#dr robby x reader

[eureka-its-zico]

Residuals Pt. 4

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: First, I read an article on burns to try and make this as accurate as possible, (article here by the NIH) but it’s still not terribly accurate. So, please, I tried lol. Secondly, I’m still screaming at the amount of love you guys have shown this series. Truly, I appreciate it more than y’all know. Thirdly, enter in a little extra dash of drama by Gloria (who redeemed herself in ep.12 but we ain’t there yet) and ya girl is just having a rough-ass day. Fourthly, yeah…she’s a thick chapter. Hopefully, it's still good because I’ve edited it as much as I can. As always, I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for the support and for being here. Much Love, Jenn

Warnings: Mentions of death, language

Words: 10k +

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Whitaker proved to be an adept student. He followed directions well and answered whatever questions you threw his way about proper wound care at home and possible infection risks around the burned areas. When you’d finished with the first patient, you ensured he knew to return to the emergency room immediately if they experienced any new or persistent discomfort, like pain or tenderness in the area, increased warmth, discoloration, or advanced swelling. 

“If the infection is invasive and takes hold of the wound, what is the main course of treatment, Dr. Whitaker?”

“We would contact surgery.”

“Correct. Why?” 

“The need for surgery would be based on the high concentration of the bacteria levels found present in the wound.”

“We’d check for signs of possible sepsis and a full check-up to narrow down if it's gram-negative or positive bacteria, which tells us further about our treatment plan. What is the chief cause of burn wound infections?”

“Staphylococcus Aureus - MRSA.”

“How would we verify the patient had MRSA or any other type of possible bacterial infection?” 

“By taking a sample from the area for testing -“

“You guys aren’t about to cut me up or anything, are you?”  

The sudden input from the patient caused a nervous tick from Whitaker. It halted his hands from finishing the last few loops around with the gauze. The patients' eyes darted nervously from you to Whitaker and back again. You gave your best reassuring smile while making sure the dressing was secured on his chest and shoulder.

“Well, Kyle, the faster we get you out of here, you take the antibiotics I prescribe you, and make sure you keep your burns dressed and away from exposure to possible germs, then no. We won’t be ‘cutting you up’ today.”

“Okay. Cool. Because that sounds really uncool.”

Dilaudid truly did wonders for conversations. You’d have to make sure the discharge papers were clear on his care and warning signs to look out for. Plus, add extra emphasis on trying to make sure not to share any items in the frat house bathroom. 

In truth, it wasn’t him, but his fellow frat boy neighbor in four that had you worried. So far, he showed no obvious signs of infection, but once the adrenaline of the moment wore off he noticeably seemed to slip into shock at having half his face, eyelashes, and eyebrow singed off. Not enough shock, however, to keep from asking if he’d make a handsome Harvey Dent for Halloween. 

The burns to his neck and chest indicate to you he was closer to the fire pit than his buddy Whitaker currently patched up. You’d ordered blood work, x-rays, and a culture swab on two-face and his friend just to rule out any surprises. 

You did your full assessment, asked questions, and directed Whitaker the best you could. You wanted to be the good mentor like Adamson and Singh had been for you. A good mentor like Robby was too. You would never admit it out loud but a small piece of you wanted Robby to see how capable you were. A silent bid to prove he could trust you with his interns and medical students. Between Robby, Abbot, and the previous attendings you knew you could teach. 

It wasn’t a hidden thing that you’d both meet here during your residency. Yes, it was Adamson’s circus, but Robby thrived under Adamson’s direction and the insanity the Pitt offered. He was funny, charismatic, incredibly smart, and showed a level of empathy that bordered on worrisome at times. A tidal wave of grief encapsulated him and carried him under if he wasn’t careful. Robby was exactly the physician any patient should want taking care of them when they arrived in the ED. 

And hell, you weren’t blind. Anyone with eyes could see that Robby was handsome. Painstakingly, stupidly, egregiously, fucking handsome. It was fucking criminal. 

Robby taught you so much in the time you’d spent here and you knew he probably still could but that would mean being around him. The two of you standing closer than you’d been in years was proving to be a dangerous thing. He’d fallen back into the habit of stealing touches and you’d fallen back into the habit of shamelessly teasing him with things he’d usually make you pay for later trapped between his body and whatever surface in your house.

It was a dangerous game neither of you realized you were playing, and both of you were losing fast. Instead of having your focus one hundred percent on the patients and being back in the ED for the first time in years, your focus repeatedly returned where it shouldn’t. At first, you could lie to yourself and say you were simply scanning the hallways and nursing stations to make sure you didn’t see him. Of course, that’s what you wanted to believe; to coast through this shift without any additional emotional trauma following you home. 

It was fucking impossible.

You could continue to lie to yourself all you wanted, but the truth was blatantly clear. Your eyes didn’t comb over the hallways and desks in hopes of not finding him. You didn’t quickly peer into rooms in anticipation that he wouldn’t be in one. You wanted to see him just as much as you denied that you didn’t. 

The day you left, you made sure to do it while Robby was working because you knew, that if he’d been home and asked you to stay, you would’ve. And if he didn’t fight for you - never uttered a singular word of pleading to keep you from leaving, you weren’t sure you could survive it. 

So now you found yourself hopelessly looking for him in all the places you swore you’d never go again. You may have chosen to leave, but it never meant you stopped loving him. The fact you were still in love with him made seeing the lost look in his eyes sting harder. You watched as he spoke to the parents of the kid who overdosed with no possible hope of waking up again, and you wanted to go to him. It was the shattering look of grief that made you forget how to move. Robby knew what was coming better than anyone else did. 

How many times was Robby the one in charge of giving the heartbreaking news that loved ones weren’t coming home? Shouldering the burden of listening to the breakdown of their world and being the pillar of strength and comfort while families struggled to rearrange? 

You hadn’t realized the black hole of anxiety was leading you down a rabbit hole until the sound of Whitaker calling out, “Dr. Fullerton,” at your side left you practically jumping out of your skin. 

Shit. How long had you been zoned out? Hopefully, you hadn’t said anything weird. Or incriminating.

“Sorry,” he swiftly followed up. “I was trying to ask where we were off to next, but, uh, you seemed a little…preoccupied.”

“Oh, yeah, no sorry. You can go back to the red zone. I’m just going to help McKay up in triage.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No, not at all. You’ll have more of a chance to learn with Langdon and Collins.” What you actually meant was to see more if that was what he was into. “Also, maybe check on your last patient I pulled you away from earlier.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” You watched him take your advice and, in real time, get ready to dispute it. “Why am I checking back in with Mr. Milton?”

What should you tell him? In the Pitt, it was easy to be thrown from one patient to the next - forgetting their faces and names as the minutes blurred into hours. Easy to forget they were waiting on test results that needed to be read by you and needed a treatment plan discussed and planned by you. Major issues could present as something small, something easily missable until further testing exposed the truth of the situation. If you went just the smallest amount of time without checking the results, without popping your head in for a visual, well, it wasn’t hard to imagine how sometimes those major issues finally presented themselves and everything got much, much worse. 

“Look, Whitaker. As much as the powers constantly stress about getting people in and out quickly like this is a drive-thru, we have an obligation to each patient to give them the best care we can. It means staying on top of orders and checking in regularly. Trust me, Whitaker, things can change quickly down here.”

“Okay, yeah. That makes perfect sense. Thanks, Dr. Fullerton.”

“You bet. See you around, Whitaker.”

He gave you an awkward wave and didn’t move right away. It wasn’t until you turned away from him that you heard him shuffle on his feet. A part of you was curious if you glanced behind you he’d still be standing there, deciding where to go.   

All that mattered to you was that you currently needed a new patient. It didn’t matter what the chief complaint was. Ideally, for the all-seeing eye of admin, quick and easy ones would look better. At this rate, you were positive your Press Ganey score was dipping. You were seeing patients at the speed of an R3; two patients per hour and they were after fast and loose results. But you wanted something with the capability to keep you occupied for hours. Preferably something that would require so much of your attention it would force you out of your head. 

Yeah, that would be good. It was too damn early still to be spiraling into a midlife crisis just because you had to work with your ex. An ex, you realized, who was wearing the damn navy blue hoodie you’d bought him on his last fishing trip to Canonsburg. 

No. No. Nope. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him or stupid hoodies or the gold chain of his necklace that used to drag over your collarbone. How your fingers curled around the thin chain, using it like a lead, to bring him down on top of you on the couch. Absolutely not - you were at work and he was your ex. He was your ex and you shouldn’t fucking care how you could still tell after all these months he was sleeping like shit. 

You were almost back to Dana’s station, the monitor looming overhead like a beacon to salvation when you noticed Whitaker walking in tandem beside you. You cocked a brow in question that Whitaker rushed to answer. 

“The board is this way, so…”

Right. You knew that. 

“I was trying to talk to you but I think you were in deep thought or something. Again.”

Or something. God. That was twice. Twice your head was everywhere else but where it needed to be, which was at work. You should’ve fought harder when Gloria came to reassign you, but none of this should’ve mattered. 

You were a damn good doctor. You’d trained under the best, learned from the best, and kept progressively learning and didn’t stop. You spent years of your life on this because helping people was your passion. It shouldn’t matter where you were placed if you were down here to help for days, months, or years. 

Yet, in the matter of an hour, your mind waded into memories that were better off left for dead with your eyes searching for someone you shouldn’t. 

You didn’t know how to answer him. “Sorry, I should remember where everything is but find myself stuck daydreaming about the past and looking for signs where I shouldn’t and sexually fantasizing about your attending”, didn’t seem appropriate to tell a med student. So, you ended with a weak, “Sorry about that,” which passed for understanding. It made you feel like an ass, but you didn’t trust yourself to speak. 

You came to a stop just a few feet from Dana’s desk. Her back turned to you as she went through folders preparing patient's charts for transfer upstairs. Her eyes shifted up at the board and over to a newer resident you hadn’t met yet. 

Her gaze was fixed on the monitor; eyes scanning rapidly down the chart as if there was a code that needed cracking. You knew that look. It was a shared one you’d no doubt mirrored only an hour ago. 

“What do you need, Fullerton?”

Your head swiveled back to Dana and found her now facing you, her glasses removed, and waiting for your answer. 

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Are you kidding?” The question fell out of her in a chuckle. “You’re the only one I know who goes around taping on every damn surface when they’re thinking. You act like my five-year-old grandson, just less noisy. Barely.”

“That’s offensive,” you pointed out. 

“For who? You or my grandson.”

You felt the first crack in your defenses tug at the corners of your mouth. If you weren’t careful, Dana’s whip-smart comments were going to make you fold back into a routine you hadn’t been a part of in a while. It wasn’t just you who was slipping at this point, and you clocked the moment Dana began to realize it too. 

She was supposed to be upset with you - grumpy, mean remarks only. You were supposed to take them and dish them back so you could comfortably stay in your bubbles of denial and anger. The denial of what, exactly, was achingly easy to see. 

You both missed each other. More than either of you were willing to admit. 

Your reply sat cocked and loaded on your tongue when you remembered what transpired half an hour before. As much as you missed one another, you had to be careful with what you shared around her. It was obvious, whatever the ‘It’ may be, Robby would magically seem to find out. 

“Any quick ones up here? It’s only 8:30, and Robby’s already on my case for being too slow. I can usually at least make it to lunch before he starts hounding me.” 

Your attention swiveled back towards the resident. Her gaze fixed on the board before glancing between Dana and you. Hopefully, her question wasn’t meant for you to answer. You weren’t very good at picking off the board either. 

“Cut him a little slack today, ok? It’s the anniversary of Dr. Adamson’s death.”

Of course, Dana would cover for him. Intercept all incoming rapports of Robby being prickly and sometimes downright mean to bury them under the rug of understanding. 

Yes, it was the anniversary of Adamson’s death. It always would be. Grief wasn’t easy. It was messy and unrelenting in the moments it chose for sights, smells, and touch to materialize memories that recalled moments you wouldn’t get the chance to share with them again. A constant reminder of all that we lost. Time didn’t seal up that cavern their loss created; it just became more manageable over time. 

Robby never coped. Never allowed himself to grieve, heal, and thrive in the good memories he did have. The doubts and guilt haunted him every day in every step, every decision, he made. He housed it inside him like a ghoul in a cemetery feasting on the remains of who he was before Adamson’s death - before the pandemic. 

“That’s sad. But it’s still no reason to take it out on me. I’m just saying.”

You liked her. She got it. You wanted to properly introduce yourself. By the look on Dana’s face, you need to do it quickly before she breaks out into a lecture. Luck wasn’t on your side because Whitaker beat you to the punch. 

You didn’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation but you also didn’t want to go back to having a conversation with Dana, either. It left you the only option of staring back up at the beloved board. You’d just decided on 7 North when Dr. Collins walked by, her hands digging in the glovebox on the wall to retrieve a pair. Her eyes were on Whitaker and yours were on her. 

It wasn’t a secret that Robby and Heather had dated. Well, maybe to those in the Pitt, and not including Perlah or Princess because they suspiciously seemed to be psychic. Or just really loved to gossip. No, you’d learned about them when a friend spotted Robby and Heather out on a date. You’d only assumed it was a date because she repeatedly kept using the word cozy. 

And why should you have cared? It’d been almost a year since you’d left. You chose to leave and that meant making him free to date and find new love or whatever. You didn’t have a right to lay claim to him just because he’d been yours. And Heather? She was gorgeous. She was fucking brilliant, with a beautiful smile, and it suddenly made you feel uncharacteristically subconscious. 

Whether it’d been a date or they just seemed cozy (it was a damn date) you shouldn’t have felt jealous. You were fine. It was perfectly fine and healthy for people to seek out relationships and companionship. It was normal and you were fine. You weren’t any saint either. You’d dated someone briefly and, if you were honest with yourself, you could’ve stayed in that relationship. It was nice and easy. Simple. But you didn’t love him and you weren’t sure if you ever could. 

The problem of loving Robby - still being in love with Robby - was that he stood witness to your most intimate memories of love. There were stories woven into your bones that bore witness to the man he was and how he loved you. They were told in joy and tragedy, laughter and sadness. When Nathan kissed you, the earth kept spinning. He didn’t taste of bourbon or smell of leather and sandalwood. He didn’t spend time in the backyard sanding down tables or staining decks. He didn’t wear glasses that somehow slid minute by minute inch down his nose until he subconsciously tilted his head back to see.

In the end, you left because of one glaring fact: Nathan would never be - could never be - Robby.  

Dr. Collins told Whitaker to come with her for a teaching experience - an unconscious unhoused man was being brought in. Whitaker quickly moved to follow her lead in grabbing a pair of gloves just in time for the paramedics to wheel in the gurney. Said man was very much unconscious and appeared very much unhoused. 

Your time playing the gawking bystander had come to an end and you needed to get to 7 North. You pushed away from the counter when you were stopped by the resident from earlier barreling into your line of sight. 

“Dr. Fullerton? I’m Dr. Samira Mohan - R3. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dr. Mohan stuck out her hand and you accepted it warmly. Besides the obvious annoyance from Robby hounding her existence, it seemed Dr. Mohan was friendly. She held a kind air about her that reminded you of Robby - only now that kindness held an edge of grumpiness because his empathy was playing an overwhelming game. By the sleepless bags under his eyes, you could tell he was losing. 

You wanted to point the probability of this out to her, maybe offer her a consultation for Robby’s apparent hard-ass demeanor, but quickly shoved it off. 

“It’s nice to meet you, as well, Dr. Mohan.”

“Would it be okay if I could confer with you later?” Dr. Mohan’s eyes shifted to where Dana stood only inches away. “In private?”

You weren’t sure if you should be flattered or wanting to run for the hills. Dana’s eyes practically bore into the back of your head, waiting to hear your answer. You knew no matter what you chose to say this was getting back to Robby. 

Fuck it. 

“Of course, Dr. Mohan. I’ll come and find you after my next patient.”

“Thank you. I look forward to speaking with you.” 

She cut a cautious glance over her shoulder and turned on her heel towards the south hallway. It must have been nice to make an easy exit. It was definitely something you were down to try but Dana stood closer to the counter, her glasses down the bridge of her nose, and accused you with a look of being a troublemaker. Your only defense was a shrug. 

“What?”

“What the hell was that about?”

Your brows converged together as you shrugged again. 

“How am I supposed to know, Dana? I haven’t even talked to her yet.” 

“Talked to who about what?”

Fucking kill me. 

What was with today? Were you unknowingly walking around with a ‘Kick Me,’ sign written by life? You’d gone over two years without ever running into Robby and within an hour in a half, you couldn’t seem to avoid him. 

And why was he standing so fucking close again? 

You didn’t need to glance over to your left to know he was close. The heat of his body, the nudge of his elbow against your arm informed you at breakneck speed you were close. Too fucking close, Michael. 

“Mohan seems to want to speak with Fullerton. In private.”

“You couldn’t just wait for me to answer, Dana?”

The words rose up your throat like bile, acidic with its irritation. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t need this shit. You didn’t know what Dr. Mohan wanted but the cryptic way she asked wasn’t doing you any favors. It was at this moment you finally chose to look in Robby’s direction. He was leaning into his elbow that rested on the counter. Even with his body slightly slouched the height difference was substantial causing you to crane to look up at him. 

The problem with this? He was close enough that your temporal lobe was overloaded with thousands of memories of his thumb gliding across your lips. Large hands taking hold of your neck and tilting you back at just the right angle for his lips to claim yours. 

When you were no longer held hostage to the sensory manipulation your brain concocted, you prayed to whoever was listening that you didn’t look as lovestruck as you felt. By the dark glint in Robby’s eyes, you were doing a piss poor job at being Switzerland. 

“What? So you can conveniently disappear by the end of the shift without any context or explanation? No, thanks. Been there. Done that. Not a fan of the outcome.”

“This bipolar verbal assault is getting real tiring, Dana,” you huffed. 

“Alright. Alright, enough!” Robby cut in. “I expect this behavior from patients, not my staff. Now, Dr. Fullerton, what did Dr. Mohan want to discuss with you?”

“Jesus Christ,” you sighed, “I have no fucking clue, okay? She just asked if she could speak in private and seeing as how she did ask for it to be private, I don’t see why you need to know.” 

“Ugh,” a dry huff of what might have passed for a laugh - a cough maybe? - exited his lips. His brow was drawn tight while he looked at you. No doubt wondering where you’d gained the audacity. “Because this is my emergency department. I’m in charge of the entire thing and I think I need to be aware of what is going on with my staff.” 

“Well, maybe if you stopped acting like an ass to said staff they wouldn’t be seeking outside counsel.”

A mirthless laugh exploded from between his lips. The sound carried part of the disbelief his eyes showed while he took you in. He was no longer leaning against the counter but had his arms crossed against his chest. You weren’t sure if he was looking at you like he wanted to throttle you or found you unbelievable. Neither option would make you a winner if you guessed right.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he grumbled under his breath. “Are you a fucking counselor all of a sudden?”

“And what if I was? I would ask if you’d require my services, but we both know you’re allergic to seeking help.” 

You should’ve stopped while you were ahead. You were bringing up personal shit - inviting a possible fucking mess to happen - and yet you couldn’t help yourself. You kept poking the proverbial bear and damn it, you weren’t exactly sure you felt bad about doing it. Were you so desperate for a reaction from him - after all this time? What the hell was it going to prove? 

You watched the storm of emotions roll in. The deep set of his forehead and the dark clouds that zapped all residual warmth from his eyes. You weren’t sure if Robby was even aware he’d taken a step towards you, jaw flexing, and body slowly seeping into whatever free space you had left. 

Whatever words he would’ve said died in the aftermath of hearing shouts a few rooms down. It jarred you both out of your staring contest and sent him into action. One minute he was standing in front of you, the next, he was running to see what the commotion was. 

The second Robby was removed from your space, you took a deep breath in. Why did it feel like you were in a constant state of fight or flight? Your answer came in a set of blue eyes who homed in on you the moment Robby was gone. 

“When’s your next smoke break?” 

“Who says I still smoke?” 

“Dana, be serious. The day you quit smoking is the day hell freezes over. So - when?”

She regarded you for a moment. The scale in her mind no doubt weighed if this was going to be worth her time or possibly ruining her nicotine break. 

“I usually take it around 9:30. Why? You suddenly have the urge to open up?”

“Do you want to talk or not?.”

She could bitch, make jokes, and moan and groan all she wanted. You knew offering up a chance to talk would be all Dana would need to agree. Was it something you honestly wanted to do? Not really. Were you willing to do it so that at least you had one less person hounding you the rest of your shift? 

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Ah, what the hell. I’ll see you on break kid.” 

A sigh of relief eased through you and you prayed Dana hadn’t noticed. You didn’t think she’d agree but, now that she had, you had a tiny ounce of hope this day wasn’t going to be so much of a shit show. 

“What was all that screaming about?”

You knew the question wasn’t directed at you. Robby must have made his return and the soft laughter wasn’t what you expected to hear. 

“We seem to have involuntarily just admitted rats,” he replied. 

“You’re kidding?” Dana scoffed. 

“If only I was. Whitaker was saying it was about three or four of them.” 

“And on that note,” you drummed your hands on the counter, “I am going to 7 North.” 

It wasn’t until you went to take a step forward you noticed the weight on your left foot. A weight that felt like something was sitting directly on it. You looked down just in time to watch a rat - a damn rat - scurry off your foot to run around the edge of the nursing station. 

What you did next wasn’t your proudest moment. You even used to pride yourself on being rational when it came to rodents. The shout that clawed its way from the depths of your stomach proved you wrong at lightning speed. 

You felt your body jump backward and collide with Robby. His hands were on your hips to steady you. You were bouncing back and forth on your heels, eyes scanning the area to make sure no further surprises snuck up on you. Your arms were bunched up at your sides and you were trying to talk yourself down from sweeping the remaining area with your leg. Just for good measure.

It was the feeling of his hands on your waist, the soft sound of his chuckle touching your hair that brought you careening back down to earth. Robby was close. Not like last time when your arms touched - closer than when he followed behind you into Allan's room. Even through your scrubs, you could feel the scorching heat of his palms spreading like wildfire through the fabric that sent your heart racing. 

He should’ve let go by now. The threat of you possibly knocking him over or you both tripping and falling was over. He could let go. He could just let go, but Robby’s hands were holding you firmly in place with neither of you willing to move. You refused to look behind you - afraid of what he might see if you did.

You were afraid of what you might see if you dared to look too. 

Slowly, you took a step forward, disengaging his hands from you. The sensation of loss was instant and you almost stepped back into him. Your body and mind were at war between desire and being rational. Fuck being rational. There was nothing rational about the way your heart brutalized your ribs. The need to ask stupid fucking questions that no longer mattered. The consuming way your body craved for him to wrap his large hand around your throat, whispering words of filth into your ear. 

You had to get away before you made a mistake. 

“Sorry about that. I’m going to just, ugh, go do my rounds now.”

You didn’t turn around while you softly spoke. You may have been delusional at times, but you weren’t crazy. If you looked back and Robby’s eyes gave away any hint of emotion - anything that sparked that dying ember of hope inside you - you would crumble. 

