#Michael Robby Robinavitch x reader

[angelfish420]

and I need you more than want you, and I want you for all time

michael “robby” robinavitch x f!reader

RATING: explicit

COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: robby is a rural doctor, and you're staying with your grandfather while you get your life together.

TAGS/WARNINGS: no use of y/n, mentions of smoking, this is just extremely self-indulgent so take this as you will

-> ch 2

Tonight, the rain beating against the tin roof of the barn was a soundscape to your insomnia. A tropical storm was blowing through, as it often did in late August out here. When you were younger, you used to be so terrified of stronger weather. You were already an overly anxious child, so terrified of the horrors of the world, and mother nature presented a problem with no solution. In the face of a tornado, a hurricane, or a tsunami, there was nothing you could do to protect yourself.

But it’s been a long time since storms ran you under your bed. Watching the way the whole forest bent itself over for the wind, and how the rain was so heavy it buried the grass beneath thick layers of mud, you realized peace could be found in chaos.  

Staring up at the ceiling, you let your hand run over the coarse hair of the crochet blanket on top of you. The wind rain beats against your window in loud thumps, the wind whips against the wood of the walls, and the whole house creaks as it tries to right itself. You wondered when it would reach its tipping point. When it would all fall down, with you at its center.

Down the hall, behind the last door to the left, laid your grandfather. A retired cop, he was a hard and stoic man, but he was kind enough to let you stay with him during your moment of need. If you strain your ears, you swear you can hear his CPAP machine behind the howling of the storm.

Much of your childhood was spent here, long summer days and dark winter nights. It feels lost and cold, as if your childhood was frozen in time and no one cared to ever let it catch up again. A constant reminder of what was, a constant reminder that one could never go back. 

Your late grandmother’s absence is even more-so striking, supper time a quiet and somewhat awkward affair. Selfishly, it’s why you’ve avoided this house as much as you could. Grief is the one thing you can’t run from. It’ll always make itself a shadow, whether you learn to live with it or let it haunt you is up to you. The guilt eats you up often, but before you arrived you’d rarely seen your grandfather in the past decade. 

It's a small town. A very, very small town. So small that you’re currently 30 minutes out from anything actually resembling a town. There's a short strip mall of stores, half shut down and the other half soon-to-be. When you were just a kid, everything felt so big and colorful. ‘Up-and-coming’ people said, ‘perfect to raise a family.’ 

Your grandfather moved here to take the Sheriff’s job after your grandmother grew tired of the city. One of the last coal mining towns in the United States, the soil is too ruined for agriculture these days. Decades ago, after the last mine was shut down and crop yields decreased exponentially, everyone began to leave. Young people don’t move here anymore. They don’t settle here, have kids nor build homes. So, when the old die, their homes, heirlooms, businesses, and memories go with them.

You wonder what will happen to your grandfather's house, when he goes.

You’ve been here less than a month and you’ve exhausted all your options of entertainment. This isn’t a wellness retreat, as the shame and guilt that weigh on your mind at night never let you forget, but restlessness makes you scratch at your arms when the sun is at its peak. 

On your way out here you picked up an orange pack on a whim, though you don’t really smoke much, and you’ve already gone through the whole pack.

No new books have entered this house since 2008, and the ones that line the bookshelves are falling apart. All murder mysteries, excluding the bible.You got halfway through one before you threw it aside – it was obvious to you, the doctor clearly did it.

You’ve rotated through four big old t-shirts and three pairs of sleep shorts since you’ve arrived. You're currently on your last of each, and the rest hang on the clothesline, getting soaked by rain. 

Movement at the end of the bed makes you sit up on your elbows, and you find the squinted eyes of your grandmother’s old cat, aptly named Missy, at the end of your bed. She’s glaring, as if it’s your fault the wind is so loud you couldn’t hear a mouse run through the walls.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You match her glare, and turn your head to look at the alarm clock. 2:46 AM. Late enough for you to get up and make yourself a cup of coffee. Early enough to pretend that beyond you, the storm, and the creatures of the night, nothing else exists.

Your grandfather rises at 9 AM on the dot. He spends around 30 minutes getting himself ready for the day before he walks into the kitchen. You’ve already made a fresh pot for him, and left out the sugar-free creamer. 

It’s Sunday, so he heavily implies you should go to church with him over a breakfast of sausage and runny eggs. It’s Sunday, so you just give him a little smile and keep eating. 

By 10:30 AM, he’s putting on his nice dress shoes. By 10:45 AM, he’s out the door. You wonder who he sees at church, who he considers friends these days now that those past are just that, long past. 

Your grandfather mentions a few people he regularly interacts with. And by a few, you mean few. Long gone were the days where family were his closest friends, where even your most distant cousins came for dinner every week. His brother and sisters don’t visit much anymore, since your grandfather lives out in the sticks and they can’t risk the hours-long drive. His children, your family, are a whole different story. You have a cousin that visits once in a while, you think. But there’s Richard, who runs ‘Dick’s Country Store’, opened by his grandfather back in the day. There’s Johnny and Lena, the pastor and his wife. And there’s Michael, a ‘young boy’ your grandfather calls him, but a real smart one. 

“Young boy?” you laughed, “He must be like, fifty then!” 

Your grandfather chuckled. “Just about.” He rasped, “Never seen him with anyone, but he’s a fine young man. A doctor, in fact.”

“A doctor? Like a medical doctor?” 

“Well, what other kind of doctor is there?” He laughs. Your grandfather never went to college, you almost failed out. You wonder if he’s really joking or not.

You’ve just finished cleaning the last of the leaves out of the gutters, and thinking about trying to ride the rusty old beach bike 10 miles down the road for a new pack of cigs, when the sound of dirt and gravel makes you look up from climbing down the ladder. Behind your grandfather’s old Cadillac DTS rides an old blue Ford pick-up. Though you’ve been living in the city these past few years, you can’t help but be slightly alarmed. In the country, an unfamiliar car runs the kids inside and gets the dogs barking. It’s unusual, a sign for caution.

But through the windshield, your grandfather seems unphased. You’re in the same outfit you slept in, wearing an old pair of steel-toed boots that are far too big for you. The soles are peeling, you only just stop yourself from itching your heel. You want to run inside and change, but, dear lord, it’s too late for that. 

Walking over to help your grandfather from his car you try and hunch over a bit to hide the fact you have your oldest bra on. From the corner of your eye you watch the truck park behind your grandfather and turn off with a thunk. It’s an old thing, the only evidence that it's been well taken care of is the fact that it's even running at all. 

You expect an older man, and by older you mean near-death old. But a middle-aged guy steps out, wearing dirty old jeans and a worn flannel. He reaches back in to grab a big duffel from the passenger seat before slamming the door. You hastily turn back towards your grandfather before the other man can turn to look at you, but you feel his eyes on you anyway. 

Goddammit, you didn’t even do your hair. Men are good for nothing. 

Leading you to the front porch steps, your grandfather rests his hand on the back of your neck like you’re an anxious dog. Feeling awkward and out-of-place in a way you haven’t felt since your teenage years, a strange part of you wants to start barking.

Half of your mind dedicates itself to ensuring you use proper manners – extending your hand with confidence, making an appropriate amount of eye contact without looking around too much – but the other part, the other part can’t help but gaze. You detail the scruff of his beard as he scratches it, the crinkle at his eyes when he smiles at you. 

And, goddamn, he’s tall. 

Dropping your hand, he chuckles, “It’s nice to meet the infamous granddaughter.” You blink in surprise, looking towards your grandfather you let out an awkward little laugh. Is he referencing your mental breakdown? He has to be referencing that. There is no way he is referencing anything else.

Still, you try to shape your face into something sweet. “All good things I hope!” But the pinch of your brows gives you away.

His eyebrows raise in question and his head quirks to the side, but before he can speak again your grandfather interrupts. 

“Michael’s just to give me a quick check up, isn’t that right?” 

Oh, Michael. You think. This is the young man, the doctor. 

Looking towards your grandfather, he gives a short nod and extends his hand towards the house. “Yessir, you ready?” 

As Michael follows your grandfather up the steps, you look once again towards the bike leaning against the side of the barn, but instead find yourself following them inside. 

“Is there anything I can get y’all? Water? Ice tea?” You begin moving around the kitchen as if you have a purpose there, unwilling to excuse yourself. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in any sort of place that required propriety, but you find long buried teachings in the palm of your hand once again.

You hear a ‘No, thank you’ from Robby, but your grandfather asks you to grab his hearing aids from the sitting room. Once again, you feel eyes follow you as you leave the room.

Quickly, you look at yourself in the mirror above your grandmother’s hutch of nesting dolls and try to rearrange yourself into something presentable. You frown and let out a frustrated sigh. You stopped caring how people saw you not too long ago, but for some reason you can’t help but feel insecure. You look like shit. 

“Is everything all right there?” Your grandfather calls out. 

“Yeah, yeah! I’m coming!” It’s far too hot, but you grab a sweater off the back of the couch anyway before grabbing the hearing aids and pushing your way back through the swinging door. 

A dark wooden cross is pinned above the doorway. It’s been there as long as you can remember. When you were a kid, depictions of Jesus and God felt ominous and foreboding. Not even a cross as big as a skyscraper could strike fear in your heart today. You wonder if you’d burn walking into a chapel today. 

