#no good time to be a robby fan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

superhoeva · 5 days ago

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𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 – 𝐦. 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 (𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭; +𝟏𝟖) | what a fucking delight it was to write this, as someone who has a big fat crush on this ^ man right here and as someone who is also a lifelong steeler fan. this one goes out to @ovaryacted (who pretty much beta-ed the first handful of pages for this), @heavenbarnes (who maybe might have been bitten by the robby bug?? no pressure to read babes), @jackabbotsfakeleg (who is the first fellow steelers fan i found on tumblr; this team is my doom but i love them!), plus all the robby fiends

warning(s) include language, inappropriate relations (?),age gap (reader is 25ish/2nd year med student, while robby is pushing 50), he fell first and harder, sexual tension, reader is a steelers fan and from pittsburgh, (american) football talk, baltimore ravens trashing, injury (mentioned), smut, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (f receiving), handjob, nipple play, bodily fluids, big dick/down bad!robby, special appearance at the end; she's thick, guys... sitting at 5.2k words!

Medical school lecture halls are just as chilly as Robby remembers.

The air feels a little less clean, a little more human, but still. There’s a nip to the air that takes him back to his Monday-Wednesday-Friday EMED 851 lecture. Part of him wishes he had worn one of his hoodies, though that would look a little weird with the button-up and slacks he has on. The light blue–cornflower, the tag reads–top and black bottoms feel odd, tugging at Robby’s skin in a way that his scrubs and cargos don’t.

There’s a wide array of students scattered across the seats of the room. To his surprise, most of them listen to him ramble about airways with attentive eyes and scribble down whatever they can catch. Good. That means that they’re maybe halfway serious about this shit, which earns them 2% of the qualification needed to work in emergency medicine.

Other than a lull of awkward silence at the very beginning plus a few verbal stumbles in the form of curses that cause the class to giggle while he apologizes and gathers himself, the doctor is pretty solid.

There’s only one other time he flounders, if he should even call it that. It was more of an unforeseen pause. Nothing more than the tick of a few seconds when his eyes lock with yours for the first time today.

You’re already staring in his direction, waiting for him to finish the word that collapses surprisingly easy on his lips at the sight of you. He blinks, a strange flush ricocheting across the skin of his face when you blink at him, even throwing in a little grin just as he snatches back his composure with a distracted um.

The shirt you’re wearing is nice. Simple and fitted. Cap sleeves stop right below your shoulder and reveal intricate lines of ink that swirl back under the fabric in loops that make Robby wonder more than he should. You’re wearing shorts, too. Huh. He’d have half a mind to question how your exposed legs bear the nippy air of the hall, but it doesn’t matter. You make it work–and well–the material cutting off just a little higher than he initially realized.

Zipping his eyes back up to yours, he warms at how you’re picking at your bottom lip; your other hand now using your pen to write down something you remember him saying a few moments earlier.

Covering his gulp with a fast wipe at his beard, Robby somehow finds a way to push out the words that have been stuck in his throat for what feels like longer than the brisk five seconds that have passed since he spoke last.

His head tilts, barely, and his lips twitch into a small smile, dragging his stare from you to the carpet beneath him so he can speak again. Robby plays off the mistake as him thinking–about the question itself and not how you are unmistakably the prettiest thing in this room.

Eleven. That’s how many times he glances at you between then and the end of his lecture. The first three times were a genuine accident, and boy, did they feel like one. Goosebumps flutter across the back of his neck, which he’s rubbed enough times that some of the students probably think there’s something wrong with the tendons there. Robby almost agrees, with the way they keep allowing him to swivel and study you.

The more it happens, the oops of peeking at you, the longer it takes for him to look away. By the end of his knowledge-packed but run-on sentence answers, Robby’s stare cements to you. You’re nodding, legs crossed, and unintentionally drawing patterns with the pad of your finger across the skin of your thigh. For some reason, he’s fairly confident in the fact that you probably don’t even realize you’re doing it.

“Any more questions for Dr. Robinavitch?”

Dr. Robinavitch. Professors, man.

Robby doesn’t try to stop himself from glimpsing in your vicinity. Not right at you but close, so his peripheral can catch any possible movement of your hand raising. His eyes burn with an unsettling eagerness while he waits for something to happen. What the fuck is wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with you for wearing shorts that fit that well even while you’re sitting?

Your hand stays where it is, arm propped against the side of your seat, fingers fiddling with the pen he can tell you’re trying not to click. The small pang of disappointment that rises inside him squashes away in seconds, and he prays that his ears don’t start to hue red after you hold his stare the longest you have for the entire class.

Looking at him through your lashes, you wait. And wait… and wait. A smirk barely ghosts across your mouth, and Robby rips away his stare. Throat bobbing while he swallows, blinking faster than he means to, he looks to the professor.

“Think they’re ready to kick me out, Dr. Hummel. I’ve probably rambled for long enough, yeah?” Robby shrugs. A sheepish smile warms his face when the room echoes with a healthy applause, and Robby almost recoils at the sound. There’s no way Hummel didn’t tell them to do that. And all he can do is stand and take it, hands tucked into his pockets, his thanks an awkward nod and embarrassed grimace-flavored grin.

Robby tries not to blush when he spots you clapping along with everyone else. He tucks his chin, feeling a little silly with how satisfying it feels to know he’s spoken well enough for you to show some appreciation. Or maybe you’re just doing it to be nice. Either way, you’re making the attending pinker than usual.

Class wraps in a daze.

Dr. Hummel leaves Robby lingering to the side, a wave of shuffling backpacks and zippers echoes throughout the hall. There’s a reminder announcement about a research paper due two weeks from today… or is it a presentation? Robby doesn’t listen hard enough to verify.

A sprinkle of pupils, glowing with a luster that only presents itself after their final class of the week concludes, come up to formally greet Robby. All with names he’ll try to remember but won’t. Bright-eyed and buzzing more than he thinks one would be after an hour and a half long lecture on airways, but hey. He appreciates the eagerness, even if it’s a little much.

Doing his best to be polite, Robby tries to seem as if he’s actively listening–nodding, humming, and throwing in a smile for good measure. He catches a few of the words being smattered his way, but he’s already forgotten them by the time the students leave him be. A sigh of relief sinks out of his nose when he turns his head to find you still in the room, only just now standing from your chair and sliding a thick notebook into your bag.

A line of spit gets caught in his throat when he sees you adjust your shorts, subtly tugging at where they’ve ridden up in between the warmth of your thighs–warmth of your thighs? Fuck, Michael, get it the hell together.

Robby coughs loudly into the crook of his elbow before pivoting to find you gliding his way. His heart jumps as you head right for the man, and his mind races to search for something to say. Hi? Nice to meet you? I really like those shorts?

His mouth opens to speak, though he quickly settles it into a kind grin as you scoot past him with a smile of your own.

“S’cuse me,” you pronounce gently, and Robby’s throat bobs.

“Of course,” he nods, voice huskier than he means for it to be as he takes a polite step to the side. You gift him one last breath-snatching smile before floating out of the hall without a second look. A long hum seeps from Robby, his fingers reaching to scrape at the nape of his neck.

Fuck, he needs to change out of these clothes… and maybe receive a beating of some kind for how long he let himself gawk at your ass just now.

Unfortunately, Robby doesn’t find the courage to ask anyone to smack him across the face the entire walk to his car. He does, however, have enough sense to unfasten the button that’s been digging into his skin since he threw on the shirt.

The man could cry happy tears when he pulls into the Panera Bread parking lot to find it close to empty. Surprising, considering that it’s the middle of the day on the UPMC campus but hey. He’s not complaining. The less college students in line between him and his overpriced iced green tea and tomato basil BLT, the better. In fact, he might splurge and go for a brownie, too… maybe that’ll clear the fog you’ve spelled him under.

His mind wandered for the whole ride over–swirling with blurry images of you and tingling with unanswered questions. Robby even stumbles through his order a few times, though the embarrassment over that is briskly wiped away when he turns his head to find you sitting at one of the tables.

Of course, you’re here.

Of course, you’re here and snacking on chocolate croissants and sipping coffee while reading off the screen of your laptop with the most delightful expression of intrigue he’s ever seen.

You aren’t real… you can’t be because only dreams are this coincidental.

Teeth grinding, Robby scans the area around you. Empty, other than an older man stirring his tomato soup and a mother and daughter sharing a frosted cookie with a pair of soft smiles. Robby’s eyes crinkle at the sight, shifting in his place at the counter in deep thought.

He guesses it’ll be a short wait for his food, as it always is. Then all he needs to do is fill his cup at the machine, wait for his number to be called and he’s home free… no matter how tempting it would be to tip over your way and say a quick hello. There’s a voice in the back of his head chanting for him to swallow the nerves and fucking do it, yet he still isn’t sure what’d he start with. What do you say to a young woman you’re certain will haunt you for the rest of you life–

“Dr. Robinavitch? Hi…”

It takes Robby a second to look at you. Even without, an odd feeling tightens Robby’s chest. He finally turns, swallowing through a tickle in his throat, just barely blinking away how his eyes try to water as you approach him carefully. Dear lord, someone please help him–your voice. All you’ve said is his name and a simple, normal hello yet he’s already turning into a puddle of nothing.

“Oh, please. Everyone just calls me Robby,” he holds his hand out for you to shake but regrets it immediately at the spark that ignites when your palms touch. Clenching his teeth at the feeling, Robby masks his tight jaw with a warm smile. “You were just in my lecture, if I remember correctly.”

Robby feels dumb when he tags on the question at the end. There’s no doubt surrounding whether he’s remembering correctly, as he’ll never forget you or those shorts even if he were to try.

“Yeah, for Hummel’s class. I’m actually glad I ran into you again. I really enjoyed you coming to talk to us today. And I’m sorry, I feel like I should’ve said something before leaving class but I couldn’t think of any cool questions to ask you afterwards but, uh, yeah. Having an actual attending from an ED come to talk to you about using a mac versus a miller is much more pleasing than reading about it in some textbook at three in the morning.”

A small chuckle lightens his face. “That’s very kind of you, ‘m glad you liked it. Is ED your main interest?”

“One-hundred percent. I mean, I won’t even start my rotations for another year but that’s definitely the end goal.”

“Well, good. That’s good, um… sorry, one sec,” Robby’s cut off by the calling of his number, but raises a gentle hand with a pleasant smile in hopes that you’ll stay put. He mumbles a small thank you to the worker that slides him his bag, turning back to you with a lick to his lips. “Like I was saying, that’s great. We could always use more people like you in the ED.”

Wait. Shit. People like you? The man hasn’t even known you for that long and has talked to you for even less. He finds himself lucky when you decide not to think about the statement as hard as he does, accepting the compliment with a small grin.

“I appreciate that, Robby. Hopefully at least one of my clinicals ends up being in The Pitt. I can’t even imagine all the things I’d learn as your MS considering that all it took was a class of you speaking for me to fill up two pages of notes.”

Is he as red as he feels?

“Ah, hearing that, I’m sure you’d fit right in wherever you end up. Secretly kinda hoping it is in my ED at some point, though.” And not just because you’re a knockout and a half. “Just over the short time I’ve talked to you, you seem stellar. Good listener, pretty, cares about the details.”

Wait. Shit, that second one is a slip and much too obvious to just glaze over like his last one. You’re blinking at him in a way that itches his insides, and he exhales a rough breath. Shaking his head, he dips his nose in an embarrassed hang of his head.

“‘M sorry,” he starts with a breathy laugh because it’s all he can do. “That wasn’t appropriate of me, I’m sorry. Your good looks have nothin’ to do with your abilities.”

Suddenly, it feels like karma is having its way with Robby. Was there a door he should’ve held but didn’t? A thank you he forgot to tell someone? There must be because he’s usually quicker to control himself around someone that’s piqued his interests as much as you have.

When he tilts his gaze back to you, there’s something in your face hinting at something he doesn’t let himself attempt to decrypt.

“Jeez, I��m really eatin’ it today, aren’t I,” Robby squirms with a sheepish smile. “And that feels like my cue to leave you to you’re studying before I am forced to have you gag me.”

“Oh, I’m not studying. I mean, I should be but your answer to that one question Jeremiah asked has me knee deep in an article about the history of clinical airway management. Also, I didn’t take you to be into that kinda stuff, but I’ll make sure to be gentle if you really want me to.”

Brow line raising in a flutter of rousing excitement, Robby allows himself a full grin. You match the toothy-smile, leaning with something that looks like anticipation with another wring of your hands.

What a well-dressed, witty, gorgeous geek you’re proving yourself to be.

“I, uh, I actually know of a few other studies you might be interested in,” Robby suggests, a wave of poise centering his thoughts and reprioritizing his intentions. “...if you've got the time?”

The next sixty-ish minutes pass devastatingly fast. A few more people have populated the Panera dining room but Robby’s too high on your presence and one and a half cups of iced green tea to care.

“You’re making this up, you gotta be.”

“I swear, Robby,” you hold up your hands. “I will admit, losing to the ratbirds–at home, in OT–does tend to cloud one's judegment, but enough to think they have the upperhand against a metal lightpost? All Dad saw was red and I ended up waiting in the ER with him while he waited to get his fingers re-set. We we’re at chairs for a while and then brought to the back, and the thing I remember the most was this hum hanging in the air the entire time. Even though I was only around five, that shit was… addicting. Not as electric as a Steelers home game but pretty close. The nurse and my dad kept having to tell me to stay behind the curtain but, of course, I didn’t. ‘Cause, you know. Children. But watching all those people come in broken just to have people like you give their everything to try and fix them… that’s when I knew I wanted to be an emergency physician.”

The corner of Robby’s lips quirks up as he watches you. You stare back at him with held breath before ripping your eyes away to the half-eaten piece of brownie he’d offered you. A little dry but completely worth it with how your hands brushed when he passed you the sweet.

“So basically what I’m hearing is that the Baltimore Ravens are the reason you were able to find your purpose in life so early on…” Robby eases out, rubbing a hand across his beard in anticipation of the response he’s fishing for. He gets it and more when your face wrinkles into a cute grimace and you flinch with a shudder.

“You put it that way, and it almost makes me think I should drop outta med school to move to Canada.”

Your words pull a deep chuckle from Robby, who’s feeling warm at how the two of you are leaning and talking. Bodies relaxed and bellies content with sandwiches and baked goods, the dance you’re both performing is becoming more difficult by the second.

He’s starting to feel less and less sorry about how the side of his shoe keeps knocking against yours, even doing it once on purpose as a thanks for when you notify him of a loose crumb in his beard. The tips of your fingers keep creeping towards each other but Robby blames that on the smaller scale of the table he’s joined you at. You got up, once, for napkins and the man had to take in a deep breath at the swing of your hips. He’s not sure he looked away fast enough either. At least, that’s what the smirk that dashes across your face reveals to him.

“So,” Robby starts after a comfortable lull in the conversation, pausing to clear his throat. “Are all of Hummel’s students this awesome or did I just get lucky runnin’ into you again?”

Flattery. The age old tactic and Robby makes sure not to lay it on too thick. In all of his bumbling and slip ups from earlier, he’s maganed to regain some of his bravado. It returns to him slowly but surely as he starts to unravel you. Not by much but enough to finger out what makes you tick; which jokes to draw out, what subjects (medical or otherwise) gets you going, which throw of his timbre embellishes the shine in your eyes.

“Mm, most of them are pretty cool. Some are also the biggest assholes you’ll ever meet but what’s any place without a few of those?”

“Heaven,” Robby answers with an unbothered shrug of his shoulders and you bob your head in agreement.

“Preach,” you grin, popping a corner of brownie into your mouth. “They were on their best behavior today with you being there but trust me, they’re incapable of going twenty four hours without creaming their pants over making other people feel like shit.”

Wow. “Oh, yeah?”

“For sure. Dr. Hummel should have you come around more often, though. Maybe next time you can snap a few egos in check.”

You’re into whatever this is, Robby can feel it. It’s in your eyes, that don’t notice their lingering on the hair that’s peeking out at the top of his exposed chest. In your voice, that’s lilting in a manner that’s ringing through the thick fog he entered the building with to guide his ship closer to your sweet taunt.

Robby’s quicker than the hesitation his words want to bite back on, tilting his head to give you a quick once over before flicking them away with a grin that’s smugger than he means for it to be.

“Oh, that’s definitely something I’d consider as long as you're still sittin’ front row.”

Your lips curl upwards and Robby is buzzing at the win. It makes his chest puff a little, too, and his head starts to feel a little funny when he catches you staring again.

“Hey, uh,” just do it, Rob, “why don’t we exhancge numbers? You know, in case you ever feel like conversing more over slightly-stale bread and the best passion papaya iced green tea on this side of the Mississippi.”

Taking a second to think, you sniff.

“While I have had better passion… papaya iced green tea–” you recite the words with a subtle unsureness, laughing a little at the nod Robby encourages you with.

“You got it,” he reassures you, voice rasping with obvious amusement before letting you continue.

“–I’d love to keep picking your brain. I will warn you, though, since the age of eleven, I have somehow managed to, uh, shift every conversation I’ve been a part of to the topic of the Pittsburgh Steelers at some point, so if that’s not your thing, then…”

Your words melt into a stronger laugh than you expected to leave you, and it wraps arround the high-pitched giggle trickles out of Robby.

“Oh, I’ve dealt with worse, sweetheart,” he winks, pulling out his phone from his back pocket and opening it before sliding it your way. He holds his breath the entire time you add your contact, eyes flicking to his screen where he sees your name along with a simple :). He huffs at the sight, plucking the device back into his grip. “Much, much worse.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

You add a smirk and tip of your head with the question. Robby’s soaring.

The following hours prove to be just as indelible as your shorts, and it’s all because of you.

You’re more than special, and Robby sits undisputed in that fact as he commences the third round of the night. The slide into you is just as good as the first and the second. You’re on top this time, your hands clutching his face to rub at the thick of his beard while you sink down onto him.

Robby holds your waist, hands light but still there as he splits you open. A noise breaks from his throat when you sit fully, and he rests his forehead against yours. While you take a second to adjust, Robby peeks down past the pudge of his belly to where the two of you meet, groaning at the sight of you stretcehed around him.

Eyes flicking to yours, Robby tightens the arm he has around your waist to tug you until your breasts are flush against his chest. You cling to him at the shift, hips barely lifting before collapsing back down onto him with a shuggering grunt.

Your body keeps the same languid speed, Robby helping you just barely with a hand splayed just above your ass.

“Fuck, you’re so deep,” you pant out against his mouth. “And fucking huge. I should’ve known considering how you walked into class earlier, though.”