You should’ve fought harder to stay upstairs in family medicine or threatened Gloria with firing you. You were safer there. Now, you were rushing off to remember what patient room you were going to with Robby’s cologne clinging to your skin. 

You were a pain in the ass. But you were his pain in the ass. 

Used to be, his mind reminded him. 

Could still be, came his stupid heart's reply. 

Robby used to love it when you challenged him; called him out on his bullshit. You weren’t afraid to stand in the current of his disapproval or to openly have a debate, especially when you could see he was missing something. You challenged each other to be open-minded to change, because it happened so fast, and to accept that being wrong wasn’t failure but a moment to grow and learn. 

When you both stopped being open with one another, and being honest with yourselves, was when the challenging energy took a turn. Everything felt like a confrontation. Even in moments when the constructive criticism came from colleagues - from you - it felt like an attack he had to defend against. 

Robby saw it in you too. The small hints of walls slowly being built to keep the inquiries at bay. When your responses become short and brief or not at all. 

Now, before nine o’clock, you were in the Pitt not only wreaking havoc on his already fragile mental state but accusing him of…what? When you’d thrown the counselor's comment at him, Robby wanted to rage. How many times was it the main part of your arguments near the end of your relationship that he needed to talk to somebody? Anybody. How many times did he deny it? 

You’d thrown it in from the sidelines and it jarred him so much, Robby felt disoriented. For the briefest moment, Robby forgot that you were no longer together. His mind reflexively thought you were arguing about the same old tired thing. He’d taken a step toward you and wanted to ask, “And what about you?” 

You who wasn’t as honest and open with yourself just like him. There were things left unsaid between the two of you - the things that eventually buried the hatchet too far in to safely remove. 

What about all the times he’d found you in the bathroom sitting against the tub crying in the middle of the night? Your panic attacks and OCD tendencies that started after…

Every time Robby reached out to be there for you, your response was always the same. 

“It’s nothing, Michael.”  “I’m fine.”  “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sure, Robby wasn’t open and was guarded in his own right but neither were you. Where he used to read the transcript of your emotions so delicately on your face, you’d closed yourself off to him and he no longer knew how to get in. 

An angry shout from down the South hallway thankfully tore his attention back to reality. His feet were already moving him robotically forward where he could see Olson entering Central 15. 

“Whoa, whoa what is going on?”

Robby directed the question specifically to one of his many team members in the room. Thankfully, Kiara started to explain or, more appropriately attempted to explain but he couldn’t fucking think through all the damn shouting. 

“Ok, ok, okay ENOUGH!” Robby couldn’t believe he was already raising his voice. Yelling at grown-ass adults like they were children. “This is a hospital. This isn’t ‘ The Jerry Springer Show’.” Although it was really, really starting to fucking feel like it with the morning he was having. “Ma’am, nobody’s trying to take your child. So why don’t you stay here with him while your husband talks to our social worker outside and straightens all this out?”

“Well, I don’t want him speaking for me and my son.”

It was clear by the wavering of her voice, that this was a tough spot for the mom to be in. Robby could sympathize but what he couldn’t sympathize with was starting a miniature war zone in one of his rooms. 

“Well, it is either you or him. Your son is not leaving, but you can be escorted out and even arrested if you refuse to cooperate. Nobody wants that. So you tell us. What do you want to do?”

Robby knew the answer before she replied. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this mother didn’t fiercely love her son. Whatever situation the husband did to get them in this position was unfortunate, but the only option they had now was to press forward. 

“I’m staying with my son.”

“Ok, great. You do that. Are we all on the same page here?”

The last question he sent out was rhetorical. A feeler to see if anyone else was confused about what was about to happen and if further clarification was needed. God, Robby sincerely hoped it’d all been made crystal clear what the only two real options were; the only choice being to cooperate. 

“You okay?”

Robby could see Langdon was shaken up. It could be a lot dealing with a combative patient - harder when it was a parent just trying to make the right choices for their child. You were always the best at coming in and soothing cases like this one. Somehow able to give relief and comfort while giving the most gut-wrenching news of a parent's life while calmly explaining the next steps. You were able to keep people from feeling lost in the bad news and prepare them for the onslaught of change. 

Robby waited until Langdon confirmed he and Dr. King were good before he walked out of the room. Regarding parents with kids, Robby almost forgot Teresa asked to speak with him about David. 

Central 12 was just a few steps away from Langdon’s patient. It was close to being comfortable but too close to give Robby time to think. He felt out of his element here because he was running out of options. He wanted to help Teresa, because, while she did this to help her son, she knowingly put her own life at risk to get him the help he needed. 

But isn’t that what parents did?  

At times, they blindly waded into the fire if it meant that their child would be safe. 

All Robby could do was watch and listen while he told her about how he left. While he followed up her questions with his own and did his best to try and ward off the sick feeling burying itself inside his gut. 

“Do you think David would hurt anyone?”

Even allowing the question to come out of his mouth made a rush of nausea swell back behind his tongue. He didn’t want to ask it. Nobody wants to ask any parent if they think their child - a fucking child - could be capable of harming another human being. 

Robby carried his thoughts on the reasons why young men are more prone to violence these days. With idiotic podcast hosts spewing their hatred for women who were goal-oriented and not focused on babying them like their mothers. Boys who were told to bottle up their emotions: “Don’t share your feelings. Don’t get caught crying,” unless you want to be told that you were weak. There was so much bullshit in the world for kids to have to contend with these days that Robby didn’t find it surprising a lot of them were overloaded - overwhelmed by a constant flurry from the world to be someone different than who they are. 

Robby had plenty of talks with Jake about these things. He found it easy to lean into him with the both of them connecting during shared trips and quiet nights at the house. Robby made sure his stepson knew that Robby would always be a safe place for him to land. When the world got too crazy and if he couldn’t tell his mom Janey, Robby would be there. 

Because that’s what parents do - willingly walk through fire if it meant their kid would be okay.

“The nasal swab came back negative for COVID, RSV, and Flu - which is a good thing.” 

“Then what’s wrong? What about her eyes?”

The her in question was a three-year-old named Jasmine who was vocally letting you both know that she was not in a good mood, which was very fair. Nobody liked being sick. The only issue with her actively voicing her bad mood was that any high octave screams were soon followed up by a violent cough. 

The moment you stepped inside the room you’d been worried about RSV, especially because of her age. Lungs sounded clear with slight wheezing indicated in the upper left lobe. Thankfully, all major possible viruses came back negative. The unfortunate thing was that this specific viral infection just meant mom was going to have to ride it out.

“It’s still a viral infection. The conjunctivitis, since it started coming from both eyes this morning, it’s from the infection and sinus blockage. The whites of her eyes aren’t red in any way. The best thing to do is apply a compress every few hours on the eyes to help with drainage, saline drops, or spray on the nose to help clear up the congestion and suction as often as you can. Over-the-counter cough medicine is fine unless you need a prescription?”

“No, no, it’s okay. We have some at home. So, she’s okay?”

“Yes, perfectly fine. I just recommend having her sleep elevated to help with drainage and if you have a humidifier, use it. Follow up with her pediatrician in two to three days or come back to the ER if any new or persistent symptoms occur.”

“Thank you so much, doctor.”

“You’re so welcome. Make sure to wait for a nurse before leaving. I hope you feel better, Jasmine.”

 You gave them both a wave before exiting out of the quiet of the room and back into the noise. The nurse assigned to the room came over and held out a tablet and pen for you to take. Quickly, you scribbled a signature down, because doctors were notoriously known for sketchy penmanship, and began to walk towards a nursing station. 

Technically, you did have a second option you could take before throwing yourself into the next patient room. Dr. Mohan asked to speak with you. She didn’t necessarily give a time or a preference. It was more focused on secrecy, which you found a little odd. This was Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center - it was a rare thing to have a private conversation here. You were curious to find out what it was Mohan wanted, a bigger part of you wasn’t ready for the headache of Robby undoubtedly finding out later. The worst option: is if you were the one who had to tell him to be the advocate for his resident.

The scent of his cologne still held tight to the fabric of your scrubs. Slowly, it was beginning to fade but if you leaned in close enough to your right shoulder you could almost get a hint of -

“Dr. Fullerton.”

You were a millisecond away from calling out, “I wasn’t doing anything!”. Was it too early in the shift to consider a name change?

Glancing over your shoulder, you find Gloria making her way towards you. Each step in your direction sent your fight or flight raging back into gear because fuck no. Between Gloria and Robby, the two of them were about to have you so damn stressed out there was a high chance for premature balding to occur. 

“Oh no. I’ve had enough surprises from you today.”

“I just wanted to have a chat - “

“And definitely enough of those,” you shot back. 

You weren’t exactly sure why you kept moving. If previous experiences told you anything, it was that she would follow you until you stopped on your own or she got you into a corner. At least stopping to face her was a choice compared to being cornered with no way out. 

Resigning to your fate, you took in a big meditative breath through your nose and turned around. 

“What can I help you with, Gloria?”

Your voice was so monotone you sounded like a robot. 

“I’m glad you’ve decided to stop running and actually talk to me like an adult.”

“I’m sorry, Gloria. You brought me down here to assist in decreasing triage wait times and that is what I am doing. Stopping to have a chat with you will reflect poorly on my scores.”

“Cute,” She bit back. The smile on her face was too harsh to be genuine. “Well, it’s funny you mention scores. I’ve been keeping an eye on the numbers and the system is showing barely any signs of process or improvement. Can you explain why that is?”

The simplest answer you could’ve given her came with one name, one word, and one human being. Robby. Robby was your fucking problem; the bane of your existence. 

Gloria shoved you down here not knowing all the variables that could hinder productivity. There were moments of clarity where your brilliance shined through and in a matter of seconds it evaporated again. Realistically, it was your fault. Your inability to control your stupid fucking emotions - you didn’t need to react every time you saw him. 

How could you not react when Robby did exactly the same? 

You weren’t stupid. You’d spent years, months, days, and hours with him. Every minute is accounted for in conversations and touch. It wasn’t insanity (although the jury was still out on that one) that made you believe - to fucking notice - Robby was affected too. 

But no way in hell were you divulging any of your innermost thought demons to Gloria. 

“Look around, Gloria,” you said, arms opening up to motion around the Central rooms. “There are no beds available. You ask for solid care, for good patient satisfaction scores and that requires multiple factors. To be a good doctor you have to listen to the patient's chief complaint that they’ve been waiting almost eight hours to tell you.”

“I am well aware of the current wait times in triage, Dr. Fullerton.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. Problem solved then because once we assess them and decide they need monitoring and tests to ascertain the issue, it’s only another three to six-hour wait. Maybe longer if it’s life-threatening. Not to mention if any trauma patients come rolling through the red zone adding another twenty-five to fifty minutes on their time.”

“I don’t see what any of this has to do with not having any beds. Not every situation in triage necessarily requires a bed to be seen.”

“Gloria, your precious Press Ganey scores are going to stay low if a patient doesn’t get back to a room. You can make beds available by sending people upstairs or how about removing the deceased guy in nineteen who’s been posted here since before I arrived?” 

“Robby is in charge of contacting the coroner's office about picking up the deceased.”

“And yet, the body is still here,” you pondered. “I know Robby, Gloria. He wouldn’t knowingly leave someone’s loved one here if it didn’t mean the coroner is backed up, which means our morgue must house him until then. And why are you complaining to me like I'm attending here? Robby is the attending - “

“I’m well aware of that - “

“You keep saying you’re well aware, Gloria but the fact is it feels like you’re not. It’s easy to come down here making demands but the reality is without the proper staffing and moving boarders out of the emergency department to free up space the numbers will never fucking change. Sending one doctor down here isn’t going to change shit.”

“Are you just about done, Dr. Fullerton?” She did a dramatic pause to allow you time to cut in. “The board and its administration are well aware of the pressures that staff face down here in the emergency department - that all hospitals are currently facing shortages. The fact of the matter is studies show close to seventy-five percent of ER visits are non-life threatening, which means more than half of those patients could be fairly seen in triage without needing a room.”

You could feel your mouth opening; primed for a response that Gloria was not going to let you detonate. Her hand waved to warn you not to cut her off. 

“I don't want to hear any more about boarding or staffing. I want to see the results, Dr. Fullerton. It’s already bad enough that there are rats inside.”

“To be fair, they piggybacked on an unconscious unhoused man, so,” you shrugged. If looks could kill, you’d have dropped dead right then and there. “Not helpful?”

“No. Not helpful,” she confirmed. “I do, however, have a proposition for you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. The earlier annoyance at seeing Gloria twice in less than two hours of your shift changed course. Dread ice cold and paralyzing coiled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t like where this was going. 

“Is there a pass option?”

“This is an offer from myself and the administration. So, no, there isn’t a ‘pass option.’ How would you like to be considered for an attending position?”

“No.” 

The word barreled out of you without thinking. You didn’t need to think about this proposition Gloria, the administration, or whoever was trying to dangle in front of you. It was any doctor's dream to become an attending at a facility - it made you the doctor. 

You didn’t want it like this. 

“You didn’t even hear the terms.”

“I don’t need to hear them to know that you’re trying to be sneaky.”

“Robby is failing to meet standards -“

“Robby is a fucking good physician.” You fumed. “He’s one of the best physicians in trauma medicine you have here outside of Abbot.”

“No one is disputing that, Dr. Fullerton. The board is open to having you both down here during the morning shift, maybe even making a swing shift for you to help between shifts.”

You raked your hands over your face scrubbing hard to try and cut off a mirthless laugh that came out in patches between your fingers. 

“No - you want me to be a Judas. It’ll be a swing shift until you can get whatever data you need to confirm whatever fucked up plan you’re making.”

“Dr. Fullerton -“

“No!” You didn’t mean to shout the word at her. Or maybe you had. Whatever it was, it surprised you both. You should be quieter - don’t draw attention but your heart was thrashing wildly. Your hand swiped through the air to cut her off before she could attempt to continue. You didn’t want to fucking hear it. “Robby is a damn fine physician and to try and - I don’t fucking know, get rid of him because he doesn’t kiss the boards or your ass is fucking stupid. I don’t know half of what Robby or Abbot knows. I’m not them and it would be beyond idiotic to lose him.”

“Your opinion will be taken into consideration and I’ll dismiss your…outburst, for now, because of the current situation. But make no mistake, Dr. Fullerton this will move forward with, or without, you.”

You wondered if any natural disasters were named Gloria. It seemed possible since she came and created an instant upheaval of your day, completely devastating it in a matter of minutes and once she was done simply went about her day like nothing happened.  

She left you to deal with the aftermath. The rushing thoughts with a million questions - thousands of things you should’ve said to defend Robby. There were dozens of ways you could prove her wrong about him - that he fucking cared about his patients and was such a damn good doctor, phenomenal at times, that to equate all that he was and all that he did down to a simple metric of numbers was fucking ridiculous. 

All the sound in the room began to drown out around you. Somewhere in the background of the hum you heard a shout for help. It could be Code Blue. It could be anything. You tried to get your body to react, but the hurricane of anxiety was sweeping in fast and you were running out of air. 

You needed to sit. You had to act normal because the last thing you needed was Princess or Dana or fucking anybody else coming over to speak with you. Your hands used the counter like a rope to pull you along to the nearest computer. You quickly sat down and swiped your credentials to enter the computer, quickly clicking on anything just to appear busy. 

“How are you holding up today?”

The last person you expected to see at that very moment was Heather Collins. What did you expect? This was an emergency room and doctors worked inside of it. She offered up a close-lipped smile that matched the kindness in her eyes. She was genuinely wanting to know how you were doing and for the first time, you hated the question because you couldn’t answer it. 

Not truthfully, anyway. Who was ever truthful in answering that specific question?

So, you painted on a grin that more than likely resembled a grimace and prayed you didn’t look as tired as you felt. 

“It’s been…an adjustment.”

“What’s taking adjusting?”

Good god, this man was fucking everywhere. 

Robby came into view as he moved across the station to get to the opposite computer. The question was thrown out carelessly; he didn’t expect a response. He was pulling out his glasses and sliding them over his nose, his full focus on the screen. Test results thankfully took priority over your response. 

You were quickly forgotten by Collin’s who walked over to where Robby read the test results. She waited until he removed his glasses and stood to his full height. 

“Please don’t tell me you are going to intubate that poor old man?”

“It’s what the family wants.”

“So what? They want to torture him?”

“I explained all that.” 

It was painfully obvious this was a case you knew nothing about. By the sound of it, you were willing to bet five dollars that it was one of the elderly patients from a home who came in a little after 7:30 that morning. It meant it wasn’t your case. You didn’t need to know the information and you could continue counting down backward from ten while you reminded yourself that no, you weren’t Judas and -

“Dr. Fullerton, if a family came in -“

Fucking hell, you needed to stop zoning out. You brought your attention back to the two of them, wondering what you missed.

“You don’t need to ask her,” Robby interjected.

Collins continued like he’d never spoken. 

“And they had durable power over an elderly family member who had a pre-existing DNR. His family wants to intubate. It’s not what he wants. Whose choice do you honor?”

“What are you doing?” 

A singular brow of hers arched in defiance. 

“Asking for a second opinion.”

“I didn’t ask for one.”

They continued to bicker about the decision Robby made to not fight for a dying man’s wishes. You would’ve told Collins to let it go because once Robby’s mind was made up, it was like talking to a wall. Maybe she already knew that. 

God, what fucking twilight zone episode were you stuck in? You actively wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Your eyes darted to the time on the bottom of the screen and you had to fight to keep your forehead from landing with a thud on the keyboard. It was only 9 o’clock. There were ten more hours of this day and you needed it to be over. 

Robby released a sigh that reflected how exhausted you felt. It wasn’t a physical exhaustion but one of the soul; a weariness that vines grew thorns and were beginning to tear you slowly open. You could feel your legs wanting to shift out of the chair and go to him. The urge was so strong your hands scrunched into fists to keep from moving - to quell the urge because he wasn’t yours anymore and you weren’t his. 

“Shit.”

“What?”

Robby’s best magic trick? Deflecting. Whenever he wanted the current conversation to end, and didn't like where it was heading, he diverted it completely into something else. Anything else that kept him from having to continue down a conversation he wanted no part of. You knew that trick all too well. 

“I got to go tell those parents their 18-year-old son is brain-dead.” 

“You want me to go with you?”

It should’ve been you offering to go with him. A comfort to the harbinger of bad news because it was never easy to give it. Never easy to stand in the storm of grief and simply be a bystander while their world ends in a matter of words. 

What did it matter who went with him? Who offered? At the end of the day, a family was forever going to be encapsulated by a loss too many people unfortunately knew. 

Vaguely, you caught the end of their argument. Robby wanted to perform an apnea test and a cerebral perfusion study. Dr. Collins didn’t agree. It offered the family false hope but Robby was right - maybe it did offer a false sense of hope, but with each test completed and results read off it was a graceful way to ease a family into acceptance. It gave them the time to process and grieve and come to the very heavy realization their son wouldn’t be going home with them. 

“They need time to process before they can accept what’s happening.”

“You ever consider taking that advice? Physician, heal thyself.”

Dear floor, please fucking open up wide so you can just swan dive right on in. Thanks a bunch. 

Heather knew. She fucking knew about the wall of grief - of acceptance - Robby himself was unable to accept. The King of dishing out advice left and right but unyielding in taking it. Suddenly, all the cool reserve of not caring about them dating evaporated in a crushing wave of heartbreak you shouldn’t have felt in the first place. 

Did he tell her about you? Did he share with her about…about what happened? Was he able to open up to her in ways he stopped doing with you? Their relationship was gone, but the respect and care were still there. 

The irritation came off him in waves. You should’ve told her Robby’s least favorite thing is being told to take his own advice. Or to heal for that matter. Oh, and to also maybe seek therapy. All three of those would turn his mood sour and aggravate him to peak levels at hyper speed. 

He shoved his hands down into his hoodie. His head swiveling between Collins and probably anywhere else in the ED. 

“Don’t you have patients?” 

There it was. The dismissal. The, in not so many words, “I’m done talking to you about this and everything else,” so he could make a quick exit. The magician's last trick before his temper was lost. 

Don’t look up. Do not look up. Don’t fucking do it. 

You didn’t need to look up. There wasn’t any reason to do so. You weren’t on their radar the last half of their conversation. You were just a bystander to a miniature car crash. The issue with crashes? Everyone who drove by couldn’t stop themselves from looking. 

The itch between your shoulder blades was your first warning sign. The weight of his gaze was bearing down on you. You didn’t have to react to it but it was a reflex to look up for him. To search for him in every crowded room and find yourself wishing he was there when he wasn’t. 

Your eyes found he was still looking at you. An in-house debate flashed across his features. If it was whether or not to come to you, you hope he chose not to. You just need a few moments of space. It was too much. You’d run from him and now he was just here all the time and -

“Why are you looking at puppies? You getting a dog?”

“What?”

For the first time since you’d opened the computer, you realized whoever was on it last left it open to an ad for a puppy. 

“Oh, no. This wasn’t me. Hey, earlier did someone shout a Code Blue?” 

You could also perform your own magical change of subjects. Robby took a moment to answer before giving a curt nod. 

“Whittaker’s patient that’d been placed in the hall. If you heard it, why didn’t you go assist? All hands on deck for a code, you know that.”

God, was he chastising you right now? A flood of irritation rippled over your skin. You wanted to snap at him. You weren’t a med student. But he was frustratingly right - you’d heard it and instead of running you’d kept yourself here. 

And Whitaker. It was his first patient of the day. He’d been so excited that he’d done good. He’d gotten praise from Dr. Robby about his work up and Whitaker wouldn’t shut up about it. It meant something to him. 

“I’ll go see if they need someone to switch.”

You went to get up but Robby was too close. If you got up from the chair you would bump straight into his chest. 

“You okay?”

The sudden care behind the question jarred you. How did he expect you to answer? There was no way you could be honest with him - not at that second. He was supposed to go break the worst news a parent could ever receive and he was worried about you. He should be worried for himself. You could warn him about Gloria but what good would it do if he thought you might possibly be in on it with her? Your sudden reappearance, while inconvenient, hadn’t raised suspicion like an ulterior motive waited in the wings just yet. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You?”

“Never better.”

His smile held every worn line of fatigue that signaled his lack of sleep. His attempt at strength in a moment he refused to seek outside help. You found the same words Dr. Collins asked moments before crawling their way up your throat before you swallowed them back down. He wouldn’t change his mind and agree just because it was you. 

You wanted to be there because whether he voiced it or not, this kid whose family was seconds away from being told was gone wasn’t that much older than Jake. A single accident of taking non-prescribed Xanax ended his life. Jake was a good kid. You wanted to reach out and take his hand and tell him Jake would never - Jake was different. 

Jake was still a kid. 

Robby didn’t wait for you to reply before he headed towards the room. You kept telling yourself to get up and move. Go find Whitaker and the team performing cpr on his patient and do your part. Between everything that’s happened this morning: being forced down with Robby, seeing Robby, Dr. Mohan requesting to speak with you, Gloria’s ultimatum and now the news this young kid didn’t make it you were officially mentally exhausted. 