What is a man like that doing out here? He certainly wasn’t raised here, you’ve no doubt from the absence of any accent. His words are clear as glass. You’d never heard of him before, and by god you know you wouldn’t have forgotten him. You remember hearing about how your grandmother had to drive hours out just to see her primary care physician years ago. So, when did he arrive? 

Walking back into the room, you almost feel nauseous at the sight in front of you. Michael sits across from your grandfather at the small square kitchen table. He’s reading your grandfather’s blood sugar log with a close eye, and on the bridge of his nose, oh my god now you’re staring at his nose, lays a pair of thin, wire-framed glasses.

Fuck. 

Looking up at your approach, he meets your eye and gives you a small smile. Those crows feet appear once again. 

Oh, fuck. 

You feel your face heat, and the pit in your stomach grows.

[hatussy]

i've seen discourse on the dangers of motorcycles ever since someone said we see Robby's bike in S2, and i'm 10000% here for that, but honest to GOD, i haven't been able to get garage sex on the motorcycle out of my head. draped on top of it, bent over it... however Robby wants me, i'll let him have me

had therapy, so i'm practicing trying to be bolder and not hiding

slow ride | m.r

pairing: michael robinavitch x f!reader warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], reader gropes robby and doesn't feel bad about it, reader is a thirsty slut for biker!robby, oral [f receiving], pussy fingering, slight ass play, unprotected p in v, desperate!robby word count: 2377

summary: in which robby had other plans for your summer weekend road trip

author's note: i know you didn't ask for it but you inspired me regardless, ty anya 🥰 (i hope this makes up for all the shit ur dealing with atm) pls forgive me for any geographical inaccuracies i don't live in the northern hemisphere <3 inspired also by slow ride by foghat | my submission for @robbyology fun in the sun collab 🤪

oneshot | masterlist

You watched as Robby dropped the dirty rag—oil and grease coating the material he’d used to wipe his hands clean. Fingernails still stained black, a smudge of grease streaked across his forehead from where he’d swiped his hand to rid the sweat that beaded there. 

“Hey, Sugar,” he greeted warmly, while you eyed him curiously. 

Car parked down the street in the only free park, a small bag slung over your shoulder—a change of clothes and toiletries packed at Robby’s request. A pair of sunglasses covered your eyes, sitting low on your nose as you peered over the top of the lenses to take in the sight before you. 

Robby—in a pair of old cargo pants he’d cut into shorts, a sweat and grease stained white tee clinging to his broad, muscular torso—didn’t look much like the man you thought you knew. Never in your life would you have assumed he’d be the kind of guy to get on a motorbike after seeing all kinds of damage crashing one could do to a person, let alone buying one. But there he stood, looking the part of a man who’d been tending to his bike’s needs for years. 

“Michael,” you replied, lifting your chin in his direction. “Since when do you own a motorbike?”

Months, that’s how long you’ve known Robby. Shortly before Thanksgiving, when the leaves had fallen from their trees, and the temperature made it damn near impossible to want to leave the warmth of your bed. It only got colder, but the warmth of another person definitely made it worthwhile. 

A blind date that ended up going surprisingly better than you had anticipated—of course, it took you two more dates to realise the people you were supposed to have been set up with bailed, leaving you the only two singles in the restaurant. Naturally, assumptions had been made, and it had been fun to debunk the stories your friends had told about the other person. 

Yes, Robby wore glasses. No, you were never on a basketball scholarship in college. No, Robby didn’t work in real estate. Yes, you were wildly attracted to him. 

The holidays passed by in a blur. Robby spent a lot of his evenings with you—his place if he wanted to cook, your place if he was exhausted after work since it was closer, or dragging you out for a nice meal. Wined and dined, thoroughly impressed by the older gentleman with crows feet at the corners of his eyes whenever he smiled or laughed, the slight greying hair atop his head and dusted through his beard. 

It was fun, it was casual. It became something more quicker than either of you realised. Nights spent talking between sleepy cuddles and languid kisses. Days filled with texts whenever he had a free moment at work. Something more became exclusive, or maybe it always was. Neither of you minded—neither of you fought the feelings. You rolled with the punches as they came. 

Valentine’s Day was supposed to be romantic. It ended up with Robby performing an emergency crike in the middle of the restaurant, and the next two hours giving statements to the hospital about how it was necessary. The paramedics knew Robby, vouched for him, but concerned guests in the restaurant had called the cops. 

“I thought I was known as the ER Cowboy.” Jack. That was the first time you met him. Robby, covered in the patients’ blood, you dressed nicely with Robby’s jacket covering you, while Robby’s best friend made a snarky comment. 

“Yeah, because you never leave this place,” Robby had thrown back. 

That was their dynamic. Sarcastic, supportive, and all in good faith. 

Your statements had been given to the police. The hospital lawyer had been called, and Robby had been assertive. Factual. He showed empathy, but he did what he was trained to do. If he hadn’t done anything, it would’ve been too late for the paramedics to attempt to resuscitate. Resources would’ve been wasted attempting to revive the patient once they made it to the hospital, and Robby knew better. 

Still, it was a night you’d always remember. The night you knew, for sure, that you’d fallen head over heels for one Doctor Michael Robinavitch. 

An on-call room, your dress hiked up your legs, and Robby in a scrub shirt with his dress pants. Balls deep, mouth claiming you—neither of you able to wait until you got home. Fingernails dug into the flesh at the nape of his neck, mouths stifling each other’s moans. It was hot, it was heavy, it was forbidden. 

And, fuck, if you weren’t ravenous because of it. 

Even now as he stood before you, a blush warming his cheeks and spreading down his neck, a hand anxiously rubbing the back of his neck, you wanted to jump him. 

Your bag dropped to the ground with a dull thud, your legs carrying you towards him as he ducked his head. A hand lazily stroked down his body, over his chest, down his navel before hooking into the waistband of his shorts. “When you said we were going to take a ride, a much more…fun idea popped into my head.”

Strong hands found your waist, tugging your closer. His nose nudged yours, lips meeting in a steamy kiss—a promise of more to follow. 

“Who said that wasn’t what I had in mind too?” He replied, squeezing your hips. “I got you some riding gear. Get changed and then we’ll head out.”

Another kiss that lingered had you biting down on your lower lip as he pulled away. The new jacket and pants he’d bought for you were handed over while he went to wash up and change. A few moments later, he was rejoining you dressed in a similar getup—riding gloves between his teeth, and a bag slung over his shoulder. 

You wore the backpack—yours inside his since it seemed like he didn’t pack much at all. He helped you with your helmet, climbed onto the bike, and your mouth salivated. 

“Something tells me this is going to be a long ride,” you mumbled, earning a laugh in response. 

He helped you onto the back of the bike, making sure you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist. The bike roared to life, and then you were off. 

The thrill of adrenaline that shot through you as you weaved through the traffic was unreal. You hugged Robby a little tighter, leant into the corners with him. Laughed when he revved the throttle and took off at each green light until the highway appeared in front of you. 

Then, Robby really released the throttle. You flew down the asphalt, wind catching your hair. Cars were a blur of colour as you passed by. 

The trust you had in Robby to get you to your destination in one piece wasn’t lost on him. Yes, he’d surprised you with the motorbike. Yes, he’d made you put the biking gear on. Yes, you had no idea where he was taking you. 

But he could hear your joyous laughter, he could feel each time you tightened your grip around his waist. His little speed demon hadn’t fought him about the bike—no, you’d embraced it. He’d seen the look of lust that crossed your face—enjoyed the way you touched him. That the thought of him on a bike got you all hot and bothered. 

Robby stopped at a gas station, refilling his bike and grabbing some drinks and snacks while you went to the bathroom. When you met up with him at his bike, you greedily accepted the bottle of water and sandwich. 

Thirst quenched and appetite held at bay, you hopped back on the bike. 

Before Robby could start it up, you spoke, “I’m going to need you out of those pants real soon, Robinavitch.”

He chuckled as he patted your hand. “Soon enough, Sugar.”

With that, the bike roared to life and you were back on the highway heading to your destination. 

You felt the need to stretch—you didn’t—you just wanted Robby to drop his guard a little. Loosening your hold around his waist, you carefully stretched out your arms, using your thighs as an anchor against the sides of his legs to help keep yourself steady. You howled, your wingspan catching as the air whipped around you, the blood rushing in your ears. 

When you wrapped your arms back around him, his body softened under your touch. But you had something else in mind. Your hand settled over his crotch, cupping him over his pants. Thick leather covering the thickness you knew lay beneath. 

Robby sat up a little straighter, tensed under your touch. He couldn’t protest, couldn’t tell you to stop—not that he ever told you to stop. Your hand sat there…waiting. You knew it would get to him, cause him to cut the ride short. He’d made you wait long enough, and he just looked too fucking good. 

Robby slowed down as he turned onto an unsuspecting dirt road, following it until the highway was but a distant memory.  The spot overlooked a lake—picturesque views surrounded it. High mountains, luscious green grass, and wildflowers for as far as the eye could see. 

