips. "i wanted to-"

"hello everyone!" the saxophone player has the mic, greeting everyone with a bright smile. "thank you for coming to our little gathering tonight. it'll be a mix of jazz, r&b, and anything that sits right in the soul. we've got our singer coming on in about an hour but for now, enjoy the music." the bassist plucks a few strings and they start, launching into a louis armstrong song.

it's something close to peace that you feel. taking in the music silently, robby closes his eyes and leans back in his chair. you make small talk occasionally, learning more about him than you ever knew. how he used to live in chicago, how he's the older sibling of a much younger brother and sister off doing Great Things. you tell him about your favorite bagel spot that you stop by when you have the time and how sometimes, you think your roommate might hate you and not actually tolerate your late-night taco cravings. it's addicting, every smile he gives you, each one more endearing than the one before it. you like that he barely drinks, only sipping after a long conversation. you want to remember this, so you let your drink slowly lessen but don't ask for a second.

his knee stays against yours the whole time, a tender anchor to the moment.

after an hour, the singer graces the stage. her voice is raspy and low, perfect for the songs she picks. "these next few are perfect slow songs, in my opinion. and would you look at that, we've got some empty room on the dance floor." she launches into an etta james song about sundays and you can't help but gather your courage. "dance with me? if your feet aren't too tired, of course." you add, suddenly worried you overstepped. he shakes his head, stepping out of his seat and gesturing you forward. when you look back, you watch robby tuck your purse under his coat and your heart aches. just a little.

at first, you feel like a kid at her first dance. there's too much space between you, his hand so high on your back that it almost reaches your neck. it's hard to move together this far apart, so you take a deep breath and step closer. "this okay?" you whisper, face inches from his. he nods a little sharply, but steps closer until your cheek is flush to his chest. "it's perfect." you smile to yourself and lose yourself to the music.

as more people join the dance floor, robby pulls you snug to his chest. "having fun?" he asks, lips grazing your ear. his hand slides lower, still on the small of your back. it's the most you've ever touched him, felt the woodsy scent of his cologne and the hardness of his torso. "yeah." you mumble, drunk on the music and his presence. he seems to understand, tucking your head under his chin as you sway, his other hand tightening in yours as you grip his shoulder lightly. the singer croons about love and loss and you feel it, right under you.

after a few more songs, the band takes a break. when you pull back from robby, something has changed. he has to have felt this pull in your chest, the one tethered to your heart strings. "take a break with me?" you nod to the quiet hallway that leads to the bathrooms, perfect for a break from the crowd. he follows you loyally, hand hovering at your back as you walk down the hall. voices fall away until it's just you two in some alcove between the bar and the bathroom.

he puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. you take a deep breath and one step forward.

"robby."

his eyes squint when you don't follow with a question and widen when he realizes what you're asking, or not asking.

robby swipes a hand down his face before it falls to his side, tapping the top of his thigh. "we can't." he reasons. your toes touch his shoes, shiny ones you didn't even imagine him owning. "says who?" you murmur, standing your ground. both of his hands are at his sides now, flexing and unflexing. if he wasn't wearing long-sleeves, you'd be tracing the veins. "the pittsburg medical board. gloria." he answers, not doing anything to move from where you stand. this time, it's him who straightens, bringing him closer to your heaving chest.

"i'm not going to tell them." you murmur. there's an instant sense of a mistake as he leans back into the wall. "it's not like that for me. it's- i'm not a casual person." the confession is more than you were hoping for, a long-forgotten dream that lay buried in your heart. "it's not like that for me either, robby. i really liked tonight. i want to do it again."

strong, capable hands cup your face. his thumbs swipe under your eyes, probably ruining your makeup, as he tilts you into his eyesight. "you have no fucking idea how long i've waited for this." he confirms, the tips of his fingers brushing your jaw. "really?" you plead, off-kilter from his sudden admission. "since you found me on that roof, still soaked in blood from two child GSW's." a year and a half ago. your heart pounds and you smile.

"can't deny you anything when you look like that." you're not entirely sure what he means -- when you're covered in blood or when you're in this dress? doesn't matter.

"won't you kiss me, then?"

and he does.

robby kisses like a man possessed. his hands on your face stay there, keeping you open even as you gasp into his mouth. it's not sloppy but toes the line as he keeps himself restrained, only allowing his tongue to peek out when you moan in delight. robby leaves little bites and licks with every sound you make, letting you melt into his arms with your arms around his shoulders.