You needed to move but by the time your legs finally lifted out of the seat, Robby told them. The mother’s wail of agony resounded through the room and rose in octaves. The soul-wrenching loss of her child, her baby, turned the Pitt into a mausoleum of mourning. Her cries followed you down the hallway until you reached the curtain where Whitaker and others were on their third round of Epi, and you could see the continued despair evident in the room. 

It was barely 9 AM and you already wanted to fucking go home. 

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

Tag list: @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @travelingmypassion @jupiter-sky @catsgoogander @rosiepoise88 @It-jakeseresin @blackpopcorn @celmentine111002 @dcgoddess

[bullet-prooflove]

Hello lovely!

7. I sleep a little deeper when you're next to me

For Dr Robby please 🙏🏻💜

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fadeinsol @before-we-get-started @gabsgabsvaz @Queensland-lover93

Companion piece to:

Crisis

Robby doesn’t sleep when you’re not beside him. He tosses and turns, he stares at the ceiling but sleep it’s illusive because his mind, it races back through the decisions he’s made throughout the day, the patients he’s lost, the ones he couldn’t save. It becomes a merry go round of faces, names, conditions, all spinning faster and faster, blurring until they’re out of control.

It’s why you find him dozing on the couch the nights you teach swim classes, the TV on in the background because it’s the only way to drown out the noise in his head.

“Hey.” You whisper, your hand cupping his cheek as you crouch down alongside him. “You having fun watching E.R?”

“What?” He grumbles, his gaze coming to rest on the TV where he sees his doppelganger. “For fucks sake, I hate this fucking show.”

You smile as he fumbles for the remote, stabbing at the button with his finger until the screen turns black. You slip into his lap, thighs straddling his hips and his arms wrap around you, drawing you close until he can feel your heart thundering against his chest.

This shit right here, it’s like ASMR for his soul.

He buries his face into the curve of your throat, immersing himself in your proximity. Your fingers comb through his hair and he can feel the tension in muscles unfurling as his grip tightens.

“I think it’s time for bed, don’t you?” You murmur, your lips brushing over his temple. He nods his agreement before he raises to his feet, lifting you with him because he can’t stand to be apart from you right now, he needs you right here pressed against him.

“Robby, your back…”

“Don’t care.” He tells you as he carries you into the bedroom. “All I care about right now is you.”

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[science-hoes]

Afterglow

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex, angst but then smut

A/N: I had been trying so hard to finish up this one! I love writing for angsty Robby that ends up being happy in the end. I just love my tortured lil guy with brown eyes.

—

You could feel somebody’s eyes burning a hole through your head as you finished charting for your last patient of the shift. You knew it was Robby. The patient was a young woman who had come in after fainting for the first time. Robby suggested dysautonomia and wanted to discharge after observation, but you weren’t so sure. So you ordered an EKG, revealing a second degree Monitz Type 1 heart block. These were benign but important to explain her fainting. The only problem? You did it after Robby explicitly told you no.

Your relationship with Robby was perfect. Most of the time. He provided for you, cared for you, and protected you. And you were eager to reciprocate it. After a year of dating, you both kept the privacy of your relationship at work. Only Dana and Abbot knew. Robby treated you like every other resident, but sometimes, that wasn’t a good thing.

You finished typing in the chart and logged out of the computer. You stood, ready to go grab your backpack and head home. But when you turned around, Robby was towering over you with his arms crossed.

“We need to talk.” He said gruffly.

You raised an eyebrow, not able to read the emotions behind his eyes. “About…?” You asked.

“I told you not to order the EKG for Room 3. Explain to me how that got lost in translation.” His eyes were narrowed, and you grew uncomfortable under his piercing gaze.

You crossed your arms, mirroring him. “Because she’s an athlete. Second degree Type 1 is very common in young female athletes.” You stated firmly.

“Which is also benign. The dysautonomia could also account for her fainting.” He countered.

You shook your head in confusion. “I don’t understand. We helped a young woman learn about a block that could be a problem down the road. What is the problem?” You asked.

Robby chuckled, but you knew that laugh. The one before he blew up on a medical student. “The problem is that you went behind my back and ordered an EKG I explicitly told you not to.” He explained, bordering condescending.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Because I didn’t think your diagnosis was correct.” You responded, feeling anxiety rush through your veins as you stood up for yourself.

He shook his head “I don’t care. You are the resident, and I am the attending.”

He pulled his rank on you. He’s never done that. Even before you were dating. You huffed and clenched your jaw. “But I was right.” You said.

“You were right this time. But making a habit of defying your superiors can lead to somebody dying.”

“But-“

“I don’t want to hear excuses, I want to hear ‘yes, sir.’ Do you understand me?” Robby said, nostrils flared, face red.

You could not BELIEVE the audacity of this man. You looked around, and every single person in the Pitt had their eyes on you. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and tears stung your eyes. “Yes, sir.” You hissed.

Robby watched you storm off to the doctor’s lounge. The anger in his chest began to dissipate as he looked around the room and noticed the scene he had caused. “Get back to work.” He ordered, and everyone began to awkwardly continue about their shift.

He sat down at the desk you had been working at and rubbed his hands on his face. Regret began to sink in.

“Hey, man. What the fuck was that?” He heard Dana ask him.

Robby looked up and shook his head. “I don’t know.” Was all he managed to say.

“Well, you just humiliated a resident and your girlfriend in front of the whole Pitt. Let’s start there.” Dana said as she sat down next to him.

“She went behind my back and-“

“Yeah, yeah, I heard the story. Everyone did.” Dana deadpanned, and Robby rolled his eyes. “Why did you feel the need to berate her like that?”

Robby shrugged. “I didn’t berate her. I had to remind her that she can’t just defy orders as a resident. That could both of us in trouble if something bad happened.” He explained.

“Sure, that makes sense. But you were a dick about it.” Dana replied.

“It just happened. I was angry.”

Dana leaned in closer, keeping her voice quiet in case any nosy nurses were listening. “You are in a relationship with a power imbalance. Maybe it’s equal at home, but not here. You can’t just drill her like that.”

“I have to treat her like she is a junior resident. I can’t give her special treatment because she’s my girlfriend.”

Dana laughed, unable to handle how dense Robby was being. “Special treatment? Robby, you are way harder on her than you are on anybody else in the Pitt. Even the senior residents.”

Robby looked to Dana. “She is defying me in front of the senior residents.” He defended.

“She is standing up for herself. Just like Langdon, just like Collins, just like any resident would. Whatever pride is getting in the way of your relationship, you need to let it go.”

“It’s not pride.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Dana sighed heavily. “Robby, I have seen you in a work relationship up close. You did not act this way to Collins. But I also know you didn’t love Collins.”

Robby felt an internal sting of guilt at the mention of his past relationship. But Dana was right. “What’s your point?”

“You are about to destroy the one thing that makes you a tolerable person.” Dana said bluntly.

Robby sat there for a moment, the words echoing in his ears. He had never considered that he might be hurting your relationship. All he was worried about at work was turning you into the best physician. Even if that came with tough love. But today wasn’t tough love. It was his pride and arrogance pushing through the surface and bearing its ugly teeth.

“You had better go and get her before she’s gone.” Dana’s words snapped him out of his thoughts.

Robby nodded and stood up. He squeezed Dana’s shoulder. “Thanks.” He said.

Dana leaned back in her chair as Robby turned to leave. “First relationship counseling session is free. Next one, I’m charging 50 bucks.” She teased.

Normally, Robby would have made a sarcastic comment back, but the only thing he could think about as he walked to the doctor’s lounge was you. He opened the door to the lounge, and his heart sank when he saw that your belongings were already gone. So, he collected his backpack and hurried out the door to your apartment.

—

You managed to hold it together until you got home. You dropped your backpack on the ground and burst into tears. Robby had never yelled at you like that, and honestly, you were a little frightened by it. You knew he would never lay a (non-consensual) finger on you, but you never imagined you would be on the receiving end of his meltdowns.

You collapsed onto your bed and pulled the pillow to your chest as you cried. The image of Robby’s angry red face was terrorizing your mind. And even worse, you felt unstable in the relationship for the first time. You had never fought with Robby, not really. Tiny arguments over thermostat settings were the worst altercations, and you both laughed the whole time.

The age gap between you and Robby was not a problem. You both had an honest conversation about what it would mean to work with each other before you started officially dating. There had not been any issue. Sure, you noticed that he was more critical of your work. You figured you deserved it, but you didn’t notice any difference between that and the criticism he held for other residents.

You heard the front door lock click, and the door opened. “Hey, kid. I’m home.” A voice called out.

You suddenly felt anger bubble in your chest. Robby walked around the apartment for a moment until he saw you through the open bedroom door, curled up with the pillow. He sat down on the opposite side of the bed, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry.”

The words didn’t mean anything to you. You wanted to yell and scream and get back at him. Make him feel as bad as you did. But you didn’t. That wasn’t healthy.

Robby took your silence as the response. “I fucked up today. I belittled you in front of everyone, and I didn’t respect your education and decisions.” He continued.

You watched him through teary eyes. And it broke his heart. He wanted to hold you close and wipe them away and kiss the stains they made on your cheeks. But he knew he caused them. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anxious tic.

“I know you’re mad. And I know that you will be for a while. I let my pride and arrogance get ahead of me, and I didn’t respect you as a resident.” He said and reached a hand to stroke your hair out of your face. “But more importantly, I didn’t respect you as my girlfriend. My partner.” He added.

You felt the anger begin to dwindle but kept your guard up. “You‘ve never yelled at me like that.” You whispered and a fresh wave of tears streamed down your face.

Robby felt like a knife was twisting in his chest at the sight of you. “I know. And I’ll never do it again. That’s a promise.” He replied. “I know I’m harder on you than the other residents. I just want you to be the best physician. Better than me.”

You rolled your eyes at his answer. “Shouldn’t you want all of your residents to be the best?” You asked.

Robby bit his bottom lip in thought. “Yes. But I want you to be better than all of them.” He said.

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. He loved you. He said he loved you. Robby had never dared utter the words prematurely. Sure, you knew you loved him months ago. But you weren’t going to risk scaring him off if he wasn’t ready for that.

“I love you, kid.” He reiterated when he saw that you were processing his words carefully. “And I have for a long time. You have shown me what it means to be happy. I used to dread waking up every morning, and now I wake up with you by my side. Every decision I make is for you. For our future. You are my anchor to reality. I was scared to say it because I didn’t want karma or fate or whatever to take you away from me.”

Your face softened, but the tears kept coming. For a different reason this time. You reached your hand out and pulled him by the strings of his hoodie to lie down next to you. Robby’s sad brown eyes began to well with tears as he stared into yours.

“Do you love me?” He asked, scared like a child.

You realized you hadn’t said anything since his initial confession. A smile graced your lips, just slightly. “Michael, I love you more than anything.” You whispered.

Relief washed over Robby’s face, and his heart skipped a beat when you said his first name, which you rarely did. Only in intimate moments like this. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, the tears starting to fall down his face, but not wanting to push boundaries if you were still upset.

You answered by leaning in and capturing his lips with yours. Robby wrapped his arms around you tightly, afraid you would disappear if he let go. The kiss was not hot or desperate like the ones you were used to after a long shift. This one was slow and soft. He pulled gently at your top lip and took advantage of your ensuing moan to slip his tongue in your mouth. You let him explore like it was your first kiss and slid your own tongue against his.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” He whispered into your mouth over and over.

You ran your fingers through his dark thinning hair and anchored them at the base of his neck, guaranteeing that his lips couldn’t leave yours. His beard began to burn against your chin, but you didn’t care.

“I love you.” You whispered in return.

Robby’s mouth finally left your lips and began kissing anything he could find. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your jaw. Moving down to your neck, sucking gently but not leaving a mark, as according to the rules you both set for work. The hot open-mouthed kisses on your carotid sent chills down your spine, and you squirmed in his grasp, legs weaving between his. He tugged at your scrub top, and you momentarily left his grasp to pull it off.

Once you were back in his arms, Robby’s mouth latched to your chest, pressing more kisses down the valley of your breasts. His hands expertly unlatched your bra in the back, exposing your soft nipples to the cold air of the room. His beard tickled your skin as he moved to your right breast. Your head dropped back on the pillow when his tongue glided across your nipple, making circles to excite it. Once it hardened, he took the bud in between his teeth and sucked gently.

A shaky breath left your lungs, the polarity of sensations driving you crazy. One of your hands remained in his hair as he nursed on you, the other digging into the skin of his back. After what he deemed enough time for your right breast, he moved to the left one, giving in the same treatment.

It wasn’t like Robby to move slowly like this. Usually, he had you on your stomach, ass in the air, and pounding away within five minutes of getting home. But he didn’t want to fuck you tonight. He wanted to show you his love.

You finally pulled at his hoodie, wanting to feel more of his skin on yours. He sat up, a small smile on his face, and shed both his scrub top and hoodie, exposing his broad but toned upper body. He fell back down to you, but moved lower this time. His mouth left kisses down from your breasts to your navel, fingers pulling at the waistband of your scrub pants and underwear. As you lifted your hips to help remove them, he left love bites along your waist, which was fair game.

When he tossed your scrubs and panties aside, Robby lifted your thighs, placing them on his shoulders. This position you were very familiar with. He planted kisses on the inside of your thighs, met with slick wetness as he got closer to your weeping pussy. You could feel him smile from the way his beard moved against your skin. It didn’t matter if he was fucking you after work or eating you out while on break in the call room, it boosted his confidence tenfold to know how wet you got for him.

“All this for me?” He asked, looking up to you those boyish brown eyes glistening in the dark light of the room.

You breathed a laugh, squeezing your thighs a bit around his shoulders. “Only for you.” You confirmed.

“That’s right.” He breathed.

His tongue gently teased your slick folds. His mouth began to water once he could taste you, and he needed more. He tightened his grip on your hips and buried his face in between your legs, ungodly sounds coming from his throat as he devoured you.

You screamed and twisted the bedsheets in your fists. Your thighs squeezed around his neck involuntarily, and it drove him crazy. He reached a hand down to your mound and rubbed strong circles with his thumb as he ate away at your pussy. You didn’t have to tell him that you were close. He knew by the way your hips bucked into his mouth that you were losing control.

“Come for me, baby girl.” He mumbled against you.

The white hot sensation exploded from your core across your body after another few expert maneuvers with his tongue. He lapped up all of the juices that spilled onto his tongue, swallowing them like a starving man. His free hand rubbed soothing circles on your abdomen as your body finally went limp.

Robby kissed your inner thighs when he finished his meal and moved back up the bed, hovering over you. His beard glistened with your juices, and you pulled him down to kiss them off.

“You got one more in you?” He asked, gently pressing his clothed hips against yours.

You smiled and reached for the drawstring of his scrub pants. “Always.” You whispered.

Robby kicked off his scrub pants and boxer briefs, unleashing his painfully hard cock, already leaking with precum. You instinctively started to roll onto your stomach, but he grabbed your hips, planting them firmly against the bed.

“No. I want to look at you while I fuck you tonight.” He said.

Even after a year, Robby could still make you blush. You nodded, spreading your thighs as he centered himself at your pussy. He pushed in slowly, his cock filling you out completely. You unconsciously moaned the entire time until he bottomed out. He pressed a kiss against your neck as he pulled out again.

“That’s a good girl.” He breathed.

His hips began to thrust, making a slow but intentional pace. He indulged in every pitiful sound that fell from your lips as he gently fucked you.

“You feel so good.” You managed to mumble into his ear.

He grinned and pressed a kiss to your cheek, then resting his forehead against yours. The thin gold chain that hung around his neck slapped your chin with every thrust, the cool metal providing an extra sensation to your already overstimulated body. Your fingers dug into his back, scratching and slipping on his sweaty skin.

“I’ll make you feel better.” Robby said, and he pushed your knees to your chest, ankles around his shoulders, compressing his cock even more within your walls.

You let out a string of explicatives as the new position enhanced your pleasure. Robby chuckled as he continued to thrust, slowly picking up more speed. Tears squeezed through your eyes as your second orgasm began to rise. And like always, he knew you were getting close.

“That’s it, baby girl.” He praised, his pace unfaltering.

Your second orgasm hit stronger than the first, rendering you numb and weak. Robby kept pounding against you, struggling to maintain a consistent pace as his own orgasm was nearing. But just like he could sense yours, you knew when he was about to come.

“Come inside me.” You begged, the first time you had ever requested it.

Robby’s eyes widened, and he grunted as he tried to hold off his orgasm. “Are you-are you sure?” He asked, squeezing your waist tightly.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. Please come in me. I want to feel you.” You pleaded again.

A small grin made its way to Robby’s face. But the thought was too exciting for him, and his orgasm hit him harder and faster than he was used to. You could feel each hot spurt of cum coat your walls, each pulse of his veined cock twitch inside you. His arms trembled, and he collapsed on top of you, the weight of his body rather comforting.

You rubbed soothing circles on his back and kissed his sweat-covered forehead. “I love you, Michael Robinavitch.” You whispered.

Robby smiled as his head rested on your bare chest, listening to your heartbeat. “I love you, kid.” He responded, feeling happiest he had ever been.

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 1 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 1: I Love You

Synopsis: You and Jack survived the horrors of war together. But when the dust settled, you realised that coming home and going back to the way things used to be were two very different things. Though you and Jack parted ways romantically, the bond you shared remained, shaped by a past neither of you could forget. With Robby, it was different. Loving him was easy and he loved you deeply in return. But when Robby walked away, haunted by his own unresolved pain, your world shattered. Still, you continued to show up - for your patients, your colleagues and somehow for yourself. Until a patient presents with injuries that mirror your own past trauma and the unspoken tension between you, Jack and Robby resurfaces, threatening to unravel everything you’ve tried to move past.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies and heartbreak >>> Girlies this will be super sad,,,with some comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1079

A/n: The Pitt and our saddest boys have literally pulled me out of tumblr retirement!! If love triangles aren't your thing, I apologize in advance... Couldn't decide between the two, now they're both the reader's exes... Bon appétit.

Next Chapter (2): Please Forgive Me

Your breaths are ragged, uneven. You try to steady yourself on the gurney, but everything feels unreal. Desperate, you search for something to anchor you in reality. You glance down at your hands. They look strange, pressing into the patient’s chest in a rhythm you know all too well.

A familiar voice cuts through the haze, but you don’t react.

The voice comes again, "Y/N?"

“Fuck, Robby! I’ve got it okay?!” You snap, your hands moving on autopilot.

Shit. You really didn’t mean that.

A few faint gasps from the staff break the silence. It’s like you’ve been ripped out of a nightmare. Robby used to do that, be your lifeline when the terrors threatened to pull you under.

You huff a shaky breath, searching his eyes for something, though you're not sure what. But you find it. He doesn’t say anything, yet somehow, comfort floods you. And guilt, so much guilt.

Robby steps closer, arms crossed, pressing his lips together before he tries again. Softer, like a whisper in the night, "Are we ready to call it?"

The question snaps you back to the present. "No. No!" You share a quick glance with Jack, who is working the patient with you.

"Okay. Hold compressions", Robby says gently, but firm.

You comply, everyone's eyes fixed on the monitor, dread setting in.

"Still in asystole", you hear Donnie behind you.

Jack motions for you to switch out. You step back and he resumes.

"Let’s push one more round of epi", you beg, eyes bouncing between Jack and Robby.

Robby nods. Mateo pushes another amp, as you take over compressions for another round.

Robby checks his watch. "That’s it. Stop compressions", a familiar sadness in his voice.

You comply eventually, but cannot bring yourself to look up.

The air is thick, suffocating.

Jack calls it, knowing you can't. "Time of death, 12:36".

A breath escapes you that you didn’t realize you were holding. You look at the woman lying before you and see yourself.

Still. Sleeping. Almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the tube down her throat. Gently, you touch her hand. "I’m so sorry", you whisper.

"Why don’t we take a minute and then debrief with Kiara?", Robby suggests. The nurses and techs leave the room quietly.

You stay, frozen. Jack and Robby don’t move either.

"I can do the notification, Y/N...", Robby offers softly.

"I'll do it", you counter too harshly.

Robby and Jack exchange a look. You pretend you don’t see it.

Jack opens the door to the family room, holding it as you step inside cautiously, Robby following behind. You all sit, facing the husband of your deceased patient.

The weight of what you’re about to say hangs heavy in the air. You wait, just one more minute, as if delaying it could change the outcome.

You study the husband's eyes: fear, hope, maybe both. Every movement feels deliberate. You're about to shatter this man's world. And he will hate you for it.

You begin to speak, your words soft and measured.

Dana watches you through the glass doors. The husband's sobs echo through the hallway, the sound raw and aching.

"Do you think she was-" The husband can't finish the thought.

"Scared?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitates, then nods.

"No", you answer gently.

You feel Jack and Robby’s eyes on you, their sadness palpable. You don’t look at them, but the image of Robby is burned into your mind. The lines on his forehead deepening, his eye twitching at the painful memory, his jaw tight as if holding back words he can’t say.

Jack is harder to ignore. You feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and familiar, like a silent plea for forgiveness. You remember how his lips press together, the corners of his mouth pulling downward, like he’s exhaling a grief too big to contain. You've seen him break and mend over the years, unaware of the love he still carries for you.

You lean in, your voice soft: "I believe she thought about her loved ones. How much you made her laugh with your silly jokes. How she loved you and how deeply you loved her in return."

The husband lets out a strangled sob. He tries hard to keep it in, but it escapes anyway. "I don't know..."

You pause.

"I do."

He meets your gaze and it hits him.

Somehow, him realising that you're speaking from experience triggers something buried deep inside you.

Your pulse quickens, your vision blurs. You excuse yourself with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "Our social worker, Kiara, will talk to you about the next steps. Again, I’m so very sorry."

Jack and Robby watch you leave, grief and guilt washing over them all over again.

You just need to be somewhere else, away from their eyes, away from the memories.

Your confession still hangs heavy in the air. Robby and Jack don’t speak, there’s nothing to say, only the fear creeping in that something isn’t right.

They exchange a brief look before moving in sync towards the stairwell, urgency in their steps, knowing the one place you go when the world feels too heavy, when you need to breathe.

But when they open the door to the roof, the air is empty. No familiar figure standing behind the railing, staring out at the city. Just the harsh wind and the distant noise of the world below.

Robby's eyes dart across the rooftop, taking in the emptiness. His chest tightens, panic rising, “She’s not here.”

Jack's thoughts spiral back to the moment they saw you leave the room. The confession. The look in your eyes. The sudden shift in your energy, the weight of something you hadn’t shared before.

Robby rushes towards the railing, peeking over the edge. He doesn’t want to entertain the possibility, but the image of you disappearing over the ledge flashes in his mind and for a moment, it paralyzes him.

"Robby, stop", Jack's voice is sharp, his eyes scan the space around them, desperately looking for anything that makes sense. But he can't bring himself to look over the edge. He won’t. Not yet.

Jack's been through this with you before, he's seen you at your lowest. And vice versa. But tonight, something's different.

“Where would she go?” Robby asks, voice barely a whisper, now full of dread.

"She wouldn’t just leave. Not like this." Jack's voice trembles, trying to convince himself more than Robby.