You smiled as you got off the bike, undoing the clip on your helmet and removing it. Crisp summer air filled your lungs, the scent of florals mixed with the earthiness of the trees around, and the lingering tinge of gravel as the dust settled. 

“Impatient,” he tutted, helmet discarded and hair a mess. Jacket slightly unzipped, erection straining against the leather of his pants as he pulled you against him. Gloves still covered his hands as he cupped your face, gripped your hip, and kissed you like he couldn’t wait any longer. 

Finally, you thought, helmet falling to the ground as you slid your hands into his hair. Mouths bruising, teeth clashing, tongues relentless. He was taking—not asking. 

This side of him was your favourite. The side he kept hidden—the side you had to pull out of him. He was rough, and sharp, and punishing. God, you thrived in him when he was like this. 

A wanton moan fell past your lips as he fumbled with the zipper on your jacket, his gloves getting in the way. Your eyes were hooded as you watched him tear the gloves from his hands with his teeth, hands gripping your face as he kissed you again. 

You shoved him back, shucking your jacket from your shoulders before pulling your own gloves off, backing him into the bike and straddling one of his thighs. His hands were on your waist, fingers dipping beneath the leather of your pants to dig into the flesh of your ass. 

“Hello.”

Robby wasted no time tugging your pants down, material bunched at your thighs. You reached for his pants only to have your hand swatted away. He moved you easily, turning you around and folding you over the bike. You mewled as he dragged his knuckles through your slit, swiping through yours arousal until he found your clit.

“Fuck,” you groaned appreciatively, arching back into his touch.

“You’re so needy,” he taunted, voice thick as he knelt on the gravel and laid his tongue flat against your sopping core, licking from clit to cunt and circling your puckered rear.

Large hands spread you wide, baring you to him. Lips spread as he spat into your clenching hole, stiff tongue soon sheathed in its warmth as he dragged your hips backward. Fucking you with his tongue. A moan rumbled in his chest as you gyrated your hips, riding his tongue exactly how you both liked.

“Robby,” you panted, legs trembling as he wrapped his lips around your swollen clit. You hissed as he sucked harshly, gasping as he slid two thick fingers inside you, thumb teasing the puckered ring at your rear. “Oh.”

It took you by surprise. Orgasm slamming into you without warning—without the usual build up. It had your nails scratching against the leather of the seat, knees threatening to give out, but you were perched real pretty on his face, and he was relentless. His tongue slid quickly over your clit, arms hooked between your thighs and hands gripping your ass. 

You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. 

You slapped your hand down on the leather, pushing yourself up to look over your shoulder and brush your fingers through his hair. His moan was deliciously muffled against your core, and he nipped at your inner thigh before pulling away. 

You twisted, watching him rise to his feet, dragging him in for a kiss and tasting yourself on his lips. You palmed him over his pants, earning an appreciative groan in response. 

He tried to turn you around again but you had something else in mind. Watching him free his cock from the confines of his pants as he sat backwards straddling the bike. You grinned as you freed one of your legs, haphazardly removing them just enough to climb into his lap and sink down on his cock, legs hooked over his and arms braced on his shoulders. 

“Just like this,” you moaned, rocking your hips. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, fingers digging into your hips as he guided your movements. “Slowly. Take it easy.”

If you went any slower you felt like you were going to implode. Sweat beaded at your temples, but you were stuck on him. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair a mess. Fuck, you fisted his shirt, shoving it up his chest, wanting to see the swell of flesh and dark hair that drove you wild. 

“I’m going to cum again,” you panted.

A warning. But fuck, did he need to watch you come undone around him. 

“Wait for me,” he pleaded. 

Your voice broke as you spoke, “ple-ease,”

You couldn’t hold it back. You didn’t want to. You wanted to fall and drag him with you. You wanted him to fall because of you. 

“Wait.” Fuck, he sounded so desperate. 

A strangled sob tore past your lips, hips frantically rocking into him, eyes locked where your bodies met. 

“Sugar.” There he was. He held you tightly against him, your body shaking as he spilled inside you. “Fucking hell.”

You laughed deliriously. “Yeah. Fucking hell.”

[m-robinavitch]

I’m very curious how both Jack and Robby would be with a partner who works in the arts ie movies/tv? Reader is very smart but not in *that* way (think polyglot, reads a lot, lots of general knowledge, etc) so that’s a source of insecurity maybe? I feel like there’s a lot of robby /abbot x medical/science field reader, but how would they manage their lives and relationship with someone whose professional reality is so different?

Anon so- I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind but I had this idea with @velvetmel0n about Robby and this clumsy baker who owns a cafe.

Warning: injury and blood mention

Robby was a black coffee with maybe a splash of milk kind of guy. He makes it at home while he gets ready for work, old coffee pot that he’s had for years- since residency even. But of course nothing lasts forever. His coffee pot dying threw his whole morning off- making him frustrated and grumbling about not wanting to get Starbucks because the lines were always insane and as he walks to work thinking of the shitty black sludge that Jack made, he sees a little cafe on the corner.

It was cute, so fucking cute inside. But it smelled so good. The aroma of fresh pastries and hot coffee wafting through the air made the fog in his mind clear and his mouth water. But it was the cute girl behind the counter that woke Robby up from his shitty morning- better than any coffee he’s ever had. He was in such a daze that when you called for the next person he didn’t immediately hear it until you smiled directly at him and said ‘good morning’ and he suddenly remembered words.

“Black coffee? Extra shot?” You smile brightly, eyes his scrub top and hospital badge. You get a few hospital employees- usual zombie eyed and exhausted like this one looks. Only this one was incredibly tall and handsome.

“Do I look that predictable?” He chuckled, hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“It’s the scrub top and the ‘I haven’t had a good nights sleep in a decade’ eyes,” you smile. You jot down his name on the cup, adding a few digits to the sleeve and grabbing a muffin from the case. “This one is on the house, but if you want a refill or something stronger- give me a call?” Immediately Robby’s face turned every shade of crimson available- stuttering out a ‘thank you’ before flashing a devilishly handsome smile your way.

He called you that night- taking you up on that offer and getting a drink with you. You tell him about the cafe- how everyone told you it was a bad idea and that you’d end up broke and how you love that you’ve proved them all wrong. He learns that you know 5 languages, bake and cook everything for the shop, love experimenting with flavors, you read a new book every week, you take online classes for fun, and do the crossword puzzle every morning. He also learns a few weeks later that you’re incredibly clumsy. Always sporting a burn or two from the oven or a hot tray- a bump from just not paying attention.

It was just a cut, nothing major. The knife slipped with you were prepping sandwiches for a catering order and- well you’re holding a bloody dish towel to your finger while standing in line at the ER where your boyfriend worked. God you hoped you could get in and out quickly. You hated hospitals. You hated doctors. You hated being sick and needing stitches- which is what the sweet boy, who you realize was the Whitaker that Robby talked about, told you that you needed. Him and Mel were accessing you, none the wiser to the fact that you were their boss’ girlfriend- if they knew that then they wouldn’t have let you wait so long. Because when Robby passed the patient list and saw your name he paused in his tracks because-

“What the fuck happened?” He yanks back the curtain and rolls Whitaker, who was gloved up with a suture kit ready, away from you so he can look at your cut. The sight of Robby made the tears that threatened to spill finally fall- trying to tell him you’re fine through a hiccup of gasping breaths and fat wet tears. Mel and Whitaker watch the scene unfold- watch Robby wrap his arms around your shoulders and shush you. He can’t stitch you up himself but he makes sure Whitaker does it to his exact specifications- a little nervous but he does it perfectly. Slowly the word spread throughout the ER that Robby’s girlfriend was there- sweet and cute and needing stitches and you were distracted from the nerves by your little party trick of guessing everyone’s coffee order.

Langdon was an iced americano, Mel was an iced caramel macchiato with soy milk, Dana loved a white chocolate mocha, Collins was a dirty chai with oat milk, Javadi was definitely a cold brew with vanilla and lavender cream. Everyone was a little shocked that Jesse enjoyed a strawberry matcha with almond milk and whipped cream.

[thinkerer24]

Feeling very crybaby today.

Robby would be the sweetest when dealing with a crybaby, go argue with the wall. He has a short fuse, yes, but you teach him to be patient, to take a deep breath before saying something that might set you off. He teaches you the importance of managing expectations and controlling your tears. Not everyone is out to get you, not everyone has your worst interests at heart. Life just happens, and Robby is there to guide you through it, his little angel.

But when you both are going through one of the worst days of your lives? When nothing seems to go your way and you both can't find a middle ground? It's one of the worst fights you've had with him. One of the worst fights you've had, in general. Harsh words spewed without regard, calling you "immature", and "childish", mean tongue slicing your heart even deeper. Your tears flowing freely but he's not making an effort to mince his words, not today, not when the weight of the world feels extra heavy on his shoulders, and he needs to sabotage the one good thing he has in his life.

Your heart breaks as you stand there, hands by your side, full chested sobs echoing in the room, waiting for Robby to comfort you, hold you, anything. But he's breathing deep, staring you down, arms clenched atop the table.

Finally, you gather the courage to say what you've been meaning to since the fight began- "I'm sorry, Robby. I just need you, all the time. I'm going through a lot right now, and-"

"You're not the only one going through things, kid." He snaps, and you swallow hard.