“Shit,” Robby moans. “Really?”

You bob your head, hand reaching to grab at Robby’s shoulder. The muscle holds strong under your squeeze, you answer him during another rock of your hips.

“Mmhm. You just… oh, fuck, you walk like it’s big. Which it totally is, by the way.”

“So you’ve said,” Robby ribs, adding a few bucks of his hips that yanks a squeak out of you. “Actually screamed it a few times, too.”

“Well, can you blame me–”

You’re interrupted by Robby, who surprises you with a steep roll to the side. Now hanging over you, Robby pants through a groan. He’s gonna feel that tomorrow but the chance of a strained back isn’t gonna stop him from trying to get you to keep making those sounds that have him seeing stars.

He takes the miracle of his cock remaining inside you even after the change of position, hitching both of your legs back as far as they’ll let him and jerking you with a thrust. It’s deep and driving, intentional enough to make you feel every inch and vein of his swollen member. You wail out right next to his ear and he smiles against the tattoo on your shoulder in victory. He still doesn’t know what it is. You won’t tell him and he got tired of guessing.

“No, I can’t,” Robby throws back, hips falling into a pattern of sharp thrusts. You feel bottomless and it makes his stomach clench. “Eyes on me, baby. Right here, okay?

Robby meets your stare as soon as you crack open your lids. He tightens the snap of his hips, allowing himself to indulge. Call it a habit but he likes to look… observe the way your mouth parts as you puff out air every time your clit hits his pelvis… how your brows pinch together and eyes water as he pounds into the spot it only took him a total of seven thrusts to find… how your hands reach for his neck, squeezing when you hear him flutter your name out on a gruttal moan.

You especially like him loud, he’s found. Not bold enough to ask for it, Robby had the pleasure of figuring the phenomenon out on his own. It didn’t take long, thankfully, as he got embarrassingly close to blowing a vocal cord when you tongued at his nipples and skillfully jerked out his cum onto your stomach. Afterwards, his taste buds found your slit a sopping mess of slick and cream, which he slurped away at until you tugged him up by the hair and kissed your juices from his mouth.

The first time he’d fucked you, it was slow. A loitering exploration of every indent and ripple inside your hole, every mole and freckle of your skin. You’d already come once against his tongue after he’d convinced you that no, you were not going to die if he didn’t kiss you right then.

(‘What about her, hm?’ He’d asked with a finger ghosting across your clit. ‘Nothin’ wrong with being a little greedy but I gotta show her some love, too, alright? She’s much too pretty to ignore, even with you givin’ me those eyes…’)

However, it’s the first time you peak around him that the sky parts. Heaven calls, singing songs of eternal delights but Robby declines the offer. His soul finds the symphony of you falling apart much more satisfying. Ever more gratifying, as it’s his name flooding from your lips. Not God’s or some boy in one of your classes in those cold ass rooms–his.

The second time you’d come around him hits both of you like a train. He’d gotten you trapped on your side, leg hanging in the air helplessly. Neck stretching, you’d bit at his tongue a few times when he’d upped the speed of his hips, warning Robby that you were gonna come again. After you added on a whine that you did not want him pulling out when he came, he flipped you into a rough prone bone, pounding you until your pussy creamed with his cum and your ears heard nothing but dial tones.

This time–the third time–Robby lets himself get lost in it. Uses his mind and body for the sole purpose of calling forth and tying your euphoria to his. A perfect ache is throbbing a pulse through his cock, and the man can only plunge himself in and out of you with mindless, hoarse grunts.

Robby executes it flawlessly, the seaming of the end of your climax grazing just over the start of his. You cry out unintelligible words, grabbing at him like he’ll disappear if you don’t and trembling as he works to milk out your release for as long as he can.

“That’s my–fuck… yeah, that’s my sweet girl,” Robby pants, still rocking you as his thrusts melt into a sloppy chasing of his own end. His sweet girl. That’s exactly what you are now, regardless of what happens after this. “Gonna fill you up again. Make you nice and full’a me.”

The only warning Robby’s able to give is a long, choked swear before he starts to spasm, sack twitching as he surges out rope after rope of a plentiful load. He uses a few more thrusts to fuck the cum deeper before joining your lips in a tired kiss. When you run your hands up his back to rake your nails through his hair, Robby groans.

Hips still, his softening cock remains a welcome intrusion. His eyes flicker shut at your appreciated touch across his scalp, the man melts completely into you, hoping it takes a long while for your breaths to return.

Robby’s mind is completely still. Numb, even, and there are only figures of you. Clenching his eyes, he sighs before mumbling something so muffled that he has to repeat it.

“I said,” he begins with a kiss to your jaw, “the Ravens might be my new favorite team.”

Robby feels your inhale pause and lifts his head to look in your eyes. A short laugh wheezes out of him when he finds you already staring back, your face a cross of complete and utter confusion and a little bit of hurt.

“What on earth could have possibly compelled you to say that to me?”

Your question starts strong but falls apart with giggles at how Robby keeps laughing. The two of you shake with stupid giggles, and Robby has to take a second to remember where he was going with this.

“Only ‘cause they led you to me. No Ravens, no angry dad. No angry dad, no ER visit. No ER visit, no grand revelation of wanting to become a doctor in emergency medicine. It’s simple, I’m a little surprised I had to explain it.”

“...you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“Oh, baby, I know I am.”

“Hello?”

Robby blinks, and wants to glower at the fingers Jack snaps in front of his face until he remembers he’s supposed to be answering something. A question. He’s supposed to be answering a question.

Which question?

Fuck if he knows.

Who asked it?

Fuck if he knows.

It takes every part of Robby’s being to not look to the right because that’s where you’re sitting with a wide smile just barely hidden beneath your palm. Eyes boring into him, you stretch your crossed legs and reposition.

“E-even though that might have looked like a stroke, guys, it was not… I don’t think,” Jack picks up for Robby with a pat to the later man’s shoulder. “It’s actually something we in our profession call getting old, but please don’t worry. I’m going through it, too. Apparently, not as fast as this guy, though.”

The rest of the room lightens with a chuckle so Robby’s laughs along with them. It’s fake and ugly but the pause gives him a chance to zip his eyes your way and back.

And, of course, Jack catches him. Hell, he knows Robby well enough to have already seen the way that his hand clenches into a fist every time you move so much as an inch.

As Dr. Hummel attempts to return order to the slightly distracted class, Jack gives Robby a silent not bad, Rob. At all, though a little more decorum wouldn’t hurt.

Robby bites at his tongue, completely pink.

#the pitt x reader #the pitt x you #michael robinavitch smut #michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavich x reader #dr robby smut #dr robby x reader #dr robby x you #robby robinavitch x reader #michael robby robinavitch #michael robinavitch #the pitt fic #the pitt hbo #noah wyle

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art-by-jas · 27 days ago

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Sunshine (NSFW) Jack Abbott x Reader Summary: You're treating Jack to a good time, and by a good time I mean sucking his dick like he deserves. WC: 1958 Tags: Established Relationship, Age Difference (implied), Kissing, Blowjobs, Handjobs, Snowballing, Come-sharing

You get to your feet and quickly undress. Jack hesitates initially but soon mirrors you. His eyes follow every inch of skin you expose as he unbuttons his shirt. You soon find yourself wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. He chucks his shirt behind him, now forgotten. Jack's gaze travels deliberately across your partially clothed body. He approaches you slowly, his eyes lingering before dropping to your hips. "Goddamn, you're so beautiful, sunshine. You really are something else," he murmurs, his voice deep and raspy, which has you biting your bottom lip, preventing a groan. He continues to study you intently, his eyes darkening with longing as he takes another step in your direction.

He reaches out tentatively and caresses your cheek with one hand, his touch so gentle that you lean into his skin. You raise your gaze to meet his, and your heart stutters. His eyes are filled with a mixture of desire and tenderness that has your breath catching in your throat.

His hand drifts down softly, tracing the line of your jaw, then the curve of your neck, and ultimately resting on your waist. Slowly, he pulls her closer, his other hand finding purchase on her hip.

"Just... let me look at you for a moment," he murmurs, his voice a quiet rumble as he takes you in. His fingers continue to graze your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

He leans in slightly, his lips ghosting over your throat, teasing the sensitive skin with a light touch that has you arching into him. A low chuckle rumbles from his chest, his hot breath fanning across your collarbone as he moves to hover just above the pulse point at the base of your neck. He captures your lips with his in a kiss that's all fervor and heat, his tongue delving into your mouth and taking possession. It's messy, hungry, and utterly intoxicating.

"Can't help myself, sunshine," he murmurs, his lips brushing slightly against your feverish skin. His lips find a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, his teeth grazing the area softly in a gentle nip. You let out a gasping cry, your head tilting involuntarily to give him better access. His arm wraps fully around you, pulling you flush against him.

"God, you sound so good," he whispers, his voice a rough growl as he continues his ministrations on your neck, his hand gripping your hip tightly. You can't help but smile at his reaction, your cheeks turning red as your breathing quickens.

Just as he's about to say something else, his phone rings, breaking the moment. Jack sighs, his expression shifting to one of frustration as he starts to reach for his phone. "Hold that thought for a minute," he says, his voice tinged with irritation.

He finally manages to find his phone, tucked away in his discarded pants. He takes a deep breath before swiping his screen open.

"Yeah?"

His eyes remain fixed on you, drinking in every beautiful, bare inch of you as he listens to Robby on the other end of the line.

"What do you want? I'm a little busy. Can it wait?"

He sounds annoyed, but your mischievous smirk catches his eye, and he pauses mid-sentence as he sees you reaching behind to undo your bra. His eyes widen for a moment, a mix of shock and excitement flashing across his face as he watches you.

Robby continues to talk, oblivious to the distraction on the other end of the phone. "I need you to come in-"

Jack cuts him off, his voice strained as he tries to speak while watching you. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there. Just... give me a minute." He quickly ends the call, tossing his phone onto the couch. The moment he ends the call, his focus shifts entirely back to you, a devilish smile forming on his lips. "You little tease," he whispers, moving one step closer, his gaze traveling ravenously across your figure.

"Tease? Me?" You respond with faux innocence, looking up at him with wide eyes as you begin to toy with the waistband of your underwear.

He closes the distance between you in three long strides, his hands gripping your hips possessively. He pins you against the wall, his body pressing against yours. "You know exactly what you're doing," he growls, his voice rough with desire.

He gives you another commanding look, his eyes dark with desire. "Bed. Now." With another sharp slap to your ass, he pushes you down the hallway to the bedroom.

He follows closely behind, his eyes glued to the sway of your hips as you strut into the bedroom. The tension between you two is almost palpable, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body as he closes the door behind you. As the door shuts, he wastes no time in pulling you back into his arms, his mouth finding yours in a desperate and

hungry kiss. His hands roam over your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

With a playful grin, you take his hand and guide him to the bed. He complies, his smirk softening as you lead him to the soft, inviting mattress. As he sits on the edge of the bed, he pulls you down onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly. "You're a little devil, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his calloused fingers tracing lazy circles along your hips.

You smile as you straddle his thighs, your hands roaming over his muscular torso. "You're so hot," you whisper, leaning in to plant soft kisses along his shoulder. "So strong." Your fingers trace lightly over his scars. Your mouth finds its way to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the sensitive skin.

You can feel him shudder under your touch, his grip on your hips tightening momentarily. His breathing hitches in his throat as you continue your ministrations, your mouth lingering on the pulse point under his jaw. "Goddamn, you're driving me crazy," he mutters, his voice thick with desire. You lean back, your gaze locking with his for a moment before your lips meet in a hungry kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours as the kiss deepens. His teeth graze your bottom lip, nipping and biting softly before his tongue slips into your mouth, exploring every contour with an urgent sort of need.

You break the kiss, your eyes locking with his as you sink to your knees at his feet. The sight of you, on your knees before him, has him inhaling sharply, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. His eyes are darkened with desire, and he sits there, watching you with an intensity that has you feeling incredibly turned on. He places a finger under your chin to tip your head up slightly, forcing you to maintain eye contact.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. The praise in his voice makes you feel wanted and desired, and the way he's looking at you has you feeling a sense of power you didn't know you possessed.

He runs his fingers through your hair slowly, his touch gentle yet possessive. "What am I going to do with you, sunshine?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. There's a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips, and you can see the desire burning in his eyes.

You slowly lean forward, your lips brushing against his hip bones softly, leaving a trail of tender kisses. You can feel his muscles tighten under your touch, and you relish the way his breath quickens. You press your lips against his length, through the thin cotton of his underwear, feeling it twitch in response. The fabric is still damp from your earlier ministrations in the living room.

He shudders at your touch, his fingers running through your hair, gripping it slightly. He looks down at you, his expression a mix of desire and astonishment. "You're gonna be the death of me," he whispers, his voice hoarse with need.

You smirk as you reach up and tug at the waistband of his underwear, your touch soft and teasing, making him shiver. The sight of his hard cock has you drooling. You let saliva gather in your mouth, leaning in a little to let it fall in a single, thin trail onto his length before you wrap your palm around him, giving him a few strokes.

You lean in close, your mouth hovering just above this sensitive flesh, your breath sending a soft shiver racking through his body. "Does it feel good, Jack?" you ask, your voice sultry and sensual.

He lets out a deep, guttural moan, his eyes darkening with desire as he looks down at you, his expression one of pure bliss. "God, yes," he manages to say, his voice gravelly with need.

You smile, feeling his body tense in anticipation as you run your tongue slowly along the underside of his length, relishing in the way he trembles beneath your touch. You look up at him, maintaining eye contact as you slowly take him into your mouth, watching as he throws his head back in pleasure. His hands come up to grip the edge of the bed, his knuckles white.

Your name in a strangled moan, his hips twitching towards your touch. You take him deeper, your throat muscles constricting around him as you start to bob your head, your hands roaming over his thighs. He lifts his head, staring down at you with a wild look in his eyes, his chest heaving with labored breaths. "Goddamn, you're too good at that," he gasps, his words barely louder than a whisper.

He reaches down, his fingers tangling in your hair, his grip tight but not painful. His body is taut with tension, muscles coiled, as if he's struggling to hold himself back. He manages to choke out, his voice hoarse with need, "I'm not gonna...last if you keep that up, sunshine. Jesus," he grunts, his voice ragged with pleasure, "your mouth feels so damn good. So hot and tight. Just seeing you like this... you're driving me insane. No one's ever made me feel like this before," he mutters, his expression almost pained with pleasure.

"You're so damn perfect. So damn beautiful." His words are soft. His words make you shiver, and he looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "God, you're making a mess out of me," he mutters, his voice thick with need. "Like you can't get enough of me."

He's getting close, his breathing heavy and labored as his grip on the back of your head tightens. "Oh god," he rasps, his voice strained. "I can't hold back any longer." You increase your efforts, your tongue and lips working faster, and that's all it takes for him to tip over the edge with a grunt. He tenses up, his body arching into you, his grip on your head tight as he releases. It feels like forever, but finally, he collapses back against the bed, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

You crawl up his body, your skin flushed and warm, settling yourself against him. He's panting and spent, a look of pure bliss on his face. He wraps his arms around you, his gaze dark and sensual as he pulls you in for a deep, messy kiss. You share his taste between you, the kiss wet and slick, a silent but intimate exchange. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle despite the fierce intensity of the moment.

#jack abbot #jack abbott smut #jack abbott #dr abbott #dr abbot smut #dr abbot x reader #Jack Abbott x reader #jack abbot x reader #the pitt #the pitt hbo #fanfiction #shawn hatosy #smut

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drrobbysbabygirl · 15 days ago

Text

2 Hands

A/N: It's finished! It’s already been posted to ao3, which I’ll make a separate post about. I had SO much writing this, and I hope y’all enjoy it as much I do!

Word count: 9.8k (It got a bit out of hand)

Warnings: Masturbation, faginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (f!receiving), creampie. I think that’s it, but let me know if I missed anything! ASFAB!reader, reader is 25-35, has hair, and is described as shorter and smaller than Robby.

It all started with a brush of his hand over yours, as cliche as it sounds. It was a quick thing, his large hand over yours in the middle of intubating a patient whose airway was blocked by blood. It wasn't something you put too much thought into until later, when you were home in your empty apartment, sunk low into your bathtub, stroking over the spot he had touched. Robby was touchy; it was well known within the Pitt. He’d squeeze a shoulder, gently touch a hip to get past, or hover with a hand on your lower back for stabilization when guiding a tricky procedure. It wasn't the first time one of his large hands had touched you, nor was it the first time it had fanned the flames of desire low in your belly. But it was the first time he had looked at you and not through you while doing it. It was there and gone in an instant.

As a third-year resident, you had been giving orders to the interns hanging near the patient, demanding more space and orders for propofol and ketamine for sedation. You couldn’t see, but you had done more intubations than you could count and knew you could do it. However, the patient's blood pressure tanked, and Robby grew irritated and snapped at you to move. You had a stubborn streak a mile wide and were confident in your abilities, but you also knew when to ask for help.

You had shaken your head. “I just need help, but I can do it,” you said tensely.

Then, before you could blink, Robby was beside you, his warm hand on yours, helping you guide the tube down the blocked airway. After the tube was placed and you were pushing more meds, you had caught Robby looking at you from the corner of your eye. He didn’t say a word; he just looked you in the eye before walking out to assist with another patient.

Two patients later, Robby had found you. “You could have cowered and let me do it instead, but you knew you could do it, and you asked for help when you needed it, good job,” he had said, brushing his fingers over your arm. You had shivered, and he noticed, letting his fingers linger just a second longer than he should have, his eyes open and gleaming with something you couldn’t put your finger on.

Then, you were fresh out of the bath, lying in bed, imagining where else those hands could go. It wasn’t something you made a habit of; it was bad enough that you thought about him nonstop during the daylight hours, at work, nonetheless. The last thing you wanted was for your…infatuation with your attending to reach a level you couldn’t handle. But as your hand slid down your body, the only thing you could think of was how Robby’s large hands would feel on you, how hard he’d grip your thighs, or how big they’d look on your breasts, and especially how they would look between your thighs. You threw your head back as you pictured it, circling your clit with a soft moan. Your breath came out in short pants as you imagined just how full two of his fingers would make you feel, or how his larger frame would loom over you. You rubbed faster and slipped a finger inside yourself, gasping as you thought about how deep his voice would get, and how deep he'd bury himself inside of you when he finally sank inside your velvet heat. You cried out into your empty apartment, the thought of Robby’s large hands roaming your body and the deep rasp of his voice as he praised you just enough to send you over the edge. You didn’t make a habit of it, but sometimes the temptation was too great to ignore.