Thanks for reading hehe. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It's pretty heavy, but sets the tone for the rest of the series. Pls come back for Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist. ♡

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Amazing Pitt fanfiction! Thoughts on maybe Robby and an old fling from med school winding up in the Pitt? I’m all about the angst!

thank uuuuu!! did a little spin on it and added an ER reference! hope you enjoy!

Second Shift

Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinivitch

Summary: You and Dr. Robby were once inseparable—two brilliant, wildly competitive med students who fell in love between rotations and sleepless nights at Cook County General. But that was years ago. He went to Pittsburgh. You stayed in Chicago. And that was that. Until now. You’ve just been offered the department head role at a top trauma center in Pittsburgh. And on your first day, you finally realize why the offer sounded so familiar.

You should’ve put it together sooner.

The trauma center in Pittsburgh. The opening in the surgical department. The vague mention in the offer letter of a “well-established trauma attending with seniority.”

But you didn’t. Not until you walked through the automatic doors of The Pitt, stepped into the hallway, and ran face-to-face into him.

Dr. Robby.

Older. Still sharp around the eyes. Still annoyingly unreadable. Still the man who once fell asleep on your shoulder in the med school library after pulling a thirty-six hour shift—who once kissed you in the supply closet between rounds and whispered, “Don’t fall in love with me,” like he didn’t already know you had.

You both froze.

His gaze dropped to your badge, flicked back up to your eyes.

“You’re the new chief of surgery.”

You exhaled slowly. “You’re still terrible at hellos.”

He didn’t smile. Not really. But there was a flicker of something familiar in his expression—something halfway between curiosity and regret.

He stared at you for a long moment. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

You stared back longingly, taking all his features. “I didn’t realize I had to.”

And then you were paged. He nodded once and the shift began.

It was awkward as hell.

Consults were sharp, clipped, too professional. He stood just a little too straight when you were in the room. You kept your notes a little too neat.

He referred to you as “Doctor” like the word burned his tongue. You didn’t call him anything at all.

And yet—You still noticed the way his hand brushed against yours as you reached for the same chart. He still waited for you to finish speaking before jumping in, even when he disagreed. You still caught him watching you as you examined a post-op trauma case. He still leaned in just a fraction too close when he passed you in the hallway.

Like muscle memory. Like nothing had ever changed.

By the time your shift ended, your shoulders ached from the weight of it—of old tension, of unspoken things.

You turned down the hallway toward the staff elevators, just wanting to make it to your car before you fell apart—

“Wait.”

His voice behind you.

You turned. Slowly.

Robby stepped toward you, hands in his pockets, eyes unreadable.

“What changed?” he asked. “You wouldn’t leave Chicago for anything. You—” He paused, jaw tightening. “You wouldn’t leave for me.”

The words hung in the air. Heavy. Sharp.

You swallowed. “That was a long time ago.”

“You came to my hospital.”

“I didn’t know it was yours.”

His eyes darkened. “You didn’t know it was me? Not once in the interview? In the paperwork? Pittsburgh didn’t set off any alarms?”

You exhaled. “I knew I was following a ghost. I just didn’t think it’d still be you.”

That stopped him. For a second, he looked almost — hurt.

“Why now?” he asked. Quiet. But firm. “Why Pittsburgh?”

You looked at him. Really looked at him. He was older. Sharper. The lines on his face deeper. But the way he looked at you — that hadn’t changed.

“Because it’s been long enough,” you said, voice softer now. “Because Chicago didn’t feel like home anymore. Because every hospital started to feel the same. And maybe…”

He tilted his head. “Maybe what?”

You hesitated. Then stepped in. Close. Close enough to smell the soap on his hands, the exhaustion in his shoulders.

“Maybe I was done running.”

A breath caught in his throat. “You left me.”

“I stayed,” you corrected. “You were the one who took the offer and left.”

“I asked you to come with me.”

“I asked you to wait.”

The air between you crackled.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Robby,” you whispered.

“I don’t either,” he said, hoarse now. “But you’re here. And if there’s even the smallest chance…”

He didn’t finish. Didn’t have to. You leaned up. Pressed your lips to his — soft, certain, final. He froze for half a second. Then kissed you back.

When you pulled away, your voice was low. Steady. “Pick me up Friday. Eight o’clock.”

He blinked, stunned.

You gave him a faint smile and turned to walk away, calling over your shoulder—“We can talk all night.”

And just like that, you finally left Chicago behind.

[sikayeto]

[2000] Thursday the 27th

-------------------------------------------------------

[michael robinavitch x offspring/daughter reader]

[tw: assault and violence]

[summary: another missed dinner, another gasp for air]

[a/n: this is unedited! but i hope you enjoy anyways!]

MASTERLIST

[1]

-------------------------------------------------------

There’s an overwhelming sense of relief. Hearing the words, “You passed,” come out from your instructor’s lips felt like a dream. A dream you’ve had for the past 6 months. And it came true. It’s a reality. Wet tears stream down your face. A choked sob escapes from depth inside of you. 

6 months ago, you failed your final nursing practical exam. Through constant practice, and weekly counselling sessions, you’ve overcome this obstacle that derailed you from your life plans. No longer would the label of “FAILURE” hang above your head. You’re back on track. Exactly where you need to be now.

Leaving the testing room, you pull out your phone and send off a text to your Dad.

[Hey! You’re coming home for dinner, right?]

[I sure hope so]

[Great! I’m making roast and veggies!]

[What’s the occasion?]

[You’ll find out soon!]

[See you at 8!] Read

Warmth rushes into you, and floods your carcass with each breath you take. The weight of the world placed upon your shoulders as you balanced on a delicate pedestal, no longer threatens to make you fall. The bright fluorescent overhead lights of the college didn’t burn your retinas. Instead they highlighted the shades and hues of the furniture and walls. Picked with the sole purpose of uplifting the moods of students. Is this what happiness felt like? Is this how normal people feel?

Ecstatic. Giddy. Delighted. Happy.

Excited. You haven’t felt excitement in who knows how long. You get to tell your Dad the good news. But first, you have to make dinner.

- - -

The apartment is bathed in the warm yellow of lamps and other light fixtures. Honey Glazed ham wafts through the kitchen and permeates the rest of the premises. Singing and dancing along to “The Winner Takes It All” harmonizing from the vinyl player, Reggie makes figure eights between your legs. You pause every now and then to stir a pot of sauce or saute a side dish on the stove. Eyes fluttering every now and then to the clock. Counting down the minutes to your Dad’s arrival. 

Good news. You get to tell him the good news. 

The oven timer reaches 0, and beeps. Snapping out of it, you grab the oven mitts nearby and take the roast ham from the oven. The glaze on the ham glistens and shines. Steam wisps from its flesh, teasing your olfactory senses with the promise of a sweet and savoury supper. Mashed potatoes are plated next. Whipped to perfection with thick cream and salted butter. A side of oil roasted seasonal vegetables are placed down on the dining table next. A fork stabs one of the carrot pieces and directs the morsel to your mouth. The carrots flavour blooms on your tongue. The texture, you find, is just right. Not too crunchy, and not mush either. 

Looking at the meal you’ve painstakingly prepared, another emotion emerges from you. Pride. You’re proud of yourself. It’s been so long, you’ve forgotten what that feels like. 

A quick glance at the clock tells you that your Dad is due to arrive home soon. 

You start cleaning up the kitchen. Washing the dishes you left in the sink, and wiping down surfaces. Losing yourself to the dulcet tones of the vinyl player and the peace that lays on you like a familiar blanket. 

Eyes instinctively gravitate to the clock. 

8:10pm

That’s not a problem. He’ll be here any minute now. 

8:30pm

He probably just got held up. Any minute now.

9:15pm

He works at the ER. If he’s late, there’s somebody’s life on the line. He’ll be here.

10:00pm.

You sit at the dining table. The ham’s gone cold.

The screen of your phone illuminates from where it lays on the table. Hope sparks from within. Picking it up reveals a text message from one of your classmates. 

[We’re at the Pearl celebrating! They’re playing Sabrina! Get here ASAAAAAAP!!!!]

      [...]

     [Be there in 30 :)]

- - -

“Busy Woman” blasted from the base speakers of the club. Bodies crowded each other on the dance floor, a flurry of motioning limbs. 2 drinks in and you’ve melded together with the rest of the population. The music replaces the neurotransmitters telling your muscles to contract and move to the beat. Bringing your cup to your lips, no liquid reaches them. Realization dawns on you that your cup’s empty. You grab the attention of your group of classmates on the dance floor with you, motioning to your empty cup, and then pointing at the bar. One of the girls nods in understanding. 

You maneuver around the people blocking your way to your next drink. Reaching the sticky front counter of the bar, you catch the attention of the bartender.

“What can I get you?” he yells over the music.

“Gin and coke please!” you shout back.

He gives you a thumbs up and starts making the drink. You busy yourself with your phone as you wait. A glass with bubbling dark liquid appears in front of you. A quick thanks and you’re back to the dance floor.

That last drink might’ve been too much for you to handle. The world spins more than you're comfortable with. There’s a heaviness in your gut, and the faint taste of acidic vomit in the back of your throat. 

Everything in slow motion. Strobe lights flash in and out of your view. Bones and sinew that used to be so hollow and light, are now made of lead. Trying its hardest in tandem with gravity to drag you down, down, down to the disgusting floor. Stumbling like a newborn fawn, making your best attempt at making it to the equally disgusting bathroom. 

With all your withered might, the bathroom door swings open and bangs against the wall.

Leaning against the wall, hands reaching for the cold porcelain of the singular sink. The press on nails you put on in a hurry before you left the apartment, dig into your fingers with how hard you grip the sides of the sink. You see glimpses of the sequins of your too short dress, in between leaning your head down and looking at the cracked mirror. 

Burning pain emerges from your scalp as your head is forcefully pulled back. A hand pressed against your mouth muffles your scream. In the mirror is the bartender. He grasps the back of your skull and slams your head into the mirror.

Everything goes black.

- - -

Regaining consciousness wasn’t a better experience. He straddles your prone body. You’re on the bathroom floor and his hands are wrapped around your throat. Every cell in your body burns because you’re starving for oxygen. Hands flailing to find some sort of relief or purchase. Trying desperately to pry away the bones that have viced your airway. Start patting aimlessly around the tiled floor. Pain shoots from the tip of your finger as it touches something sharp. The bartender looks as if he’s somewhere far away. You grasp on to the makeshift blade and stinging red blooms from your palm. With all your strength, you swing your arm towards the bartender. The large shard of glass you grabbed, deeply pierces the side of his torso. If you guessed, somewhere probably between the 4th and 5th left lateral ribs. The bartender falls back in shock at the sudden foreign body that entered his. Blood leaks from the open wound in steady rivets. You lean up on your elbows, gulping down gallons of air. 

Now, the bartender lays prone on the dirty floor. Hands weakly trying to stem the flow of life leaving his body. Everything stills, and the only thing you can hear is the sounds of your breathing and the beat of your heart.

The bathroom door opens, and a random girl enters. One glance at the scene in front of her, and she screams.

You don’t remember the ride to the hospital in the ambulance. You remember the sirens, the lights, but whatever you had in your system was still wreaking havoc.

Wheeled into the ER on a gurney, you hear the paramedic yell out, “21 year old female, drowsy but oriented times 3, possible head trauma. Respiration rate of 8 and O2 sats at 85% on 10L. Heart Rate is 115 and BP is 95/80. We think she got drugged with something and gave her intranasal naloxone but it’s not having any effect on her vitals”.

The ER lights forcefully invade your pupils, and you squint in an effort to adjust. You hear your name called out in surprise. Trying to focus on the source of your name, your eyes adjust to reveal a doctor.

“Uncle Jack?”

[heavens-crown]

And they were Neighbors Pt.1

A/N: In this Robby is 46 about to turn 47 since honestly he looks a little too good imo to be over 50. This is also going to eventually get real smut heavy as they develop their situationship.

{Master List}

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, eventual smut, angst, lots of flirty behavior

If you had asked Robby what would’ve come of him taking up his neighbor on having some baked goods over coffee he would’ve said nothing would come of it besides maybe some friendship. That was 3 months ago, now? Now he’d tell you he wasn’t expecting for it to turn into a rather interesting situationship with someone seventeen years his junior. 

3 months ago 

Trudging down the hall to his apartment Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch wanted nothing more than to lay down on his couch and try to take a much earned nap. The day had been crazy with an overflowing waiting room, two separate drug overdoses, and hospital administration breathing down his neck. What was supposed to be a simple overnight 12 hour shift turned into 16 hours when victims in a massive car wreck were brought in. Sometimes he wondered why he truly stayed in the profession, between all the death and chaos it was harder to remember why this had been his passion. 

Robby was almost to his apartment not paying attention when all of a sudden he collided with another person. Catching them before they could fall he began to apologize. 

“Shit i am so sorry,” He began. “Are you ok? I wasn’t paying much attention and didn’t see you there.” The woman he had collided with merely laughed and shook her hair out of her face. Stepping back she smiled up at him.

“You’re good dude, don't sweat it. Truthfully I wasn't paying attention either,” She chuckled. Robby also chuckled for a moment before taking a moment to study the woman in front of him. She was a tiny thing standing no taller than maybe 5’4. He could see tattoos peeking out from beneath her long sleeve top and a lip ring glinted from the middle of her bottom lip. Her dark brown eyes were framed by purple and blue bangs that matched the rest of her hair. 

“I’m Robby by the way,” Robby said. Sticking out her hand to shake his, she smiled up at him.

“I’m Delilah, I just moved into apartment 250.” Now it made sense why he had never seen her before. Apartment 250 was right next to his and had remained vacant for a few months now while the landlord was conducting repairs. 

“Wonderful to meet you Delilah, I live at 260 right next to you. I promise i won’t throw any crazy parties past 10pm,” Delilah laughed and wrinkled her nose. 

“You better keep to that sir, cause ill call the police at 10:01 exactly,” She joked. “Are you in the medical field?” 

“I work at the ER, how’d you know?” Robby asked. Pointing at his hoodie with the hospital's logo Delilah shrugged.

“Lucky guess, I was gonna say if you have a particularly rough shift you’re more than welcome to drop by for some muffins and coffee.” She offered. Slightly thrown by the offer Robby didn’t know what to say for a moment. When that moment stretched a little too long and he remembered normal people would usually respond by now he almost tripped over his words.

“That sounds fantastic, It’s a date.” He immediately kicked himself for his choice of words. Delilah didn’t seem to notice or mind his answer. 

“Sounds great to me. I gotta get going, see you later Robby!” With that she was brushing past him toward the elevator. 

It took Robby a moment to gather his thoughts enough to remember that he needed to go take a shower and attempt to sleep. Once in his apartment he sunk down onto the couch rubbing his hands down his face. God he was tired, maybe he could close his eyes and rest for just a moment. 

Delilah hummed softly as she unpacked the groceries into her new kitchen. It hadn’t been an easy decision to move out to Pittsburgh but considering the pay raise she got for being able to go into her works office once a week definitely made it better. Her neighbor being a rather attractive older man also helped. From the quick meeting in the hallway she noticed he didn’t have a wedding band or a tan line from one, which if he worked in a hospital didn’t mean much. Breaking her train of thought her phone buzzed, with an incoming call from her grandmother. 

Chatting with her grandma helped the time pass as she got settled and unpacked before she took a break to sit on her balcony and scroll through social media. Seeing that it was almost 6pm she decided to call her friend back and let her know how the unpacking was going.

Cherry answered her phone on the 3rd ring with a loud squeal. 

“Girl its about fucking time you called me, I was starting to think you got kidnapped or something.” Delilah laughed, settling back into her patio chair. 

“Sorry Cherry, it's been a crazy hectic day getting moved in and meeting the neighbors.” Delilah apologized. Cherry had been one of her lifetime friends so they rarely went longer than a few hours without talking.

“Oh, meeting the neighbors? Any hot guys or ladies to catch your interest.” Cherry’s words held a hidden question as they usually did. Meaning ‘did you find anyone worth climbing into bed with’. 

“Well I met the neighbor directly across from me who was a rather stern old woman. She didn’t seem pleased by my hair or tattoos,” Cherry laughed on the other end of the phone before Delilah continued. “And I met the neighbor directly next to me who’s a little older but still really cute.” 

“Is he single?” Cherry cut Delilah off before she could continue her thought. 

“Woman, how the hell would I know if he’s single? We talked for a minute max, the most I got out of the conversation was that he works at the local trauma center.” Delilah sighed. 

“Come on, how are you gonna find someone to shake the sheets with if you don’t ask the important questions. Like what's your shoe size and are you into kinky shit?” With that Delilah lost the small amount of composure she had. She laughed so hard she almost toppled out of her chair. Her friend was a nut but she had good intentions. Most of the time. 

As Delilah chatted with Cherry she failed to notice the open window near her patio, leading to her neighbors apartment.

[hxrtnett]

we're hanging on by threads — dr. rabinovitch

𖤓°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ in which the aftermath of the pittfest tragedy brings you and robby back together for few hours

warning/contains. swearing, blood mention, death mention, anxiety, arguing. literally anything that occurs in the pitt. age gap between reader and robby (10 years), ex lovers, angst

pairing. dr rabinovitch x fem!reader

oh, gemini by role model works with the angst of this :)

part two (soon!)

today out of all the days was the one where robby missed you the most. he missed waking up beside you to your smile, groan, or gentle greeting. he remembered the way your eyes crinkled in a smile and the comfort your face brought him, without you on a day he lost someone close to him, it took a toll on him. the nearly fifty year old knew how to take care of himself, but you were his rock, without you he felt out of place. 

you, on the other hand, walked through the parking lot with a heavy heart. you knew what today was, you felt sad for robby, but he cut you out. you listened to your car beep as it was fully locked, and you made your way to the pediatrics wing. as you turned the corner of the lot, you were blinded by headlights, instinctively you lowered your head to avoid it. the car passed and you looked behind you, making you sigh, robby’s car. 

he watched you lower your head, in your purple scrubs and doctor's jacket slung over your arm. in a split second, he could see the new changes to your hair. he refocused on the road, parking and sitting in his car. it took everything in him to not chase you down. from what he heard from dana and jake, you had a new boyfriend anyway. in the span of a year of being split, you moved on. it was a reasonable amount of time, he was the one moping around. 

you walked into the facility with a smile, you smiled at the kids you passed, and entered the office area. “morning.” you greeted your crew, putting your stuff in your locker and putting on your jacket and ID. you went over today’s patients, ones who were checked in and out over the night shift. today wasn’t easy, it never was, but it was going to be a bit calmer than what you knew you’d face downstairs. you sometimes helped in the pitt, you knew robby hated it, or at least you believed he hated it. you only helped when you were needed, as you were qualified to work in a normal hospital setting, or the emergency room. you originally trained and worked in the pitt, but after six years, your stress started to mess with your heart and made you grow grey quicker- everyone told you to step back. so, you moved up to the pediatrics unit, dana encouraged it since you studied for it. you spent the next nine years working there. you didn’t start dating robby until 2019, you were there for everything.

it was steady, even through the chaos of the pandemic, you guys were good.

but when he lost adamson, that’s when everything started to change. that’s when the relationship started fraying. you both were hanging on by threads, it was like he let go on his end, and you were struggling to keep holding on. 

and as the world started to get back to normal, you thought you both would too, but you were wrong. there were nights when you two sat on the couch after your late shifts, silence between you two as he stared at the tv and you stared at him over your book. or he’d start picking up shifts on the weekends he was supposed to be off, leaving you to be alone in the house. he had you move in once the pandemic hit hard, now it felt like you were a burden in the home that was supposed to be your future home, or you believed it would be due to the ring on your finger. 

you couldn’t help but wonder if he was still in love. if you mattered to him, if the ring was just a false promise. you never brought it up, you never had time to. you were working, he was always working. the weekends you spent alone consisted of you going to the gym with coworkers, taking up yoga, taking jake out on the plans you three made, and touring apartments. 

robby didn’t realize you bought an apartment until he noticed less and less of your belongings in the house. how did he notice? you couldn’t even come up with an idea, you were shocked he did. you two argued frequently before you finalized the deal on your place, the last argument you guys had made you leave. it was another saturday, robby was getting ready for work, you asked for him to call off.

“seriously y/n i’m making money for our wedding, let me go work.” he lied, making you get out of the bed and stand in the doorway of the connected bathroom, just looking at him. “our wedding? really? you haven’t been here to help me plan it. all we’ve done together is choose a day and venue.” you said, watching him brush his teeth. “one day with you is all i ask, it’s been months now of you constantly working, and when you don’t work, i am.” you spoke, your heart heavy. “maybe it’s for a reason.” he said, spitting the last of his toothpaste and wiping his mouth. your heart nearly shattered, “what is going on with you? did something recent happen? did i do something?” you asked, watching him as he walked past you. “micheal.” you tried again, getting silence. 

“is it adamson?” you asked, breaking the final nerve in robby’s body. 

looking back at this, he regretted it deeply, he didn’t know what took over him. he wished this never happened.

“everything is adamson these days, maybe i just want to work and be alone.” robby stated, looking at you. “it’s not fucking adamson, why would it be?” he asked, snapping. you were taken aback, frustrated now, “you take his passing anniversary off every year. you’re more quiet and stressed now. you don’t talk to me, you bail on jake and i. you’re not here! we got engaged months ago and suddenly you’re not here!” you stated, looking at him. “what if i don’t want to be here? with you? with this situation?” he questioned, “situation? are you referring to us as a situation?” you asked. his silence and stare answered you, his frustration over losing adamson, the guilt of it washed over him. if he wasn’t working in the emergency room, he was afraid he’d lose everyone else. he couldn’t be home with you, seeing the way you looked at him like he was glass. he felt so vulnerable, he wasn’t used to the overbearing care, so he fled. “it’s too much. i can’t be here while you look at me like i’m going to break.” he stated, turning back to his bag.

“i’m just worried micheal i want to be here for you-” “i don’t want you here! has that not clicked in your mind yet?!” he snapped. he watched you internally break but build yourself back up, guarding yourself. “i see.” was all you could muster, you nodded and walked past him. he continued packing his work bag but watched you, the annoyance didn’t fade, seeing you walk out into the living room. robby finished packing and walked to the kitchen, grabbing his lunch box and leaving. he didn’t hear the usual “i love you” which chipped a bit of his annoyance away, “i’ll see you later.” he called out to silence, then left.

he returned home later that night, wondering why your car wasn’t in the driveway. he entered the house and called your name, walking into the room to see your nightstand bare. dread hit him then, he walked to the bathroom, kitchen, living room, back to the shared closet. this time, there was nothing in the house that was yours. he returned to the kitchen with a pounding heart, spotting the house key and ring on the counter. there was no note, no goodbye, nothing. he called you, you never picked up, he texted you but they never went through.

he tried talking to you when you helped in the pitt. 