He's right, you're being selfish, and you know that. But he was being mean, and that was something you couldn't bear. You nod, lips pursed, as you take one last look at him. The curve of his nose, his full lips beneath that scruffy beard. That disheveled head of hair you loved to scrape your nails through. Every part of his face that you loved to kiss. And make your decision.

You turn around to pick up your phone from the table and sigh. Robby looks at you curiously, and his face widens in shock as he realises what you're about to do.

"No, wait, listen-"

You rush out the door before he can get a word in, using the emergency staircase to reach the fire exit out the building. You run, as fast as your legs will let you, out into the rain, and try to find your way back to your apartment - the one whose lease you were just about to sign off on, opting to move in with Robby by the end of next month. You run, ignoring the barrage of calls, as fast as you can, until you reach the safety of your own bed.

You know this might not be the end of your story, but for now? You just need to lie down and cry in peace.

[aliceintvland]

Idk if your inbox is still open but for the prompts dumbification, spit kink, praise kink PLEATHE

oh YEAH this might be the nastiest thing i've ever written

18+ NSFW, all of the above plus some spanking, degradation, hair pulling, aftercare.

"Before we actually start," Robby looks down at you as you sit on the edge of the bed, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed, fighting the urge to stick his cock in your mouth right then. "I want to say a few things."

He kneels so you're eye level, his strong hand cupping your face. You instinctively go to suck his thumb, pouting a bit when he pulls it away.

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, smirking a bit before going back to his serious face. "Not yet, eager one. I'm talking."

"Okay," you nod, reassuring him you're fully present. "I'm listening."

"You are my smartest resident," he kisses your cheek after he speaks, holding your face so you have to meet his eye line. "Okay? And I'm not just saying that because I love you. You're a fucking genius."

"I know," you nod, aware you're living up to the stereotype of self-aggrandizing doctors. "Michael, I want this. Save the sweet talk for afterward."

It had started about a week ago when you had agreed to hop on the night shift for a few days to cover some slack. Being on opposite schedules made things difficult, especially in the first month of living together, to find time.

It was no secret to you that he would indulge in porn sometimes, especially on the nights he was alone and couldn't get to the finish line without you there. It wasn't something you cared about.

In fact, you had teased him about it, begging him to show you his favorites, cackling at the redness on his face when you finally snatched his phone out of his hand.

"Amateur," you said out loud, scrolling through as he watched you with a half mortified, half amused look on his face. "Okay, boring."

"Fingering," you shrug. "None of this is exciting."

"Spanking," you wiggled your ass for good measure. "Not surprised by that one, you dirty old man."

"Watch it or you'll get one," he growled lowly.

One in particular caught your eye, your eyebrows flicking upward with intrigue. You turned the phone to show him the video.

"Interesting," is all you said, turning the phone to reveal the video, tone neutral. "Would NOT have guessed this. Considering all you do is tell me how smart I am."

"I-uh, I guess I was curious," he stumbled over his words, breathing out a sigh of relief when you tossed the phone aside and crawled back onto the bed, straddling him. "Oh? Does that do it for you too, honey?"

"I'm not sure," you shrugged, answering honestly. "It might be nice to shut my brain off for a bit."

"It is always working so damn hard," he murmured, grabbing your jaw and kissing you, all tongue and teeth.

"We should try it soon," you had offered.

Which is how you found yourself in your current position: half naked, dripping wet from an hour of making out, frustrated, and getting a lecture from your boyfriend.

"And the second you don't like something, we stop," he says firmly, and you nod. "Tell me you want this."

"You know I do," you half giggle, putting a hand behind his neck.

"Say it."

"I want this," you respond softly, eyes wide with anticipation. Robby nods, placing a kiss on your forehead, standing up again. "Let me be your dumb slut for a night."

He takes a shaky breath, looking at you again as if to gauge your eyes for any uncertainty. It's not there--just hunger, desperation, and a desire to be turned into his little toy.

"Kneel," he says gruffly, unbuttoning his pants and stepping out of them. You obey of course, scooting off the bed and onto the floor beneath him. Instinctively, you start palming him through his boxers, only for him to grab you by the hair roughly. "That desperate for me? I don't remember giving you permission to do that."

"I'm sorry," you fall into your role, small and submissive. Everything you usually aren't, except for with him.

"It's okay angel," his answer surprises you. "I know listening to directions isn't your thing, huh? Gets confusing sometimes."

You nod, squeezing your thighs together, acutely aware of the way your hole throbs when he talks down to you like this.

"Show me how sorry you are," he responds, pulling his cock out, pumping it a few times. "Go ahead. Put it in your mouth, angel."

Obliging, you lick a stripe up the bottom of his shaft, taking the hint when he tugs on your hair. Starting with his tip, you bring him between your lips, slowly taking his impressive length deeper.

"All you know how to think about is cock, huh?" he taunts you, hips rutting forward. Robby lets out a guttural noise when you gag at the intrusion. "That's my good girl, take it all."

You can tell he's getting close, the way his lower stomach contracts and his grip on your hair tightens are all the clues you need. Opening your throat, you take him further, gagging and drooling, making more noises than you probably need to.

But he's living for it.

"Alright enough," he finally snaps out of it, pulling you off of him and lifting you up by the arms. You grin at him, spit and pre-cum glossing your lips. He grabs you by the cheeks, forcing your lips apart and spits in your mouth.

Robby steps forward, his cock throbbing and red, and lovingly pets your hair. But there's a condescending look in his eye, like you're a weak baby animal.

"What exactly is it you want, huh?" he practically coos, hand slipping beneath your lacy underwear. "Do you even know what you want?"

"No," you say weakly. "I just want you."

"That's right, sweetheart," Robby's fingers circle your dripping hole, not quite pushing in, watching intently as your lip trembles. "You don't know what you want. You need me to tell you, right?"

"Uh huh," you gasp as he pushes two fingers into you, curling slowly and pressing against your walls. You can feel your legs shake, looking up at him with desperate eyes as he thumbs your clit.

"Not much to say now, huh? All of those thoughts out of that pretty little head of yours suddenly?"

Robby pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth and humming in satisfaction when you suck hungrily. He all but pushes you back onto the bed, sliding your panties down your waist and reaching under you to unhook your bra.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, mouth meeting yours ravenously, sucking your tongue as you run your fingers through his beard. He pulls back, spitting in your mouth again, slowly letting the saliva drip down.

"You're so pretty like this," he pulls back, glancing down to admire your naked frame. "All dumb and cock drunk for me, yeah?"

"All for you," your voice is broken, softer than usual. It practically makes him growl. "Please, Michael."

He runs his hand along your cheek, and part of you prays he'll slap you-and you can see the thought crosses his mind too. But you happily accept his fingers in your mouth as he lines up with your entrance.

Pushing into you, he hovers above, elbows supporting his frame.

"You'd do anything I asked you to when you get like this," he taunts, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth as you whine. "Look at you drooling, my mindless little whore."

As the filthy words leave his mouth, your whining grows more wretched. Robby stops his thrusts, a glimmer of mischief in his eye as he pulls out of you completely, chuckling at your pathetic noises.

He stands up and reaches into the nightstand, pulling out your vibrator. You squirm in anticipation as he tosses it down next to you, grabbing you by the hips and turning you over.

"Hands and knees," he instructs, and you oblige like always, squeaking when he lands a sharp smack on your ass. "Good girl, listening to directions. I didn't know you could do that, angel."

He grabs the little pink bullet, small but mighty, powering it on and teasing your hole before wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing it on your clit. He pushes back into you, not needing to warm you up at all, grunting at the way you clench around him.

He leans forward, pressing a kiss on your arm as he thrusts, sharp and deep, the vibrator moving in unforgiving circles on your swollen clit.

"Fuck," you whimper, clawing at the pillow beneath you, cunt seizing around him as he hits you in just the right spot. "Gonna cum."

"Oh are you now?" he slows his pace, though you can tell by the way he's growing less rhythmic that he's on his way there too. Robby nips at your shoulder, pressing harder on your clit. "My mindless little girl just wants to cum. It's all you think about, huh?"

"It's all I fucking think about," you cry out into the pillow, and he growls, satisfied at your desperation.

"Alright baby," he hisses. "Let go for me."

You feel the pent up knot sitting in your lower stomach dissipate, sending shockwaves through your system. Legs shaking, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes, you scream his name like a prayer-broken and repetitive.

He follows behind, spilling into you as his movements slow, sputtering to a stop. Tossing the vibrator aside, he languidly pulls out of you, leaning back to admire the way his spend drips from your used hole.

"Fuuuuucking hell," he whispers, almost to himself, pushing two fingers inside of you. He chuckles when you squirm. "Alright, I know, honey."

As you lay flat on your stomach, Robby puts his boxers back on, heading to grab a damp towel. He wipes you attentively, placing a gentle kiss on your lower back before he turns you over and hands you one of his shirts.

"Help me," you practically whine, head still dizzy from the intensity of the sex. He nods kindly, telling you to lift your arms before draping the fabric over your head.

"Come on," he holds his hand out. "Bathroom."

Groaning, but realizing he's right, you let him pull you up, holding you tightly against his chest. Robby presses a kiss on the top of your head, tender and loving.

