#mohan x robby x javadi | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thepencilnerd · 10 days ago

Text

Feels Like Trouble

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3

It started at the nurses’ station.

You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.

"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"

You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."

He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.

"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."

Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."

"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.

Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"

Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."

Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.

At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.

Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.

Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.

Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.

Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.

Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.

Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.

But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.

It was you.

You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.

Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.

You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.

But not to Robby. Never to Robby.

He noticed everything.

The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.

He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.

Because he already knew. He just... knew.

Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.

Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.

And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.

You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.

You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.

"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"

You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.

"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."

You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.

Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.

From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—

"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.

You turned and there he was.

Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.

"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."

You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."

You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"

You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"

Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."

You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."

You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"

His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."

You blinked. "You’re jealous?"

"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."

You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."

"He was twelve."

"He's definitely at least twenty-six."

Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."

Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks. You turned bright red, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.

Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.

His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked.

"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."

You smacked his arm, giggling.

"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."

He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."

Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."

His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."

You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.

Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"This is not over," he muttered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"

Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."

You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."

He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.

"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."

2K notes · View notes

dulcebloodhnd · 5 days ago

Text

THE BLUE HOUR

pairings: jack abbot x poc!reader/reader

warnings: age gap; medical inaccuracies; angst

summary: jack has been avoiding you during a mass casualty event, you have had no time to process your feelings when things come alight.

authors note: please don’t come at me with my medical inaccuracies; this was not beta read; this was not edited so give me a break pls; thank you for reading and enjoy!

please reblog, comment and follow! i would really appreciate it :))

word count: 1.3k

Abbot was avoiding you and with effort as he dodged you between patients, monitoring the chaos and acting accordingly. He’s been distant. It’s not out of the normal for him to be reserved but not like this. You gave up after the fourth hour. There were more important things at risk than your relationship.

Triage was a controlled chaos, bodies lined the corridors filled with people and blood. After news hit that it was a mass casualty event, the hospital was on lockdown. It was all hands on deck. Samira intubating a patient, Robby running all over the place, Javadi and Whitaker passing down emergency blood bags. Abbot had left abruptly as soon as Mel came running back into the centre of the emergency department.

Your hands were full by keeping and maintaining pressure on a woman’s abdomen, volumes of blood were seeping the gauze as you were changing it to fresh new dressings. You exchanged glances with Mateo as you signalled to him if he had the tourniquet before putting the instrument around the patients body and tightening it all the way. You searched for any signs of extra blood and checked her pulse before ordering another nurse to finish administering extra fluids before transferring up above for surgery.

Gloves were thrown into the allocated bin, new ones put on as you rushed into South 15. A boy, Callum, sat upright upon the cot with a gash across his head. He was mumbling incoherently as you approached him. You checked his head, pustules of oxidised blood bubbled from beneath. Callum’s head dropped down, his head had suffered more trauma. The bead was brought down into a horizontal position as the boys body was locked in place. To minimise the pressure, a tube was placed to relieve tension and allow the blood and any fluid drain from the brain. Callum’s blood pressure went back to a normal range.

It was a lot. The suffering and the death. Many innocent lives lost because of one person’s selfish action.

Abbot entered into the open area and made brief eye contact with you. His eyebrows were pinched and in his sternness he got to work in aiding Mohan with a man’s collapsed lung.

Air was needed. You made your way outside into the triage zone to see if Shen and Ellis needed help with any incoming patients. More importantly, you just wanted a breather, a reprieve from inside.

The cool wind caressed your face, blanketing your anxious state in a film of protection. You took a deep breath before addressing both Doctors.

“Anymore incoming patients?”

“Do you want to impart your words of wisdom, Shen?” Ellis said.

Shen smiled, “Don’t worry, I learned my lesson. No one will be surprising us.”

Honks from the other side of the buildings could be heard before a black sedan crashed into a line of parked gurneys.

“You just had to say something,” Ellis remarked as she ran to the drivers side.

You were praying for the night to end.