“y/n please just let me talk-” “dr. rabinovitch i have a patient needing a chest tube, get out of my way.”

you planned on working at the pitt tonight, knowing robby wasn’t, but seeing his car turned your ideas around. you couldn’t, especially today, the fourth year without adamson. so instead, you worked as much as you could in your wing. you had three codes, several operations, and four discharges. you lost a kid, helped many, and had more come in from the pitt. your breaks were short, you were on the go all day.

but, this was your job, you loved helping families and kids, this is what you signed up for. 

the shift moved quickly, and it was cut short when the news flooded through and any doctor possible was needed in the pitt. out of the several doctors in pediatrics, you and two others were turned to as you all trained in it. 

so here you were, walking downstairs to meet dana who asked for you specifically. “angel, thank you for coming down.” she hugged you tight, using the nickname everyone in the pitt referred to you with in unprofessional moments. you were named “the angel” for coming down frequently and taking some night hours to help, dr abbott coined it first, dana ran with it. “this is the norm, today just happens to be a shitty reason. your face? are you okay?” you asked, checking her out. “some asshole, today’s my last day.” she whispered the last part, your eyes widened and she waved you off, “we’ll catch up over coffee, my time is over here.” she spoke, handing you a gown. “i think you need to talk to robby.” she started. “dana for the last time-” “jake was there, we haven’t heard from him. that’s your kid as much as it is micheal’s and neither of you are jake’s biological parents. talk to micheal, for the love of god, just tonight.” dana stated.

fear came over you, you walked to robby and felt your peers’ eyes. you grabbed his arm and pulled him to where nobody could overhear unless they tried. “dana said jake was there, do you want me to call? does his mom know?” you haven’t said this many words to him since you left. “she knows, please try and get to him.” robby said, and you followed his order. robby watched as you found jake’s contact, called, and waited for him to pick up.

as you waited for the call, robby looked you over. you looked good, real good. you looked at peace despite the circumstances, barely any wrinkles despite the grey streaks you had due to stress, you had little to no makeup on, you still wore the simple ring jake and him bought you three years ago, and now you had a band beside it on your ring finger. robby’s heart dropped to his chest. 

“hey jake, please call mom, me, or micheal when you can, okay? we just want to know that you’re safe. please be safe, we love you so much honey. call us, please.” you left a voicemail, looking back at robby with worried eyes. “don’t think of the what-ifs, we’ve had these moments before with him not answering.” robby tried to soothe you, “this is different.” you said, making him nod, “i’m just trying not to think the worst, i’m so goddamn close to it.” he spoke. “he’ll get to us, he’ll find his way to us, he always does.” you spoke, trying to reassure yourself. 

you could see the fear in robby’s eyes, you most likely mirrored it. “i know you don’t want me to be, but im here for you if you need it. he’s our kid, in a way.” you said, your words stabbing his heart unknowingly. jake was the closest thing to you guys having a kid together, and he needed you there with him, he regretted saying he didn’t. “micheal.” you said, hand on his arm, trying to catch his eye.

he looked at you in the eyes, nodding, “yeah-yeah thank you.” he said softly, hand going above yours. the gesture was loving, you both felt it, but pulled apart.

“what’s the plan?” you asked robby, looking at the soon to be chaos around you guys.

for the next several hours, you worked alongside robby accidentally. both of you ended up on the same operation, working triage and any additional things. it was comforting to you, though you could never admit it. you never fully moved on, you were engaged to the man. your ex boyfriend after was even worse, so it was short lived. he never liked jake anyway, or your career, so you left him after he cheated. your family and career came first, relationships didn’t matter, you grew to be okay with being alone; robby made you learn how.

you both walked side by side, leading the way and telling the others what to do or give. robby looked at you, drilling in a bag to give blood, speaking with dr abbott on what you needed. you directed people perfectly, you were what the the pitt needed- a nicer, yet strong leader. the rest of them were cutthroat while you did things with a smile.

he got separated from you, helping others while you went to aid mel in a different wing. a part of him wanted to keep tabs on you as much as possible, as much tabs he was trying to keep on jake.

stepping outside, robby tried to get fresh air while handling the patients coming in at lightning speed. his heart pounded, and he swallowed back his anxiety, he was ready to get home, he needed peace.

a bit of peace came when you joined robby to help a few patients. “i’m dr l/n and this is dr robby, can you tell us your name?” you asked a patient, helping her into a wheelchair with robby. once she did, you felt a strong pulse and slapped on a color bracelet. you looked at robby, “breathe.” you said softly, walking away to get others.

robby watched you handle triage, barely flinching, directing people left to right. as he helped others, he followed your orders and calmed himself a bit. robby looked back up once you called him over, needing help with a patient. you both moved the man to a stretcher, you took pulse, checked for responsiveness, and gave him a certain color.

as you did all this, robby noticed you were doing the same thing he was doing, looking for jake. it made him feel even worse. you were supposed to be married by now, mr and mrs rabinovitch, with a new house and a guest room for the kid who loved to see you both. you were supposed to have nights where he could call you his, how he missed doing that.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this, you weren’t supposed to buy an apartment in silence and slowly move out, he wasn’t supposed to say those things to you, he wasn’t supposed to lose you. but this was his reality, just another harsh loss he had to face.

“you good?” he asked you when you stood alone for a second, looking around and leading people around by your hands. you looked at robby, “yeah i’m good, why is SWAT here?” you asked, looking at the SWAT team with him. “supposedly the shooter is coming here.” robby informed, making your eyes widen and you tense up. “why?” you asked. robby looked over at the older woman in the police car, you looked over at her. “that’s his mother. we’ve been trying to find him all day.” he informed.

robby watched everything run through your mind, your wide eyes glossy. “hey hey, cmon now. we got this, we’re going to be safe okay?” he assured, hands going to your arms. you looked at him and nodded, “i just can’t lose more kids today.” you said softly, seeing the teenagers around you get rushed in. robby’s face fell softly, and you looked at him, “go inside, they need you. i’m good to help out here.” you said.

he listened to you, he had a horrible feeling in his gut and wasn’t sure what was going on, but something in him was telling him to bring you inside. the feeling only worsened when SWAT ended up inside, protecting the doors or wherever they could. some doctors even asked for you, needing your assistance, robby had to get you inside.

he wanted you safe, he didn’t know what he’d do if the shooter came to you, if he lost you. he didn’t say it to anyone, and tried not to think about it, but he lost you once and didn’t want to completely lose you.

so he turned on his heel, walking out to triage at a quicker speed to find you. as he did so, he caught you bolting over to someone in a stretcher.

“oh my god! jake!”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mrs. R Part Four

Previous Part | Masterlist

Notes: Not beta-read.

Warnings: Angst and fluff. Flangst. A lotta cursing. Ends happily, I promise!

Summary: Your eyes dart to the time in the upper right-hand corner of the screen.

It's late—but for all of your qualms about whatever the hell you and Robby are or aren't, for better or for worse, in sickness or in a health, for richer or for poorer, you still care about him.

One glimpse. That's all it takes to convince you that you need to get over him, and to finally move beyond the foolish delusion that the two of you are ever going to get back together.

Robby has been saying that it's something that he's been meaning to do, have you over to his new place—that it's not as sad as you're probably imagining, that you'll be impressed.

And he's sort of right. It's not as sad as you were imagining. It's a little sadder.

You're not completely surprised by the nearly-empty fridge, the scatter of mail on the counter. You are heartened by the little touches of your old life together there, the few things that he took from your home that are scattered throughout the kitchen, the living room.

And he should've known that when you went to the bathroom that you were going to snoop.

That's why spotting the women's perfume bottle on the counter is so fucking jarring.

There aren't touches of anyone else, nothing that you looked at and immediately felt that they weren't his but this—?

The bottle shape is familiar, and you're sure the label would be too if you hadn't suddenly lost the ability to read. You stand in his bathroom staring at the bottle. Your hands are frozen over the drawer that you were about to pull open and snoop through. Your heart is pounding in your ears; your throat feels like someone's just crammed a boulder down it. You try to swallow past it, clear your throat a few times, but it won't budge.

You need to get out of there. You can't tell him that you're not feeling well, because he'll insist on running a full living room diagnostic. You're sure your BP is up, that your skin is going hot with upset. You can't imagine the conversation going well—

"And what were you doing when you felt the onset of symptoms?"

"Oh, just realizing that I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of fixing this."

You take a step back, draw in a deep breath, flex your shaking hands. No, this is fine. You can get out of this. You pull your phone out of your pocket, wincing as you hear Robby pass down the hall nearby. You open the ringtone menu on your phone, tapping one and letting it play loudly for a few beats before you pretend to answer a call from your best friend.

"Hello?...Honey, are you okay?...Chlo—Chloe, calm down," You fake your conversation, forcing yourself to pace through your answers. You glance toward the door, biting the inside of your cheek. Is he still nearby? How much of this can he hear? "What?—Oh, god, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?...Yeah, of course I can come."

You glance up as the bathroom's overhead bulb begins to flicker.

"No no, don't worry about that. Drop a pin, I'll be there as soon as I can."

You shove your phone into your pocket and yank the bathroom door open—nearly smacking right into Robby. He has a hand up as if to knock, and lowers it as you pull up short.

"Everything okay?"

"I—Yes—No," Shit. "Chloe called, she had a whole fiasco—Bad date, and then she got rear-ended. I'm really sorry, but I've gotta go."

Robby nods a touch, stepping back. "You want me to come with you?"

"No! No," You hurry to cover off on your too-quick answer with a smile and a pat on the shoulder. You lean up, pecking his cheek before you skirt around him, hurrying down the hall.

"Thanks for having me over. I um—" You glance back, jerking your thumb over your shoulder. "You should probably fix that bulb."

--

To your credit, you do talk to Chloe that night. It's mostly to warn her that in case she somehow runs into Robby, to let him know that her car is fine. And you know that she has more questions, but maybe it's the weariness in your voice that lets you off of the hook for the night. You know that you'll have to answer for the fact that you were even talking to Robby in the first place, something that you've neglected to mention since the light bulb situation kicked you into a new personal level of hell.

And you're so, so tempted to let yourself stew on this all for one more night, but you decide that you can't just wallow anymore.

For as difficult as this is going to be, it's been a long time coming. You need to make changes.

--

It's not a complete surprise when he turns up at your door. You've been avoiding him for the better part of a month, coming up with excuse after excuse after excuse to not see him, to not answer his phone calls.

What does surprise you is what he says. Not hello, not how are you, just—

"You're selling?"

You puff your cheeks up and push the air out in a long breath. Maybe you should've answered one one of his messages sooner. Then he wouldn't have taken it upon himself to turn up, and to run into the real estate agent hammering in a sign out front.

You cross your arms and lean in the doorway, eyeing the sign, the slight swing of For Sale in the breeze.

"Yeah. You looking to buy? I'm sure I could get you the ex-husband and bulb-fixer discount."

"When did you decide to move?"

"Been meaning to. This is too much house for me. I use, like, a third of the space. Don't even go in the basement, remember?"

"Where are you looking?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to stay in Pittsburgh, so—which neighborhoods?"

The fact he says it with such certainty makes irritation flare in your gut. You curl your hand into a fist out of sight, give a short shrug.

"I don't know if I am."

Robby's brow tip up, his chin dropping toward his chest as he takes that in.

"You don't know?" He repeats, a disbelieving laugh falling from his lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just means I'm still weighing my options."

"Where else would you go?"

"I dunno...Philly, New York, LA—"

"You're serious."

"I'm thinking about it."

Robby's eyes narrow, brow furrowing as he takes you in. You fight to stay still, to hold his gaze, even when every part of you wants to retreat inside, close the door, and lock it until he leaves.

"When were you planning on telling me?" He asks.

"What's that matter? It's not like I need your permission, right?" You don't mean for it to sting, but the way Robby's head jerks back makes you think that you've hit a target you didn't even know was up to be aimed for.

"No," He finally says. "You don't need my permission."

"Great, so I don't know what the fuss is about—"

"I guess I mistakenly thought that friends told each other things—"

"Oh, please," You splutter a bitter laugh. "When's the last time you fucking told me anything important?"

"This again?"

"You can't 'this again' me when you're the one that brought this shit up, Michael."

"There's a difference between that and you moving across the fucking country!"

"I'm not—I'm not absolutely gonna, I'm just thinking about it!"

"If this place sells tomorrow, where are you gonna go?"

"I'll figure it out."

"You can't just fly by the seat of your pants on shit like this."

"Whatever happens, I will work something out."

"Since when do you want out of Pittsburgh?"

"Since when do you give a fuck about what I want?"

"HEY!"

The two of you turn to see your neighbor, Diane, standing on her steps, glaring at the two of you as she waves toward where her kids are playing in the yard.

"Do you mind? Watch the language."

"Please," Robby scoffs," You curse more than the two of us combined."

"Yeah, blow it out your ass, Diane," You snap. She blanches, tightening her robe around her and pointing a warning finger at you.

"Keep that up and I'm calling the fucking cops."

"Now who needs to watch their language," You sneer, glaring at her until she goes back inside. You draw in a deep breath, keeping your focus just over Robby's shoulder.

"...Look," You say quietly, "I've got shit to do, so. You should go."

"Jesus fucking christ," Robby scoffs, turning and heading down the front walk. You force yourself inside, shutting and locking the door before sagging heavily against it, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. Your hand curls into a fist, and you just manage not to slam it against the wood grain. Hitting something won't solve anything. You have to start weeding through your living room for the things that you absolutely don't need—things that you can sell online, or just put out on the curb to get rid of.

Then you can go back to apartment hunting online, browse the internet, and see if you can google your way into figuring out where the hell you're going next. The house needs some work, there's no way it'll sell tomorrow—unless Robby decides he does want to buy.

The thought freezes you in your tracks on the way to the living room. You don't think...You'd asked, teased, but you'd been kidding—

"No. No," You mutter to yourself, shaking your head as you turn into the living room. There's no way he would do that. You have some books to sort through, then name-change paperwork to get rolling on, and then some apartment hunting as you passively watch House Hunters.

--

The call is atypical—has been for a couple of weeks now. Robby hasn't reached out since your blowout on the steps. No quick calls, no voice notes, no💡gracing your chats.

That's why seeing his name flash up on your screen in the middle of your nightly doom scroll catches you so off-guard. Your eyes dart to the time in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. It's late—but for all of your qualms about whatever the hell you and Robby are or aren't, for better or for worse, in sickness or in a health, for richer or for poorer, you still care about him.

You answer, raising the phone to your ear. It's quiet for a moment, and you hedge, "Robby?"

More silence—and then a sniffle.

You're throwing the covers off of yourself and getting out of bed before you can even think about it.

"Hang on, okay?" You yank your drawers open, grabbing the first pair of sweatpants and sweater that you see. "Give me twenty, I'll be right there. Do you wanna stay on with me?"

You tuck the phone between your shoulder and your ear, wiggling out of your pajama pants and tugging the sweatpants on.

"Michael? You've gotta talk to me, honey," You press when the quiet persists. You hear him draw in a deep breath, then push it out slowly.

"Okay," He finally mumbles.

"Okay what? Okay you want to stay on?"

"I'll see you in twenty minutes."

"You don't want me to stay on?"

"No. No. S'okay."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Okay I'll be there soon. I—" Love you. The words are automatic, but they clog in your throat, your fingers flexing around the phone. "I'll be there as soon as possible."

--

You're hardly across the threshold with the door shut and locked behind you before he's leaning into you, pressing his face into your neck and drawing in a tight, shaky breath. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, gently scrubbing your nails over his nape as he shakes.

You don't tell him to let it out, that you're there, that everything's going to be alright, that nothing's gonna hurt him. You learned a long time ago that Robby can dish platitudes, but he doesn't like to take them—and he's already been hurt so damn much. He needs someone to look at the walls that he builds up around himself and identify and patch leaks before the dam breaks. You knew it was work, at least—if one a friend or family member was sick or had passed, he would've told you over the phone.

His hands curl in the fabric of your shirt, anchoring tight; you feel his eyelashes fluttering, spreading warm tears against your skin. You let him stay there, your heart breaking with each soft sob and sniffle.

When he draws back, you let him. He doesn't go far, only lifting one of his hands from you to scrub at his eyes.

"Thought you said twenty minutes," He mumbles.

You frown, brow furrowing. "I did."

"It's only been ten. How many traffic laws did you break?"

"Let me and the speed cameras worry about that."

Robby pushes out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. You reach up, gently swiping away a few of his tears as you cup his cheeks. You let yourself search his weary face—his red-rimmed eyes, tear-stained face, quivering lips.

"What's going on, Mikey?" You press softly. His gaze drops to the floor, and you watch his shoulders tense. It's the first brick of a new wall—once he's all cried out, the dam needs to be rebuilt, maybe at double-time now that you're there. A wave of irritation is pushed down by petty attraction as his hands flex in the fabric your shirt. You expect him to tell you to forget it, that it was a lapse in judgement when he called you, that he's fine. You watch him wet his lips, see him open his mouth, and—

"Can you stay tonight?"

--

It's not an easy night of sleep for you. You have to stop yourself from fidgeting. You constantly find yourself in that hazy space between light sleep and wakefulness. Whenever Robby shifts, when he mumbles in his sleep, when his fingers skim along the strip of skin exposed between your borrowed pajama top and sweatpants, your heart beats double-time.

You're not entirely sure when you manage to drift off, or what exactly it is that wakes you up first—the sunlight creeping through the curtains, or the tender brush of Robby's lips against the underside of your jaw. You hum softly at the sensation, that way his beard prickles against your skin. You press up unthinkingly against his palm where it's anchored against your hip, keeping your body tucked tightly against his.

Your hand lifts sleepily, fingers sliding into his hair as the kisses lazily drift higher and higher. The tantalizing pressure of his teeth closing around your earlobe makes you pull in a soft, sleepy gasp, your thighs squeezing together beneath the sheets to quell the growing ache there. His answering hum sends a pulse of want through you—but it also wakes you up.

You push yourself to sit up, the speed of it knocking Robby's hand aside. You stare down a your lap as you try to sort through the mess of feelings twisting in your belly.

Robby's soft murmur of, "What is it?", the sleep-roughened timbre of his voice, does nothing to quiet your thoughts. You raise your hands, scrubbing at your eyes.

"Are you working today?" You ask.

"'No."

Considering the state he was in last night, that's for the best.

"Okay. Okay, good." You swallow thickly, looking around. You left your sweatshirt in the bathroom, didn't you? When you got changed—

You still as Robby's hand slides across your thighs, his face pressing into your hip. You bite the inside of your cheek, steeling yourself.

"I've gotta go." The words come out firmly, but you don't make a move.

"Can't stay for coffee?"

"No. No, I can't stay for coffee," You insist, forcing yourself from his hold as you slide out of bed, "And I can't keep doing this."

"Can't keep doing what?"

"This!" You wave toward him as he sits up. "This one-leg-in-one-leg-out shit! Things need to change, Robby. It's gonna suck for a little while, but—"

"Is that what this move about?"

"Yes! Not—I mean, partially, yeah. I need to sort out my shit, I have to remember who I am without you and I don't think I can do that here. Not when we're both a phone call away."

You bite your lip as Robby dips his head, scrubbing his palms over the back of his neck.

"Besides," You push on, "You're—You've moved on, so. I think it's about I do, too."

"Moved on?" He laughs derisively. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You fix him with a stern look. "I saw the perfume last time I was here, Michael. Look, it's fine—" Even though it most certainly does not feel fine—"And expected, we're divorced, but—" You falter as Robby yanks open the bedside drawer, drawing out something and tossing it to you. You fumble to catch it, and your stomach churns when you realize it's the same perfume bottle from the bathroom.

"Michael, I said—"

"Look at the bottom."

You frown, tipping the bottom as he says, and going still when you see the familiar, half-torn, half-faded Christmas label. It had been one of your worst Christmases together—Robby had been working overtime, and had been so tired when he'd tried to wrap presents that he'd wound up sticking labels on the wrong side of half of your gifts.

You run your thumb across the adhesive, shaking your head.

"I don't understand."

"It got packed up with my things when I moved. I kept meaning to give it back, but I kept forgetting, and then it got further away, and—" He draws in a deep breath. "And then when I stayed the night, a few weeks ago—and I slept better than I have in months. I tried to convince myself it was the scent of you on the sheets that I needed, tried spraying it on the pillows but it isn't enough." He shakes his head, dark tired eyes flitting to your face. "It's you."

Your heart skips a beat, and your fingers tighten around the bottle as tears prickle at your eyes. You lower yourself to the edge of the bed, pulling in a deep, shaky breath. You hear the rustle of the sheets as Robby shifts, coming closer.

"...You still want me to stay for coffee?" You hedge.

"I want you to stay for a lot more than that."

You tip your head to the side, warily meeting his eye, and finding an almost boyish smile on his face.

"...Robby," You sigh, setting the bottle on the bed. "I mean it, I can't...I can't survive in this emotional purgatory. I'm tired of tying myself up in knots trying to figure out what the hell you're thinking—And it's not so easy as just being more open with communication," You warn as he lowers his head. "We've got...Stuff. We know one another so well but we still get tripped up by this shit."

"I know." Robby reaches out, taking one of your hands between his. "But I also know that when I needed someone last night, the only person I thought to call was you."

"Because you knew I'd answer?"

"Because even if you didn't, I could still listen to your message. I could still hear your voice." His own breaks with the admission. "I need you. And I've missed the hell out of you."

You reach up with your free hand, gently stroking across his cheek.

"I've missed you, too," You murmur, "You grumpy old man."

He splutters a laugh, and you smile, relaxing as Robby raises your hand and presses a gentle kiss to the back of it.

"Whatever you decide, I can't stop you—I won't," Robby clarifies, "But...Cards on the table: I don't want you to leave."

You nod a little. "Cards on the table: I'm not so sure I want to leave either. And—" You reach up, running your fingers over his nape before giving it a gentle tug. "You still need a haircut."

--

"Okay! So I know what I read on the intake form, but I'd like to hear it in your own words from the two of you: What brings you to marriage counseling today?"

You hesitate, eyeing Robby on the other end of the couch. He gestures forward, softly urges, "Please."

"Well, this might be a bit unorthodox. " You shift in your seat, "Robby—Michael," You correct, "And I are divorced. Have been for a while now. But we've been talking a lost more lately, and the lines between our relationship have...Never felt more blurred than they do now."

"Would you say that's an accurate assessment, Michael?" The counselor prods, and he gives a nod.

"Yeah, I'd say that's pretty accurate."

"What would you say has been your biggest stumbling block throughout the relationship?"

"Communication."

The two of you manage it in unison, and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing at the stunned look on the counselor's face.

"I promise we didn't practice that."

"Well," She chuckles, leaning back in her seat. "In some aspects, the two of you are seem to still be in sync. Why don't you tell me a little about how the two of you met?"

--

"I didn't think we'd get homework," You grumble, stepping outside.

"It's all part of the process."

"Yeah, but week one? Harsh." You tuck your hands into your pockets, glancing up the block. "You headed to the Pitt?"

"Yep. Shift starts in half an hour."

"Alright. Be careful, huh?"

"Always am." Robby glances back toward the doorway. "It's gonna be weird, not talking to you until next week."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," You fidget, shifting from foot to foot. "But honestly, if something happens at work and you need to—You know." You lean in a little, fake-whispering, "We could just lie."