He doesn't care that you don't say much, leaning against the counter and examining your face for any regret. But you're still in your own world, mind hazy and legs weak.

When you finish peeing, he helps you up, bending over to help you step into your panties. He guides you back to the bed, tucking you in and smiling sweetly when you tug on his arm as he turns.

"I'm just going to fill your Stanley," he promises, returning not even a minute later. He crawls into bed, brings the straw to your mouth, and puts it back on the nightstand. "How are you feeling, angel?"

"Really good," is all you can say. "I really like being your dumb little whore, Michael."

"Jesus," he chuckles, placing a chaste kiss to your swollen lips. "I love you so much, you know that right?"

"Mmmm."

"And you're the most brilliant doctor I've ever worked with," he runs his fingers through your hair, pulling you onto his chest. You nod up at him, a hazy smile on your face. "Okay?"

"You did great," you tell him, to which he shrugs bashfully. "Seriously. I felt so safe the whole time."

"You were," he promises. "You always are with me, angel."

Robby grins at the peaceful expression on your face as your eyes flutter closed, hand reaching for his. He kisses your wrist, closing his own eyes, hand lazily rubbing your hair.

"My beautiful, brilliant girl."

[butyoudidthis4what]

It's hospital week apparently because I have both a Jack fic and a Robby fic dropping this week where Reader's in the ED with them as a patient. They're both very fluffy in different ways, Jack is more hospital meet-cute and Robby is heavy hurt/comfort. Posting this for accountability. 😂 If you'd like to be tagged, interact with this post to get on my Jack tag list and/or interact with this post to get on my Robby tag list!

They're each so them in this gif, I love them so much I could cry. 😭

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

STITCHED TOGETHER

PAIRING: michael “robby” robinavitch x female reader

RATING: explicit

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

SUMMARY:

after accidentally cutting your hand, you seek out your neighbor for help. a favor becomes a friendship and a friendship becomes something more.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

no use of y/n, dual pov, mentions of blood/wounds, mentions of domestic/child abuse (a case at the hospital), hurt/comfort, neighbors to lovers, baked goods as a flirting mechanism, explicit sexual content (18+ mdni), vaginal fingering, edging, oral - f receiving, light choking, praise kink, dirty talk, kissing, begging, p in v, multiple positions - missionary and cowgirl, a sprinkle of domesticity

Your hand pulses with pain. The dish towel you’ve wrapped tightly around your palm is now stained with blood. You raise your fist to knock on your neighbor’s door, hoping that he’s home. You don’t know much about Robby, but you know he works long shifts at the ER, always leaving the apartment with a thermos of coffee and coming home late with shadows under his eyes.

There’s no answer to your knock, no sounds of movement from behind the door, and you mumble a curse beneath your breath. You lift the towel from your palm to check the wound, the fabric sticking slightly to your skin and making you wince. It’s still just as deep as it felt and you’re pretty sure you need stitches but—

“Everything okay?”

You look up. Robby is standing at the end of the hall, the door to the stairwell closing behind him. He must have just finished at work since he’s still dressed in a pair of wrinkled scrubs, exhaustion dragging his shoulders down. You suddenly feel very guilty for bothering him.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, aiming for nonchalant. His eyes catch on your hand where you have it cradled close to your body. Something shifts in him, like a switch flips and suddenly he’s not Robby, your neighbor, but Dr. Robby.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He asks, long strides carrying him down the hall. He drops the backpack on his shoulder to the floor, all his attention zeroed in on your hand. “Let me see.”

You hold your hand out. He carefully unwraps the towel.

“It’s fine, really, I was just going to ask if you think I need stitches—“

“You do.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I guess I better—“

“I can do it.”

“No, no, that’s okay, I can just —“ Robby looks up at you, still holding your hand, and you feel your heart lurch at the sharp edge in his eye. The rest of your words fade away.

“Come on, I’ve got a suture kit under the sink,” he says, grabbing his bag and digging his keys from the front pocket. He unlocks the door to his apartment, leaving it open behind him in a clear invitation. After a second of hesitation, you follow him, shutting the door behind you.

Robby’s apartment is a mirror image of yours. Open concept, with the living room blending into a dining area that opens up to the kitchen. There’s not much in the way of decoration, but it’s clearly lived in — a stack of magazines on a low coffee table, a comfortable looking leather couch with a blanket draped over the back, and a small collection of empty coffee cups on the counter by the sink.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, crouching down to fetch the aforementioned suture kit. “Bring your hand over the sink for me.”

You do as you’re asked, unwrapping the towel and setting it on the counter. Robby washes his hands and dries them with a paper towel before pulling on some blue gloves, his motions steadfast and efficient. He picks up a squeeze bottle with a long, curved tip and holds out a hand for yours.

He squeezes the contents of the bottle over your wound, using it to wash away some of the dried blood. When it’s clean, he sets the bottle down.

“Good news is that you didn’t manage to hit any tendons,” he says. “Bad news is that hand injuries hurt like a bitch.” He picks up a syringe, uncapping it and sticking it into a vial of clear fluid. “Some lidocaine will help while I stitch you up. When it wears off, you’ll need some Tylenol. You got any at your place?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He sticks the needle into your palm and you resist the urge to flinch. Each time he repositions it, you hold your breath.

“You gotta breathe for me. I know it hurts, but when it kicks in you’ll feel a lot better.”

You take a deep breath, the exhale shaky. Finally, he finishes with the needle. The pain has eased considerably as the anesthetic begins to do its job.

“Have a seat at the table for me,” Robby says, tilting his head toward the dining area. You settle into one of the chairs and he drags another close to you, setting a sterile bag on the table before taking a seat.

Peeling the bag open, he methodically removes the contents. First the blue sheet that he unfolds and lays on the table, followed by the tray of utensils. He pats the sheet and you set your hand, palm up, on it.

“So, you gonna tell me how you did this?” He asks, opening a swab stained with brown liquid that he runs over the edges of your wound.

“You’re going to think I’m an idiot,” you reply, heat rising to your cheeks. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a little smile.

“I’ve seen some stupid stuff. Promise this won’t even phase me.”

You sigh. “I was cutting an avocado.”

“Did you mistake your hand for it instead?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” He rips open a small package, pulling out a curved needle with a length of string already attached. “Finish the story.”

“I was holding it and sliced a little too deep. Went straight through the avocado skin and right into mine.”

“I wasn’t too far off. First stitch,” he says, sticking the needle through the edge of the cut. “Good thing I got home when I did.”

“I would have just gone to the ER if you didn’t.”

“Yeah, and you would have been waiting a few hours to get seen.”

“I feel bad. You’re off the clock. I’m sure you had things you wanted to do.”

“Had a hot date with my shower and some pizza rolls. I think they’ll forgive me for being late.”

You laugh and his eyes flick up, watching you for a brief moment before returning to the task at hand. A comfortable silence settles between you and you take the opportunity to really look at Robby.

He’s older than you by a few years if the grey in his beard is anything to go by. His dark hair looks like it’s grown out a bit from a shorter style and is a little messy, like maybe he’s run his fingers through it a few times. There are faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that grow deeper when his lips curl up in a smile. He’s handsome, you’ve thought as much since introducing yourself when you moved in, but up close and hunched over your hand, helping you with a gentle touch, he’s nearly devastating.

“Done,” he announces, reaching for the surgical scissors on the tray and snipping the end of the suture. “These are meant to fall out as the wound heals, so unless you notice any signs of infection, you shouldn’t need any follow up.”

“That was fast,” you say, looking over the neat row of stitches appreciatively.

“Years of practice.” He wraps a roll of gauze around your palm. “Keep the bandage on for at least twenty-four hours. After that, you can take it off but keep the area clean. Don’t soak it in anything. Try not to move your hand too much so they don’t pop. Alternate between Tylenol and Motrin for the pain.”

“I really can’t thank you enough,” you tell him. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I try to be.”

Though he’s trying to make a joke, his tone sounds despondent. He clears his throat and busies himself with cleaning up the table, avoiding your gaze. You decide not to press him for an explanation. He hardly owes you one.

Later, back in your apartment and lying in your bed, you replay every moment of your interaction with Robby. The way he gently held your hand to check the wound, the confidence with which he moved, the sadness in his voice. You decide that you have to repay him for his help and you know just the way to do it.

Robby is half asleep on the couch when there’s a knock at the door. He checks his watch and frowns. It’s just after eight, the sky dark outside the window, and he’d taken an unexpected nap after his shift. His stomach grumbles, the aching hunger he’d felt when falling asleep returning with a vengeance.

He stands and stretches, rubbing the back of his neck as it cracks and shuffling down the hall to open the door. You’re standing across the threshold with a plate in your hands and a bright smile on your face.

“Hey! I hope I’m not bothering you,” you say, smile faltering as you take him in. “Did I just wake you up?”

“Just from a nap,” he replies, willing himself to look less grumpy. Based on the way your smile dips into a frown, he’s probably not doing a great job. “It’s fine, I promise.”

“I brought cookies. As a thank you. For fixing my hand.” You hold the plate out toward him and he takes it. The bottom is warm. “Chocolate chip.”

The scent reaches him and he nearly groans. “Thank you, but I can’t take these.”