The next time, you didn’t think anything of it. It was weeks later, the ED was at a lull, and you had been catching up on charting, your fingers practically dancing over the computer keys. Every once in a while, you would look down and scribble a note into your small notebook. Eventually, your pen stopped working and wouldn't work again, despite your scribbling in the margins. “Dana, can you toss me a pen?” you asked the older woman. Engrossed in her own charting, she had replied absentmindedly, “Yeah, just give me one sec.”

Robby, who had been leaning against the nurse's station, piped up. “Here, take mine, I have more in my locker,” he said. When you hesitated (pens were personal around the ED), Robby had taken his pen out of his scrub top pocket and physically put it in your hand, letting his hand linger momentarily, all while staring you in the eyes. You glanced down at your lap, uncommonly shy, and when you glanced up, he had still been staring at you, a look in his big eyes that tugged at your heart. You ripped your eyes away, cheeks pink, but before your thoughts could stray too far into not-safe-for-work thoughts, the ambulance bay had opened, and a seizing patient was wheeled in. Robby had tossed a glance at you, and before you blinked, the two of you were over to the woman, going through the checklist to stop the seizing.

The time after that, your suspicions were confirmed. It had been six p.m., two hours before you were both scheduled to be off, which meant at least two hours before you actually went home. You had a massive headache and knew you were dehydrated. Your monogrammed cup had long been left behind at a different station, and you had just been ready to go home and crawl into bed.

“You look like you need this,” Robby had said, materializing out of thin air, your cup in his hand.

“Jesus,” you said, throwing your hand over your heart. “If you do that again, you may be down a resident,” you joked tiredly.

Robby had laughed, and your cheeks heated up. You liked it when he laughed, and enjoyed it even more when it was you causing it. “Well, I’ll be more careful next time, I definitely can’t afford to lose the staff I have, especially one of my best residents,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up.

“I’d be careful, praise like that could go to my head and inflate my ego,” you quipped.

Robby tilted his head to the right thoughtfully, slowly reaching out with his long fingers to touch the inside of your knee. You had swallowed heavily, your eyes never leaving his as his fingers stayed there for three long seconds, and then another, and another. “Maybe it should, you deserve every bit you get,” he said honestly.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks heating up once again, and you watched as his eyes tracked the movement of your throat. He moved half an inch closer, and you nearly gasped when his whole hand enveloped your knee. You had stared up at him, water long forgotten, but then you were ripped out of your reverie by Trinity yelling across the ED for Robby. Robby’s hand had fallen away like something had burned him, but the look he threw over his shoulder was enough to make your cheeks heat up again.

By somewhere around the eleventh time, and many months later, you had started to play along and would intentionally seek out his touch. You’d pass by him, ghosting your fingers over his hip, or brush your fingers over his when you passed him something in the break room on the rare chances you got to eat. Occasionally, you would be brave and place your smaller hand on his if he stayed still long enough and no one was paying attention. The most memorable occasion happened on a cloudy day in June, after you had worn his patience thin.

You had been sassing him all day, bantering back and forth like always. At one point, though, he must have gotten tired of it and snipped at you. You had been surprised, but didn’t let it outwardly show. This thing between you may have grown, but you were still first and foremost a professional. So, you finished what you had been doing, swiftly threw your gloves away, sarcastically patted his shoulder, and walked out of the room without a second glance.

Later, after he had finished with that patient, he found you tucked in a corner at a portable workstation. You had been pretending to work for the better part of twenty minutes, glancing at him across the room, when you worked up the nerve. You had jumped slightly at the touch of his hand against your hip, and he made a soft sound of reassurance. He pretended to look over your shoulder, like he was consulting on what you had been working on.

“Did I upset you?” he had asked, his voice hushed but earnest. You didn’t immediately respond, body tense. You were upset but didn’t want him to know it immediately. Some groveling would do him good. He leaned closer. “I know you hear me, I can practically feel your pulse through your scrubs,” he had commented, squeezing your hip gently.

You had shaken your head. “No, I’m fine,” you said curtly. You knew it was ridiculous to be upset about something as small as Robby getting pissy at you. Robby snapped at most people at some point throughout the day; you just happened to have drawn the short stick for the day.

“I know you better than that by now, whether you realize it or not. I see the way you look at me; look at my hands,” he had said, giving another slight squeeze to get his point across before continuing. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’ll try not to let it happen again,” he assured you. Your spine was ramrod straight, and you had felt the tension radiating from him behind you. He went to pull his hand away, and you could see his panicked, shuddered expression from the corner of your eye. Before he could pull away, you had reached behind you and wrapped your small fingers around his wrist, keeping it in place.

You slowly let your body relax, the thought of him entirely pulling away from you more than enough to encourage your mind to slow down. “You didn’t read this wrong,” you had assured, already aware of where his brain went.

“I didn’t,” he asked, voice small. “Because you can tell me to fuck off right now and I swear to god I’ll never touch you again,” he swore.

“No,” you said, dropping your hand as someone walked by, “you didn’t,” you finished.

“Good.”

Robby had wrapped his long fingers around the curve of your hip, squeezed with his whole hand, pulled away, and walked off, his calm exterior back in place like he had never lost it.

After that, it turned into a game: How many times could you get his hands on you in one shift without it being glaringly obvious? It turns out there were quite a few; you just had to be more subtle about it. But, much to your frustration, it never evolved into anything more than the brief touches. You were wary of making a firmer move, even though you had somewhat of a confirmation that Robby felt something for you, he was still your superior. Over the months his eyes had gotten softer towards you, but he still had a guarded aura around him, like he was afraid you would change your mind and tell him to fuck off at any moment. You had no intention of doing that, but your frustration was starting to reach its peak.

When your best friend, Dr. Samira Mohan, slid up next to you, you had been looking up at the board, scanning for a new case, and occasionally glancing at Robby across the room. “So, has that happened yet?” she said casually.

Your eyes had instantly snapped away from Robby to glance at her, and your cheeks heated when she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” you hummed.

She smirked, and you glanced across the room reflexively, just to find Robby already staring at you. You forced yourself to turn towards Samira, whose smirk had grown. “So?”

“No. Apparently, he’s determined to drive me insane,” you sighed.

“You should be straightforward. Invite him out for drinks, or if you’re feeling saucy, just invite him back to your place,” Samira had said, shrugging.

It was your turn to smirk. “Is that how you got Abbot?” you asked slyly.

Her cheeks had pinked, but she smiled. “That is exactly how I got Abbot,” she responded.

“Robby is a bit different than Abbot, in lots of ways. I think he’s a bit worried I’ll change my mind, which is ridiculous because we haven't even done anything for me to change my mind about,” you grumbled.

“Dr. Robby is more reserved, maybe, but he’s still a man. I would just use that, bend over in front of him, or something,” she had said, eyes focused on the board.

You laughed. Samira was nothing but direct. It was something that you appreciated about her. “I think I’ll wait just a bit longer, I’m sure I’ll think of something, or who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me,” you said.

Samira had looked doubtful about your approach, but your conversation was cut short when Robby called her to assist with a patient.

It all came to a head exactly a month after your conversation with Samira, and four days before you, half the residents, a handful of interns, and most of the attendings were due to be in Boston for a fundraiser gala.

All the months of touching, of longing for Robby’s hands on you, led to now.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” you said firmly, attempting to shine your pen light into the man’s eyes.

“I’m not calming down, you need to calm down,” your patient jerked away as he shouted, slurring his words.

He was drunk, so much so that his buddies decided to drop him off outside the ambulance bay, unconscious, for Dana to find on a smoke break.

Now, he was wide awake, and pissed.

“Are you in any pain…” you asked, glancing at his chart, “Mr. Wade?”

“No,” he snapped, rubbing at his arms aggressively. “Get these fucking bugs off me,” he complained loudly, scratching at his arms.

“Bugs?” You said, slightly alarmed. The last thing you needed this week was another lice treatment. It was only Wednesday, and once was enough. You glanced down, but his arms were bug-free, and a quick glance at the rest of him told you so was the rest of his body.

“Yeah, bugs! Jesus fuck lady use your eyes,” he said agressivly, now scratching at his arms so hard blood was starting to appear from unhealed scabs.

“Perlah, get me fifty of Benadryl and two of Lorazepam,” you called to the Filipino nurse. Alcohol induuced hallucinations were common, especially the closer it got to summer.

“On it,” she said, walking away.

“Okay, sir, I am so sorry about those bugs. I’m going to get something to help you calm down and take care of the bugs,” you said, trying to soothe the larger man.

“I told you, I am fucking calm,” Mr. Wade yelled, attemptig to rise from the gurney.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to ease him back down, but that made him angrier. “Get your hands off me dammit, fuck, they are everywhere,” he exclaimed, now wobily standing on his feet. You heard Perlah’s tennis shoes across the room, and a quick yell for security.

“Sir, please sit back, do-”

The larger man cut you off by screaming. “Get them off! Get them off!

“Sir, I’m just trying-” Once again, he cut you off, only this time, he used his weight against you, and pushed into you.

The world went sideways, and you felt the thunk of your head against the linoleum. You had just enough time to cry out in pain before Robby was above you, cradling your head in his hands.

“Don't move,” he said, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“It hurts,” you groaned.

“I need Neuro down here, and order an MRI, no contrast,” Robby barked. You heard the shuffling of feet and Mr. Wade being hauled away.

“How bad does it hurt, one to ten?” Robby asked, shifting so that your head was cradled in his lap.

“Three,” you said, grimacing.

“Don’t bullshit me right now,” Robby said seriously, a shadow passing over his face.

“Five, final answer,” you groaned again.

“Okay, okay, we can work with a five, he said, running his hand over the crown of your head. His lips twitched when you pushed your head further into his hand. “Any blurry vision or spotting?” He asked.

“No, Dr. Robby,” you told him, cheeks heating up. He looked at you like you were going to disappear, and you could see the desperation lurking in his deep brown eyes.

“Robby, they are here to take her up to the MRI,” Dana said, resting a hand on the older man’s shoulder.

Robby closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Okay, come on, sweetheart, I’ll be here when you get back,” he said gently, helping you up off the floor into a wheelchair.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname. Inconspicuous touching was one thing, but him calling you a term of endearment in front of other people was entirely different.

“I can walk, I’m fine,” you tried to assure your attending.

Robby shook his head. “Nope, you fell and hit your head for Christ’s sake, you could have a concussion. Sit your ass down, and we’ll talk when your neuro work up and MRI is done,” he said, placing a hand on his hip.

You sighed and let the medical assistant wheel you away. You knew a losing battle when you saw one.

Later, after being cleared by neuro and being assured that you did not have a concussion, you walked back into the ED.

Samira found you first. “Well, I said get his attention, but I didn’t think you'd go that big,” she laughed and nudged your shoulder with hers.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “I can promise that was not the plan, but I guess it worked,” you told her.

“Oh yeah, it worked for sure,” she said, nodding in the direction Robby was approaching. You sucked a breath in at the instense look on his handsome face. “Good luck,” Samira sang before walking away.

“You didn’t come and get me,” Robby stated as he stopped before you.

“I’m fine, no concussion. Neuro even said I could stay for the rest of my shift,” you told him.

He made a sound of disbelief. “Absolutely not,” he said.

You ground your teeth together. You should have guessed he’d be this way. The way he had looked at you when he held your head in his hands…something changed for him. You could see it in his expression now.

“Neuro said-” He held a hand up.

“I don't care what Neuro said; I’m your attending, and you need rest,” he said.

“Is that your professional opinion?” you asked tersely.

He squeezed his eyes shut, took his glasses off, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean it, go home, and don’t come back tomorrow. I’ll see you Friday when we fly to Boston,” he said, eyes burning.

“Dr. Robby,” you said, attempting to regain control of the conversation.

“Home,” he said, voice raised.

Your whole body was tense, even when he deflated and reached out to touch your elbow gently. “Please, go home. Rest, it’s going to be a long weekend,” he told you, rubbing gentle circles into your elbow.

It took everything you had to pull away from him. You snatched your arm to your body, and his eyes widened. “Hey, I-”

“I’ll see you Friday, Dr. Robby,” you told him before walking away.

You drove home in silence, and once home, you mechanically removed your scrubs, showered, and crawled into bed. It wasn't even six. You fell face forward into your pillow and screamed. Damn Robby and his big brown eyes. You knew he sent you home because he cared, but it still upset you. You really were fine. Really. You only closed your eyes because your pillow was so soft.

Hours later, your doorbell ringing woke you up. You blinked awake and slipped on your slippers. The doorbell rang again. “I’m coming,” you called. Door-to-door salesmen were the worst in your neighborhood.

“I’m not interested in what-” Your mouth snapped shut when you saw Robby standing on your porch, a bag of takeout in his hand.

“Dr. Robby,” you said primly.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, eyes fond.

“Oh, we are back to sweetheart?” you asked.

Robby grimaced. “I was an ass, but god honey, you scared the hell out me,” he told you, eyes shining.

You felt the tension bleed out of you. “At least you see me now,” you joked weakly.

Robby shook his head. “I’ve always seen you. Always. I-” he cut himself off, pinching his nose in frustration. I got you some food, it's just some soup, but you didn’t eat anything today, so…” he trailed off, offering you the bag.

Your stomach flipped at his observation. “Do you want to come in?” you asked hesitantly.

Robby shook his head jerkily. “No, I shouldn’t, can’t actually, I uh, I have to get home, but I’ll see you Friday,” he said, stepping back.

“Oh. Okay, um. Bye,” you said, closing the door as he turned away.

Once inside, you opened the food container to find warm matzo ball soup. You smiled and brought it into your room to eat. After you ate, it didn’t take long for you to fall back asleep, a smile on your face.

The next day passed in a blur, as you used the unexpected day off to run errands. You picked up your two formal dresses early, made a last-minute hair appointment, and even had time to get your nails done. By the time you got home, you were exhausted. You might not have had a concussion, but the excitement of the previous day, plus the anticipation of Robby seeing you in your gowns, was enough to have you going to bed early.

Friday came early. Your phone rang on your bedside table, and you blindly picked it up. “You're packed and ready, right?” Samira questioned.

“Samira, it is,” you checked the time, “it is seven A.M. Our flight isn’t until one,” you groaned.

“Right, but I wanted to check on you,” your friend told you.

You smiled. “I’m okay. Robby came by after he got off yesterday and brought me food,” you told her.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Samira responded.

“Yeah, don’t get any funny ideas, though. He didn’t stay,” you said.

“Oh, I’m not worried. I know what your dresses look like, he doesn’t,” she said confidently.

You laughed. You and Samira had gone shopping almost immediately after getting your invitations to the gala.

“If you wait until Saturday night, I’ll split the pool with you,” she said kindly.

“The pool,” you exclaimed, laughing.

“Oh yeah, did I not tell you? It's up to about five hundred dollars,” she explained.

“Oh my god, who has bets in?” you wondered, still giggling. You genuinely thought you and Robby had been better at hiding whatever was happening between you.

“Like, everyone. Trinity bet on tomorrow, in the bathroom. I think Jack bet on tonight, but on the balcony or something like that,” Samira said gleefully.

“Abbot bet,” you gasped in between giggles.

“Oh yeah, he was the one who created it,” she told you. You heard murmuring in the background of the call. “He says no pressure, by the way,” she informed.

“I’m hanging up now, I’ll see you both in a few hours, you responded.

After arriving at the airport, you slid onto a bar stool and ordered a drink while waiting for boarding.

“Nervous flyer?” Robby asked, sliding onto the stool beside you.

Your heart rate spiked, glancing at his fingers as he flagged down a waiter.

“Scotch, neat,” he told the man.

It had only been two days since you had seen him, but you had missed him. Robby glanced at you, and your cheeks heated at being caught watching him.

“No, I thought I’d just wind down a bit, it’s going to be a long weekend, after all,” you said, echoing his earlier words.

“Ah, not a bad choice,” he responded, bringing his glass to his lips.

“What about you, Dr. Robby, are you a nervous flyer?” you asked, looking into his eyes as you sipped your drink.

The older man shook his head. “No, not at all. But I think you can call me Robby now, sweetheart. After all these months seeing you watch my hands the way you do, I have a strong hunch it’s what you call me in that pretty head of yours anyway,” he said casually, taking another sip of his scotch.

You sucked a sharp breath in and he smirked. “Well then, Robby, I’ll see you on the plane,” you said, tossing the rest of the drink back as Samira and Abbot approached.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” you told your friend, reaching out to link your arm with hers. “I have to use the ladies' room,” you said, looking Samira in the eyes.

Her eyes sparkled, glancing from your face to Robby’s. “Oh, perfect, me too, we’ll see you guys later,” she said, steering you away from the older men.

“Oh my god, Mira, he’s trying to drive me insane,” you gasped the second the two of you stepped into the ladies' room.

She giggled. “Hopefully, Jack will talk some sense into him,” she said, looking into the large mirror to fix a stray hair.

“God, I can only hope so, because I’m telling you, he started this thing, he can finish it,” you said.

“Oh, it will be finished,” your friend paused to wiggle her eyebrows, “by the end of the weekend, of that I’m sure. Like I said, I know what those dresses look like,” she said.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed her hand. “Come on, I think it’s almost time to board,” you said, dragging her out of the restroom.

You noticed Robby had an empty seat beside him as you boarded, but you just brushed your hand on his shoulder as you passed. You and Samira went for two empty seats a few rows ahead. The two hours passed quickly. It had been a while since you and Samira had uninterrupted time to talk, and it was nice to catch up with her. You didn’t see Robby again until you arrived at the hotel. He was just putting his key card into his door slot when you got off the elevator. He paused and watched as you rolled your suitcase down the hallway, stopping a few doors from where he stood.

He watched you for a moment, multiple emotions flitting across his face as you stood there and stared back.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Robby,” you said, slipping inside your room.

You sighed happily as you walked in. The hospital was too cheap to hire more nurses, but obviously not too cheap to put all the doctors in a nice hotel. You carefully unpacked your things and hung up your two evening dresses in the closet.

You laid on the bed, sighing as the cool sheets touch your skin. You glanced at your watch, deciding that you had enough time for a quick bath.

You had just wrapped a fluffy towel around your body when your phone lit up with a text from Samira letting you know she, Cassie, Trinity, and Mel were coming to your room to get ready. You had just enough time to slip into your robe before a loud knock sounded on your door. You opened the door, and all four women filtered in, their intermingling conversations filling the ample space in your room.