"i don't want our first time to be tonight. i want to do it right." he demands into the wet heat of your mouth, covering the burn of his words with a solid kiss. you agree but still hitch your leg up around his waist as far as your dress will allow. "these fucking tights." he nips your jaw and you giggle, melding yourself further into him. "c'mere."

you lead him to a one room bathroom, locking the door behind you. instead of the perfectly good countertop, he corners you against the wall, hands sliding up and under your dress. "this okay?" he asks and you whine, pushing your hips further into his grasp. your dress gathers at your waist as he finds the band of your tights digging into your skin. "you gonna let me taste?" you nod, practically begging.

he yanks down your tights and you ignore the sure sound of them ripping, glad they were a sale purchase. "i'll buy you new ones." he promises your inner thighs, kissing gently upwards. with your demolished tights, you're able to swing one leg over his shoulder as he lowers himself onto his knees. you've been wet all night from his touches and it doesn't surprise you when he has to peel your lace underwear off, slick clinging in strings as he works them to the side.

"so wet for me. i know, baby, i know." he hums as you whine impatiently, moving forward until his words land on your empty cunt. he works you like an expert, splitting your folds open as he licks a stripe up and down. almost all the way down.

robby isn't like the college boys who treated this like a task. he lavishes you with kisses, small sucks to your clit that end when you start bucking. the tip of his tongue teases your hole but doesn't go in, seemlingly leaving it for another time. his nose, that strong nose you always catch yourself admiring, presses against your clit and you jolt from the pleasure of it. you fuck yourself a bit on it, encouraged by his moan that pulses through your core. the friction switches between his nose and his tongue and you can't get enough, that tell-tale pressure building in your lower stomach.

"robby, i'm close." you admit, gasping when he sucks your clit even harder. waves build and tense in your core as you chase the feeling, moving your hips without thought. "c'mon, honey. come." he mumbles, muffled by your thighs. like you do everyday in the ER, you follow his command, moaning as you tense and flutter around him. he guides you through it with sloppy licks until you're pushing him away, overstimulation creeping over your shoulders.

his beard is sopping with your slick, something he doesn't seem to care about as he emerges after fixing your underwear. deft fingers guide your feet out and into your heels as he fully frees you of the ripped tights, little brushes to your ankle bone going straight to your heart. it's only after he throws away your tights does he stand, eyes glittering.

you look down at his cock clearly straining against his trousers. when you reach for it, his hand stops you, stroking the soft skin of your wrist. "tonight's not about me." one part of you is disappointed but the other is dreadfully tired, needing rest after all of this excitement. "thank you, robby." you say, unsure of how to feel the silence. his hands grip your waist and he kisses your forehead before he pulls back, thumb swiping over your bitten lips. "call me michael, honey. you want to stay or you done for the night?" you shake your head instantly, exhaustion deep in your bones. "take me home, michael."

when you wake in the late morning, he's still in your bed. if he hadn't been, you would have thought last night was a jazz-induced dream. instead, he's murmuring to someone on the phone sternly. your eyes trace his bare chest down to his boxers, the same chest you fell asleep against last night. you lay a hand on his chest and he covers it with his own, seemingly done with his phone call. "who was that?" you ask, too curious to hold back. "HR." he grins. "haven't even asked me out properly and you're already calling HR." you grumble, inching closer until he gathers you in his arms, kissing the top of your nose.

"will you go out with me, doctor?"

writing this was a fever dream.

if you haven't seen noah wyle dressed up, i highly encourage you to.

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x reader #female reader #the pitt spoilers #the pitt x reader #dr robby x reader #tornadothoughts #the pitt episode 14 #the pitt finale

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popcornpoppypop · 2 months ago

Text

I'm Glad You Stayed

Summary: Jack Abbot x Single Mom! Reader: A companion piece to the Like Me Series. Matt is graduating and you and Jack are a mess. Matt has a surprise up his sleeve.

Warnings: Just tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I saw a tiktok where similar events to this fic happen and I couldn't stop myself. Plus, I think I've been mean enough to these three for the time being.

“I still don’t know why I have to wear a tie if my robe is going to cover everything.” Matt rolled his eyes as Jack fixed the knot of the fabric.

“You’re supposed to dress up for the big moments. Don’t ask me why.” Jack shrugged.

“I hate ties.” Matt grumbled as he tried to loosen it again. Jack smacked his hands away.

“Your mother wants you to look nice. So, nice we will look.” Jack nodded as he turned to look in the mirror and make sure his tie looked okay.

“Oh, my handsome boys.” You came into Matt’s room, already misty-eyed.

“Please, the crying, Mom.” Matt cringed.

“It ain’t gonna stop today.” Jack chuckled.

“You look so nice. I can’t believe you’re graduating already.” You shook your head as you cupped Matt’s face in your hand.

“Don’t cry on him too much, Honey. You’ll stain the shirt.” Jack kissed your cheek as you smacked his chest.

“I’m just so proud of you, Matty.” You smiled.