“Are you gluten free? Shit, I should have asked before making something.”

“No, I just mean you don’t need to thank me.”

“Of course I do!”

At that moment, his stomach betrays him, audibly announcing his hunger. You raise an eyebrow at him, hands on your hips, and he knows he’s lost this argument.

“Fine. If you’ll come in and eat one, too,” he says. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning to head toward his kitchen and hoping you’ll follow. When the door shuts and the soft sound of footsteps grows louder, he fights back a victorious smile.

He sets the plate on the counter and pulls off the aluminum foil on top. A small pile of golden brown chocolate chip cookies sits on the ceramic. You stand on the other side of the island, watching him. He picks one of the cookies up and takes a bite, groaning at how delicious it is.

“Christ, that’s good,” he says, punctuating the compliment with another bite. “You made these?”

“Yep. Even used the good chocolate. The real secret is a sprinkle of fancy sea salt.” You reach across the counter and pluck one of the cookies from the pile for yourself.

“How’s your hand doing?” Robby asks. You hold the hand in question out towards him. It’s been a little over a week and some of the stitches have started to dissolve, two of them still hanging on near the deeper part of your wound. “Looks good.”

“Thanks to a good doctor,” you say. He snorts, the sound self-deprecating even to his own ears. You frown, but don’t try to dig, which is nice. He’s so used to being around people who want him to be an open book when he’d rather sit quietly on a shelf, handling things on his own.

“I need to order dinner.” He turns his back to you, rifling through his junk drawer for the menu of the Chinese place down the street.

“I’ll just—“

“You wanna stay?” He asks, cutting you off. Your eyes go wide with surprise and he begins to internally berate himself when your expression shifts, going soft and warm.

“Sure. What are we ordering?”

It becomes a thing.

The first batch of cookies was a thank you. The second batch was a recipe test. Your excuse for the third batch was that you just made too many and would he want some?

He never turns you away, even if he looks dead on his feet from a long shift. He perks up when he spots the plate in your hands and invites you inside, singing your praises as he tries the recipe of the week. At the rate you’re going through sugar and butter and flour, you’ll need a membership to one of those bulk stores by the end of the month.

Robby doesn’t knock on your door, never seeks you out himself, but he does ask you to stay whenever you stop by. Over dinner, he’ll ask you about your week and listen as you talk about your job or the plans you made with your friends. He doesn’t talk about his own work much, not unless he’s got a funny story to share. You have a feeling he keeps the difficulty of his job close to his chest, shouldering the concern on his own.

That changes on a Friday night.

It’s late, nearly midnight, and you’re reading in bed, a half drunk glass of wine on your nightstand. A sound breaks through your concentration and you pause your reading, listening for it again.

It’s a knock. Soft, so soft you can barely hear it, three taps against your door, followed by silence. You scramble from your bed, nearly tripping on the duvet in the process, and rush down the hall.

When you open the door, Robby is there. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you, and you know without asking that he’s had a tough night. It’s in the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw, the way he’s staring at you without really seeing.

“Come inside,” you tell him. He nods and walks past you, pausing in your living room. Compared to his apartment, yours exudes personality. Mismatched furniture and bookshelves full of memories, photographs and art on the walls.

He takes it in while you head to the kitchen, pulling together a sandwich from the contents of your fridge and filling a glass with water. You bring the plate of food and the glass to the living room, placing both on the coffee table and settling yourself on the couch, legs crossed under you. When he doesn’t move, you pat the cushion next to you.

“Eat,” you command.

Robby does as you ask and starts with the water. He drains the glass in a few desperate gulps and you refill it for him while he starts on the sandwich. You turn the TV on to fill the silence, putting on a nature documentary. You watch the show, your attention half on the eating habits of pangolins and half on the man beside you, concern creeping up your spine.

He still hasn’t said anything.

When the plate and glass are both empty, you start to get up to clear them away, but a warm hand on your wrist holds you in place. Your gaze locked with Robby’s, you slowly sit back down. He releases your wrist and you bring your hand up, settling it on the back of his neck and gently tugging him towards you, urging him to lie down. His head is on your lap, pillowed on your bare thighs, and he brings his knees close to his chest to fit the rest of his body on the couch.

You run your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly against his scalp. The tension eases from his body, like a balloon slowly losing air. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a contented sigh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask.

“Not really.”

“Because you don’t want to or because you think I wouldn’t want to hear about it?”

He sighs. “You don't want to hear this shit. Trust me.”

“We’re friends, Robby. You can talk to me.”

“Friends, huh?”

“Yeah. Friends,” you reply, despite the sudden dryness of your mouth and the racing of your pulse. He’s quiet for a long moment and you think maybe he still won’t open up but then he takes a deep breath and clears his throat.

“Lost a patient today. A teenager who got between his mom and his piece of shit dad that was wailing on her. The guy pulled a gun on his own son and ran.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He turns, lying more on his back. His eyes are wet with tears that have gathered but refuse to fall. “We did everything we could do. I know that. But I had to look that mom in the eyes that her husband bruised and tell her that her baby was gone.”

There’s nothing you could say to take the pain away, so you don’t. But, you sit through it with him.

Sometimes, that can be enough.

Robby paces the length of his apartment from the door to the kitchen. It’s been a week since that night in your apartment and he can’t get it out of his head.

First he was stuck on the way you took care of him, how you knew what he needed without having to say anything. You were the calm to the storm in his head, the one that raged despite every strong command given to his team in an effort to save the boy’s life that day. He tends to shoulder the responsibility and, subsequently, the guilt on his own but it had been surprisingly helpful to let someone else in, someone who wanted to be there for him without a shared trauma bond. He felt lighter when he returned to his apartment that night.

Over the last couple days, however, the fixation shifted to the way your hands felt on him. The memory of your fingers dragging through his hair, though soothing in the moment, has morphed into something more. It’s no longer a gentle caress in his mind, but a sharp tug while he’s got his face between your thighs, tongue diving deep and desperate.

Despite these thoughts, he’s hesitant to reach out again, especially with these new ideas for how to spend his time with you in his head. But you also hadn’t come over in a week and he worries that maybe you view him differently now that he’s let the wall down a little, he probably should have just—

“Achoo!”

Robby pauses, his attention gripped by the sudden sound that came from the direction of your apartment. He drifts closer to his living room wall.

“Achoo!”

Another sneeze, followed by a pained groan. Are you…sick? Is that why you haven’t come around yet? Before he can overthink it, he’s leaving his apartment and knocking on your door.

When you answer with a blanket held tight around you and a tissue clenched in your hand, he feels a conflicting rush of relief and concern. You sniffle loudly.

“Robby? What are you doing here?”

“I heard you sneeze.” You blink at him, wobbling a bit on the spot. He reaches out to steady you, hands on your shoulders. Gently, he urges you back inside your apartment. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your room, the same as his but infinitely more comfortable. While he furnished his apartment, he didn’t take care to really make it a home, not when he spends so many hours at work. He didn’t see the point. Stepping into your room, it’s the opposite, facets of your personality in every corner.

He sits you down on the edge of the bed. A pile of tissues has taken up residence on your nightstand and he gathers them up while you make a feeble attempt to stop him.

“That’s gross, don’t touch those,” you whine. “I can clean them up.”

“Lie down,” he commands.

“Bossy, bossy.”

Robby hides his smile by leaving the room to throw the tissues in the trash. While in the kitchen, he finds your cabinet of mismatched cups and fills one with water. Rummaging through the pantry, he finds an open box of crackers that he brings back to your room.

“Where’s your medicine?” He asks. You gesture towards the bathroom and he digs through the cabinets until he finds a bottle of Tylenol. He shakes out a few into his palm and brings them back to you. “Take these.”

“If I had a nickel for every time you told me to take Tylenol, I’d have two nickels.”

He laughs as he watches you swallow down the medicine and drink half of the glass of water. He hands you a sleeve of crackers.

“Eat a couple of those so that you don’t end up with an upset stomach.”

When you’ve finished, you set the remaining crackers on your nightstand and wiggle down the bed, bringing your blanket up to your chin. Robby sets a palm on your forehead and you watch him with an expression he can’t name.

“Am I gonna be alright, doc?” You ask. He smiles.

“Yeah, I think you’ll pull through.”

“Will you stay with me?”

Rather than respond, he walks around your bed to the other side and toes off his sneakers. He gets on the bed, staying on top of your blankets as he makes himself comfortable. You turn on your side to look at him.

“Thanks for coming,” you whisper.

“That’s what friends do.”

You wake to a heavy weight around your waist and warmth at your back. At first you’re confused until the memory of asking Robby to stay with you comes into focus. You remember him getting in bed with you, keeping himself on top of the covers while you snuggled underneath to fight off the constant chill your fever brought on.

You turn over slowly, careful not to disturb him. He’s still on top of the covers but he’s curled himself around you, his head nearly on your pillow in an effort to get closer. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths and his features are soft with sleep.

The shrill beep of an alarm breaks the silence and Robby wakes with a sharp inhale. You quickly close your eyes, pretending to be asleep as he moves around, presumably trying to get his phone out to shut off the alarm. The noise abruptly cuts off and you hear him let out a deep breath.