“Okay!” Samira clapped. “We have two and a half hours to get ready. I,” she paused, pointing to her travel makeup case, “will be in charge of makeup, Cassie is in charge of hair, Trinity is in charge of the tunes, and Mel will assist with hair,” she finished.

“And me,” you asked your best friend.

“You, my gorgeous friend, are in charge of raiding the minibar. If the hospital is dumb enough to pay for a bunch of stressed-out doctors to relax for a weekend, that’s on them,” Samira said, shrugging.

Cassie laughed. “We are here to bag donors, actually,” she said.

Samira waved her hand. “Samantics,” she said as she opened up her makeup case.

Trinity turned the music on, and Cassie got her hair tools plugged in.

You turned to the mini bar, and felt Mel come up next to you. “Do they have juice in there? I don’t really drink,” she explained.

You smiled and pulled out a bottle of sparkling grape juice. “Even better,” you told her. She smiled, and you smiled back.

“Do you think you could do my hair in a twist?” you asked as you poured the drinks.

“Oh, definitely, I can do most basic styles, my sister loves it when I play with her hair, so I have learned all sorts of tricks,” Mel explained as she sipped her drink.

“I love that,” you told Mel.

Two hours quickly passed, and you thought the five of you looked radiant by the time jewelry was being put on.

Trinity was wearing a red, tight fitting dress with a corset top and a small slit in the bottom, Mel was wearing a soft lilac colored dress that had small sleeves, and she had curled her hair. Cassie had straightened her hair and was wearing a deep emerald floor-length gown with a tasteful cut-out in the back. Samira’s dress was a deep, jewel-toned purple with a bust that went straight across.

You stepped out of the bathroom, and Trinity whistled. You were wearing a deep navy, floor-length gown. It had a deep neckline, and it fit you perfectly. “Damn, is it too late to change my bet,” Trinity wondered.

“Yes!” Cassie said emphatically.

You glanced at the older woman, and she shrugged. “It is,” she said.

“Mel, did you bet?” you asked, giggling.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But I think Frank did. Oh, I was going to meet him downstairs to look at the garden,” she said, grabbing her bag.

“I actually brought Mateo as my plus one, and he’s waiting in our room,” Cassie confessed.

The other two women made similar comments, Trinity saying that she wanted to find Yolanda, and Samira saying she wanted to ‘show Jack something’ before they went downstairs. Your friends trailed out of your room, and Samira turned to face you, the door propped open with her black heel. “You gonna be okay? I can go find Robby and smack some sense into him, bets be damned,” she said, eyes sparkling.

“No, I’m going to go ahead and head to the ballroom. I think I need something to calm my nerves, just a bit,” you laughed.

Samira nodded and paused, looking you in the eye. “You’re going to knock him dead,” she assured you before letting the door shut behind her.

You smiled and turned to look at the floor-length mirror against the wall, smoothing over your dress once more before walking out the door, your wristlet tucked under your arm.

“Fuck,” you heard.

You turned to find Robby staring at you. Even a few feet away, you could see how his eyes darkened. He was wearing a simple, fitted black suit that hugged him in all the right ways.

You smiled and made your way to the elevator, Robby close behind you. You pressed the ballroom button, and Robby stood next to you. “You look, fuck, you look gorgeous, sweetheart,” the older man rasped, hand rubbing as his flushed neck.

You tracked the movement of his hand with your eyes, and he smirked just as the elevator doors opened. You both stepped into the empty elevator, standing side by side, and you watched his expression in the mirrored walls as you reached your pinky out just enough to trace over his larger one.

Robby made a slight noise in his throat before surprising you by grabbing your hand and threading his fingers through yours, his grip firm. “You have no idea, no idea, how much self-control it is taking for me not to press you up against the wall of this elevator,” the older man said, eyes staring into your soul through your reflection.

You sucked a breath in, pulse fluttering wildly as you stared at your intwined hands. His hand practically swallowed yours.

“I read an article once that said letting yourself lose control in a contained environment can be good for self-development.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Self-development?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

Your cheeks heated up. “It’s a real article, I could send it to you sometime,” you said, aiming for casual. You rubbed your thumb against the taller man’s hand, and he made a low sound.

Before he could respond, the elevator opened. You both stepped out, hands still intertwined. He glanced at you. His jaw was clenched, and he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you. He took a deep breath, dropped your hand, and walked away, but not before you noticed the slight tremble in his hands.

Later, after multiple flutes of champagne and more schmoozing than you had anticipated, a younger donor approached you. He looked younger than Robby, though not by much, and had kind eyes. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

Your eyes scanned the room, and when you didn’t spot a particular doctor to come to rescue, you smiled and accepted the stranger’s outstretched hand. “I’d love to,” you told him.

He kept his hands in the appropriate spots, and you talked as you danced. He told you he was from the area, that he was an attending, and that he specialized in cardiac surgery. In return, you told him your hometown, that you were a third-year resident, and that you planned on specializing in emergency medicine.

Pleasant conversation flowed until the song ended, and then you excused yourself to get a glass of water. Samira found you at one of the small tables in the room. “I don’t know what you did, but Robby looks like he’s about to lose it,” she said conspiratorially.

“Huh? I thought he went back up to his room. I haven’t seen him in an hour,” you told your friend.

She shook her head. “Nope. He’s been down here the whole time, see,” she said, pointing over to a shadowy corner where Robby was talking to an older woman in a mauve dress.

You looked over and felt your knees go weak at the way he was looking at you. His eyes glinted in the ballroom's low light, and his jaw was clenched. His hands were balled into loose fists, and you could see them twitching occasionally.

“I danced with a potential donor, but it was all very PG,” you assured your friend when you saw the look on her face.

“Well, I guess that was enough to make the green monster come alive in Robby. Look alive,” she said before slipping away. Just as the live band was getting ready to play a new song, you looked up and saw Robby making his way across the room.

It was the second to last song of the night, and Robby practically swept you into his arms. “Dance with me,” he demanded, voice low. You nodded rapidly and let your hands fall into position just as he wrapped a firm hand around your waist. “Having fun,” the older man asked, voice laced with double meaning.

You ignored his jealousy and fluttered your eyelashes at him. “I am, Robby, are you?” you asked innocently.

“Oh yeah, lots. Meeting up with old acquaintances, enjoying the free champagne, watching you look for me while another man’s hands were on you, all hallmarks of a great evening,” he said.

“I thought you left, but I’m glad you didn’t,” you confessed, squeezing his hand lightly. Some of the fire in his eyes died down at your confession.

“I wouldn’t have left without telling you, sweetheart,” the older man said as he spun you around.

“Good, I was hoping to get at least one dance out of you before the night was over,” you admitted.

“Do my hands feel better than his?” Robby asked as he squeezed your hip.

“Robby,” you gasped as he pulled you closer.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he told you.

“Yes, a thousand times better, I only ever want your hands on me,” you groaned.

“Damn straight,” he said before pulling you in for a kiss.

You gasped, and he gripped you harder, letting his big hands fan over your hips.

He seemed to possess you, mind, body, and spirit, and you let out a tiny moan when he pulled away.

“I know our friends are going to a bar, but I suggest you go up to bed and go to sleep for the night, because the second you step out of this ballroom, there is a very strong possibility that I won’t be able to control myself,” he growled.

Your breath came out quicker, and you let yourself lean into him. “What if I don’t want you to control yourself?” you asked, voice low.

He shook his head. “Because I promised Gloria two full nights of ass kissing, and God only knows we need whatever resources she is going to send the ED’s way if I fulfill that promise,” he explained, eyes never leaving yours.

“Well then, in that case,” you said, pulling away, “ I’ll just take care of myself.”

Before you could entirely pull away, he pulled you flush against him, and you could feel the outline of him pressed against your hip. “You just love testing my patience, don’t you?” he groaned into your hair.

“It’s quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes, yes,” you quipped. He groaned again and pressed a single kiss to the space below your ear.

“Go, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, releasing you.

You grabbed his hand, placed a chaste kiss on his palm, and walked away.

When you got to your room, you fell back on the plush bed and squealed. “Holy shit,” you said into the empty room. It took way less time to undo the evening's preparation than it did to do them, and soon you slipped under the cool sheets. You knew you’d be too wound up to sleep, but it didn’t hurt to try. Right before you closed your eyes, you pulled your phone out and sent Robby the article you had referred to earlier in the night, in the elevator.

The next morning, it was your turn to wake Samira up.

“Wha?” She mumbled.

“Good morning to you, too!” You laughed.

“Too early,” she complained.

“What, did Abbot keep you up all night?” you asked.

“Something like that. I made him come twice last night,” she said, voice smug.

“She did not need to know that,” you heard Abbot complain.

“That’s actually pretty impressive, on account of him being an old man,” you teased.

You heard him mumble something. “He said, just wait, you’ll understand,” she giggled.

Your face heated up just thinking about Robby. “The girls want to go shopping,” you told her, attempting to change the subject.

“Don’t think you are out of talking about whatever happened last night. I can be ready in fifteen,” she told you.

Later, after a nice breakfast and a pit stop at a cute coffee house, the five of you wandered around the shopping district.

“Jack told me about a lingerie shop I wanted to stop by. It’s supposedly higher-end stuff, but well worth it,” Samira said, switching her armful of bags to her other arm.

“I could use some new panties,” Mel agreed.

Trinity made a face. “Mel, you know I love you, but please just say underwear,” she said.

“Panties is not a bad word,” Mel responded, glancing at Trinity when the younger woman made another face.

“I think that sounds great, it’s been a while since I’ve splurged on myself,” Cassie interjected.

“And you need something for Robby,” Samira said, pointing the group in the right direction.

“You guys are horrible,” you said, a smile on your face. “I don't even know if anything is going to happen,” you said, trying to tamp down the excitement of the thought of Robby seeing you undressed.

“Please, we all saw that kiss last night,” Trinity said, sipping her iced coffee.

“It was a nice kiss,” Mel said kindly.

“It was a nice kiss, thank you, Mel. And it was just a kiss,” you told your friend ass you walked into the small shop.

“I’ll believe that only if the pool goes uncollected,” Samira said seriously.

“Hello ladies,” the shop attendant said, smiling. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asked.

“Yes!” Cassie said. “Our friend here needs something that will blow her man's mind. Her older man,” she emphasized.

“I see,” the woman said brightly.

“I just want something nice,” you shrugged, cheeks warm from your friend’s encouragement. “My dress is a deep wine color, if that helps,” you supplied.

“It does, I have a few sets in mind. Ladies, my associate Angela will help you while I help your friend here,” the woman said.

Thirty minutes later, you stepped out of the secluded changing room, cheeks pink as your friends whistled at you. There was no such thing as modesty with ER doctors. A jet black teddy clung to your body, with a single thin ribbon settled between your cheeks.

“Girl, if you don't buy that and send that man a picture, I’m going to do it for you,” Trinity threatened.

“You could always send him that one, but buy a different one to surprise him,” Mel suggested.

“Ooh, send him three different ones, so then it’s really a surprise,” Cassie said, sipping her coffee.

“Oh, that’s good too,” Mel agreed, nodding.

Samira held out the next set for you to try on with a smirk.

“That might give him a heart attack before I get to kiss him again,” you joked as you slipped the teddy off behind the curtain. (but not before taking a picture).

“He’s surrounded by doctors,” he’ll be fine,” Cassie said, giggling.

You stepped back out, feeling more confident as your friends cheered. You wore a sheer, white lace suit with matching thigh highs and garters attached.

“Oh, that one is beautiful,” Mel said, her cheeks matching yours.

“If that doesn’t make him lose his mind, I don't know what will,” Trinity agreed.

“One more,” Samira sang, dangling the hanger at you.

You snapped a nice picture before shimmying into the next one, a deep red slip that had lace detailing on the breasts and a slit through the delicate chiffon.

“That one is great, but it’s up to you,” Samira said.

You nodded and slipped back into the booth to snap a quick picture and change back into your clothes.

“We have enough time to get lunch before we head back to get ready,” Mel pointed out as the five of you walked out of the shop, arms even more weighed down with bags.

“Good, I’m starving,” Trinity said, groaning.

You: Attachment: three photos

You watched as the three bubbles appeared and then disappeared.

Samira laughed at her phone from across the table. “Jack said he dropped his phone,” she said.

You smiled.

Robby: What the fuck is that

You: I tried a few things on, do you not like them?

The bubbles appeared and then disappeared. Then, repeated the process.

Robby’s name flashed across your screen a few seconds later, signaling a call.

“Shit, he’s calling,” you said, standing up.

“Go! You better answer that thing,” Cassie told you with a grin.

You rushed to the bathroom and stuffed yourself in a stall before hitting the answer button.

“Hello?” you asked breathlessly.

“Sweetheart,” Robby groaned.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hi? That’s all I get after you show me how pretty you are all wrapped up in lace,” he asked.

You laughed, but he continued. “You wear one of those tonight, and I guarantee my hand will end up making a necklace around your throat,” he growled.

“Robby,” you gasped, a flash of heat going through you at his words.

“Babygirl, I can promise you, when I get my hands on you tonight, they aren’t leaving your body until you are begging me to stop,” he promised darkly.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered.

“Now, back to lunch. I’m going to take care of a little problem that you created. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart,” he said before hanging up.

You cursed and let your head fall back against the stall. How did a few innocent touches end up with your attending spewing filth at you over the phone? You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You sighed and rubbed your thighs together briefly before returning to your friends.

Hours later, after going through the hair and makeup process once again, the five of you were ready. Mel had already left to find Langdon and looked beautiful in her soft pink, floor-length halter dress. Cassie had left not long after, her long black dress trailing after her.

Samira was putting the finishing touches on your makeup as Trinity quickly straightened her hair.

“I know we have been teasing,” your best friend started, brushing lipstick over your lips. “But whatever happens, or doesn’t, it’s clear to everyone that Robby cares for you,” she said, pulling back. She looked radiant in a light green mermaid dress. Jack Abbot was a lucky man.

“True,” Trinity agreed. “Even though I’m salty about not winning, you guys are obviously over the moon about each other,” she said, setting the straightener down. She stunned in a royal blue dress with a slit in the side, very similar to her dress the night before.

You checked yourself over one last time, fixing a stray hair as you looked over your wine-red gown. It had a soft neckline and a slit in the thigh.

“Should we walk down together? I think the attendings are already down there,” Samira said as she grabbed her purse off the bed.

“Absolutely, " you said, taking hold of Trinity’s hand. The younger girl smiled and rolled her eyes fondly.

Once in the ballroom, Trinity made a beeline for Yolanda, while you and Samira went to the open bar.

“Two glasses of Merlot,” you told the bartender.

“You think I might have to give Jack mouth-to-mouth when he sees the thong I bought?” your friend said, smirking into her wine glass.

“It’s in the realm of possibility,” you laughed as you searched the large room for Robby. You spotted him before he spotted you. He and Abbot were both in deep conversation with a group of donors, and you admired how animated he was. He was laughing and waving his hand in the air, clearly in the middle of a story.

You sipped your wine as you watched him, and then, as if sensing your eyes on him, he looked up. He stopped midsentence before catching himself and resuming his conversation, glancing at you occasionally as he spoke.

An older woman approached you, and you lost track of Robby as you talked. The music started, and you were pulled into a dance with a much older gentleman, whom you delighted with stories from the ER. The night went on much the same, and you kept a genuine smile on your face as you talked and danced with prospective donors. You were having fun at the hospital's expense, but securing the funding your department desperately needed was still important. You caught Robby’s eyes from across the room once more as he danced with a donor, who was obliviously chattering away at him while he stared at you. His eyes were heavy, and you could see the fire in them as he danced.

You snatched a flute of champagne from a passing tray, mouth suddenly dry.

The song ended, and you felt yourself going to him, as if drawn by a magnet.

He caught you by the hips as you fell into him.

“I’ve been watching you, sweetheart,” he murmured into your ear as the next slow song started.

“Yeah?” You asked breathily.

“I’ve been so damn hard all night, watching you be so good and talking to everyone, I’ve seen the way the others have been looking at you. Have you felt their eyes on you?” he asked as he dipped you.

You whimpered at his praise. “No, I’ve only been watching you,” you confessed like a prayer.

Robby’s mouth twitched, and he pulled you closer. “I can’t stop thinking about how wide your eyes are going to get when I finally get my hands on you,” he whispered roughly into your ear.

You moaned softly, and he squeezed your hip. “I think it’s time for us to go, don’t you think?” he asked, eyes full of desire.

You nodded your head as the music came to a stop. He grabbed your hand and practically swept you off your feet, leading the two of you to the bathrooms.

He crowded you into the empty bathroom, hands already squeezing your hips.

“What about Gloria?” you asked with a gasp.

“Fuck Gloria, Jack can handle the donors, he owes me one,” Robby said as he tangled his hand in hair. He gently pulled your neck back to attach his lips, and you groaned as he sucked a mark into the tender flesh.

“Robby, please, don’t make me wait,” you begged.

The older man moaned lowly and pressed himself against you, moaning again when his cock made contact with your hip. “I’m done waiting, sweetheart. Watching you tonight made me lightheaded, and I barely had a single sip of alcohol. Fuck,” he groaned, hand tugging at your hip, trying desperately to bring you closer.

“Please, I want to touch you,” you whined.

“Not here,” he said, pulling away. You whined at the loss of contact, and he took your smaller hand in his. “The first time I get my mouth on you is not going to be in a bathroom, no matter how nice it is,” he said, pulling your body back against him.

“Take me to bed, Dr. Robby,” you said, looking up at him.

Robby shuddered. “That has no business being that sexy,” he said, sticking his head out of the bathroom, hand never leaving yours.

“Come on, if I don't have you naked under me in the next ten minutes, I might not be able to be held responsible for what happens,” the older man said, tugging you along to the elevator.

Once safely behind the elevator doors, Robby pressed you into the wall and gently peeled away the strap of your dress, revealing the white lace that lay underneath.

“Goddamn babygirl, you’re trying to kill me,” he said, pulling your dress down further to wrap two think fingers around a nipple, causing you to cry out.

“Robby!”

He pulled back to look into the eyes. “When I have my mouth on you, or you’re in my bed, it’s Michael. Let me hear you say my name, pretty girl,” he said, pinching.

“Michael,” you groaned as he attached his mouth to your other nipple.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” he encouraged against your skin.

Just as you cried out, the elevator came to a halt, and Robby quickly covered you back up. You stepped out first and wrapped a finger around two of his thicker ones, leading him to his room. He fumbled for the key card before inserting it and shoving you inside the room, lips on yours.