He grins, taking a step closer. "Oh, no. We're doing this right."

"Such a stickler."

Before you can argue further, Robby cups your cheeks, drawing you in for a soft kiss. You hum against his lips, raising your hands and grasping his hoodie. You should lean away sooner than you do, but for you a few moments, you can't bring yourself to care that you're standing in the middle of the block in broad daylight, right outside the marriage counselor's office. But hey, maybe it's a good look. The sight of a kissing could could give off a good impression, drum some business up for her. Really, you're doing her a favor.

You lean away, letting your eyes slip closed again as Robby tips his chin up, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Seriously, though," You murmur. "If you really need—"

"I know."

"Okay." You nod, finally letting go and giving his chest a teasing push. "Have a good shift, Dr. Robinavitch."

He takes two steps back down the block, eyes still fixed on you as a warm smile grows on his face.

"I'll see you next week, Mrs. Robinavitch."

Tag list:

@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; 

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; 

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; 

@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen

@mad-girl-without-a-box ;  @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @veryprairieberry ;

@kittenlittle24 ; @ilariyalavorowrites ; @morgy3456

[spockiguess]

I Start My Mornings With Folgers and Hot, Steamy Sex

Summary: Dr. Robby doesn't get to share many mornings with you, so when the day comes that he's finally able to spend just a little bit more time in your embrace, he doesn't pass on the opportunity to make it memorable.

Pairing: Michael "Dr. Robby" Robinavitch x FEM!Reader

Warnings: SOMNOPHILIA, Smut

A/N: HEYWASSUPYOUGUYSYES, I am back from my nearly year long hiatus with something from a fandom I have never posted about before, but that's okay! I'm a dirty liar and a cheat, so I'm sorry for not updating the Laszlo Kreizler series I had in the works. I'm bad at continuity. Anyway, I hope you guys like this one! Yay!

Mornings spent with Michael Robinavitch have always been painfully short, fleeting moments that spill from the gaps between your grasping fingers like rushing sand, so you treasure the times when everything seems to stop for just an hour or two and you can hold each other while the sun begins to rise. This morning is one of those intensely special times.

It’s around four in the morning–only now the sun is still slumbering soundly just beneath the shimmering horizon millions of miles away–when Robby snakes his arms further around your middle and squeezes ever so slightly. You unconsciously moan in response, the deep recesses of your brain faintly aware of the comforting action as you melt deeper into his velvet touch. His nose is pressed against the back of your neck, inhaling your vanilla-sweet scent with every easy breath, while his large, sculptural hands cup the heavy mounds of your breasts, gently kneading. 

The emergency room attending could stay in this protective bubble forever, completely blocking out the frenetic, ever-speeding pace of the world outside as he keeps one of the people he truly cares about anymore locked in his embrace forevermore. The glimmering lights of lampposts and stretching skyscrapers would wipe across his vision in great streaks, like the measured strokes of a master’s paintbrush across a twilight canvas. Robby is content to have that be his future; these rare instances being wholly untainted by the horrors of the known universe and only meant for your shared enjoyment. Then, he could finally find peace.

Unfortunately, that's not quite in the cards for him just yet. Life has its hands wrapped firmly around the deck, dispersing fate indiscriminately. Dr. Robby has this, though. He has just a few hours with you before he’s inevitably pulled into his grueling work and forced to clear its waters for the next twelve hours. Because of this, Michael Robinavitch is eagerly determined to make the best of the time he has with you. Robby figures he'll start this day off on a good, memorable note.

With that, Robby commences with his plan. As an attending who's participated in countless, intense surgeries, he's startlingly deft with his hands. His grip around your breasts tighten, causing the skin to spill over his palms before Robby lightens up and allows the tip of his calloused finger to graze the pebbled surface of your nipple. Robby’s touch is feather-light, for now, he doesn't want to rush through this like a crazed bull released from its pen. 

Ever so slowly, he circles your nipple with his forefinger, tentatively forcing the skin to contract and become a stiff, little peak beneath his hand. Now, Robby’s able to delicately grip the peak with his forefinger and thumb and roll it between the two, slightly squeezing with every other turn. The effects of his work are already taking place as you moan again, unknowingly bucking your plush hips into his, awakening Robby’s cock to full attention. Robby forces back a pleased groan of his own as he feels the soft mounds of your ass tenderly grip his aching dick in a warm hug. You're too tempting, most of the time. 

Robby isn't distracted from his goal, however. No, he just shifts his attention on your breasts to the other hand while another travels down the curved planes of your body, rustling your sleep shirt and shorts. Your stomach is smooth under Robby’s hand, radiating a soothing heat that he could get lost in for hours. On some days, he comes back from work and immediately draws you into bed just so he can rest his weathered face against your tummy. There, he’ll press light kisses and reminisce on how lucky he is to have a partner like you. At this moment, though, Robby is only using your stomach as a roadmap to somewhere far more important. 

Robby’s searching hand stops just above the puckered hem of your elastic, light blue sleep-shorts, curious as ever. As if it had a mind of its own, Robby’s hand begins to toy with the top of your satin shorts, mindlessly playing with the band while his other hand continues to work one of your stiffening nipples. Finally, your brain switches gears and your toasty body moves of its own accord, rocking into Robby’s firm silhouette. 

Robby unashamedly moans, now, his rough throat giving way to breathy gasps as your ass cradles his hard dick in a near-perfect way. He can already feel sticky, hot precum leaking from his tip, no doubt staining the front of his boxer-briefs with a damp puddle. Every sense is electrified, begging for Robby to amp up the sensations tenfold, but he can't let that happen just yet, this is still about you. 

So, Robby’s hand continues its adventure north, down the front of your shorts, and lightly skimming the silky lace of your panties as it reaches the apex of your pubic mound. Robby can feel the intense heat emanating from your core, nearly burning up his hand with its fire. The emergency room doctor can feel his head go dizzy as he fantasizes about how hot you'll be wrapped around his weeping cock. Still, he presses onward. 

With Robby’s hand now firmly seated above your sex, the man whose whole body surrounds you presses warm, wet kisses to your neck as his middle finger inches forward to grab the edge of your panties and pull them off to the side. Now, your sticky cunt lays exposed to the cold air around it, and even in your sleep, you shudder from the chill. Slowly, Robby’s middle and ring finger search through your folds, grabbing the glossy slick that's there, before finding the rosy bud at the top of your cunt. 

Covered in your wetness, Robby uses his fingers to rub slow, tight circles around your now-buzzing clit, delighting in the sounds you're making as his forearm muscles strain from the awkward position. You shift, opening your legs further as your sleepy brain struggles to process the new sensation probing at its walls. 

Even though Robby’s pace is sluggish, he can still hear the quiet, squishy slap of his fingers against your throbbing cunt loud and clear. Robby knows how wet you can get–what exactly can happen if all of your delicate buttons are pushed in the correct way and order, and tonight, he hopes to have you writhing beneath his touch while your sex unleashes tidal waves of arousal on his dick. In the times Robby has managed such a feat in the past, his ego would skyrocket to preposterous levels, allowing him to walk with a certain bravado he isn't keen to most days. Robby figures that he’ll like to start today off like that, even if it'll draw attention from others.

As the good doctor fantasizes about making you squirt, his rugged hand absentmindedly speeds up its pace, pushing against your clit just that much harder. It's not a painful amount of pressure, but just enough to make your entire body buck with pleasure, nearly pulling you out of your unconscious state. 

Too soon, Dr. Robby thinks. With this, he slows to a screeching halt as he can practically feel the electric currents of arousal flowing from your body to his, exciting his cock further. Robby guesses it would be fine to move on from this phase of his plan, even if every molecule buzzing around in his body is telling him otherwise. All of his barbaric senses are screaming for him to make you cum right then and there, to force multiple orgasms from you before you're even awake, but Robby wants this to be a somewhat relaxed morning, all things considered.

So, Dr. Robby stops his ministrations. Instead, he brings his hand to the edge of his mouth and takes in your heady flavor. When Robby is in a situation like this, something nestled deep within him, a primal urge, takes over his mind and he becomes something wholly unlike his usual self. He can't quite explain it, but you're the only person who's ever brought this side of him out, before. Robby isn't necessarily complaining, either. No, he just moans around his fingers before eagerly unearthing himself from the nest he’s built around his body, you included, trying carefully to not wake you just yet. 

As he finally finds himself free, Robby climbs down the length of your now-prone figure and sheaths himself between your silky legs, adjusting once more to allow his arms to come around the bottoms of your thighs so his hands can rest just below your navel. Once there, Robby slides your sleep shorts and underwear to the side, breathing in your sticky scent, all the while. With your cunt now fully exposed to the outside air, Robby can see it glisten in the low light of your shared room, still drooling from before. 

Robby waits a beat, stilling as he watches your resting form rise and fall with each breath that leaves you, and he finds himself utterly in love with the person caught beneath his eager body. Dr. Robby is incredibly lucky to have someone like you.

It’s with that thought that Robby finally delves into your weeping folds with a parted mouth, his tongue zeroing in on your clit the moment he makes contact with your cunt. You and Robby share a wanton moan as you wake up from your sleepy reverie, your hips moving of their own accord while Robby desperately tries to pin them down once again. 

With a hazy fog still trapped in your throat, you call out to the man nestled firmly between your legs, “Mhm, Michael, what are you–what are you doing?” 

Robby hums before pulling away from your sex, slick dripping from his bearded chin, “Starting the day off strong, don’t you think?” Robby’s voice is deep and rich, now, his vocal chords inactive until recently. 

You laugh before choking back a strained moan when Robby reassumes his work, “If this is how we’re starting the day, I can’t wait to see how it ends.” 

Dr. Robby laughs, too, the vibrations ricocheting against your clit and sending shockwaves directly to the base of your spine. You thread your hands into Robby’s thinning hair, pulling ever so slightly when he sucks your clit into his lips and licks. You don’t know it yet, but your orgasm is closer than you can register, especially considering what happened before Robby positioned himself beneath your quivering sex. Your mind is too caught up processing how enthusiastically he’s eating you out, as well as the way Robby’s hips seem to hitch against the mattress with every swirl of his tongue. You don’t even catch when one of his hands slips from the resting point above your pubic bone to travel beneath your legs and station itself just to the side of your parted lips. 

When your mind finally does catch up is exactly the moment Robby begins to ease a finger into your cunt and carefully curl inwards, in a sort of beckoning motion. You groan loudly, impatiently welcoming the intrusion with a strong clench of your legs while Robby presses his free hand into the base of your stomach. 

His tongue, his finger, and his other hand all create this perfect symphony of pleasure that has you shaking beneath Robby’s touch. If you were in your right mind, you might have possibly felt Robby’s smirk against your cunt, but you’re currently preoccupied. 

Still, when Robby introduces another finger, deliciously stretching your wanton hole to a comfortable degree, you can’t help the thrashing your body does, completely overwhelmed with sensations. Before you know it, your orgasm is at the door and knocking to be let in, which you gladly allow. 

A burst of electricity simmers beneath the surface of your skin as your cunt spasms, your hold on Robby’s hair tightening that much more as he continues to lap at you like a starved man. Liquid gushes from your core, absolutely coating the lower-half of Robby’s face, the beginnings of his neck, and his hand while wild slurping noises can be heard just below your shaking body. 

He’s barely letting up, so it’s not long until you’re buzzing from overstimulation and begging your partner to ease off of you. Dr. Robby relents, struggling to hold himself back from tasting even more of you as your orgasm washes past your senses. 

Once the rush of sound filters through your ears, you tug on Robby’s sleep shirt to bring him to eye-level with you. Robby crawls back up your body, arms supporting his weight on either side of your head. 

“So, how was that?” Robby asks, a wide smile painting his features. 

You giggle, leaning in for a kiss and only slightly grimacing at the feel of your juices on Robby’s face.

“Is amazing an okay descriptor?” You answer his question with a question of your own, to which Robby chokes back a laugh. 

“That’s great. Don’t change it,” he says, leaning down to peck your cheeks and neck. 

The morning isn’t quite over, yet, as you feel the hard length of Robby’s dick pressing against your most sensitive spot. As Robby spares a kiss to your cheek, you take a minute to worm your hand down your bodies so you can firmly grasp his cock and squeeze. 

Robby moans, quickly getting the hint as he’s reminded of his own pressing matters that need to be attended to soon. Your partner pushes himself off of your body so he can lean back on his haunches and yank his pajama pants down, just enough to free his glorious dick. 

The sun is starting to peek through the curtains, now, so you’re able to see the faint outline of his cock, long and thick, proudly shoot out from the base of his pelvic bone. Robby takes it in his hand and cautions a gentle swipe over the leaking head, moaning again as you attempt to take your shorts off, as well. 

Robby snaps out of his daydreaming and helps the offending garment off of your legs, your lower half perfectly bare for him. You open your legs further, to which Robby eagerly positions himself between them before resting his dick against your stomach. You’ll never get used to his size, you think, with his dick being much bigger than anyone you’ve been with previously. 

Robby smiles, his question heavy in the air, “Are you ready?” 

You nod, eventually voicing an affirmative when he doesn’t continue. Satisfied, Robby takes his cock in his hands once more and leans back to line it up with your entrance. What a way to start the morning.

[noxytopy]

Can I added to the tag list if there's still some space?

Residuals Pt 3

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

A/N: Screaming at the top of my lungs because you have all been so incredibly lovely and sweet. I appreciate every single one of your comments, reblogs, and your excitement over this spur-of-the-moment series idea. Honestly, I can gush forever. Thank you! This chapter is centered around a little extra backstory on their relationship (briefly). I noticed it's around ep. 4 when everything starts popping off in the show (and I have scenes already pre-written cause I’m excited!) so I hope the story stays entertaining and true to showing slow insights into characters, their flaws, and being human. As always, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. Much Love. Jenn

Thank you to the bestie @viridian-dagger for humoring me and checking all of my work. Thank you for helping keep me sane.

Words: 7208

Previous I Next

You remembered with agonizing clarity the last day you’d seen Robby. You could recall down to the very marrow of the hour how you’d watched him grab his backpack and head out the door. 

If you weren't careful, your subconscious loved to dredge that particular memory up in frequent rotation. 

If you weren’t careful, always on mental high alert, the memories came violently to the forefront demanding that you remember what it felt like to walk the halls of your home in nothing but his shirts. It had you up late in the middle of the night writing a list of all the achingly obvious differences between the empty bed you now slept in and the one you’d shared with him. How his large frame curled against your back or how his nose pressed into the crook of your neck before he woke you, trailing kisses down your collarbone. 

Sometimes, Robby held you so tight you’d jokingly ask if he was trying to morph together like The Thing. 

You’d gotten used to the quiet in your home. The lack of security knowing another person was there. You’d learned to portion down your meals, so you didn’t make some on accident for two, or three when Jake was home for the week. You did laundry less and didn’t have to fold as much. There was no one to help you build furniture or tear it down. The trash was handled by you and only you. Dishes sat questionably for longer in the sink than they should’ve. There were no hands on your hips to keep you steady as you demanded to be an independent woman and use the step ladder to change broken fixtures and lightbulbs. No car rides with blues gently playing through the speakers with his hand on your thigh. 

No. You were reminded every minute of every day since you’d left of what you lost. What you chose to leave behind.

The day you left you’d waited in the hall. In the past, before the pandemic, before the world went to shit and stopped making sense, Robby waited for you to send him off. You’d bring him his backpack full of protein bars, a homemade sub sandwich (if he ever got to it), and instant coffee packets when he didn’t. The moment you were close enough for him to grab - to touch - Robby would reach for you. 

Before Robby, you didn’t know what it felt like to be worshipped; to be craved and wanted so badly that they couldn’t wait for the moment they could touch you. The safety of trusting someone because they loved you without pretense allows you to be comfortable enough to be good, bad, weird, and everything in between. 

“You’re my favorite person.” He’d told you this randomly, while you’d both been curled up on the couch. Your cheek pressed against his chest. You heard the slight change in rhythm before he spoke. It was an answer to a question you’d asked weeks ago. One he refused to answer because “What are we in junior high?” 

You didn’t believe in fairytales or the idea of perfect relationships. You believed in what someone’s actions said about them when they tried to cover them up with words. You didn’t know what it was like to have someone choose you, all of you, until Robby. 

Whenever he had the chance, Robby was always touching you - light traces of fingers that drew aimless doodles in your skin while he read. His hand glided across your back as he passed you in the kitchen or the hallways at work. Once Robby learned how much you loved having his hands on you, he found ways to use them all the time - in ways that made you feel secure and others that were far from innocent. 

But out of everything, Robby always made sure you were taken care of and, most of all, loved. 

Usually, when Robby departed from the house, he used his large frame to crowd into your space. Possessive hands snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him. Every time, like clockwork, you eagerly respond to his touch. Your neck already falling back just enough for his mouth to slate over yours.

Those memories of better days, days where you didn’t have to question if he still loved you, are what made the last day so hard. You stood there, silently hoping that he would turn around. That Robby would just stop putting in his air pods, looking everywhere but at you, and finally acknowledge you. You didn’t want your last fight to be what you remembered - the words you’d hurled at one another with tired vehemence the final thing you heard. 

You just wanted him to love you like he used to. But the problem was, you weren’t sure if you could love him how you used to anymore either. 

“I think you should take Kiara up on her offer, Michael. You need to speak with someone even if it isn’t her.”

“Jesus,” he huffed. A hand scrubbed at his face before latching behind his head. His eyes screwed tight as if he could simply blink the conversation away. “Here we fucking go again.”

“Yes, here we go again. We wouldn't have to keep doing this merry-go-round around the issue if you would just admit - “

“Admit what?” His voice rose in challenge, and it took every ounce of you not to return it. “You seem to want me to say I’m broken so you don’t have to be the only one.”

“That’s bullshit,” you scoffed, pushing your dinner plate further down the table. 

You weren’t hungry anymore.

“It’s not bullshit! I’m not the only one in this room who won’t be honest with themselves.”

“That’s real rich coming from you, Michael. If you think that’s true, look me in my eyes and admit you don’t feel some type of way since he passed. And I never once fucking said that you were broken - “

“That’s the point! You don’t have to. I can see it in the way you look at me. The way you talk to me. It’s like no matter what the fuck I say you don’t believe me. You just want me to be depressed like - “

“Like what, Michael.”

The room went glacial cold. Your eyes turned to slits as you waited for him to finish his sentence. A piece of you prayed he didn’t because you didn’t know how much more you could take before you finally broke. 

“Like you,” he sighed, voice defeated as if he hated saying it as much as you hated hearing it. “You haven’t been the same since -”

“Shut up.”

“- it happened and I’m sorry. I - I wish I’d been there - “

“I said shut up! Jesus, just stop talking!” 

The venom in your voice was toxic. It had your arm lashing out and shoving the plate of food off the table. The sound of tableware clattering and glass breaking dimmed the flash of anger enough to be embarrassed at your outburst. You hadn’t meant to do it. Just like you hadn’t meant to do a lot of things since Adamson passed, since the pandemic, and…since you received the news. 

It was written plainly in the silence held between you. The unspoken depression from two different spectrums left you both unable to help the other. Neither of you knew how to bridge the gap your stubbornness bred.

Doctors were historically the worst patients because of that very reason. Pride. You used to believe Robby and you didn’t share an ounce of it between you, but you’d been wrong. You forgot you were both human and flawed.   

“I just want to help you, Michael. Please. Ever since Adamson passed and - and what happened - “

“He doesn’t have anything to do with what happened! What happened fucking happened because it’s nature. It’s - it just wasn’t our time. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up for something you have no control over. How many times have we told our patients this?” Robby looked up from his hands and you wished he hadn’t. His watery eyes were close to spilling; the tsunami of pain was all-consuming and when he whispered your name before he spoke again, you wanted to shatter. “You’re killing yourself from the inside out with this self-hatred.”

How many times have you been told that exact thing? It was an unfortunate natural process. It just ‘happened’. Every word is sterile and scientific which makes you feel less and less like a person. And what about the news that came after? Was that natural too? 

Maybe you were the one who was broken.

“Adamson happened too, and you haven’t been the same since we lost him. You’re on edge more, Mike. You snap at work and home. You’re closed off. You’re so desperate to put it under the rug that we only focus on me? Bring up my faults so we can bury yours.”

A sneer pulled up his lips as he turned away from you. His eyes scan over the shelves and furniture in the room - looking everywhere but at you. 

“You just want to help me? That’s what you keep feeding yourself but in reality, you just want me to be who I was before this. I don’t know if I can be that man again and when I tell you that, you act like a fucking child going around slamming doors.” Shame flushed up your face, turning your cheeks red with embarrassment. You’d done that and worse. You thought you could wait whatever this was out until it got better. But it wasn’t better. It was worse and you were so, so tired. “You want to focus on me but what about you?”

“You aren’t the only one hurting - that lost someone. You left me! You fucking left me to deal with it all on my own. Where the fuck were you when I needed you?”

“I’ve been right here with you!” Robby shouted back. “I’m right here with you, baby, but you don’t fucking see it. You won’t let me in.”

The tears you struggled to contain escaped in one shaky exhale. You carried around so much of your shame and guilt - tried repairing the cracks with quick fixes so Robby wouldn’t see because the last thing you wanted was pity. You didn’t want the confirmation that you were irreparably broken. 

“But you’re not here. Are you? Not really.” 

The earlier flash of rage was extinguished with each word. This job was a marvel and a curse. It took and took without forgiveness. Sometimes you’re fighting to save people who don’t want to be saved; who’ve never known the support and love they needed to believe they were more than their demons. Who wanted to succumb to a brief drop of loneliness in the ocean of a lifetime. Or you saw the ugliness that people did to one another and left you having an existential crisis if someone’s bad choice made their life unworthy of saving. 

Robby dealt with all of these things daily. He shouldered them for every friend in the hospital. For every patient who needed the strength of his resolve and the care he delivered. He gave all that and more during the pandemic and now he’d given so much that there wasn’t much left to tend to himself. 

Robby used to lean on you for just about everything. Sometimes, your talks were gradual - opening up little by little until everything was exposed. Other times, they came in bursts. A rush of words said too fast because if neither of you just ripped the band-aid off and said it, nothing would ever get fixed. Now all of that came to a screeching halt. You didn’t know what he was feeling anymore or thinking. He shut you out in so many ways. You tried to break through and failed. 

You both stood at separate spectrums of grief and neither of you knew how to reach the other anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You hadn’t meant about your relationship. You wish you could’ve said that - informed him that the despair and betrayal of your own body left you in a place of purgatory. The pandemic stripping you bare and raw pressing salt into every wound. How was Robby supposed to love you if you didn’t know how to love yourself?

But it’s not how it sounded leaving your lips. It’s not how he took it as you watched his shoulders deflate. The emptiness that hollowed out his eyes in protection and left them empty as you felt. 

“No one is forcing you to stay.”

You never did get to tell him you saw him - saw that he’d been there waiting for you to open up. He wasn’t who he was, but he’d still tried the best he could in whatever ways he could. In the end, you believed you deserved punishment. 

Maybe that’s what losing Robby was - the universe's way of dishing it out for a wrong you never knew you committed. 