“Thanks, Mom.” He smiled. “We need to get going, though. It’s a bad look for the valedictorian to be late.” He said, grabbing his garment bag with his cap and gown and running downstairs.

“I am not making it through today.” You sighed.

“You’ll be okay. It’s part of the process, letting go.” Jack wrapped an arm around you.

“It feels like we should have more time.” You said, heading downstairs.

“Never would be enough.” Jack followed.

The school was crowded with parents with red eyes giving last-minute advice to the graduates. There was an air of excitement and anxiety for the future. The students felt like the world was theirs, and the parents felt like they were losing everything.

Jack was straightening the cords on Matt’s shoulders; you were making sure it was wrinkle-free. Matt had surrendered to being fussed over.

“Jack! Y/N!” Robby’s voice caught your attention. You watched as he dodged students running around and siblings chasing after them.

“Robby!” Matt jogged up to him and hugged him. “I thought you weren’t going to make it?”

“Miss this!? Never! I made sure I got it covered. Dana’s around here somewhere, too. We’re taping it for everyone else.” Robby smiled.

“You know they have live links for this stuff nowadays.” Jack chuckled. “You’re aging yourself there, brother.”

“Leave him be.” You shoved Jack’s shoulder.

“That would be why Mohan laughed at me.” Robby nodded.

“I got to get in there. You're coming to the party, right?” Matt smiled.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Robby patted him on the back.

“No crazy stunts, right?” You asked as you fussed over his cap.

“None. I swear. Just my speech. Try not to dehydrate yourself.” Matt kissed your cheek.

“I brought a bag of fluids to hook her up to just in case.” Jack smirked.

“See you once I’m a graduate, I guess!” He beamed as he ran off. You hooked your arm around Jack’s.

“You two are going to be a mess.” Robby chuckled as he walked toward the building.

“He’s so excited. I’m terrified.” You sighed.

“Part of the whole parent thing, or so I hear.” Jack walked you in.

The kids all filed in, the music just a touch too loud. The principal gave a welcome speech that felt like he did it every year and never changed it. The degrees started being handed out.

“It’s going to be a while until we see him.” Jack sighed. You pulled out your phone, doing your best to be sly.

“I don’t know, might not be that long.” You smirked.

“Jennifer Marie Aarons, Kyle Lucas Abbey, Matthew William Abbot,” the announcer’s voice rang out.

Jack looked to you, confused, unsure if he had heard correctly.

“What?” His voice shocked and soft.

“He got it all changed a few weeks ago.” You said, the tears falling freely as you watched your son walk across the stage.

“Yeah, Matty!” Jack leapt up, shouting his pride for his son. The tears were obvious.

Matt turned to where you and Jack stood, giving a wave and pumping his fist in the air. Jack sat down and gathered you in his arms.

“You’ve been his dad the whole time, Jack. That’s your son.” You said, holding his face in your hands.

“I’ve loved him through all of it.” He kissed you.

The lists of names dwindled and the kids were sat with their diplomas. You were readying yourself for Matt’s speech, knowing full well that you would not be able to keep it together at all. Matt had not let anyone see his speech. He kept saying it was his gift and you don’t open gifts early.

“Please welcome our Valedictorian, Matthew Abbot.” The principal handed the podium to Matt. Jack’s breath caught at the declaration of his name again.

“Hello. Thank you for sitting through the slog of everyone else’s children for the one photo op of yours. I promise to keep this short.” Matt smiled; the audience chuckled. “High school is never the easiest time in life. Puberty, dating and exams all come crashing down at the same time. Some handle it better than others, but we all inevitably survive. The only way for us to survive is to lean on those that care about us. Our parents put up with all of our attitudes and breakups and breakdowns. In my case, my parents not only had to deal with a hormonal teenager, but a teenager who was traumatized, who lost a limb, and was still trying to figure out who they were. I’m lucky that I have the parents I do. They are both doctors, both trying to make the world a better place. They knew how to care for my wounds, physical and emotional. My mom held our family together as our world came crashing down. Her strength is something to marvel at.” Matt’s voice started to crack. You were in pieces.

“My father, one of my fathers, had it worse than most. He’s an amputee himself, and knew the pain and struggle I would face. He helped me to understand what I was facing. I was not kind to him during my recovery. A recovery that was long and hard, but only made possible because of my father and the efforts of his friends and colleagues at Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center. Colleagues like Dr. Michael Robinavtich and Nurse Dana Evans who helped save my life. I started my healing thinking anger was the only way to survive, and he bore the brunt of it. He never flinched, never batted an eye at my screaming at him. He never left. He was always there. His kindness, grace, and patience is something I will always strive to emulate. He’s the best man I know. I wouldn’t be up here giving this speech without him.” Jack’s hand held yours tightly as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“The world is a scary place, I know that more than most. I know that fear can’t lead how you live. We are given a great opportunity to live our lives how we want. I plan to lead a life filled with hard work, happiness and kindness. I plan to do my best to follow in my parents' footsteps and make this world a better place. I urge my fellow graduates to find what you do that makes the world better and give everything you can to it. Go into the world with excitement and when you can, try to be patient. Thank you.” Matt smiled as he left the podium. You and Jack were on your feet, applauding and crying. The audience clapped for his speech and you heard the distinct yell of Robby and Dana from the stands.