“I could kiss you for hours, sweet girl,” he moaned into your mouth.

“Just kiss me?” You asked as you pulled his tie off.

“I’m going to do more than kiss you, of that I can assure you,” he said darkly as he rid himself of his jacket and undershirt.

“Turn around,” he murmured. You did as he said, and he slowly pulled the zipper down the back of the dress, his breaths coming out in harsh pants. Your dress fell to the floor, and just like that, his hands were finally on you.

He ripped the panties right off your body, and you cried out in surprise.

“Those were new,” you gasped as he pressed you against the bed.

“I’ll by you another set, shit, I’ll by you four,” he said as he attached his lips to your skin.

“You want to know why I didn’t come in when I brought you dinner?” he asked, running his hands along your body.

“Why,” You whimpered as he sucked a mark onto your breast.

“Because I knew the second I got my hands on you, I’d never want to take them off,” he said, rubbing his beard against your sensitive skin. His hand went lower, and your fingers gripped his bare shoulders as he ghosted his fingers over your core.

“I need, fuck, I need,” you whimpered as the older man ran his fingers along theoutside of your lips.

“Tell me, tell me what you need, honey. I’ll give you anything you want,” Robby cooed against your lips as he stroked your core.

“You, your fingers. Your fucking pants off,” you cried in frustration, tugging at the older man’s dress pants. He breifly pressed his thumb to your clit and you cursed as he pulled away, divesting himself of his pants, underwhere, and sock.

He crawled back onto the bed and propped himself up so he was eye level with your pussy.

“Fuck I can’t wait to taste you,” he groaned as he threw one of your egs over his shoulders. The very next second, his tongue was pressing into you. His big hands held you open as he tasted your slick.

“Michael,” you gasped, hand flying to hold onto his hair. Robby groaned into you and slid one long finger into you.

“You taste so fucking good honey, you’re doing so good for me,” he praised.

“Fuck, fuck,” you screamed, arching into his mouth.

Before you could catch your breath, he slid another finger, causing you to moan at the stretch.

“More,” you begged, pleading.

“So fucking greedy for me,” he growled as he slid a third finger inside of you. “Come on, sweetheart, just give me one and I’ll give you what you want,” Robby said into your skin. He curved his fingers just right, and you arched off the bed, mouth shaped in an O as you silently screamed.

His lips were instantly on yours, and you gasped into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his lips.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby girl, you think you’re ready for me?” he asked, teasing his tip over your entrance.

“I need it,” you panted, hair stuck to your forehead with sweat.

He leaned down and kissed you one more time before pushing in as gently as he could.

“So big,” you gasped into his shoulder.

“Shh, just breathe, baby, you can take it,” he soothed.

After what felt like forever, he bottomed out, and you gasped, walls fluttering.

“Fuck, I need-” You felt his whole body twitch. “I need just a second,” he groaned.

You whined and wiggled your hips.

“Michael, please,” you begged, tears forming at your waterline.

He cursed, and his hips reflexively twitched against yours.

“I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he warned.

You clenched around him, and he huffed out a laugh before pulling almost all the way out, before quickly pressing back in.

“Fuck! Please, more. Michael, I need more,” you gasped as the tears fell.

“Shh, I have you, baby, just let go and feel,” he said before setting a brutal pace.

You cried out as the tip of his cock hit that spongey spot inside you.

Robby didn’t let up, groaning when you scratched down his back.

He pulled your leg up to rest against his hip, and you screamed at the change in angle.

“I feel so full, oh my god,” you whimpered..

“You’re taking me so fucking well honey, fuck, you should see yourself. Next time I’m fucking you in front of the mirror so you can see how pretty you are when you fall apart,” Robby mumbled, almost to himself.

“Michael, I’m close,” you gasped, clutching his arms.

“I love you, fuck do I love you” he gasped, snapping his hips.

“Michael,” you said, eyes wide and full of emotion as you fell apart under him.

“Come on, sweetheart, come for me, let me feel you squeeze me,” he begged, eyes desperate.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered. Robby leaned down, pressed his lips to yours, and gently wrapped his hand around your throat, applying just the slightest pressure.

You saw white as your orgasm tore through you, and Robby groaned loudly, hips stilling as he spilled into you. The older man fell forward, landing next to you. You shivered, and he pulled you closer, arranging you so your head was on his chest. He wrapped his arm around you, and you relaxed into his embrace. You both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow.

“Did you mean it?” you asked softly, some time later,

He turned to look at you, and you grimaced at the sticky feeling between your legs.

“I did, and you don’t have to.”

“I love you, too,” you said, cutting him off with a kiss.

He melted against you and pulled you closer. “I’m so glad,” he confessed against your lips.

“Will you shower with me?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“Of course, let’s get cleaned up, sweetheart,” he said, helping you stand, gently laughing when your legs didn’t hold you.

“I have you, honey, come on,” he said before scooping you up into his strong arms.

The next morning, as you and Robby boarded the plane, you made eye contact with Abbot and slightly nodded at him. He smirked and whispered to Samira, who stood up from her seat to loudly annouceto the plane, “Jack won the pool, suck it losers!”

Half the plane groaned while Robby simultaneously looked at you with confusion. “What pool? These fuckers bet on us?!”

#dr robby #michael robinavitch #robby robinavitch #robby robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby smut #the pitt #the pitt smut #smut #my writing

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ilariyalavorowrites · 16 days ago

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Bright Lights

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, post-divorce healing, Pitt Fest is a warning of its own, medical inaccuracies.

Pairings: Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Universe: The Pitt

Reader gender: Female

Tagged: @questionably-intelligent69 , @dizzybee03 , @virgomillie , @mrsjosephmazzello , @sus-styles , @moonshooter , @hagarsays @that-sarcastic-writer

Part 1/3

Pitt Fest was far from where you had expected to be, with your Rig parked up just behind the Medical Tent that you, Frankie, several other untrained volunteers and additional off-duty health care workers manned in a six hours on then two hours off. This was one of the many such stations dotted around the festival's grounds, yet still, you had ended up at the one closest to the main stage.

Your House, Station 42, had quickly signed up for this opportunity, alongside a few others dotted about the district, when the call went out across the airwaves. Reyes and Smith had been selected, only to pull out at the eleventh hour. This left the spot open; Frankie swiftly volunteered the two of you. She almost tripped over her feet as she darted towards Captain Valentino’s office.

The additional pay bump was definitely a helpful incentive, but Frankie’s overly keen desire to attend in some capacity had won out. At least your day would be wildly different from the standard shift. Your mind would be occupied, forgetting about him for one day. It could be the jumping-off point you needed to finally move forward with your life and let go of any nagging residual feelings. As you checked over the supplies in the back of your Rig one last time, making sure you were full stocked for whatever this day might bring. You relaxed, maybe you would enjoy this after all, as there were allocated slots for you and Frankie to explore, eat and enjoy all of what made up Pitt Fest.

Placing your clipboard down, you climbed out of the back of the Ambulance before slamming the doors shut. “Frankie, all the checks are done,” you called out to your partner.

“Excellent, let’s get this show on the road!” ----------------------------------------------------------------------- 5pm Pitt Fest

The morning flew by in a blink of an eye. You had handed out more than a few dozen water bottles to a fair few people, some more noticeably stoned than others. The first aid that you had delivered had been for minor scrapes, bruises and the most noticeable had been heat exhaustion. Thankfully, they had good friends with the forethought to bring them to the medical tent as soon as they had noticed that they were flagging.

Their patient would recover; they were out of the sun, shaded by the tent, drinking fluids whilst being cooled by one of the portable fans. “I’ve retaken the temp,” Frankie said, as she stepped up beside you. “37.4, looks like they will avoid a trip to the ER this time”

“Hopefully, this will be enough of an experience,” You replied, as that had been you once upon a time. You had been that overconfident, only to later suffer the consequences hours later down the line. There had been a fair few college night outs where your adolescence brain thought it knew best. The hangovers the next morning told a completely different story.

You couldn’t help but silently chuckle at the memories of who you had once been. When you had finally decided on what you wanted to do with the rest of your life, it was then you had needed to grow up. You never once regretted the choice. Helping the injured and the sick was more of a calling than just a job. A few opportunities arose along the way, including one that was abruptly ended. Namely, your failed marriage to one Dr Michael Robinavitch.

The one bright spark that had come out of it was Jake. Your ex-husband’s sort of stepson. Robby and Jake’s mother Janey had never quite made it to the altar, but he was still involved in Jake’s life when the two of you dated what felt like many moons ago. Jake had been a small kid when you first started coming round, yet his devilishly cheeky smile and infectious bubbly nature bowled you over. So when your marriage broke down, it was hard to even consider not having him in your life. It felt wrong to abandon the connection that had built up with both him and his mother.

Janey had become a good friend along the way, ultimately; you had decided that you would keep them in your life. The text messages, phone calls, and weekly lunches continued. You had built a life outside the broken shards of your marriage. They were part of the family you had chosen. You could not help but smile as you thought over the moments that you might have missed if you had chosen to push them away and out of your life. It was one of the few decisions you’d never regret making.

Marrying Michael was another. He had been a bright spark in the sea of countless bad dates. You had been the one to venture across the thin line where friendship and romance met. Yet, he had been the one to silence the whispers, choosing to kiss you publicly in the middle of the department. That sent the gossip train in overdrive as they each took turns not so subtly places bets. Was this a midlife crisis in slow motion unfolding for all the world to see? How serious was it, actually? Was it going to last longer than his last relationship? Or would you grow tired of your older man as he continued to come home a little more broken, a little more given up in the aid of others.

The post-it notes went up with varying predicts but as the days rolled into months and the first anniversary came and went. Soon, the tone started to shift and change. The odds of you walking away from him faded away, leaving room for the possibility of him proposing or you getting pregnant. It was hard not to laugh each time that you walked through the ambulance bay doors as you passed the security office window with the cork board in plain sight.

Frankie and your other colleagues had started their own game, placing bets on what the latest and most ridiculous and wildest speculation would come from this shift. There were a few rotating favourites that were simply produce of individuals have too much time on their hands. Such a wild notion that either you or Michael would invite Dr Jack Abbott to join in your relationship. You had gotten some good laughs from it.

It had never crossed your mind until you had seen that neon yellow post-it, but it was an avenue that would remain unexplored. A few late nights followed some nightmare shifts; drinks flowed and what happened next, well, that you’d never say. That would stay between you, Jack and Robby. This way, no one could weaponize it, or use it as an excuse to uncover why the marriage had failed. Communication lay at the heart of it; both you had been to blame.

As he had steadily closed more of himself off, you had not been quick enough to seize the opportunities to reach him. By the time you had pushed to make him see you, it was too late. Michael Robinavitch had slammed the door firmly shut. There had been no way back.

As you lifted your gaze up, only to find a familiar and welcomed sight mere feet away. “Jake!” You called out before you crossed the short distance, making your way over to where he was hovering at the edge of the tent. Your warm smile deepened, but quickly you remembered that in his latest message, Jake had mentioned that Robby would be with him. Dread bubbled up from within; this was going to be awkward.

A figure strides into place, slipping a hand into Jake’s, beaming from ear to ear; this was not Robby. Long dirty locks framing her soft features; maybe this was the infamous Leah that he had been casually dropping into conversations over the last several weeks. For a few moments, you all stood there in silence, waiting for someone to speak. It was far too hot to be needing your standard issue jacket, which thankfully you’d left in the Ambulance. This wasn’t what you had expected; all that fear at having to try to navigate through small talk with Michael faded away.

How do you know each other?” Leah said, as the breath that you didn’t know you were holding rushed out, leaving space for Jake to jump in. “Yes, this is my mum’s friend,” Jake answered; that was one way to be introduced, better without adding in the Ex-wife label into the mix, over complicating an already complicated situation. It was refreshing to escape being viewed through that broken lens. “This is Leah, my friend…girlfriend” You watched as Leah playfully jabbed at him after he said friend, only to swiftly correct himself.

You smiled, offering a hand out to her. She seemed like a sweet kid, from what you could gather from this brief encounter, but Jake was over the moon, floating on cloud nine as he stood beside her. You could remember when Robby looked you like Jake looked at Leah. With pure affection, joy and contentment just from being together. It warmed your heart to see him happy. Leah didn’t leave you hanging, shaking your hand. Mirroring the sentiment, you responded, “Nice to meet you as well.”

“Oh, so you’re the person Jake always mentions.” You blinked, not expecting that; he talks about you? A warm feeling bubbled up from within. That maternal love that you once you would never embrace, yet Robby had brought that into your life. The opportunity to embark on that journey from the beginning may soon disappear. Not that hadn’t chances that had burnt out before truly beginning; Michael did not know. He had not been by your side then, Jake and Janey had.

You would count on one hand the ones you trusted with that secret. Could the stress from the divorce tipped your body over the edge? Possibly, but you’d never really an answer to what caused the miscarriage. Yet, that was not an avenue you would venture down right here and now.

“All good” Hearing this, a smile spread across your face, the image of the kind young man he’d become filling your mind. You briefly met his gaze, realizing he’d been observing the interaction. Your smile widened, knowing the countless questions racing through Jake’s mind in a split second. You dared to tease him.

“Did you know that Jake wanted to be a paramedic when he was younger, that or an astronaut.” You said in jest, knowing exactly how he would react. “Driving the wee woo and patching up the boo boos” You could see the redness in his cheeks in response to your words. He was trying to play it off, but Leah beat to him to the punch.

“It’s so cool that you have a doctor and paramedic in your life; I bet you get to hear the best stories;” This girl was a gift. The mere mention of Robby brings you back down; Leah was unaware of your connection to her boyfriend’s sort of step dad. Her words were untainted by malicious intent; there was an innocence wrapped around each syllable. A curiosity to know the family that Jake had, both by blood and by choice.

‘Just keep smiling, just keep smiling. Don’t break’ This has been your mantra for far too long, for each moment that his name had arisen in conversation, when remembering the good times and the funny stories where had a starring role. The pain persisted, even a year and a half after your divorce became official. It was almost two years since you had spent more than a few minutes together in the same room.

It had to make a choice, the same one that had you kept you barely held together, by the thinnest of threads as you pulled yourself up and out of your thoughts. It had only been a fraction of a minute, a few seconds at best. Not long enough for anyone to notice that anything was wrong; you had played this hand one too many times; it had become almost like a second nature. A poor excuse for a coping mechanism, but it would do.

“You two should be off enjoying yourselves, not hanging around here unless you need anything?” You gave them a gentle push, hoping they’d go and enjoy themselves. To see, hear, and experience and make memories that they’d look back on fondly. You had been passively glancing around the tent to ensure that you hadn’t missed any new medical emergency, no matter how minor. Nothing had come through, just a few more water bottles had been passed out.

“No, we’re all good. We’re on the way to the main stage,” You nodded, listening. The band that was billed to perform next hadn’t been one that you had heard of. They were an up-and-coming act that Jake had recently discovered. You could hear the excitement as he spoke. “Good, take some water but if you need anything you know where to find me,” You replied as Frankie slid up beside you. “We’ve got a new patient” You nodded, turning back to Jake and Leah.

“I’ll text you later Jake, Leah it was great to meet you” You said before following Frankie over to where the injured patient sat uncomfortably on a plastic chair. You smiled over your shoulder, watching as the two teenagers departed. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------5:45 pm Pitt Fest

Frankie stood on the edge of the tent, ready for her next break. She had let her friend head off first and get something to eat at that one vendor that they both had spotted on their way in. The mouthwatering aroma still lingered in her mind, her stomach growling in response to the mere memory. She was more than ready to explore all that Pitt Fest had to offer up.

Yet the series of loud popping drew Frankie back out of her thoughts; had someone just set off firecrackers this close to the main stage? If so, that was thoughtlessly reckless; there would be burns heading over shortly. Mixing alcohol and anything that even the smallest of explosive was a bad idea. The popping stopped, but bone chilling screams followed, drowning out the pulsating flow of music.

This wasn’t what she had initially concluded as another round of popping, louder and closer than before. It took a few seconds to register what was going on, as her radio sparked into life. Through the crackles of the airway, SHOTS FIRED came through as clear as day. This repeated a few times to make sure that everyone received the message.

‘Fuck,’ Frankie muttered, as she grabbed the nearest first aid kit before rushing off into the panicked crowd. In this moment, she wasn’t thinking of herself, she was thinking about the safety of the public, of her friend who had wandered unknowingly in danger.

This wasn’t how today was meant to go; far from it.

---------------------------- If anyone wishes to tagged in any of the Pitt x Reader content, please reply or message me

#reader insert #angst heavy #angst with a happy ending #the pitt #author ilariya lavoro #the pitt x reader #dr. michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr robby x reader #tw: hurt/comfort #tw: angst #tw: pitt fest

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silens-oro · 1 month ago

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You Know Where You Are: Part I

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Musician!Reader Angst/Established Relationship Part II | Part III

The Pitt Playlist located here The Pitt Masterlist

Synopsis: Dr. Robby's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day started before he even made it to PTMC. He was supposed to go to Pittfest to support his girlfriend's band with Jake, but decided to flake and give his ticket to Jake's girlfriend. You are less than thrilled with his lack of communication. Word Count: 965 Content Warning: Arguing; Reader is in her 30's A/N: This will be a three-parter.

“Why is an alarm going off?” You grumbled into Robby’s warm chest as the jingle from his phone repeated itself. Robby groaned as he reached over to the nightstand to turn it off. He was silent for a few beats, his other hand coming up to rub your back gently. “Mikey?”

“I’m goin’ in today.” He mumbled into the crown of your head.

“You’re what?” Sitting up in a hurry, you pushed yourself off him, but kept your eyes pinpointed on his. Michael was looking anywhere else in the room but at you. “No. No, Mike! You said you weren’t going to do this.”

“I know.” He responded gently, his eyes breaking from yours.

“You know.” Scoffing, you started to get off the bed, but was stopped by his hand gently grabbing your thigh, squeezing it in a way that told you he did not want this to get blown into an argument. Not today. “What about Jake? You can’t just ditch him.”

“Giving him my pass for his girlfriend. They’ll have a blast and apparently she’s a huge fan of you guys.” He tried to soften the blow. All it did was build the irritation that was growing inside of you.

“And me?” Your question hung in the air.

“I’m sorry.”

“Absolutely not.” Gently prying his hand off your leg, you stood and threw on some random clothes he had in the second drawer that housed various t-shirts, jeans and leggings that you’d left over time. “Genuinely don’t know what I was expecting.” You muttered under your breath as you pulled a t-shirt over your head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He had the nerve to sound indignant.