It felt suffocating; your chest caved to create a black hole of grief that felt never-ending. You watched as the pandemic tore him down piece by piece - shredding him to ribbons. So many lives were ravaged by the virus with no way to combat it. You remembered the overwhelming, crushing feeling of seeing dozens of patients lining hallways because there were no more beds. Every doctor, nurse, RTs, and CNAs struggled to care for every patient and be with those in their final moments because the families couldn’t. It was chaos. It was frightening. It felt like it would go on forever. The last thing anyone expected was for Adamson to get sick. For the virus to infiltrate his body and claim his life. 

Robby had run outside, tearing off his hazmat suit. Unable to breathe around the soul-crushing grief that constricted the air from his lungs. He’d crumbled like a house of cards as you held him in your arms, but he wasn’t allowed to grieve. He was a doctor, you were still a fucking doctor, and neither of you were allowed to grieve. You needed to compartmentalize; sew up the fraying edges of your grief and go back inside and be the doctors everyone needed.

It was agony watching what came after. The way he struggled day and night to get any amount of rest while wrestling with his demons. The guilt kept him up at night and woke him screaming covered in a cold sweat. Eventually, he stopped sleeping in bed with you all together. Slowly, you saw him less at home and only at work. You watched while the anxiety ate him alive and transformed him into someone you could barely recognize, and you felt helpless against it. At any moment, the pain in your chest would swallow you whole.

And just when you thought, given a few months, you’d be able to find new joy in your life, it all came crashing down again.

So, you waited in that hallway. You waited for any sign that you should stay. You waited to see if you’d change your mind and begin to be honest with him. You waited for him to at least turnaround and look at you - for the recognition of the life you’d had months before to flash in those beautiful brown eyes. You waited in the hallway even after he’d left - waited for your tears to dry before you went upstairs to pack up your old life and find a new one. 

You’d expected a lot of possibilities when Gloria brought you back down to the Pitt. You considered all the variables and the endless amount of what-ifs. It felt inevitable for you to end up in this very situation; him being the attending, in charge of the Pitt, and overseeing a case. The only thing you hadn’t accounted for was how the heat of his body pressed against your back made you forget how to breathe. Your mouth suddenly dry and your heart pounded violently against the ache in your chest. 

Was Robby even aware of what he was doing? You could practically feel him take a breath he was so fucking close. Fuck, you wanted to scream and you almost did when you felt his gloved hand move across your lower back as he stepped around you. The old desire to touch you every chance he could was a surprise to you both when the reflex made its appearance. It must have been a mistake - a subconscious tick because old habits can die hard. It was the only thing that made sense. You fought the urge to mouth a, ‘What the fuck?’ at him. Did he even realize what he’d done? If he did, he was damn good at hiding it. 

You needed to get your shit together. You brought him in here for your patient.

“Allan,” you began to introduce him and found you had to clear the warble from your voice. “Allan, this is Dr. Robby. He’s the attending doctor here in the emergency department. Robby, this is Allan and his mother, Rebecca.”

“Pleasure to meet you both. Now, Allan, why don’t you tell me what brings you in today?”

Once Robby agrees to your use of wire cutters to remove the key rings, conferring on medications during and after a take-home prescription, you immediately go to work. It took a few extra minutes of explaining to Allan (and his very traumatized mother) that you would be as gentle as possible, but the longer the key rings stayed on to cut off circulation, the higher the chance of necrosis would occur. You also promised him lidocaine to numb the area. Lots and lots of lidocaine. 

You’d just signed off on discharge paperwork and spoke with him one last time about maybe just buying what he wanted to try next time. It was not only the safer option but probably more fun and less mortifying than having his mom bring him here. 

You stepped out of the room and made your way up to Dana’s desk. While you’d been in the room doing minor surgery to metal keys, you’d heard a couple of new traumas that arrived through the ambulance bay. The one that unfortunately had stuck with you was the nineteen-year-old kid who’d been found unresponsive. Nineteen. Two years older than Jake. 

For years you tried to make sense of how it was possible to become so attached to a son that wasn’t even yours. You didn’t give birth to Jake and missed the beginning stages of his life. You met him at his ninth birthday party and thought he would automatically hate you. Instead, he asked you questions about superheroes and if you had a favorite wrestler. 

The relationship between Robby and Jake’s mom had been hard to navigate. Harder when you came into the picture because all mothers are understandably weary of unknown variables and people around their children. You did your best not to step on any toes and bided your time until Jake’s mom trusted you - felt comfortable enough - with your presence to allow Jake to stay over when he asked Robby. 

You went on field trips as a chaperone when Jake asked, helped him build science fair projects, and tried your best to play basketball with Jake and Robby. You were better at three-pointers and playing horse than the original two - on - two. Jake chose to see you as another parent. His mother decided to let you be a part of his life and knowing Robby, loving Robby, brought you all together. You were forever grateful to both of them for it. 

But seeing cases like this one - hearing about them - caused a cold sweat to spread across your body. Jake was a good kid - a smart kid but even smart kids could make mistakes. 

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and continued moving towards where Dana sat front and center in all the chaos. She was currently on the phone but her eyes tracked you as you made your way towards her. 

Quickly, you unlocked your phone and went to your messages. You tapped on Jake’s name.

Mom v2.0 ~ Hey kiddo just checking in. Everything good?

You were about to lock the phone and put it away when his reply came back at lightning speed. 

JakeTheRipper ~ Hey! Ya everything’s 👍🏽 I’m coming by the hospital later to get tickets from dad. Be cool to see you.  JakeTheRipper ~ if you can! JakeTheRipper ~ if you have the time!

You and Jake never lost contact with one another after you and Robby split. It’d been his golden rule and who were you to break rules, especially golden ones? But you hadn’t seen him since he was fifteen. The last weekend you spent housed up in the house - his teenage self picking up a dark cloud stole the warmth from the home. 

He’d asked to see you a few times since then but you were always busy. Always unsure if you were overstepping. But you were here now and he said he was coming here anyways so -

“What’s got you smiling all goofy?”

Dana’s question sent you crash landing back into the present. You were standing directly in front of her seated position, phone in one hand and wire cutters in the other while a perfectly arched brow did most of her questioning.

“Ugh, it’s nothing,” you replied, tucking the phone back into your pocket. 

God, you were acting suspicious. Be natural. Be cool. 

“You got a boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, god no, no, no.”

You were throwing in way too many no’s. 

You felt like you were under a microscope when Dana’s eyes narrowed in on you like this. A cold sweat was going to happen any minute now. 

“There aren’t that many things that make women smile at their phones like that.”

“Memes make people smile at their phones because they’re witty and funny. A good deal on a pair of shoes, funny videos of animals, or cute babies…anyway,” you mumbled before handing the wire cutters over the top of her computer. “Ron the maintenance guy should be coming by to pick these back up. If I miss him, can you let him know I appreciate him letting me borrow these?”

“Did you tell him what they were gonna be used for?”

“Oh, god no, and please Dana don’t tell him I used it to cut key rings off a patient's penis.”

“You mean he didn’t know why you were asking for them?” She laughed. Dana fucking laughed and it eased the tension from your shoulders tenfold. “I think at least owe the man some kind of lunch, don’t you?”

“Ugh, well, I disinfected them. Twice? Does that count?”

Another bark of laughter came as she shook her head in disbelief. She was still smiling when she reached out and took the cutters from your hand. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be up in triage?” Langdon asked, sliding in on your right. 

“Did you come all the way over here from your spot in hell to ask me that, Langdon? Are we slacking off today or willfully choosing to be lazy?”

Langdon shot you a sarcastic smile before he reached over to grab a tablet and handed it over to the med student who’d been with him before. Her dirty blonde hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail and her glasses gave her an almost childlike demeanor that was only enhanced by the excited way she bounced on her heels. Her hand shot across the counter in way of introduction. 

“Melissa King - everyone calls me Mel.”

She was so eager - sweet - that you almost warned her to be cautious in the Pitt. It tends to eat the good ones alive. 

“Dr. Fullerton,” you replied, taking her hand briefly. “I remember you from earlier. Hopefully, Langdon is taking care of you and isn’t showing you what not to do during a residency?”

“Ha, that’s very funny, Fullerton. How long has it been since you’ve been down here? You’ve probably gone soft with all the babying they do upstairs.”

“Out of the two of us, Langdon who is still in their last year of residency and who is a board-certified doctor?”

“You know what I smell?” 

“I don’t smell anything,” Mel interjected, thin lines of confusion creasing around her eyes.

“No, I don’t mean - it’s metaphorical, Dr. King.” 

“Okay, kids that's enough. Robby sees you two both standing here bickering, you'll both be in trouble.”

“Is that your way of telling us to go back to taking care of the board?” You asked. 

“No, it’s my way of telling you both to get the hell away from my station. Now shoo both of you,” Dana retorted, using a stack of patient demographics to swat at Langdon and you. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” you surrendered, backing away. 

You were mid-turn when an enthusiastic wave from Dr. King was thrown your way. 

“It was nice to meet you. Again,” she excitedly called after you. 

She seemed too pure to have picked the Pitt. Everyone had their reasons for doing residencies here and, hell, you believed med students should be mandated to work at least one full rotation in an emergency department to truly learn. Mel, however, made you just want to protect her from the harsh realities of a place like this. It could be soul-crushing and there is no way to prepare yourself for when it happens.

“Likewise, Mel. If you ever want a break from ER Ken you’re more than welcome to come find me.”

“She’s good where she’s at, Fullerton.”

You didn’t bother giving a retort; you and Langdon could keep up the verbal back and forth the whole shift. You were only a couple feet away when you heard Dr. King state, “She seems nice.”

“Yeah. She’s alright. A little unhinged, but alright.”

Each word had been pulled like teeth from him; admitting you weren’t the absolute worst thing in the world, or at least inside this hospital, you knew made Langdon grumpy. Those few words left a sour taste in his mouth admitting anything nice about you, but it was enough for you because it meant one thing for you. There was hope that today wouldn’t be a total disaster after all. 

It was a busy morning but mornings were always busy in the Pitt. There shouldn’t have been a reason the hum of panic constantly buzzed behind his ears. It only grew louder the closer he got to the pediatrics wing of rooms. The bright colors blazed out into the hallway; all greens and blues. Animal motifs meant to instill comfort instead summoned what he’d struggled to keep buried. 

Dana already caught him helplessly trapped outside the room. The memory of that day - the last day with Adamson - flashed vividly like every nightmare he’d had of that day since. Robby had been so engrossed in the recollection of monitors blaring and Princess shouting for him to do something, “Robby we’re losing him,” that he wasn’t able to shake the feeling of dread off. 

He knew Dana noticed. The way her eyes craned over his shoulder to take in the peds room was the only confirmation he needed. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. When do I ever make you worry about me?”

“Are you kidding?” Dana chuckled. “All the time.”

They both knew he was lying. Robby never did confirm it when Dana asked, but he didn’t need to. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be fine or even close to simply being okay. Even after four long years, Robby found he still sought Adamson’s advice. Moments in the Pitt he swore he could hear him directing the room; asking questions to challenge Robby because “a doctor never stops learning.”

He missed being able to confide in him. The expectant look on Adamson’s face when Robby asked about situations in his life where he was at a loss of what to do. 

Robby needed to change the subject - and lead Dana down a safer path of questioning that he could handle. If he could keep himself away from that room he should be okay. He could handle you being here and everything else if he didn’t have to step foot in that room. He should’ve known there was no safe space where Dana wasn’t going to bring you up. Robby could see the hard exterior she tried to keep up to defend against your presence was beginning to crack. 

Maybe so was his. 

“The two of you looked cozy earlier.”

“Dana, you know I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Her voice oozed a playfulness that edged towards teasing. 

“But there is no universe where you and I talk about this.”

“I was just making an astute observation.”

“I would appreciate it if you maybe observe somewhere else. We have eleven more hours of this shift to go and I’d rather not have to spend it talking about her.”

“Yeah, because you’re allergic to talking in general.”

“Well, that’s just not true. I’m allergic to people I don’t want to have a conversation with,” he pointed out.

She tried to shake the smile off her lips. Her palm lightly smacked at his shoulder which caused his smile to rise in response. 

“You’re such a smart ass.”

“I try my very best,” he mumbled as he leaned down towards the computer. 

He’d just grabbed his badge to swipe past the electronic monitor to unlock the computer, placing his arms to brace on either side of the keyboard when he felt her presence eclipse to his right. Dana was leaning over the counter divider. Her arms hanging over waiting for him to look back up at her. 

“Something else I can help you with, Dana?”

“Just wondering if you’d be more talkative if you knew Fullerton was all smiles earlier. She had her phone out. Seemed to be textin’ someone.”

Robby could feel his eyes narrow in on her position. He shouldn’t care - he shouldn’t fucking care - because you were the one who left. What did he care if you were dating anybody? It’s been two years. The chances of you dating were astronomically high; shit, he’d attempted it a while after you left. Instead of taking care of himself because, “You look like shit,”, as Dana lovingly told him, he’d done what 95% of the population does: he ran from it. 

Heather Collins was an R2 at the time. She was funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful, and he’d fucked it up in record time. All the things you’d thrown at him about being shit at taking his own advice, hiding from his problems, were true. When things took a turn he’d lock up. Collins noticed the cracks and mentioned them enough he countered with argument after argument. The worst part was he was harboring a love for someone else that was gone. You can’t love someone else, give them the love they deserve, when you’re buried ten feet deep for someone else. She deserved better than to be a rebound - better than what Robby could’ve given her because no matter how amazing she was he still thought of you. Heather deserved more than to be a body to bury his sorrows in. He tried dating again a year later but that had also gone up in spectacular flames. Robby couldn’t keep the ghost of you from haunting him.

He tried to act like he didn’t care - that Dana’s words weren’t threatening his last proper brain cell for the day. By the look on Dana’s face, he did a shit job of hiding it. So what if you were with someone? He shouldn’t even care. 

“Did she say who she was talking to?”

Why the fuck did he ask that? Dana didn’t necessarily answer him as much as she chose instead to grin. A silent, ‘Gotcha’ flashing that he absolutely hated. He’d walked right into it. 

“Surprise, surprise. I thought she’d be one of your allergies.” 

A huff of laughter rushed past his lips that he tried to cover up with a cough. 

“You’ve got a mean streak in you.”

Dana patted his arm before she retracted back inside her bubble. The phone went off in record time to pull her safely away from having to hear him complain. She gave him one last thumbs up before her back faced him, completely ending the conversation and forcing him back to the open file on the screen. 

He enjoyed the quiet for all of a millisecond before he heard - 

“Hey, fruitcake.”

God, take him now. Robby chose to ignore her. Ignore her like every other time - 

“Hey, I’m talking to you, fruitcake.”

���Myrna,” he bit out. “I told you a hundred times my name is Dr. Robby.”

He expected her to argue about nicknames and their usage. It’s usually what happens when he advises her that maybe she’d get better treatment if she’d use real names. That isn’t what he got. 

“Do you wanna see my vagina?”

Robby’s eyebrows ran towards his hairline as he replied, “I've already seen it. And once was enough, thank you.” 

“And what about mine?”

Robby knew that voice. He’d know it in any lifetime, through space and time; Robby would know your fucking voice anywhere. He turned to his left and there you were with your elbows and back resting against the counter. You’d leaned close enough so that your words were for him and him alone. 

Robby wanted to humor himself that it had to be his imagination. The flash of something dark, ravenous, and achingly familiar he saw in your eyes must have been his subconscious going haywire. It wasn’t until he watched recognition dawn of what you said, the way you’d fucking said it, crest over your face that Robby knew he hadn’t made it up. 

The heat of embarrassment had you straightening up beside him. He could see it in the light tinging of your cheeks, the anxious beat your fingers rapped on the counter. You weren’t looking at him now but he wished you would. 

And then the memory of Dana saying you’d been caught smiling at your phone reared its evil head. 

Mine. 

He couldn’t keep the word from forming in his head. You’d been his for so long and those words of yours meant to tease and force him to give you a response. Robby wanted to tell you that no, once wasn’t enough. It was never enough. 

Mine. 

The last few months of your relationship had ended in flames but the rest. What about the rest of the many years you’d spent together? They’d been spectacular. The best memories he had you were a part of. The attempts at gardening and doctoring up sick animals. The way you’d dance to his records as you danced through every room while you dusted. The sounds of yours and Jake’s laughter mixing from the kitchen table going over homework. 

He could remember the way your hands fisted the sheets as his hands hooked under your thighs to bring you closer to his greedy mouth. Your slick drenching his face, his beard, stubble - whatever phase he was in with or without facial hair. Robby loved it when you began to let go; body melting in his hands as your fingers wound themselves tightly in his hair to pull him closer, deeper. Robby could get drunk off your taste, the soft keening breaths that came ragged and shaking from your chest. How your body trembled as he worked each finger inside you until your back arched beautifully off the bed. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine….

He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t fucking care, but he fucking did. 

“What can I do for you, Dr. Fullerton?”

Robby grabbed the PPE gown from beside the table before he went to his full height. From this advantage, he could faintly make out the dying hint of a flush on your cheeks. 

“I was talking here first, Sugar tits.”

You pivoted to glance around him and waved at Myrna who waved back with her middle finger. 

“Myrna, always a pleasure. I think that’s my third finger wave today,” you muttered the last part to him. 

“Dr. Fullerton.”

“Right, right. I wanted to see if I could borrow one of your med students. Central 3 and 4 have two patients, males twenty-three and twenty- four in age. Both were at the same BBQ and believed dumping liter fluid on a fire was a good idea.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, they look like human marshmallows right now. One has second-degree burns while central 4 has, what I believe, might be second degrading into three.”

“Do you need me to come take a look?”

It felt like a reasonable question. He was attending and usually, all consultations like this went through him for an opinion. He’d just done it with her half an hour ago. It shouldn’t be a big deal - 

“Oh, no, no. Thanks but I think I got this.”

“Oook. If you got it, why do you need a med student?”

“I figure it would be a good teaching moment for one of them on treatments of burns and how to assess the level. I’ve already called surgery for a consultation on central 4. Plus, there’s no available nurse to help me attend to both.”

Robby tried to keep the scoff from coming out. He shook his head and went to move around you, shooting Myrna an irritated glance that hopefully she caught as his nonverbal way of telling her he didn’t want to see her the rest of the day. 

“So, you are saying you need help, you just don’t want my help.”

God, he sounded like a petulant child. By the look on your face, you’d agree with that statement. 

“Robby, I know you’re busy - “

“I’m not busy,” he cut in. 

“Robby, the parents of the OD teen are here.”

Dana came from behind the station, her eyes glancing between the two of you. 

“Okay, park them in Trauma 1. He’s not back from CT yet. I’ll be there in a minute. You can borrow Whitaker,” he directed at you.  

He had to move. There was still the floating face patient in trauma 2. He needed to find out if they’d been able to prep for a safe intubation and if not, they were doing a solid alternative. Langdon was there with both interns. Robby could trust him. He should’ve been more worried about himself because as he passed by you on his way to trauma 2, he felt his body dip towards you. The jealousy rushed up like a lance piercing his heart as he remembered Dana’s words. The idea that you’d moved on, that someone else had taken his place, threatened to remove whatever sensible bit of himself he had left. 

“And don’t pull your phone out on the floor. It’s unprofessional, and I won’t have it in my department. You can step outside like everyone else.”

You didn’t look at him as he spoke. You didn’t even snap at him or give him any hint you’d heard him. Robby knew you’d heard him, but your eyes were solely focused behind him. It was the spot he’d just been standing - the spot Dana now occupied. 

There should’ve been some satisfaction in watching Dana’s face crumble like this. All the earlier anger dissipated back into a playful, if not biting, rhetoric that gave you some hope the day wouldn’t be your version of Dante’s Inferno. 

But Robby’s comment…

Only one person saw you on the phone earlier. One person who’d asked about who you’d been talking to while you’d read Jake’s texts. You’d been so ready to shout at Robby that it was Jake, his son. It might have given you some retribution but why should you have to explain anything to him? He was acting like a jealous significant other, not a damn boss. The way he’d pressed himself against you earlier; touching you as if half-possessed. 

You weren’t helping, were you? The minute the words had leapt from your mouth you’d wished you could take them back. You shouldn’t have said it and yet, you did. You fucking did and now the wanton look he’d given you was forever etched into your brain. 

You were an idiot. 

An even bigger idiot for thinking Dana would’ve left anything between you. 

“You just couldn’t help yourself. Could you?”

“Kid - “

Dana took a step forward ready to explain. You didn’t have it in you to listen. When the phone went off in her hand you found your way out and took it. 

“Do you know where I can find Whitaker?”

“He had a patient around the North-East hallway.”

“Thanks.”

You heard her call your name. Not Fullerton, not kid. Dana said your name and for the first time today, you wished she’d stuck to calling you an asshole. 

You followed Dana’s instructions and moved toward the hallways. You weren’t sure how long you’d be searching for him, but luckily it wasn’t long. On the opposite side of the hall, you watched him wheel a patient out of 17 North and into the halls. Whatever the patient said stopped Whitaker in his tracks - both grateful and surprised all at once. You waited a few minutes longer for him to enjoy a good moment with his patient (because sometimes it didn’t always go like that) before you made your way around to get to him. 

“Whitaker!”

“Uhm, oh yes. Hi, Dr. Fullerton.”

“I have a couple of burn patients in Central 3 and 4; second to third degree. Dr. Robby said you’d be able to assist if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I would. That’d be awesome. Thank you.”

He was so earnest it was endearing. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go remove some dead tissue.” 

You took the lead in showing Whitaker to the rooms. You were trying to make polite conversation. It only seemed fair to take a small interest in what motivated a young doctor to get into the field of medicine, of saving lives. Basic questions such as those were able to tell you a lot about who someone was and if they held enough compassion to be around people during their most vulnerable times. 

You did try your best to keep your attention trained on the work. It was your turn to be a teacher, and you wanted to do it well. You didn’t have an excuse why you looked toward Trauma 1. No excuse at all why you watched Robby speak to the kids' parents looking defeated before they’d even begun. There was even less of an excuse for when Robby looked away from them, his eyes searching until he found yours, that should’ve made you want to forget these last two years. You hated the old impulse to run to him - to care for him. The last time you’d seen Robby looking desperately close to combusting like this it’d been a few doors down standing outside pediatrics. 

Looking at him now, Robby seemed ready to quit, and it wasn’t even close to 8:30. 

______________

As always, thank you all so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

______________

Tag list: @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange

[bullet-prooflove]

Something To Complain About: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dizzybee03 @cosmic-psychickitty @puredicks @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Crisis

ASMR For The Soul

You spend the night riding Robby’s face, your hands gripping the headboard so hard that your knuckles turn white as he hits that perfect spot, the one that has your head tipping back, your hair spilling across your shoulders.

“Jesus…” You breathe as his grasp on your thighs tightens, spreading you wider so he can sink deeper.

The ecstasy claims you like a rip tide, dragging you down, pulling you under. The waves crash through your body, each one more powerful, more intense until you’re drowning in the rapture, consumed by it.