———

The shooter was pronounced dead—a self immolation with a bullet to his own head. What a coward. The emergency room was being cleared up of all messes and walk-in’s being allowed back into the hospital.

All the light drained from your face. You were dehydrated, hungry and exhausted. Before anyone could call on you, you locked yourself in accessible bathroom stall. Looking at yourself in the mirror, a small speck of blood dotted your cheek. Warm water ran from the tap as you rubbed at your face before splashing the water all over. Hands gripped the porcelain sink tightly, your chest felt heavy. You could not breathe for a moment, tried focusing on the physical objects. Everything was wrong. You didn’t feel like yourself. You had one more hour of your shift. You could get through this.

You exited the bathroom and came into contact with hard chest. Jack Abbot. His arms steadied yourself against him. The warmth of his hands seeped into your clothes.

You had to break the silence and said, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You stepped back from his hold.

“You good?” Jack replied. His mouth twitched, a slight frown decorated his face.

Your head jerked up. “Yeah…yeah. I’m fine. All good. Nothing to worry about here.”

“Uh huh. And, I’m Mother Teresa.” Jack scoffs. “You need to talk about it. Even if it’s not me. You need to speak with someone.”

“Someone should be taking their own advice then.” You retort without a second to lose. “Don’t Jack. Just..don’t.”

You felt Jack’s stare as you kept on walking away. The man was confusing. He’s committed and caring, the next he is aloof and avoidant. You squared back your shoulders and completed the last hour of your shift. Your bed was calling you.

———

Miscellaneous things were scattered around your apartment, some would say it’s homey and live in. Your mother would say it’s a mess. Most things you disagreed on but this was the opposite. Loose receipts and scribbled paper were binned, the knitted blanket folded and draped across the sofa and incense burned to rid of the negative energies that burdened your house and your mind.

You were clearing up the last of scattered items before a hard knock invaded your space. Why would anyone be visiting you at this hour? The bolt and lock was undone and you peeked through the slit before opening the door to Jack. His bag hung over his shoulder with one hand in his scrubs pocket. You were surprised that he showed up to your house.

“What are you doing here?”

Silence ensued.

“Wanted to check on you to see if you were alright.” Jack leaned against the door. His foot toed the line as he asked, “May I come in?”

You opened the door wide and let him in before closing it gently and taking a deep breath before facing him again. Jack placed his bag down by the sage couch, and sat upon the armrest. You continued to stand with your arms crossed against your chest.

“Why are you here, Jack?”

“We need to talk.”

You scoffed at his statement. “What did you think I was trying to do for the past week?”

“I know and I’m sorry. Also, having these conversations at work are not appropriate.”

“Right…because work was the first time I brought up needing to have a conversation with you. Like, I have not been messaging you or calling you. Maybe, work was the only place to ambush you. But, even that didn’t work.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You charged closer to him and swiped across to sit on the opposite side of the sofa. Your legs tucked underneath you as you stared up at Jack.

“So, what is it that you want to say,” you whispered.

Jack cleared his throat and you could tell that what he would say would not be great news. His eyes watered and were slightly red but he looked straight into your eyes when he said the most heart shattering thing.

“It was never going to work between us. You need to understand that.” Jack sighed as he looked down at his feet. “You are half my age, darling.”

“What were these past six months then? A fling? I’m some hot young resident to mess around with?”

Jack looked at you with a pained expression.

“Just be honest with yourself and say that you’re a coward and you didn’t want this relationship to last.”

“I ain’t a coward.”

“Well, you’re a man who clearly doesn’t know what he wants,” your voice trembled.

Jack looked away clearing his throat. His voice was gruff as he said, “I…I thought I did.”

You didn’t believe him. But, maybe he was telling the truth because the man that stood before you, well, you didn’t recognise him anymore.

#the pitt #x reader #jack abbott #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbot fanfic #the pitt x reader #the pitt fic #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott x you #fanfic #angst #angst with an open ending #poc!reader #reader fic #dulcebloodhnd fic

327 notes · View notes