He shifts beside you. A palm is pressed to your forehead and his touch lingers for a moment, his fingers tracing your cheek as he pulls away. You fight to keep your breathing slow and even despite the fierce pounding of your heart against your ribs.

Robby gets up from the bed, the mattress creaking as his weight lifts from it. You hear his light footsteps around the room, followed by the quiet click of your door being shut. With him gone, you turn onto your back and stare up at the ceiling.

You know he had to leave, he probably had to get ready for work, but you wish he didn’t. A fantasy plays out in your head, one where he gets to sleep in and you wake up before him, sneaking into the kitchen to make coffee. He wakes up while you’re waiting for it to finish brewing, strong arms wrapping around your waist and his beard tickling your neck when he kisses your neck. The image fades as sleep catches up to your exhausted body, pulling you back into its embrace for the rest of the morning.

“Dr. Robby?”

Robby shakes his head free of his thoughts and looks to his left. Mel’s got a clipboard in her hands and a question in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks in that blunt but empathetic way of hers.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asks in return. She blinks.

“Oh, uh, it’s just…you seem distracted?”

He is distracted. There’s been a restless fire in his veins ever since he woke up beside you, holding you close. He hasn’t seen you in a couple days now, giving you the space to get over your cold, and it has him growing a bit desperate, though he would never admit as much out loud and especially not to one of the med students.

“Everything is fine, Dr. King. Whatcha got for me?”

Mel launches into a presentation on a twenty-three year old female that was triaged for abdominal pain. Robby listens attentively and joins her at the patient’s bedside as she delivers a diagnosis and describes the treatment plan. One patient turns into…somewhere around thirty, he thinks. He lost count.

Finally, he finishes his shift and heads out into the night. Back in his apartment, he showers, changes his clothes, and brushes his teeth for good measure. He’s rushing through the after work motions, an energy in him that he only feels when he’s making a split second call that could mean life or death in the ER.

Basic needs met, he gets his shoes on and leaves his apartment. Five quick steps have him knocking at your door. His pulse kicks into high gear when he hears your footsteps on the other side.

You open the door and your smile lights up your face when you see him and he knows you’re saying something but his focus is entirely zeroed in on your lips and how he desperately needs to feel them against his. He reaches out, framing your face between his palms. There’s a flash of surprise in your eyes but then he’s kissing you.

Finally.

“Hey! I was just about—“

Your words are cut off by Robby kissing you.

Robby is kissing you.

With his hands on your jaw, he urges you back inside your apartment and kicks the door shut behind him. One large palm moves cradles the back of your head, cushioning the blow when your back hits the wall and he presses his body close to yours, chest to chest and a thigh between your legs.

You’re in sensory overload, overwhelmed by the feel of his broad shoulders beneath your hands, the smell of his shampoo, and the faint taste of mint when his tongue tangles with yours. His hand settles on the side of your neck and you wonder if he can feel the way he makes your heart race beneath his palm.

When he pulls back, he traces a thumb over your lips, open admiration in his gaze. He presses down on your lower lip and you obey the silent command to open up, let him in, give him more. His breath stutters when you close your lips around his thumb and suck. He pulls it free with a lewd pop, dragging his hand down your neck, squeezing lightly at the base of your throat. Before you can react, his touch ventures lower and you gasp when he roughly palms your breast. Your hips flex against his thigh in a bid for friction.

All of a sudden, Robby steps back, taking your hand in his and leading you down the hall to your bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he says, voice low and rough. You hurry to comply, crawling up the mattress and lying back on the pillows, anticipation and the hungry look on his face making the ache between your thighs nearly unbearable.

He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your legs, and runs his hands over your thighs and beneath the fabric of your shorts. You arch your back when his thumbs dig into the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want him, but not close enough. A whine escapes you.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks.

“Want you to fuck me,” you tell him, lifting your hips.

“Can’t do that yet.”

You frown. “Why not?”

Robby’s fingers curl into the elastic of your shorts, pulling the fabric down. You lift your hips again so that he can pull them off and toss them to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. His hand presses one of your thighs to the mattress, keeping you spread open for him as he drags his thumb over your pussy, starting at the damp spot near your entrance until he reaches your clit.

“You have to cum on my fingers,” he presses down against your clit, “and my mouth first. Think you can do that?”

When you don’t respond to his question, the deep pressure of his thumb is replaced by a light smack of his fingers. You gasp at the sharp contrast in sensation and try to close your legs instinctively, only to be blocked by his body and the firm grip of the hand still on your thigh.

“Answer me,” he demands, removing his hands from you and raising an expectant eyebrow.

“Yes,” you tell him. You’re pretty sure you would do anything this man asks as long as he touches you again. The corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk.

“Good girl.”

Those two little words are like a bolt of lightning straight to your core and he knows it, his knowing gaze making you feel hot and flustered. He removes your underwear and with the last barrier gone, he drops to his stomach and brings his face mere inches from your soaked pussy.

His breath fans across your heated skin and that’s the only warm up you get before his mouth is on you, his tongue circling your clit and lapping at your entrance. Your hands are drawn to his hair, fingers gripping the short strands. He looks up at you as he sucks your clit between his lips and groans when you pull sharply on his hair in response.

If you thought Robby would finish this quickly to get on to the main event, you were incredibly mistaken. The man between your legs brings you to the brink of release before dragging you back from the edge more times than you can count, to the point where tears gather in the corners of your eyes and you let out a pained groan of frustration.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asks, lifting his head but keeping up steady circles of his thumb against your clit. Not fast enough to bring you off, just enough to keep your need simmering at the surface. You glare at him.

“Let me come already,” you say through gritted teeth. He laughs.

“You could try asking nicely. Say please.”

You stare at him, mouth opening and closing around words that won’t form. He brings his mouth back to your abused bundle of nerves, licking with broad circles that have you seeing stars. You’re so close, just a little more—

He starts to pull back. The pressure of his tongue grows lighter. You drop your head to the mattress and one of those trapped tears finally escapes, rolling down your temple. You’ve never begged a man for anything before but there’s a first time for everything.

“Please, please, please,” you gasp. “Robby, please.”

Two fingers press against your entrance and slide inside, the sudden stretch making you gasp. He curls them against your inner walls with each drag of his hand from your body. The pressure and speed of his tongue on your clit increases. Your thighs start to shake as the thread of tension in your core tightens until it finally snaps and you come with a strangled shout of his name.

Robby doesn’t stop touching you. He keeps his fingers buried in your cunt and his mouth busy by gently licking you through the waves of your orgasm. Finally, he sits up. You watch as he takes off his shirt and stands up quickly to remove his shoes and sweatpants. His cock bobs free and your mouth practically waters at the sight of it. Not excessively long but he is thick and if you thought his fingers were a stretch, his cock might just split you in half. A bead of precum has gathered at the slit and you watch him smooth his thumb through it before dragging his fist over his length with a groan.

“Condoms?” He asks.

“Top drawer.”

He grabs a foil packet and tosses it on the bed before crawling over you, settling his body over yours. He kisses you, deep and slow, grinding his hips into yours and dragging his cock through the mess he’s made of you. His lips deliver the taste of you to your tongue, earthy and erotic. You moan into the kiss when he drags against your clit.

Keeping himself balanced with one elbow on the bed beside your head, he uses his free hand to hitch your leg over his hip, opening you wider and bringing you closer. His lips find your neck, lavishing your sensitive skin with kisses and nips of his teeth. You need this man inside of you now.

“Robby, please.”

He nods against your neck, sitting up only long enough to roll the condom down his length before his weight is back on you, pressing you into the mattress. He flexes his hips against you but this time, the thick head of his cock catches against your entrance and he starts to ease inside, achingly slow. His eyes stay fixed to yours as he does.

“You feel so fucking good,” Robby says, face buried against your neck. You clench around him in response and he chokes on a groan. “Don’t do that, I’m trying not to embarrass myself here.”

You do it again for good measure.

He lifts his head, eyes narrowed at you, and pulls his hips back, his cock dragging against the same spot that made you come on his fingers. He thrusts forward with a sharp snap of his hips that punches the air from your lungs.

He sets a pace that has you seeing stars and moaning his name like a prayer. Your orgasm builds, coiling tight in your center, but you’re not ready for the release. You push against Robby’s shoulder and his expression grows concerned, a deep crease forming between his brows as he pulls back, allowing you room to sit up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks.

“No, no,” you assure him. “I just…can I get on top?”

A boyish grin chases the worry from his face and he flops onto his back in the empty space on the mattress. You laugh as you straddle his hips though it turns into moan when you sink down onto his cock. The angle is deeper and there’s an added friction to your clit with every roll of your hips. Robby’s hands are everywhere, squeezing your ass roughly or pinching a tight nipple between his fingers.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, head pressed back into the pillow, the long line of his neck on display. “Just like that.”

You place your hands on his chest for balance, the dusting of coarse hair tickling your palms. When you lean forward, he meets you in a kiss that’s mostly shared breath. Your pace slows and Robby takes over, his feet planted on the mattress to thrust up into you.

“Come for me,” he says against your lips. “I need it, sweetheart, come on.”

You drop your head against his neck, licking at the sweat damp skin as your orgasm returns, no longer a slow building wave but a tsunami that floods your nerves and leaves you drowning in sensation. Your walls tighten around his cock and he groans, dragging you down onto his lap and holding you there as he pulses inside of you.