Even then Robby doesn’t let up, he keeps you there pressed against his mouth until he’s wrung every ounce of pleasure from you. Until his neighbour is banging on the wall because you’re a vocal lover, you always have been.

“Fuck off Stu.” You mutter as you sit back on Robby’s chest, trying to catch your breath. He laughs underneath you, his beard messy as he plants tender kisses along the inside of your thighs.

“I told you this position, it’s excellent for my back.” He murmurs before his palms knead  your ass, guiding you back to his mouth.

“Robby…” You whisper but he’s already nuzzling that special little place, the one that has you saying his name as you grip the headboard for a second time tonight.

“Louder this time.” He mumbles, before he delves back in. “I want to really give Stu something to complain about.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[science-hoes]

Baby

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+

A/N: Yeah so I am just in a Dr Robby mood and I probably will be for a while.

Every now and then, Robby texted you to meet him for coffee while the Pitt was suspiciously calm. Sometimes, he came to your office for a quick kiss and snatched one of the candies from the jar on your desk. But this was a little different.

Meet me in call room 3 in about 10 minutes.

So you finished up the note you were scribing in a patient’s chart and headed downstairs. You entered the on-call room slowly, peeking in to make sure nobody was occupying it. When you found it empty, you stepped in and shut the door behind you. The room had a twin-sized bed, a bedside table with a lamp, and a full-length mirror. You’ve spent many nights in one of these rooms, usually when a blizzard crosses Pennsylvania, rendering it dangerous to travel home. You sat on the edge of the bed, switching the lamp on to bring some warm light into the dark room.

The door creaked open, and Robby carefully slid through before closing it again. “Hey, stranger.” He whispered. He didn’t make his way over to you like you had expected him to.

You smiled and tilted your head. “Hey. Why are we in here?” You asked, not sure of what he had in mind.

Robby stood tall in front of the door, nearly rivaling its height. His gold chain glimmered in the low light of the room as he shifted his weight on his feet. It wasn’t like him to be so quiet or so…timid? His eyes moved from you to the ground.

You furrowed your brow and stood to meet him. “Baby, are you okay?” You asked, reaching your hands to the collar of his worn hoodie.

Robby just nodded, but you could see on his face that the gears in his brain were turning. Like he was actively planning what to say. You rubbed soothing circles on his broad chest, something you did whenever he had a panic attack or trouble speaking. After what seemed like hours, he broke the silence.

“Do you want to have my baby?”

Your hand froze in place on his chest. The wind was knocked out of you. All you could do was stare at your boyfriend in the low glow of the room and blink. You and Robby had been dating for a year and a half. In secret. Nobody within the hospital, especially the administration, knew about it. And he wanted to have a baby? The most public thing a couple could do aside from a big white wedding? Sure, you had come to terms with the fact that you were dating an older man who may be past that point in his life. But even though you wanted it deep down, you never expected him to bring it up. You always assumed it would be a happy accident and-

“I’m not going to ask you again.” Robby’s voice cut through the silence, and you couldn’t quite place the tone.

You took in a breath, realizing you had been holding it this entire time. “You want a baby?” Was all you could whisper.

Robby nodded and scratched the back of his neck, his nervous tick. “I’ve been…thinking about it. For a while now. But I just didn’t know how to say it.” He explained, looking away from your eyes. “We had a patient this morning who was…of my century.” He began, and the edges of your lips curled into a small grin at his storytelling. “He had his wife and two young daughters with him. He kept thanking me over and over because we saved his life. He kept talking about how happy he was to have his daughters, even that late in his life. And…”

You tilted your head so that your eyes met his line of vision. “And?”

He reached up and grasped your hand that still rested on his chest. “And I want that with you. I want to have a family with you, I want to watch our kids go off to college. If I wait any longer, I might not be able to see them go to high school.” He continued. 

You felt tears prick your eyes as he spoke. You squeezed his hand tightly and let out a breathy laugh. “I want that, too.” You whispered.

Robby smiled slowly, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes. “You do?” He asked.

You grinned and placed your hands on either side of his face. “Yes, Robby. Michael. I really want it.” You assured him, and the tears fell down your cheeks.

Robby grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in close for a kiss. Your hands slid to his peppered hair, pulling him even closer. The kiss was firm and passionate but quickly progressed to one of need. Robby shoved your white coat off your shoulders and tossed it to the bed. You pulled away slightly to laugh at him. 

“Oh, are we doing this now?” You teased.

Robby grinned and unzipped his hoodie, giving it the same fate as your white coat. “Oh, absolutely.” He said before pulling you back in.

He left hot, wet kisses on your mouth that slowly trailed down your neck, dragging his teeth along your soft skin. You felt your skin prickle and shoved your hands under his scrub top, running your fingers across his decently toned abdomen. His hands moved to your ass, and he tapped the back of your thigh, signaling you to jump up. You grabbed his neck and hopped to wrap your legs around his waist. He securely carried you to the bed and laid your body down. He snatched at your scrub bottoms, pulling your panties down with them in one quick motion. While you threw your top off, he removed his.

You pulled him back, relishing the sensation of his burning hot skin on yours. He returned to kissing your lips, your neck, and anything he could get access to while his hand slid down to brush over your core. His fingers barely touched your sopping wet pussy, and he chuckled. “Oh, is all this for me? So I can fuck a baby into you?”

You shuddered at his words and swallowed hard. “Yes.” You managed to say, grasping his shoulders tightly as he teased your entrance.

“Then let’s stretch you out.” He said before shoving one finger into your pussy.

Even that alone made your toes curl and back arch. You shook your head. “No, I want you now.” You pleaded.

Robby shook his head and started playing with your clit with his thumb. “No, love. It takes three before you’re ready. Don’t rush it.” He reminded you.

You squirmed in frustration, wanting more but knowing he was right. He added a second finger, and your walls squeezed around the added diameter. “Robby, please. Please, please let me have you.” You begged.

Robby reached for the drawstrings on his scrub pants and pulled them. “You’re almost there. You’re being such a good girl for me.” He assured.

Your eyes watched his hands pull his pants down and revealed his boxers struggling to suppress his massive cock. You let out a shaky breath as Robby began to tease your slits with the third finger. When it sank in, you squeezed your eyes shut in blissful pain. “Oh, God, Robby. Please.” And you don’t really know what you were begging for this time. Because you knew what was next.

Robby pumped his fingers in and out of your pussy, the squelching sounds filling the otherwise silent room. “I know, I know. You’re almost ready.” He soothed, pressing a kiss against your temple.

The sweat was already beading at your neck. You reached for the outline of his cock in his boxers and wrapped your hand around what you could. Robby let out a hiss as you slowly rubbed the fabric, creating a friction that he was craving. He finally picked you up with his free arm and sat you down in his lap, back to his chest. He shoved his boxers down and spit on his hand, rubbing the saliva on his own cock for extra lubricant.

Your head fell back against his shoulder as he continued to finger you, letting out pitiful sounds of frustration. Robby kissed your shoulder and reached for your face. He adjusted your head to look straight at the wall. In front of you was the full length mirror that came with every on-call room. You were met with the reflection of Robby fingering you open, with his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“You’re gonna watch while I fuck this baby in you. You understand?” He growled low in your ear.

You shuddered and nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

You swallowed hard, trying to adjust to his three fingers pumping in and out of you. “Yes sir.” You breathed.

And with your answer, Robby replaced his fingers with his cock. He slowly pushed into you, one hand on your lower stomach as he did. You just knew he could feel himself pushing deeper and deeper until he maxed out. Tears fell from your eyes as he stretched you open. 

“Fuck, baby.” You hissed.

Robby didn’t move, and let you adjust to his length. He brushed the hair out of your eyes and peppered kisses along your cheek and neck. “Shhh…you’re doing so good, love. It’s almost over.” He whispered.

Your hands reached back behind you, grasping the back of his neck. The pain began to slowly neutralize, and your labored breaths were more steady. You gave him a small nod to keep going. Robby grabbed your hips and slowly pulled out, releasing the tension in your pussy, just to slam back in ruthlessly. If you had been at home, you would have screamed bloody murder, but all you could do was bite into your bottom lip. Robby repeated his motions, slowly out, pounding back in, creating a steadily faster rhythm. 

Your eyes fluttered open, and the sight in the mirror was too much. Robby fucking you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, the glint from his gold chain glaring off the reflection. You grabbed his biceps and squeezed tightly. “Robby, I-” You tried to say. “I’m gonna come.” 

Robby let out a breathy laugh, maintaining his bruising pace. “That’s right, love. Come for me.” He whispered.

You felt the white hot burning in your stomach explode across your body, walls pulsating around his cock and lubricating even more. Robby continued to whisper a string of praises as you went limp in his arms. He held you up, continuing to pound into you at the same unrelenting pace, but you could tell that he was beginning to falter. With a few more thrusts, he emptied himself into your pussy, grunting as he did. You could feel each rope of cum burst inside you as he finished, and you felt a new excitement in your chest that you never had before.

When Robby was able to catch his breath, he turned your face to kiss your lips gently. “I hope you have a few more minutes before your next appointment.” He said. “Because we’re gonna sit here until I know you’re pregnant.”

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 2 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me

Synopsis: When Robby and Jack find you, old wounds reopen, as guilt and regret threaten to tear apart what’s left of your fractured relationships. As your hearts reconnect in an unexpected moment of closeness, long-buried feelings begin to resurface and the possibility of forgiveness feels closer than ever.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies, heartbreak >>> comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1463

A/n: How are you even supposed to choose between these two, like hello? Anyway, we'll find out soon won't we... Next chapter is heavyyy

Previous Chapter (1): I Love You | Next Chapter (3): I Forgive You

Robby and Jack find you slumped in an alley, unmoving, propped against the cold building facade.

Jack is instantly by your side, rubbing your sternum forcefully, desperate for a response, anything.

Robby's fingers press against the side of your neck, terrified of what he might find, or not. "Y/N?" He opens your eyelids, blinding you with a penlight.

You groan, barely audible “Stop.”

“Y/N, you with us?” Jack huffs, ridden with anxiety.

“I’m fine.” You say louder, pushing their hands away.

Relief washes over them, but it doesn't last long.

“Did you take something?” Robby scans the ground for anything that might explain this.

“What? No”, you plead, offended by the suggestion.

“What happened?” Jack's voice is softer now.

You blink, taking in your surroundings, not really sure yourself. “I must’ve passed out.”

Neither of the men speak, unsure whether to confess how badly they were spiralling when they couldn’t find you. Was it even their place to worry?

“I’m just so done”, you interrupt their thoughts.

“With what?” Robby inquires too quickly.

“Everything. This job. This hospital. Maybe this city.”

“This life?” Jack states flatly.

The bluntness shocks you. Robby as well, but he wonders too.

“N- No. You know I wouldn’t.” You stare into Jack's eyes, pleading for something unknown. Not after everything you’d gone through. You really wouldn’t. Does he believe you?

Jack turns his gaze away from you, as to somehow escape the conversation that had been building between you for a long time. Waiting to break. His mouth twists downwards. A tear gathers in his eye, the pain of losing you creeping in. There were a couple of close calls on the tours you spent together, but the day he nearly lost you, broke him.

Robby knows some of the details of your relationship, but the depth of the pain and unresolved sadness between you leaves him speechless.

The tension is palpable. It’s only now, in this moment, that you all realize how much you’ve hurt each other without even meaning to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Both of you”, your eyes flicker to Robby’s.

The moment lingers in heavy silence.

“Why did you come back here?” Robby asks.

You wonder whose idea it was to search for you here. Probably Jack, right? His ability to keep a clear head and to stay calm in the most impossible situations always shocked you. But equally, his stoic demeanor drove you crazy, especially when it came to letting you in and dealing with your past together.

Maybe it was Robby. Robby would panic, but then analyse the situation at hand and find a solution. Always.

Now you needed to know.

“How did you find me?” You ask, disregarding their earlier question.

“Dana”, they answer in perfect unison.

You give a soft smile and though the situation is heavy, it’s enough to make Robby and Jack’s hearts melt. The warmth in your eyes brings an unexpected tenderness, like a comforting embrace for the soul and before they can help it, both of them smile too.

You sit in the peaceful silence, the weight of everything feeling just a little bit lighter, as though the past has softened its grip on you all.

But all too soon, reality creeps back in.

“I didn’t know you come back here often", Jack's face grows serious again. "It seems… painful."

“Sometimes", you admit. "When I need to convince myself that an alley is just an alley...”

Talking about it hurts, but pretending it didn't happen is just as difficult. For them too.

You feel your hands tremble again, instinctively pulling them closer to your chest. But Robby notices, closing the distance between you and offering his shoulder. It’s the same comfort he always gave you, like second nature.

When he walked away, the void he left was unbearable.

But now he’s here.

You sink your forehead into the crook of his neck, taking slow, cleansing breaths. His familiar scent floods you, a quiet reminder of all the unexpressed love.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you”, Robby whispers, as you melt deeper into him, your heartbeat syncing with his.

Slowly, the panic subsides.

Jack watches you both, eyes hard, fighting his own memories.

It's an unusually quiet shift. The eerie kind where everyone's on edge, waiting for something to break.

You and Jack work a couple of cases together, like you usually do.

You were always a great team. Made each other better in ways few people understood. But Robby did. He always respected your deep bond, even when you and Robby were dating. It's the kind that runs deeper than friendship, deeper than love, it's survival. Maybe it's because Robby and Jack share their own connection, a brotherhood built on mutual trust and support.

Your breakup with Jack was mutual, the weight of your shared history and trauma made it inevitable. You both walked away, at different points, caught in your own separate battles. You saved lives together, but you also lost them. And in the process, you lost parts of yourselves too. You both gave so much to everyone else, there was nothing left to give each other. It wasn't anyone's fault.

Still, you can’t help but feel like it was yours. Like you destroyed something great. Not just with Jack, but with Robby too.

The breakup with Robby really tested everything. Words were said, hearts broken and neither of you knew how to navigate this new reality. Somehow, Jack found himself in the middle and all of you blamed yourselves.

You weren’t the one who left this time, but maybe you pushed Robby too hard, pressured him to open up when he wasn’t ready.

So you accepted Robby's decision and watched him leave.

You wonder if he expected you to fight for him, to not let him go so easily.

That day in the ER, Robby snaps at you. In front of everyone. In front of Jack.

Jack’s breath hitches, trying hard not to intervene. To say something. Why wouldn't he? It's you. But he doesn't. And for that he'd never forgive himself.

It's not rational. But later, when you're lying in that hospital bed, machines and monitors beeping in a faint rhythm, their minds force them to dissect every little detail that led up to what happened. As if that could somehow undo it.

“I am your attending. You are a resident. When I tell you to do something, you do it", Robby barks. "If you can't respect that, then maybe this hospital isn’t for you.”

You just look at him, incredulous. But he continues, louder.

“You’re acting like a fucking child!” Regret washes over him as soon as the words leave his mouth.

You rip off your gloves with a snap, glancing at Jack, daring - no - willing him to speak up. But part of you is glad he doesn't. This is between you and Robby. Deep down you know it isn’t personal, but it still hurts, so you decide to give both of you space.

“Dr. Robinavitch”, you say before walking out, unaware how that split decision would lead to you almost losing your life.

All three of you now lean against the building facade, a comforting familiarity between you.

Your breathing has steadied, but your eyes are still glazed. You look up at Robby. For a moment, you are back to being his. And he yours. He gives you a soft smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes and your heart nearly bursts, memories rushing back.

You remember kissing every freckle on his forehead, tracing the lines of his skin. He always thought they made him look old. You agreed, which made him laugh. But you also thought they made him look kind. How fitting.

A shaky gasp cuts through your thoughts. Jack drops his head, one hand pressing against his eyes, desperate to hide the pain that tears through him.

“Jack?” You whisper, reaching for him.

Jack lets out a quiet sob, fighting every urge not to fall apart in front of you. He can't.

You grab both of his wrists, grounding him with your presence as you pull him into your chest. His head rests gently against your heart, a silent promise that he will always be part of it.

“Hey", you tilt your head, searching for his eyes. "I'm here."

Maybe you love him differently now, but the ache in your chest tells you that some bonds can't be broken.

“Please forgive me,” he begs, his voice breaking, as the weight of his pain truly hits you.

Thanks for reading part 2!! Oh boi, this was a sad one… and it’s only getting worse before it gets better is all I’m gonna say hehe. Pls share your thoughts, I love reading your comments!!

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist: ♡

@queenslandlover-93 @sp00kylesley @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sqrlgrl22 @imonmykneessir @gabsgabsvaz

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Bleeding Secrets

Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Dr. Robby has spent months keeping your relationship a secret. He’s careful, meticulous—because The Pitt is a hospital full of sharp minds and even sharper gossip, and he refuses to be the center of it. But when you’re rushed into the ER, bloodied, barely conscious, and the only thing you manage to say is his name before passing out, there’s nowhere left to hide.

The first thing the ER heard was the rush of paramedics wheeling in a trauma patient.

“Severe abrasions, possible internal bleeding,” one of them called. “BP’s dropping, barely responsive—only thing she’s said is Dr. Robby.”

The ER moved like a well-oiled machine, doctors and nurses springing into action. The charge nurse, Dana, furrowed her brows, snapping on gloves as she took over. “She asked for Robby? Why?”

“No idea,” a nurse replied, adjusting the IV drip. “Think he knows her?”

“Find him.”

Dr. Robby had just gotten out of trauma room 2 when Dr. McKay found him.

“Dr. Robby, we have a trauma patient asking for you,” she said. “She came in bad. Barely conscious.”

His heart skipped—just for a second. “Who?”

“We don’t know yet. But she was losing a lot of blood and the only thing she managed to say was your name before she passed out.”

Something cold wrapped around his ribs.

The walk to the trauma bay felt longer than it should have. And then he saw you.

You looked small on the hospital bed, IV lines snaking around you, skin too pale against the sheets. There was blood—too much blood—coating your scraped arms, staining your clothes, smudged along your temple. A nurse was pressing gauze to your side, already soaked through.

The room buzzed with movement, voices sharp with efficiency, but Robby barely heard them. His feet moved before his brain could process it, taking him straight to your bedside.

It was the first time in months he didn’t care who was watching.

One of the nurses glanced at him, pausing. “…Doctor?”

His jaw clenched. His hand twitched at his side like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he should. If he could.

You let out a weak breath, eyelids fluttering. Even barely conscious, your lips parted just enough for one word:

“…Robby.”

Silence.

A heavy, loaded silence.

Dr. Garcia raised an eyebrow. “So, uh… you do know her?”

Robby didn’t answer.

Instead, he reached out—finally—brushing damp hair back from your face, fingers lingering along your cheek with the kind of tenderness no one had ever seen from him before.

And that? That was the answer.

No confirmation. No declaration.

Just the way his normally controlled expression fractured at the sight of you hurt. The way his fingers ghosted over your pulse like he needed to feel it. The way his lips pressed into a tight, thin line, something raw flashing through his eyes before he exhaled sharply and snapped, “What’s the status?”

As if everyone in the room hadn’t already figured it out.

[venusstsr]

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙮

𝘿𝙧 𝙈𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡 "𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙮" 𝙍𝙤𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Your little bump was becoming noticeable, which drove your husband crazy about your decision to keep working in such a chaotic and stressful place.

“Love, why don’t you take a break?” Robby asked his adorable wife while continuing to work on a case at her computer.

“Honey, I’m fine, really,” the woman stood up and positioned herself in front of her husband. “Maybe you should take a break; your dark circles are noticeable,” she said while feeling her husband's hand on her little bump.

“No displays of affection in the ER,” Dr. Langdon’s voice pulled them from their moment. “Gloria will get upset if she sees you like this.” Langdon chuckled lightly at the older man’s displeasure.

Robby let out a sigh, clearly frustrated. Langdon raised his hands in surrender. “Believe me, I don’t want to see Gloria angry. She doesn’t forgive those things.”

The woman smiled as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry, Robby. I’m fine,” she insisted, even though she knew her husband was worried about her and their baby.

“I know, love, but I’d like you to stay in the break room,” Robby said firmly.

She looked at him and replied, “Robby, I can handle this.”

Meanwhile, the computer monitor emitted a sharp beep, drawing their attention to the case he was working on. “Look at this,” she said, pointing at the screen. “This patient has unusual symptoms, and I think we're dealing with a rare diagnosis.”

Langdon stepped closer to take a better look. “Hmm, that’s interesting. Have you considered running more tests?” he asked with genuine interest.

Robby looked at his wife with admiration as she confidently argued her point. He couldn’t help but feel proud of her; her passion for medicine was evident.

...

Their shift in the emergency room was coming to an end. They looked at each other, exhausted but satisfied with the day’s work. They had faced countless challenges, but the excitement for their upcoming ultrasound gave them a new boost.

“Are you ready to see our little one?” he asked, smiling as he adjusted his jacket. The excitement clearly in his eyes.

“More than ready.”

As they walked towards the parking lot, conversation flowed between them. He paused for a moment and took her hand. “You know? I feel incredibly lucky to have you by my side. Not only are you an amazing doctor, but you’re also going to be an incredible mom.”

She smiled, feeling her heart swell with love and gratitude. “And you are the best husband. I love you.” The older man responded with a heartfelt "me too."

When they reached the car, he turned on the engine and started driving towards the clinic. The city lights rushed past the window, but his mind was focused on what was about to come.

“Can you imagine what it will be like when we hold him in our arms?” he asked as he turned a corner.

“Yes,” she replied with a soft laugh. “I imagine him crying at the top of his lungs while you try to calm him down with made-up songs.”

“Hey! My songs are great,” he protested amidst laughter. “Besides, he could be a future star.”

They both laughed as nervousness began to mix with excitement. When they finally arrived at the clinic, the atmosphere was calm and welcoming.

“Let’s do this,” she said taking a deep breath as they entered.

Once inside, the staff greeted them with warm smiles and led them to the ultrasound room. The room was softly lit and there were adorable baby pictures on the walls.

The ultrasound technician, a kind woman named Carla, greeted them and asked them to make themselves comfortable on the examination table. “Ready to see your little miracle?” she asked enthusiastically.

She held his hand tightly as Carla applied cold gel on her belly. The monitor came to life and images began to appear.

“There it is,” Carla said pointing out a small moving figure.

He couldn’t contain his amazement and tears of happiness filled his eyes as he saw their baby on screen. “perfect,” he murmured, feeling an overwhelming mix of love and protection.

She looked at him and then at the monitor, feeling her heart burst with joy. “Those little hands! so small!” she exclaimed excitedly.

They shared a look full of love and complicity. In that moment, they knew that everything they had experienced so far had been worth it.

When the ultrasound ended, both were beaming with happiness. They walked out to the parking lot embraced, feeling as if they were floating on a cloud.

“This is just the beginning,” he said as he drove home again. “I can’t wait to be a dad with you.”

“And I can’t wait to be a mom with you,” she replied with a radiant smile.

Hi, this is my first time writing here on tumblr! I've been watching the pitt and couldn't wait to write about the characters! Lool so feel free to make requests and I'll be happy to write it!💓

English is not my first language so I hope there are no mistakes lol please tell me if there are any!

Bye!!!