“We did alright, I think.” You smiled up to Jack. He looked down to you, his face glowing with pride as he wrapped you in his arms.

“Yeah, we did alright.” His rough voice making you tear up again.

They finally released everyone to collect their kids after everyone had gathered their caps from the ground. Friends were hugging each other and tears were being shed.

“Mom! Jack!” Matt waved his hand over the crowd. You and Jack ran over to him, gathering him up in your arms.

“That was a beautiful speech, baby.” You cried. “You did so well.” You pulled away and looked up at him. He didn’t look like a boy today, he looked ready for the world. It made your heart fall to your stomach.

“Thanks. Did you like your surprise, Jack?” Matt chuckled as he looked over at the tear streaked face of his father.

“Second best gift I’ve ever gotten, you having my name.” Jack smiled.

“Second!? What the hell was the first?” Matt scoffed.

“Getting to help raise you.” He pulled Matt into his arms, giving a hard hug. Matt clung onto him, burying his face in Jack’s neck.

“Let’s go to the party. I need a drink if I’m getting through the rest of today.” You chuckled.

“Can I have a drink?” Matt asked.

“Absolutely not.” You smacked his arm. Jack leaned around you and mouthed one beer to Matt, making him giggle.

“You two aren’t slick!” You scoff. Your family made their way out of the building, the lawn covered in tissues and families hugging.

“Hey! Abbots!” Robby’s voice cut through the crowd.

“Oh, Matt! That was so good, darlin’.” Dana ran up and pulled him into a tight hug.

“How’d you two handle all that?” Robby chuckled.

“Don’t let him say anything, he cried too.” Dana chuckled.

“You cried?” Matt chuckled.

“Real men cry, Matty. I am but a man.” Robby chuckled as he hugged him.

Matt’s graduation party was filled with family wishing him well and his friends getting ready for their futures. There was laughter and happy tears and dreams shared. It was late in the evening when all the guests had finally left.

“You boys make sure to put that fire out when your done.” You sigh as you get up.

“You going to bed?” Matt asked.

“Yeah, all that crying took it out of me.” You chuckled. “Plus we’ve got to finish packing tomorrow.” You sighed as you kissed Matt’s forehead.

“I’ll be up soon.” Jack kissed you.

“You take your time, it’s okay. No more than one beer, please.” You gave him a bemused look.

“Promise.” Jack chuckled as he got up and pulled two bottles out of the cooler.

“You were serious?” Matt excitedly sat up in his chair.

“I was drinking shots of whiskey from my friend's flask behind the gas station at your age. I think one beer at graduation won’t kill you.” Jack laughed as he handed the bottle to him.

“I’m not looking forward to packing tomorrow. Mom is going to cry all over me.” Matt laughed.

“Take it easy on her. You’re her baby, and you’re leaving. It’s hard, letting go.” Jack sipped his beer.

“Yeah. You’re doing okay, though.” Matt sipped his beer with a slight grimace.

“Oh, I’m not. I just need to be stable enough to keep your mom together. I know today felt like the official declaration that you’re my son. But you’ve been my son to me since the day we met.” Jack sighed, looking at the fire.

“If I could go back, I’d tell myself to be better to you.” Matt shook his head.

“Don’t be upset with how you handled the past. Nothing you can do about it now. We found our way and that’s what matters. I was never leaving, Matt. This family is all that matters to me.” Jack looked up at his son, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I am so proud of who you are. You’re a good person and you’re going to get even better.”

“I’m really glad you stayed. I’m going to miss you.” Matt wiped the tears from his cheeks.

“Me too.” Jack cleared his throat. “I know college is going to be busy and you’re going to want to focus on school and having fun, but don’t forget to call us every once in a while. We’ll worry.”

“I promise. I’ll be back for Thanksgiving, it’ll fly by.” Matt nodded.

“Yeah. Don’t go too crazy over the summer. I don’t want you bringing a girl home knocked up, I will kick your ass.” Jack scolded.

“Oh my god! I’m not even going to say anything to that!” Matt laughed.

“I love you, Matty.” Jack smiled.

“I love you too.”

#the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #dr. jack abbot x reader #dr. jack abbott #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot x oc #jack abbot x reader #dr. robby #dana evans

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