“It means that I am a very reasonable person who rolls with the punches when it comes to you, but god forbid something on my end -pre planned well in advance, mind you- is important to me and it gets thrown by the wayside.”

“Today is-” You held up your hand to stop him.

“-I know what today is.” Your voice took on a somber tone. “And I am so incredibly sorry that you have to carry this with you, Mike. I am. I love you and I support you wholeheartedly, but you obviously knew you were going to do this well before this morning and you chose not to tell me. A heads up is all that I’m asking for here.”

“Had I known missing this set was going to be a huge deal-”

“It’s not about the set!” Your voice rose. “I don’t care about the set, Mike! My life is set after set. I cared about spending time with you and Jake. The set is an hour out of my day. Both of us are stupidly busy people with demanding careers who don’t get to see a whole lot of each other outside of some quick takeout and going to bed -if we’re even in the same state!” It wasn’t meant to be a jab, but Robby felt it all the same.

“You’ve never had a problem with me having to cancel for work.” His voice was starting to get an irritated tone to it, one that you knew he knew he was wrong, but was doubling down.

“That’s not what this is!” You snapped, “I’m not mad because you get called in to work, Mike! You did this on purpose. They didn’t call you in, you are choosing to go in on a day that you already arranged to have off for no other reason than you won’t communicate!” He winced -you don’t communicate was repeated like a broken record through just about every failed relationship he had. “I don’t understand how you don’t see why I’m frustrated with this and, quite frankly, it’s pissing me off even more than I was to begin with because I can’t tell if you know what you’re doing or if this is just a defensive reflex!”

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand on your side, you sighed when you saw how early it actually was. Deciding that removing yourself from Mike’s townhouse was the best option so you could cool off without figuratively ripping his head from his body, you grabbed your purse off his dresser.

“Where are you going?” Mike stood from the bed, pajama pants hanging low in his hips. There was clear panic in his eyes, but he couldn’t navigate himself out of the hole he had dug himself.

“Back to my place.” You didn’t bother to untie your sneakers as you shoved your feet into them, pulling roughly until they popped on.

“Come on,” He said your name softly, “-please just get back into bed-”

“Why?” You snapped, “You’re getting ready for work and I don’t have a reason to be here right now.” Mike winced, then inhaled deeply before nodding -not to agree with you, but to process the words that you just said to him.

“You don’t need a reason to be here.” He was nearly begging. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from going off the deep end.

“Fine, I don’t want to be here.” You ground out. And truthfully, you didn’t. Anger was a rarity coming from you -life happens- but this wasn’t “life happens”. This was “Robby happens” and when Robby happens...you shook your head.

“You coming back here tonight?” He knew it was a long shot, but he asked anyway.

“You know, Mike…” You shrugged, exasperated, arms swinging out from your sides, “-probably not.” Done with the conversation you left the bedroom, angry that this was how the day -a day that was supposed to be fun and a distraction from the shit Mike deals with- started in a fiery blaze.

“Don’t-” Not bothering to hear his response as you fled through the townhouse, you let the door slam closed behind you.

Part II

Please reblog, like and/or comment :)

#the pitt #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch #the pitt imagine #dr robby imagine #x reader

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internetdaddy98 · 1 month ago

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The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 23

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist] Content Warning: medical procedures; blood; mutual pining; jealousy: angst

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

You threw yourself into work like it could save you.

Every shift since the rooftop had blurred into the next—rounds, consults, trauma alerts, charting. You didn’t let yourself think for more than ten seconds at a time. There wasn’t room. Not for second-guessing, not for memory, and definitely not for Robby.

You didn’t avoid him exactly.

You just... didn't seek him out anymore.

Not in the way you used to, like muscle memory. Not with those quiet glances across the ER, not with that stupid internal pulse you pretended wasn’t real. It was easier now—he kept his distance, and so did you. Like some unspoken truce had been signed in that wind-lashed rooftop silence.

But the hurt still lived in your chest like broken glass.

And he still looked at you like you broke something he didn’t know how to fix.

You were between patients when you heard it—the low rumble of his voice from across the hallway. You didn't mean to look. But you did. Reflex, stupid and automatic.

Robby was looking at a chart, brows drawn together, his jaw tight as always. But beside him stood Collins, and the two of them were laughing at something on her screen. You couldn't hear what, but she leaned just a little too close. Her hand brushed his shoulder.

You turned away before your thoughts could spiral.

Fine. Whatever. You were over it.

You pivoted into Exam Room 2, finding your next patient—a good-looking guy in his mid-thirties, athletic build, T-shirt soaked in blood from a head wound. His smile was casual, easy, like none of this fazed him.

“Dr. Williams?” he asked, already smirking. “You’re not what I expected.”

You blinked. “Good or bad?”

“Definitely good.”

You gave a polite smile and moved toward the tray. “Let’s take care of that gash on your temple.”

He winced as you cleaned it. “Can’t believe I split it on a cabinet corner. I was rushing to get out of the house—should’ve slowed down.”

“Next time, maybe wear a helmet,” you offered, deadpan.

He laughed. “If it gets me back here with you, maybe I won’t.”

You didn’t react, at least not visibly. But from the corner of your eye, you caught movement through the small glass panel in the door.

Robby. Walking by. Slowing. Looking.

You didn’t meet his eyes.

The patient kept talking. “So, Doc… if I wanted to get this checked out over dinner instead, would that violate any ethical boundaries?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how head trauma follow-ups work,” you laughed.

“Shame,” he said. “Still—you can’t blame me for trying.”

You sutured him in silence after that. Focused. Professional.

But your stomach twisted, and you didn’t quite know why. ---------------------------------

You didn’t realize Robby was in the break room until you looked up from your cup of water, back to the wall. He didn’t speak. Neither did you. It was easier that way now—each of you occupied your own corner of the universe. Safer that way.

He watched you for a moment. “You’ve got a fan in Exam 2.”

You looked up slowly.

He shrugged like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t burn under his skin. “Guy with the head laceration. Seemed really... interested in you.”

“He was just being friendly.”

“Is that what that was?” His tone was sharp enough to cut through bone.

You set down your cup. “What are we doing here, Michael?”

He looked at you like you’d slapped him.

“You don’t want to talk,” you said. “You made that pretty clear. So don’t do this. Don’t watch me from across the room like you—”

“Like I what?” he snapped. “Like I still give a damn?”

Silence exploded between you.

Robby finally spoke. “You should go.”

You blinked. “What?”

He didn’t meet your eyes. “Guy’s clearly interested. And you’re single. No rules stopping you.”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

“You don’t.” His voice was flat. “Have fun.”

You grabbed your water and left without looking back. ------------------------------------

You were charting in one of the quieter rooms. The ER had cooled down. The patients were thinning out. You told yourself the ache in your chest was exhaustion.

You didn’t expect to see Robby standing by the door, eyes locked on you.

But this time, you didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

He approached—slow, hesitant, hands in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Y/N.”

You hated how your name sounded on his lips. Like memory. Like something you might not get back.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he said quietly. “About... you dating someone.”

You said nothing.

“I was being an asshole.”

“That seems to be the theme lately,” you said.

His mouth tightened. “I’m trying.”

“Are you?” You looked up. “Because from here, it feels like you’re punishing me for something that I didn’t do.”

“I’m not punishing you.”

“Then what are you doing, Robby? Because one minute, you’re shutting me out and the next, you’re pissed that someone else notices me.”

His voice broke then. “I notice you.”

The words landed like a blow.

“I always have,” he said, softer. “And I didn’t know how to handle it. Especially now. Especially after... everything.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning.

But before either of you could say more, the overhead speaker called a rapid response incoming.

You stood, grabbing your stethoscope, forcing steel into your spine. “I gotta go.”

You walked away before your hands could shake.

And behind you, Robby didn’t follow. Not yet.

#michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt imagine #the pitt fanfiction #dr robby #dr robby x reader #dr robinavitch x reader #dr robby imagine #dr michael robinavitch #dr robinavitch #noah wyle

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livwritesstuff · 1 year ago

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There is a rule in the Harrington household that Eddie is only allowed to take one (1) of his and Steve’s three daughters with him to Target. Eddie going to Target by himself is dangerous enough.

For example:

Steve: Why did you buy three bags of cat food?

Eddie: Because if you spent $15 on pet supplies you got a $5 gift card

Steve:

Steve: How is this good for us?

Eddie: It’s free money!

Steve: No – it’s literally not. It cost $15 worth of shit we have no use for.

Steve: And now Hazel’s gonna think we’re getting her a cat.

The thing is, Eddie breaks the one child per Target trip rule constantly, enough times that he and the girls have developed a whole system to sneak their inevitable cache of Target junk into the house so Steve doesn’t find out. The system involves using their youngest, Hazel, as a pawn, which Steve wouldn’t be a fan of, but…it’s Hazel. It works.

“Hi Papa,” she says, setting the carton of eggs that had warranted a trip to Target on the counter.

“Hey,” he replies, looking up from where he was tying his running shoes, “Thanks for getting the eggs.”

“Are you going on a run?” Hazel asks nonchalantly.

“Yep. I’ll be back in a couple hours though, and then we can make those brownies.”

Once he leaves, Hazel returns to the garage where Eddie, Moe, and Robbie are still in hiding.

Hazel: He’s gone.

Eddie: Okay, you know the drill.

Eddie: Pop doesn’t hear a word about this.

Eddie: No fashion shows, no hauls. If he asks, you’ve had this shit your entire lives.

Eddie: Got it?

At the end of the month, Steve is going over all their card statements like he always does when he sees the charge.

Steve: Ed – Jesus Christ.

Steve: What the fuck could you possibly have spent five hundred dollars on at Target?

#steve has actual beef with target circle #target circle is eddie's stock exchange #steve maintains that it's making them spend even more money and he's got the spreadsheets to prove it #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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jawz · 11 months ago

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oasis fans on instagram: Hey Madferits! Here’s my new tattoo of the lyrics to Supersonic 😎 I named my daughter Lyla as I’m a lifelong fan. Will never forget Glasto 95. Hope everyone’s having a good day #LIVEFOREVER

oasis fans on twitter: Liam Gallagher is the most misunderstood pop princess of the 1990s.

oasis fans on tumblr: in 1991 noel finished work on his infamous torture tunnels. for years, anyone who crossed him was kept in the tunnels for undisclosed amounts of time. liam was held here for several years while a clone worked in his place, after liam upset noel by cavorting with robbie williams. some witnesses say liam was trafficked while traveling the tunnels and was never the same after being released. (source: oasis “memoir” written by a childhood acquaintance who barely knew them and hates noel)

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starshideurfics · 5 months ago

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Thirsty Thursday - Stevie’s Garage

steddie, omegaverse, 1960s, omegas entering the workforce, single parents, cw: vague references to suicide

Steve liked working with his hands. As a child that meant playing with lincoln logs and tinker toys, after he presented it meant baking a sewing. Then his no-good, two-timing alpha left him for his secretary, with two pups, Danny (6) and Jenny (7 1/2). Steve won full custody in the divorce, and at least his ex pays his alimony on time.

But it isn’t enough to live on, not with the mortgage and the kids. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to worry about the house falling apart; he’s been doing home repairs the entire time, learned to change his own oil in his car, can fix a flat tire with ease.

More and more omegas are driving now, and Steve figures they would appreciate service from someone who won’t talk down to them. He gets a loan from his aunt, a maiden omega who invested well, and opens his own automobile service station: Stevie’s Garage.

Robin helps him get set up: painting the sign, ordering supplies, answering phone calls, while Steve gets under the hoods and gets his hands dirty.

He does well enough that after the first month he puts an ad in the paper to hire a second mechanic. He figures it will take a while to find an alpha (or even a beta) who can stand working for an omega.

Much to his surprise, a man with dark curls and a shy smile comes by later that week asking if the job is still available. Steve has Eddie check the car on the lift, and he finds the loose fan belt in a couple minutes, changes it out.

Steve hires him on the spot.

It turns out Eddie’s got a pup, too. Carrie’s in Danny’s class at school, and all Eddie will say is that her mother isn’t around anymore. Steve doesn’t pry. It means the three pups ride the bus to the garage after school and play together there until the workday is done. Jenny’s bossy, a bit feral, and loyal to a fault. The first day Carrie gets off the bus with them, she asks why she isn’t going home to her mom, all childish bluntness.

“Mama died in the bathtub when I was really little, then I went to live with Daddy,” Carrie answers, just a statement of fact.

Steve’s glad he didn’t pry.

After that, Jenny is as protective of Carrie as she is of her brother.

Three months after he hired Eddie, Steve admits to himself that he likes the alpha. More than likes him. Eddie smells nice, and he’s gentle with the pups, never raises his voice in anger—only in excitement or fear—he tells jokes and stories to pass the time, sings along with the radio. But mostly, he looks at Steve like a starving man looks at bread when he thinks the omega isn’t looking.

Steve wants to feed him.

They both have engine grease under their fingernails, are covered in heavy-duty cotton, Steve’s hair is under a kerchief; there is nothing particular sexy about the moment. But Steve can’t wait any longer, and he presses up against Eddie, pins him in place and kisses his mouth.

“I’m dead, yeah? The lift fell and I was crushed by Mrs. Wheeler’s Bel Air, and I’m dead,” Eddie babbles when their lips part.

“Not dead,” Steve replies with a grin. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve leans in for another kiss, one that Eddie deepens, his tongue slipping easily between parted lips. “I’ll need to get Robin to babysit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Munson. You’re taking me out dancing.”

✨✨✨

Steve answers the door with his housecoat still on, crouching down to say hello to Carrie first, the pup throwing her arms around his neck. “Head into the living room, honey, the kids are doing a puzzle with Robbie,” he says, watching her scamper past him into the house. He turns to Eddie with a soft smile, “Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agrees, smile just as soft.

Steve disappears to his bedroom, and Eddie waits awkwardly in the doorway. He hears laughter from deeper in the house, followed by Robin saying, “Hey there, Care-Bear, come sit by me.”

He’s ruminating on how nice it is to have people who adore his kid as much as he does around, to give her that big family feeling, at least a little bit. Then Steve comes down the hallway wearing a proper dress, and Eddie quite literally stops breathing.

Dressed to the nines, Steve is a revelation, but he simply takes Eddie’s hand and says, “So, where are you taking me?”

“Enzo’s,” Eddie answers, no longer worried that it’s too much. Steve deserves the nicest restaurant in town for their first date. Steve deserves the best of everything.

Not that either of them has fancy tastes, not knowing what half the things on the menu are. Eddie gets spaghetti and meatballs, and Steve gets a chicken dish with some kind of red sauce. They talk and trade bites of food, both careful as they eat—Steve due to a lifetime of practice, Eddie because he realized as soon as the waiter took their order that he’d made a mistake and that leaving without marinara on his shirt would be a miracle.

After, he tells Steve to order dessert, and they split a tiramisu. Eddie pays the bill without really looking at it, having kept a tally in his head of the prices by habit, leaves a nice tip, and helps Steve up from his seat. “Ready for that dance?”

Steve smiles and nods, following Eddie to the dance floor. Enzo’s has a live band on the weekends; “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole starts just as Steve steps onto the parquet dance floor, his arms settling easily around Eddie’s neck. “I love this song,” he murmurs as they start to sway.

“Makes sense,” Eddie murmurs, “You’re certainly unforgettable, Steve.” They’re silent after that, moving to the music, bodies pressed close. A new song starts, and they keep swaying, dancing merely an excuse to hold each other in public, to trade small kisses.

“Robin’s planning to spend the night at my place,” Steve says once they are safely back in Eddie’s car.

“Oh?”

“We still have plenty of time…”

“Steve?”

“Take me back to your place, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, driving on autopilot, as Steve rubs his hand up and down Eddie’s thigh.

Steve pounces on him as soon as they get through Eddie’s front door, kissing him hard and reaching for his belt. They shed clothes down the hallway, until they reach Eddie’s bedroom, leaving the lights off, everything illuminated well enough by the nearly full moon.

Eddie stops breathing again. Steve is a vision in only his slip, white satin and lace showing off so much more of his skin than Eddie’s ever seen. Carefully, he reaches out, suddenly nervous—a crass, unworthy man standing before the loveliest omega on earth—and pinches a bit of fabric at Steve’s waist, afraid to touch more.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, placing a hand over Eddie’s, “It’s okay. I’m still just me. Not gonna break, Ed.”

Everything after that is slow and sweet. Perfect.

Eddie cries tears of pleasure as he sinks into Steve’s wet heat. Steve mewls at being properly knotted for the first time in years. They fall asleep tangled together, the most relaxed either of them have felt, possibly ever.

Steve wakes early, before the sun is up. Eddie stirs beside him as soon as he moves, and Steve is happy to take a couple minutes to kiss.

There’s plenty of time to get home before the pups wake.

✨✨✨

Big thanks to @itcanbepalped for sharing the inspo with me and then riffing for a bit! Love you, Mads!!!

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #stranger things fic #ficlet #thirsty thursday

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dietpitt · 8 months ago

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[ My AO3 ] [ My Writing Tag ]

key: ❤️= smut/suggestive 💗= personal favorite

Stan Pines x Reader

disco_date.discard('robbie'): ❤️💗(AO3 Link) (tumblr post coming soon)

Swooning Over Stans: What if Robbie hadn't interrupted your final date?

Green Is Definitely Your Color ❤️💗

[Read on AO3]

In which body paint and Stan's mouth save Halloween (but ruin a perfectly good costume).

Keep It Cool ❤️ [Read on AO3]

A broken A/C and some Stan belly appreciation

Fall Into Me, And Then... 💗 [Read on AO3]

Childhood Best Friends to Lovers with a clueless Teen!Stan

Summer Lovin’ ❤️ Some summer fun with Teen!Stan and friends

Wait ❤️ Teasing Young!Stan during his tour at the Murder Hut

Patience ❤️ [Part 2 of Wait] Your actions on the tour have consequences

Soft Cotton ❤️💗 An intimate moment; playing with Young!Stan's white t-shirt

Found In a moment when you're down and crying, a stranger comforts you.

Friandise 💗 [Read on AO3]

Stan gives you more to feast on than just Stancakes in bed

<1k Words

The Derby Blues 💗- You accompany "Stan" to the Kentucky Derby

Rasberries for Breakfast - Stan blows raspberries on your tummy

It Hits the Fan - Stan's past catches up to the both of you

Apartment Hunt - A mini heist with Stan in a stranger's apartment

<500 Words

Dip & Tow 💗- You join Stan in his bed one night on the Stan O' War II

“Are You Still Awake?” - Stan has trouble sleeping; you comfort him

The Usual ❤️- An intimate, stolen moment in The Shack's gift shop

Lucky? - Stan's thoughts about you, wearing his jacket while out on a date

A Bar by the Bay - Sharing shots with a handsome older sailor

Happy - For the first time in maybe ever... you're happy

Stan x OC

"Red" ❤️- Post-Swooning Over Stans, Bri meets back up with Stan [Read on AO3]

Orange, Pink Stan helps Em celebrate their birthday in style

Ford Pines x Reader

Galaxy Ford - Ford helps you study for an exam [Read on AO3]

“You Can’t Keep Doing This” 💗 - A stolen moment in Ford's lab (and lap)

“My Hand’s Getting Awful Lonely...” - Ford works out a pickup line

A Casual Chat ❤️- A video call with Modern!College!Ford gets a bit out of hand

Musings

Stan vs Ford: Bringing You Gifts/Treasures

Stan vs Ford: Foreplay ❤️

Stan vs Ford: Falling Asleep

Stan as a cop (he'd never be a fucking cop lol)

Stan x Reader x Ford - You have a date night in and fall asleep on the couch

graphics by @saradika-graphics

#stan pines x reader #gravity falls #stanley pines #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #grunkle stan #stan pines x you #grunkle ford

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sleepyicon · 6 months ago

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cobra kai rant incoming!!

i deleted one of my posts a few hours ago bc honestly, i feel like im spreading too much negativity related to cobra kai. and im tired of my cobra kai posts always being criticism when i love the show.

for the most part, part 2 is really good. that last episode is prob the best episode of cobra kai out there. that brawl and how it ended was such a plot twist and it made the school fight look like child’s play.

my prediction about devon supporting tory right away was true, but i wasn’t expecting the rest of the miyagi dos to understand right away so im happy about that. ALSO LOVED TO SEE KENNY! AND EVERYTHING HE DID!! tho i do admit i wish the binary bros apologized for how they treated him at first.

keenry, my babies, pls end up together in the end.

the sekai taikai was so enjoyable, the barcelona feels were so enjoyable, terry silver being back was so enjoyable (we all saw that coming lol) and lowkey thinking he used to crush on kreese.

im not a huge fan of miguel, but i hated him for a long time and its kinda tiring. he’s not that bad, the writers just don’t allow him to take accountability for his actions.

team miyagi do was so wholesome, particularly in episode 9, and i love how they hyped up robby as captain in the end.

rlly enjoyed kim x chozen, hoping they end up together in the end.

KWON DYING WAS SUCH A GOOD PLOT TWIST NOBODY SAW THAT COMING EVEN KREESE AND SILVER SHOWED SOME EMOTION!! THEIR BULLSHIT CAUSED A KID TO DIE!! COBRA KAI DIED BUT NOT IN THE WAY WE WOULDA THOUGHT!!

rlly enjoyed part 2 👍🏽

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iamirhen · 4 months ago

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The Midnight Suns rock Band AU literally nobody asked for.

Lore dump under the cut.

The AU in which Robbie never died at that race because the people who cornered him in that alley were actually the police. He managed to get lucky for one single time and narrowly managed to avoid jail by getting sentenced to do community work instead and assisting mandatory sessions in Blade's therapy group for troubled youth at risk. He met Nico, Wanda and Illyana there and ended up begrudgingly befriending them. Blade considers this kids both one of his biggest achievements and biggest sources of headaches.

Nico still get on Robbie's nerves sometimes and in the rare ocasion that he fights with Illyana it usually gets so bad that Wanda needs to mediate because neither of them will put their foot down otherwise. He still makes an effort to keep them in his life, because when he's too tight with money Nico will "accidentally" order too much pizza when they meet and he'll end up going home with leftovers afterwards, so he doesn't complain too much when she asks him to drive her places; and Illyana once showed up to take care of Gabe when he had the flu because Robbie had to work and didn't want to leave him alone, so when she mentioned that she was going to have to sleep in her van for a few days while she searched for a new flat after her former landowner kicked her out, he let her crash at his couch instead. They take care of each other in small ways, even if they dont' mention it.

Starting the band was Nico's idea so they would have an excuse for regular meet ups. She was also the one who got Robbie a second hand battery and insisted that he at least tried. It turned out that he was not half bad at it, he had a good sense of rithm and good coordination, and was surprised to find out that the gigs they eventually managed to pull out were starting to become a very welcome source of extra income. They meet for practice at a community center located in an old church, regented by a couple of old ladies: Sarah and Agatha. Gabe is their number one fan (and Piotr Rasputin is a close second, much to Illyana's dismay), so he's the other reason he hasn't dropped out yet despite being tight on time. After going for several provisional names, the last of them being Scarlet and the Witches, which Robbie was not very enthusiastic about, they ended up setting for Midnight Suns after Hunter's incorporation.

After Wanda was involved in a car accident that left her badly injured and put Agatha in a coma, their band was left without their main singer and guitarrist. It was then when Hunter, Sarah's niece, who had been raised by her aunt and her partner, temporarily moved back to the state after receiving the news about the accident. Hunter's relationship with Sarah became strained after she dropped out of college and started studying to become a tattoo and piercing artist instead. She's covering for Wanda and her stay is only temporary, or at least that was the original plan, but it seems that after her incorporation the band is doing better than ever before. Robbie's not so thrilled about having a new person joining his inner circle, and specially not one that's such a cocky little shit, but better gigs means more money, and he doesn't want to have to go back to work two jobs now that he can manage to live with the money he gets from his work at Canelo's AND the band.

Thanks @moosemonstrous for helping brainstorm ideas.

#if you find any typos in the text let me know so I can edit it because english is not my first language #look at me dead in the eye and tell me they do not look like they just came up with a banger #I tried to come up for a look for each one that fitted their vibes #anyways #midnight suns #midnight suns rock band au #the hunter #robbie reyes #nico minoru #illyana rasputin #anyways I don't have all the threads closed so if you have any ideas or suggestions for this au I'll love to hear them #my art

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kerryweaverlesbian · 3 months ago

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as someone new to fandom, what happened during j2 divorce??

Hehehehe okay so, it's a few months post-Supernatural finale. Jensen has been noticeably quiet about the ending online, referred to as his #sexysilence, not even appearing in the final goodbye thank you video from the cast and crew (neither did Misha from what I recall).

Then he announces on twitter that his production company Chaos Machine are making a Supernatural prequel, The Winchesters, and a lot of spn alumni are going to be reprising their roles as actors/writers/directors. Jared replies with:

"Dude. Happy for you.

Wish I heard about this some way other than Twitter.

I’m excited to watch, but bummed that Sam Winchester had no involvement whatsoever."

A fan asks if he's joking, and he responds:

"No. It’s not. This is the first I’m hearing about it. I’m gutted.”

Robbie Thompson is announced as executive producer, so Jared fires off:

"@[robbie thompson]

Et tu brute??

Wow.

What a truly awful thing you’ve done.

#Bravo, you coward"

All this to no public response from Jensen, and lots of good luck messages from the other cast and crew who, presumably, all knew this was happening ahead of time.

Reportedly, I believe according to Jared, he and Jensen talked it through privately after that and they appear to be very friendly again at cons and such but it was So. Fucking. Funny. The posting was incredible, the speculation as to when Jensen stopped being friends with Jared, the surfacing of J2 press interviews with Jared monologuing about how much he respects the spn ending while Jensen silently lets the rot consume him.

Also PS in the Winchesters they use a still of Dean from a Supernatural episode as a photograph and for some reason instead of using the plethora of Dean by himself images from the spn catalogue they opted to use one of Dean and Sam and then photoshop Sam out of it. The pettiness!!!!

#i am always excited to Explain thank you for asking #edit MISSED OFF ET TU BRUTE WOW THANK YOU CHUCKWONTHEORY FOR TELLING ME

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captain-sodapop · 2 months ago

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The Winchesters: A Post-Mortem

Endings are hard.

I’ve been dicking around, and as I wrapped up another Supernatural rewatch, I finally decided to follow through on something I’ve been threatening to do for a while: watch The Winchesters. Since the show is dead, done, and dusted, I feel okay about it because now it feels like it’s just some obscure piece of lost media and I’m not actually, you know, supporting it.

I think we have a hard time letting stories end, especially when they have been with us for so long. We live in an age of reboots and endless spinoffs. The Winchesters is an interesting case because when the flagship show ended, viewers had all their own feelings about it, but it was over and they knew it was over. Dead, done, and dusted.

Not so much.

As you know, on June 24th, 2021, about seven months after the end of Supernatural, Jensen Ackles announced his spinoff The Winchesters, produced by his and his wife’s new production company, Chaos Machine. Robbie Thompson would be heading the project, and it would be telling the “epic love story” of Sam and Dean Winchester’s parents. We’ve already established that there’s no story here, and no matter how you twist it you will never convince me there is – at least, not in the way they wanted to tell it. Diehard fans and conspiracy theorist Hellers seemed to end up being its primary audience, but considering its low viewership numbers, I don’t think it ended up attracting many people outside of the established fandom, and was thus canceled.

This was not a story people cared about.

This fact did not seem to matter to the good people at Chaos Machine and The CW.

Luckily for me, there are only thirteen episodes, and I have nothing better to do, so I am here to present my autopsy of The Winchesters.

The pilot moves so fast.

The Winchesters begins with Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father and Sam and Dean’s grandfather, who we know from the original show. In the prequel, he’s played by Tom Welling, not Mitch Pileggi, but he’s a mere shadow when we first see him, so we can’t tell yet how poor the casting is. All that matters is that we know he’s gone missing, and Mary wants to find him.

Immediately, the cold open of the pilot pales in comparison to the flagship program’s pilot. It really does feel like a cold open to any run-of-the-mill episode of Supernatural. It doesn’t create that same intrigue as the Supernatural pilot does.

But that brings us to one of the show’s central problems, and it’s something that shows up almost immediately: it is a poor attempt at rehashing the original, filled with Easter eggs that the casual viewer wouldn’t have gotten or cared about.

Right after that, we get the copycat title card and then a sort of awkward transition to John’s homecoming. He’s having PTSD flashbacks to his time in Vietnam, his tour having just finished, and goes home to see his mother (whose name I don’t even think is mentioned in the pilot, not until the second episode, so I think anyone wasn’t isn’t familiar with the original show might be a little confused.)

But this is where we hear him: Dean Winchester.

“March 23, 1972. The day Dad came home from the war, and the day he met Mom. Now I know this story might sound familiar, but I'm gonna put the pieces together in a way that just might surprise you. And in order to do that, I have to start all the way at the beginning.”

Um. Okay.

I’m going to tell you what this is, and it’s really very simple: it’s a justification.

Genuinely, I think these voiceovers are one of the worst things about the show. Now, Dean isn’t exactly a poet, and even Sam teased him for some of his corny lines, but these bookends are…beyond poorly written. Just strings of cliches put together, and the first one is the worst one because what it is attempting to do is justify this show’s existence within its very text.

As anyone who is familiar with the situation knows, when the prequel was announced, there was very public backlash – including from Jared Padalecki, who not only played protagonist Sam Winchester in the original show, but was not looped into any of this…at all. He found out at the same time the rest of us did, and it was pretty clear from the reaction that his was the majority opinion.

The thing about this little intro from the pilot is that it’s not really Dean talking here – it’s Jensen. It’s Danneel Ackles and Robbie Thompson trying to justify the fact that this show even exists. That exact sentiment showed up in several press releases and interviews for the show. Whoever was being spoken to, they’d be like “Oh, we’re gonna surprise you! It’s not what you think!”

The thing is, the prequel is:

Not surprising

Doesn’t exactly start at the beginning. That’s misleading.

(“I’m gonna put the pieces together in a way that just might surprise you.” Jesus Christ, shut up.)

The pilot does do something I appreciated, though, which was to acknowledge that John enlisted underage by forging his father’s signature. This could have been interesting, but they drop it pretty fast.

I know pilots sort of need to hit the ground running to prove their case, but if we’re going to use the original show’s pilot as a point of comparison, it’s incredibly weak. Not only were there rumored production issues and they apparently had to do reshoots, forcing them behind schedule for the rest of their run and putting immense pressure on the cast and crew, but it’s simply lacking. In the original pilot, we are given enough glimpses of the Winchester backstory to make the rest of the pilot interesting. Sam and Dean are brothers and therefore have history, a dynamic – though strained at the time – and an undeniable chemistry that intrigues us enough to keep us watching. With the Woman in White, we get an idea of what it is the family does and what Sam has run away from, while giving the episode a plot that isn’t yet mired in the show’s mythology.

The Winchesters doesn’t have that. What we have is John and Mary, and while a lot of people were rightfully confused as to why they – of all the characters on the original show – would be the ones to get a spinoff, the fact is that they did. Truthfully, while they would not have been my first choice, if treated properly, I believe John and Mary’s lives before the show could have potential.

What we know about John and Mary from the original show is that they were brought together by a Cupid from Heaven in order to ensure the birth of Sam and Dean, so that Michael and Lucifer would have vessels for the Apocalypse. In fact, the Cupid states that John and Mary couldn’t stand each other beforehand, but I guess when they bumped into each other outside of Slaughterhouse Five (which does happen in the spinoff’s pilot), I guess we’re to assume that’s when Cupid’s arrow struck and they fell in love.

Basically, their love is…not natural. It would not have been something they chose for themselves without divine intervention. The prequel doesn’t hint at this at all. Instead, the prequel has John and Mary immediately thrust together and John introduced to the world of the supernatural and the Men of Letters and on his first case all in those 42 minutes.

These are not John and Mary. Not the ones that we could be made to truly care about.

The John and Mary we know are much more complex. They are interesting, and flawed. We know from season 12 that Mary was sometimes sneaking out on hunts, even after Dean was born. We know that John and Mary would sometimes separate for a few days at a time, maybe even longer, probably because what they had for each other was not true love, but something divined by Chuck/God and the angels in order to carry out their plans. They were pawns, especially when it came to them as a couple. A story where Mary is struggling to keep her former life a secret while John is dealing with his post-service life, all while trying to be a couple and having these moments of realizing they don’t really know or love each other could have been a good premise. Instead, what they present is instead just sort of…confusing.

After the pilot, there are a series of Monster of the Week episodes. This is all supposed to be John’s intro to hunting and the true coming together of the Scooby Gang. This version of John and Mary are thrown together with Latika (she’s the pacifist who does all their research), Carlos (he’s the stereotypically slutty, sassy bisexual), and Ada (the wannabe witch who’s older than them and I guess sort of a mentor? Maybe?), and along with John’s mom, Millie, we’re told that they’re this big, happy found family.

Lots of telling and not showing here. In all honesty, John and Mary don’t have great chemistry, and that is not intentional. (I’m actually not gonna blame this one on the acting, at least not wholly, but I’ll get more into that later.) John is saying that he can’t live without Mary within something, like, three episodes. Honestly, he’s got better chemistry with Latika in the pilot than he does Mary. Actually, I’d say he has better chemistry with pretty much all the other main characters – Latika, Carlos, and Millie – than he does Mary, and that is interesting. Ya know why? It’s because it makes John feel like the protagonist. And John is the closest thing to a Sam-like character we get in this show.

We learn early on that the Big Bad is something called the Akrida, which are these weird, poorly CGI’d spider-looking things (all of the budget on this show went to music and reshoots, I swear), and they are out to destroy the universe – and not just this universe; all the universes are at stake, so it feels like the show is trying to play off what the original program was doing in its last few seasons. (Which, weren’t all but Earth One destroyed anyway? Or something like that?)

This is a big thing. It feels…too big. The first season of the original show did a good job of building to the reveal of Yellow Eyes, and they let that story breathe with the Special Children in the second season. We saw that while Sam and Dean were experienced, they were still novices in a sense, in over their heads, and did a lot of learning and had to figure out how to work together again. We don’t get that feeling here. They’re too good too fast.

xXx

In the tenth episode, John and Mary go up against a Golem. The Golem is under the control of a former Man of Letters who performed experiments on humans, and under the guise of helping them defeat the Akrida, he wants to use John and Mary to bring back what the Akrida took from him: his wife, who was killed by them in the late fifties.

When John and Mary dispose of the bodies at the end of the episode, John thinks what the Man of Letters was doing was out of love, trying to bring her back, but Mary says that he was only doing it for himself – that he was being selfish. And then she asks John if she thinks they’ll ever turn out like that.

Immediately, this seems to be an assertion that what Mary did in the original show – making the deal with Azazel after he killed her parents and John to bring John back – was this awful, selfish thing. That saving the only person she had left, the only person she could save (because she wanted Azazel to bring back her parents, too), was inherently wrong. This seems to ignore the fact that Mary had no idea what the repercussions of the deal would be. All she knew was that the demon was going to “pay her a visit”, whatever that was supposed to mean (probably assuming he would come to collect her soul as usual), and all she wanted was to save just one person, and that was the man she believed she loved.

I know we’ve established that John and Mary’s love was contrived, but to Mary, she believed she did love him, and it is ridiculous to think that her saving him was something that makes her inherently bad, or selfish, or unloving, as the prequel seems to imply. She could not have known that Azazel would do what he did to her, to Sam, and to their family. She didn’t even know there would be a Sam and Dean! She was nineteen years old!

And yet, the prequel takes this opportunity to vilify her. The fandom already did enough of that. When Mary made her return in season 12, her character endured endless misogynistic takes. When even Dean said it was ridiculous of him to expect her to tuck him in and make his lunch, the fandom still didn’t want to accept it.

Mary is a complex character. She was dealt as shitty a hand as any other character, but still had to absorb a lot of blame. Oh, god forbid she struggle to adjust to the 21st century, and having adult children, and not being dead anymore, and learning what the consequences of her actions were. She clearly felt immense guilt for the hurt that was brought on her family, which was something she would have never intentionally done. She wanted her and her family to be safe and did the best she could with the information and resources she had. God forbid a woman be complex or have flaws or be anything less than the perfect mommy to her adult sons. (Who – again – were not as upset about that as the fucking fandom was.)

And now the prequel is piling onto her, too. Our Mary is better!! Shut the fuck up.

xXx

The prevailing sentiment I had when watching this show was that none of it mattered. The plot, the characters, the monsters…none of it mattered. Not as a story, and not as it related to the original show. It doesn’t even really succeed at doing what it really set out to do, but we’ll get to that later.

Like I mentioned, the Akrida feel like a really big Big Bad for the first season of a show. Ultimately, what the Akrida are, are a failsafe for Chuck. Basically, they were his backup plan if he were to ever cease to be and they would carry out his plan to finish destroying all the universes he had created. I guess those of us who watched the original show are supposed to gather that he created these Akrida sometime around season 15, when he started getting rid of all those other universes. And, since the Winchesters and Jack defeated Chuck at the end of season 15 and Jack took over as God, these creatures are supposed to come in and finish what Chuck couldn’t.

Alright. A little convoluted, but I can follow it. It’s how the spinoff attempts to connect itself back to the main show’s plot.

But, wait a second – I thought this was the epic love story of John and Mary!

Let me just say this: this is not a love story. The love story in the show is pretty weak. Like I mentioned earlier, the show moves so fast, which means John and Mary’s relationship moves incredibly fast, and the show makes no indication that this is because of any Cupid effects (but maybe they knew the clock was ticking and they didn’t have a good chance at renewal.) We get no sense of how much time has passed here. I’m being told I should care about this relationship, but I don’t because of how little effort the writing puts into not only developing this relationship, but the characters themselves. So it’s hard for me to say that the love story matters in any way.

Then there’s John and Mary’s searches for their fathers. Those of us who have seen the original show know that Henry Winchester died in the future killing Abadon. We also know that Samuel Campbell first died when he was killed by Azazel in 1973, and then in season six after being resurrected by Crowley to help him search for alphas. After the show opens with Samuel going missing and Mary starting the search for him (which just doesn’t pack the same punch as the search for John), Samuel’s presence in the show after they find him is negligible. For one thing, he’s not a great portrayal of Samuel, and doesn’t even look like him – not a bit. That part isn’t as important, of course, but it does still take you out of it a bit. This Samuel is still sort of a jerk, but it just feels like he’s sort of…there. So when they find him, it doesn’t feel like a big deal.

John’s search for Henry is carried out a little better. The reason for John deciding to go home to Lawrence after returning from Vietnam is because a Mystery Man (who we all know is Dean) gave him a letter that Henry had left for John before his passing. It leads John to finding an old Men of Letters clubhouse in Lawrence, which he and his new friends use as a base throughout the show and is a resource for them in learning about and fighting the Akrida. When John finally does see Henry as a ghost (the result of a séance similar to the one Sam and Cas perform to contact Bobby in season 10), Henry is once again portrayed by Gil McKinney, like he was in the original show. That does help. Henry is mostly there to give them information to help them with the Akrida, but it does give John and Millie a sense of closure, unlike in the original show, where John spent his whole life not knowing what happened to Henry and hating his guts.

This all happens in the seventh episode – the show’s midseason finale: both John and Mary get answers on their fathers. It’s supposed to be the episode where all these things start to come together. Mary finds Samuel, John and Millie find Henry (sort of), we get some answers on the Akrida, and John and Mary kiss. Woohoo.

After that, there are another few Monster of the Week episodes with Big Bad plot running alongside it, just like in the original show. It follows a similar structure. The episode with Richard Speight, Jr. as Loki (not sure if it’s supposed to be the real Loki or Gabriel as Loki, but probably the latter?) is maybe the worst one. Loki/Gabriel just comes off as an annoying caricature, the plot and his scheme are just sort of confusing, and there’s just…way too much singing. Part of Carlos’s story is that he wanted to be a musician, and he and his former bandmate do some singing, and the songs don’t even sound as if they fit the time period, so. That’s awesome.

Carlos is also subjected to more humiliation when in an episode with vampires – and I’m sure those in the know already know where this is going! – he has Latika douse his hair in holy water and he whips it around to splash it on the vampires. Like…since when are vampires affected by holy water? Not only is the physics of it stupid (it would be so inefficient to have to be constantly whipping your head around, just fucking squirt them with a water bottle or the water gun Carlos used in the pilot), it’s just not even right. It’s incorrect within the show’s own mythology.

The penultimate episode is a creepy clown episode. I will say, the clowns are sort of creepy, but maybe that’s just because I agree with Sam about clowns just being inherently creepy. It’s an okay case, I guess. This is also the episode with Rowena. Ada is trying to find some sort of magical way to deal with the Akrida, and she stumbles into a witch club where Rowena finds her. Ruth McConnell does what she does, and it’s hard to complain about Rowena because she always plays her well. She does give Ada the magic to use against the Akrida in return for a bonzai tree that has a demon trapped in it (I know, I know) because the bonzai demon has information on her son. (Who we know is Crowley, but he doesn’t get a namedrop here, and there’s no further explanation there. I guess it’s possible Rowena could have known in the seventies that Crowley/Fergus was a demon or otherwise had something to do with demons and hell, but when she sees him in season 10 for the first time, she doesn’t recognize him. I do think that can be written off as him just being in a new vessel, though, so I’ll give this one a pass.) Of all the guest stars they brought on from the original show, Ruth/Rowena is by far the best, both in performance and purpose. She shows Ada how to kill Akrida using magic, but doing so kills off a bit of her soul, similar to the magic used to resurrect Jack in season 14.

And then it’s the finale. Just like that. In the final episode, they go up against the Akrida and their queen. In order to kill them, they either need to use the magic Rowena showed Ada, or they need to use something from another world. They connect with a hunter, Joan Hopkins, who has been in contact with Dean/Mystery Man, who she has thrown into the portal and destroyed after months of him staying ahead of her, and no living thing can survive the portal (the portal being the thing that the Akrida use to destroy worlds.) John and Mary find out this hunter is actually the queen. She and her family have hunted with the Campbells for generations, and we find out that Joan was actually born in 1673 and after losing her entire family and her husband, she turned on humankind and imbued herself with monster essence. She claimed monsters weren’t the problems, but humans for always needing saving, making it so hunters always paid the price for protecting them. She was made the Akrida queen when she was cast out of her world, and she is helping them carry out Chuck’s final mission of wiping the universe of universes of humanity. And now, Joan/the Queen is at full power, and will open up the portal to finish the destruction.

In the end, there’s this battle, and all our new friends are there fighting the Akrida, and they use this thing called the Ostium in an attempt to summon something from another world to kill the Queen, the Ostium being the only thing known to be capable of doing such a thing. They use Dean/Mystery Man’s journal to try to summon him, but nothing happens at first, leading them to conclude that the Mystery Man is dead.

And then – as we all know – the Impala appears.

Mary realizes the Impala is not from their world, and therefore can be used to kill Joan. With the portal open, she runs Joan over with the car, but also ends up accidentally going through the portal, which as we know, no living thing can survive. Womp-womp.

But wait! The Impala reappears, and inside it is a living Mary – and Dean Winchester.

Apparently, the Impala somehow protected her (I don’t know how, it’s not explained, don’t ask me), and Dean tells them all he’s already dead, so it’s not like it could do anything to him, and I guess that tracks. He was stuck in between worlds after being tossed into the portal by Joan, waited by the portal, and gave Mary a ride out.

I’ll let Dean explain the rest:

“I'm a Hunter, just like you. But I'm not from this Earth…When I died, I made it to heaven. And [the Impala] was waiting for me. So I went for a drive, and then I took a little detour. Through the multiverse…I was looking for my family. See, I come from a long line of Hunters. I guess I was hoping that somewhere out there was an Earth that had a version where my family had a shot at a happy ending. When I was driving, I caught wind of the Akrida. Turns out that they were one of Chuck's last creations...basically, he's a real dick. He left the Akrida behind to wipe out all of existence in case he failed. Well...he failed. Eventually the Akrida were going to make their way to my world, and I got family there, so I couldn't let that happen…I took my little detour. The rules were simple. Don't mess with anything. Well…I gave it a little nudge. Thought it might need a little help. Looks like it worked out pretty well. So now that the Akrida are gone, you all can choose your own destiny. You can write your own story.”

Then Bobby and Jack show up. We already saw Bobby at the beginning of the episode, and he more or less feels like Bobby, but it’s still like…what are you doing here. What’s going on here. This scene at the beginning of the finale shows us when Dean gave John that letter from Henry, when he’s dressed like a Bond villain, setting the story in motion. Bobby reminded Dean then that they weren’t supposed to meddle, but Dean is Dean and does whatever the fuck he wants, apparently, and Bobby says he’s off to get the cavalry, a line I’m still not completely clear on because who is the cavalry in this situation? Is it Jack? Can’t be Gabriel/Loki because they’re dead, can’t be Rowena because not only is she Queen of Hell in the main timeline, but nothing about her appearance here suggests that she was the current iteration of herself from the original show. So I don’t know who the hell the cavalry is in this context, but I’ll let Jack and Dean take it from here:

JACK: Dean. DEAN: Yeah. No, I know. I know, Jack. JACK: When I restored things, I wanted mankind to make their own fate. That meant no interference from on high, anywhere...no exceptions. DEAN: I couldn't let our world get destroyed. Sam's still down there, okay? He deserves a good, long life. Hell, they all do. So, if you want to cast me out of heaven...so be it. BOBBY: If we're taking a vote, I'd say you give the guy another chance. JACK: There's always another case with you Hunters...even in death. Well...if you're going to meddle in things, finish what you started. After this...it's time to get around to the..."there'll be peace when you are done"…part of the song.

Jack then hands Dean the journal he had been writing in and the Colt. Yes, the Colt. Dean gives them to John and Mary, telling them to use the Colt if a Yellow-Eyed Demon ever comes to them, and to use his journal to help guide them as hunters. The journal is what we see Dean with in the final episode of the pilot, and what he says in voiceover at the beginning and end of each episode (which are just these platitudes and cliches about hunting and family) are written in that journal. They ask his name, Dean tells them it’s James Hetfield (founding member of Metallica), and then he, Jack, Bobby, and the Impala disappear.

The episode ends with all of them happy the Akrida are gone and free to make their own decisions about their lives. John plans to keep hunting with the gang, but Mary isn’t sure. She got into Kansas State earlier in the season, but she needs time and space. But she does show up at the Winchesters’ repair shop at the end, and she and John go on a drive while “Ramble On” plays over a montage of scenes from the show.

And that’s it.

xXx

Okay.

What becomes abundantly clear at the end of this show is that all that mattered – all that ever mattered – was what the fuck Dean was doing. It wasn’t John and Mary’s love story, it wasn’t the search for their dads, it wasn’t the question of whether to hunt or not, it wasn’t the Scooby Gang’s found family. It was just…Dean.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I love Dean. I think he’s an interesting character. I also think his death was appropriate. But one person was so frustrated by his ending that he decided he needed to do something about it.

The logistics of the finale are…weird, to say the least. I can understand the logic behind the Impala being capable of killing Joan based on the show’s rules. It’s of another world, and Joan really gets her shit rocked by it, like Regina George getting hit by that bus, so I can buy it killing her. Sure. And I guess Dean waiting by the portal in the space between spaces or whatever is…plausible, I guess, since we don’t know how anything works between universes, so I’m willing to buy that. (Notice I’m not buying anything here with much enthusiasm, however.) But what the fuck does Dean mean, he heard about the Akrida while he was driving around? What does he mean, he took a detour? Did Jack tell him what was happening? Was he the one who set the rules? If so, did he not take care of the problem himself because of his own self-imposed resolution to not meddle? Did Jack want Dean to give John the letter? I don’t think he did because Bobby seemed to think that was meddling, which Dean was expressly told not to do, but how does any of this work without some level of meddling? And speaking of Bobby, I know we see him in the original show’s finale, but what the hell is he doing this whole time? Did he get caught by Jack doing something offscreen that we’re not told about, or did he run to him and tattle? (Super out of character for Bobby to be a narc, by the way, if that is the case.)

Or, maybe I’m supposed to interpret this another way, as something Dean stumbled upon while he was taking his Heavenly drive. He said he took a little detour and went looking for his family. That he was hoping there was a version out there that had a happy ending. Maybe he somehow found this potentially happy version of John and Mary and learned their universe was being threatened by the Akrida when he did? I don’t know.

I am baffled. Befuddled, even.

This episode is the only one to acknowledge Sam, and what’s funny about that is that for as much as the show excluded him, it inadvertently reinforces the idea of Sam as protagonist. Dean wants to stop the Akrida not to save this universe, necessarily, but because he’s worried about the Akrida getting to Earth One and getting to Sam. He did it all for Sam. It’s fucking poetic, is what it is, and I don’t think they did it to be poetic. I think they did it because they knew that:

They were stupid to leave Sam out of it in the first place, and

They had to justify this whole thing somehow.

In the end, none of it mattered.

xXx

At the beginning of this, I mentioned how hard it can be to let things end. While we can joke about how ridiculous Carlos whipping his hair back and forth to spray vampires with holy water is, or how Mary was dressed like a knockoff Claire Novak in the pilot, or the vanishing Impala, or how bad the Akrida looked, or how convoluted the premise of the whole show is, I think there’s something more we can take away from this: The Winchesters is a study in both vanity and poor media literacy.

Dean Winchester dying at the end of Supernatural makes perfect sense within the text of the show. This is a tragic character completing his tragic arc. His death also symbolizes the end of an abusive cycle, but in order to acknowledge that, you have to acknowledge that something very complex exists within Dean’s character. Many fans do not want to acknowledge that Dean continued the familial cycle of abuse. Do I believe he loved Sam? Absolutely. Do I believe he was unfairly parentified? Yes. Do I believe he was also a victim of neglect? One thousand percent. But that doesn’t change the fact that Dean continued these harmful cycles. That’s part of the tragedy. His death made it possible for Sam to break those cycles and live a life he had been continuously guilted and shamed and ostracized for wanting to live, and while that’s in a sense a win, it comes about in a tragic way.

The tragedy is the point. The hurt is the point.

But Jensen Ackles just didn’t like that. Of all the people on the cast and crew, he was the only one who it didn’t seem to click with, and look – I can understand that maybe he needed to take some time to sit with it because he brought that character to life for fifteen years and that character has a rough end, and it also marks the end of fifteen years of his life. It’s tough stuff. But what Jensen and the producers of The Winchesters did didn’t add to Dean’s story or his character, it didn’t add to the original story, it didn’t improve upon anything, or clarify anything, or rehabilitate anything.

It was Jensen’s attempt to get the last word, and it failed spectacularly.

I said earlier that I don’t want to blame a lot of the show’s problems on the acting, and I think that’s true. The main cast are young actors who haven’t been in a ton of projects (Meg Donnelly, who played Mary, has the most experience with ABC’s American Housewife and Disney’s Zombies movies), and I don’t want to blame cast and crew for just wanting to get work, and the main case certainly isn’t unwatchable. They have to do and say some pretty cringy shit at times, but that’s not on them. The supporting cast is generally serviceable to forgettable, and only truly bad a couple of times (the guy who plays Ada’s half-djinn son is…not great. He sounded like he was having lines fed to him and wasn’t comprehending any of what he was saying). Carlos and Latika aren’t particularly bad characters or poorly portrayed or anything, even if they do rely on some stereotypes (again, not on them), and might be fine in another context.

I will also say, though, that while Meg Donnelly isn’t like…a bad actor, she’s not a good Mary. The Mary we know from the flagship program is sweet, and hopeful, and resourceful, and very capable. I could absolutely believe that the Mary portrayed by Samantha Smith or Amy Gumenick could both kill a monster and struggle to break out of the life she was raised in, and absolutely, 100% want out of that life and apply to Kansas State University behind everyone’s back (just like someone else we know!) Donnelly’s Mary just feels like a Claire Novak rip-off. Which was a weird choice to make, and I guess they could try to justify by being like Oh, well this is a Mary from another universe, but that’s not gonna fly. We got a Mary that could certainly kill monsters, but otherwise doesn’t really feel like Mary Winchester at all.

Then there’s John, portrayed by Drake Rodger. He was my favorite of the main cast, and the one who seems to be the true protagonist, which I noted earlier. Rodger had mentioned having watched the original show, and he has that sort of gentle giant quality that Sam had, and even does a good job of picking up on some of his mannerisms that make him at least feel like a Winchester. Does he feel like John? I mean…that’s harder to say than it was with Donnelly’s Mary. We know from the original show that John before hunting was a pretty different guy. He was probably struggling with PTSD after his tour, but Mary repeatedly refers to him as a sweet, open person, so I can believe that this John could be more like Sam: generally a very nice, gentle guy who you need to watch out for when he’s angry or scared. As far as performances go, he did pretty well – or, as well as he could, considering the writing.

So, yeah, I’m not gonna pin the show’s downfall on the acting because that wasn’t it. And I’m not gonna pin it on the crew, either. Sure, the special effects and editing weren’t always great, but they weren’t always the best on the original show, either.

This is a project that never should have been greenlit, for one reason because it would have saved that crew member from getting struck by lightning. The crew member sued, naming Ackles and the other producers in the lawsuit along with the network for not following proper safety measures. Director John Showalter, a Supernatural alum, decided he wanted a scene shot in the rain, even though there was lightning in the vicinity. The show had already dealt with reshoots and short filming windows, so Showalter, the producers, and the network decided to risk everyone’s safety, and a crew member literally got struck by lightning and woke up in the emergency room. I hope he gets a giant settlement.

It also shouldn’t have been greenlit not just because it was apparently poorly run and unsafe (which, really, is the worst thing about all this – the show’s not even good, and you’re endangering people for it), but because it was a petty little vanity project. Jensen Ackles just couldn’t let it go, couldn’t stand that he wasn’t the protagonist, and had to try to get in one last word.

But he couldn’t do it. He was never going to be able to do it. This wasn’t a project driven by love of storytelling, but by spite. He wanted everyone to be thinking Where’s Dean? How does Dean fit into this? What’s he doing there? He didn’t want to explore this weird, difficult relationship, or the original show’s major theme of autonomy; he just wanted attention. That’s what comes through in all of this because the story itself doesn’t matter. If these characters don’t reveal anything about the original characters or story, then it doesn’t matter, and it’s certainly not written or performed or produced well enough to make it matter. Why should I care about this John and Mary? I don't know, and the show doesn't, either.

And the kicker is that all of Dean’s voiceover bits are stupid cliches, it doesn’t make sense how he even got himself into this mess, and it all still comes back around to Sam in the end, anyway. So there was literally no point. It was all a waste of time and money and a man got struck by lightning.

This show was doomed from the start. Dead, done, and dusted before it even made it to your screen.

#supernatural #spn #spn prequel #the winchesters #spn meta #jensen ackles #john winchester #mary winchester #dean winchester #sam winchester #that's right I'm putting this in the main tags #idk if anyone will be interested in this or not but here it is #I know it's long but there was quite a bit to say #and I had nothing better to do #abby speaks

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