Sweat cools on your skin. Your breathing slows. His hands trail up and down your back, the gentle touch and cold air of your room making your skin prickle. You lift your head and press your forehead against his.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble.

“Just Robby is fine,” he says.

You lift your head so that he can see you roll your eyes before slowly getting up, a satisfying ache in your muscles and between your legs. You go to the bathroom and Robby comes in as you’re washing your hands, tossing the condom in the trash and washing his hands as well.

You return to bed, crawling beneath the blankets. Robby joins you, lying on his back so that you can rest your head on his chest, your eyelids already heavy with exhaustion.

“Will you stay with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

Robby wakes to sunlight and the smell of coffee. He stretches before finally rolling out of bed and finding his sweatpants on the floor, pulling them on to follow the scent of dark roast straight to the kitchen.

He finds you at the counter, your hips swaying to a song that plays at a low volume from a bluetooth speaker on your dining table. A pan sizzles on the stove and you pour the contents of a bowl into it. He steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your neck. You turn in his hold and kiss him, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He could get used to mornings like this.

When you turn back around, you pick up a knife and reach for the basket of fruit on the counter, plucking something from the pile.

“I hope that’s not an avocado.”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or commenting 💕

Masterlists

[carmenlikeme]

Robby loves you. He really does.

He absolutely fucking hates visiting your apartment.

The first time he came over, it was pristine, clean, almost too clean for a resident. The second time, his visit wasn't planned, you had some dirty dishes in the sink, but that was it.

As time went by and you got more comfortable with each other, your mess did too.

He would come over, only to find some day-old dishes, your towel hanging on the kitchen chair, your coat under it. Your clothes were scattered all over your apartment. Somehow, they seemed to get cleaned but never reached your closet, only a hamper, which you used to find clean clothes. The rest ended up on the floor, and they got picked up on laundry days.

Still, he couldn't blame you. He saw the way your body crumbled the minute you walked into your home. So he never complained.

But oh, boy. It was driving him crazy.

So, when you got back from the night shift, after offering to cover someone and pulling a double, you plopped yourself on the unmade bed and passed out. You kissed him good morning, and that was about it.

It was then he got to work.

It took him no more than four hours to have your apartment looking like a show unit. All the laundry was done, neatly folded in your closet this time. Clean dishes, surfaces wiped and disinfected. He even managed to deep clean your bathroom, your stove and the fridge.

You woke up to the best view ever.

Robby, sitting on your living room floor, loose t-shirt and sweatpants, surrounded by your piles of unorganized books you kept buying but never actually giving them a place on your bookshelf. He had a chinese takeout box next to him while he was focused, reading the back of one of your books.

"I'm so gonna give you head tonight," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

"If I deep clean the oven, will I get more than that?" he asked, biting your lip right as you were about to pull away.

"I'll even give you a child if you do."

"Then it's a deal.

© CARMENLIKEME 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, modify or claim as yours. dividers by @/strangergraphics

[kisses4themissus]

Little Ballerina | M.R X Reader

a/n: i feel like that mouse eating rn...but yay more lovebug and robby!! pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch X Single Mom!Reader wc: 2.8k warnings: semi proofread!!

previous | requests open for dr. robby | masterlist | next

Robby sighed into his thermos as he finally sat down on a desk.

As he signed onto the computer, he didn’t pay attention as someone sat down beside him. “Morning robinavitch.” 

Turning to face the person, robby stopped, surprised to see you sitting on the chair beside him, two coffees in your hands. “What are you doing down here?” He asked, slightly excited as you handed him one before logging onto the next computer. 

“Gloria said if I covered for dr. ellis today, I could get saturday and sunday off.” You grinned, tapping your badge. 

“I always forget you were cross trained..” Robby chuckled before going back to the screen. 

“Yep, oh that’s for you!” You pushed the cup of coffee towards him, robby nodded in thanks before taking a sip. “I always see you drinking black so I got you a dark roast.” You explained to him before picking up your coffee, sipping as you typed something up before getting up.

Robby nodded, lost for words. “Thank you.” He muttered, watching as you scanned the board before going to a room. On the opposite side, Dana stared at him and laughed, her glasses slipping to the edge of her nose. 

“You’re like a little boy with a crush on his older neighbor!” She laughed, robby quickly waved her off, the tips of his ears flushing.

 - - - - - - - -

The interns had followed you most of the day like lost puppies, watching in awe of how attuned you were to the ED.

As you entered a room with Victoria, your heart broke a bit at the sight in front of you; A young dad sat on the uncomfortable hospital chair, leaning over his baby trying to calm the poor baby down. 

You introduced yourself and the others before beginning your assessment. 

“I don’t know why he keeps crying, night and day. He only stops when he tires himself out!” The dad rambled, tearing up himself. You nodded at the information and began checking on the baby with a frown on your face.

“Is he allergic to anything?” You asked. Victoria quietly watched as you examined the baby. “Not that I know of..” He sighed into his palms.

You nodded once more before softly turning the baby to check for any rashes. You quickly turned to Victoria and smiled politely. “Could you get me a towel with warm water and a warm blanket please?”

At your request Victoria took off to find the items. Leaving you only with the young father and crying baby. “My wife passed away during childbirth, I’ve been struggling real bad with him…does he hate me?” The young man broke down crying, making you sigh; he had reminded you of your days with lacey.

“He doesn’t hate you, probably the opposite, he must adore you but he’s just a little upset he can’t outright say what’s wrong with him.” you comforted the dad.

“I thought the same when my daughter was born, her biological dad wasn’t around so I was left on my own with a baby. I was convinced she hated me, but she always adored having me around. Now I have a little sidekick for everything.” You added, making the dad lift his head up at you. “Does it get easier, y’know being on your own with a baby?” He questioned.

You nodded and smiled. “You boys will be great together, always put his heart first even over yours.” You smiled reassuringly at the dad.

Victoria walked into the room, a warm towel in hand and robby behind her, tugging on his stethoscope.

“What’s going on with this little guy?” Robby asked, you quickly filled him in as you scooped up the baby and bounced lightly with him in your arms as victoria laid out the warm blanket. You skillfully and swiftly unbuttoned the baby’s onesie before laying the warm towel on his stomach and the baby on the warm blanket.

You all watched as the baby’s cries stopped and turned into sniffles. The baby boy relaxed into the warmth, making you giggle as he visually relaxed and sighed. 

“What kind of formula do you give him?” You asked, turning to the dad who watched with a smile now that his son had stopped crying. He quickly fumbled for his phone and pulled up a photo, once you saw the container you nodded and smiled at the dad.

“Poor thing is lactose intolerant.” You chuckled, running your gloved hand over the chubby baby cheeks.

“I’d recommend switching him to lactose free, and if it starts again just place him in the bath or even the sink and have warm water and a warm towel, it’ll help release the gas bubbles.” You explained, smiling down at the baby, not seeing the look of admiration from robby.

The young father thanked you profusely, making you smile and nod. “I have to ask though before I discharge you both…can i hold him please?” You asked, robby found it cute, the way you tilted your head like a little kid.

The father agreed and let you pick the baby up once more. You squealed as the little boy nuzzled into your neck. “He’s so cute and tiny!” You said in a high pitched voice, making victoria and robby smile. Victoria excused herself to see another patient while you and robby stayed behind.

The dad had placed the boy’s binky in his mouth while the boy was readjusted by you and now sat his head by your shoulder. You lightly swayed, enjoying the little warmth from the infant.

Too busy yawning, the little boy dropped the binky from his mouth, internally you cringed imagining it’d hit the dirty hospital floor. Robby watched in awe as you managed to swiftly catch the binky before it fell to the ground, you sighed and handed the pacifier and the baby back over to the dad.

“I’ll have a nurse come in and give you the paperwork for discharge and instructions for the warm baths, otherwise you two boys have a great life together!” You smiled and excused yourself and robby away.

Walking back to central you began to start the discharge paperwork, robby slowly chuckled before clapping at you, standing in front of your spot at central.

“How did you do that?” He asked, making you glance up at him. “Do what?” You questioned.

“The whole thing, the formula, the baths, oh or the pacifier!” He listed the examples off.

“Instincts, dr robinavitch.” You winked at him before going back to typing. 

 - - - - - - - -

After your stressful day in the ED, you had joined some of the workers in there after work drinking activity. You sighed as you sat on the bench, declining a beer by robby.

“Alright, I gotta go before I miss my train.” Donnie sighed, getting up from the bench. Mohan nodded and joined him, leaving you and robby to be the last ones in the park. You sighed as you checked your watch, lovebug was already sound asleep at your brother and sister in law's house, they had agreed to watch Lacey under the gist of a sleepover with her older cousins.

Robby smiled as you got up and turned to him. “I gotta go too, need to stop to get dinner for myself.” You sighed, robby quickly jumped up and motioned the way to your car. “I’ll walk with you– y’know for safety.” He added watching as you giggled before nodding and guiding him the way to your car.

As you both approached your vehicle , robby was confused, normally his three beers wouldn’t have gotten him tipsy or drunk but before robby could stop himself the words tumbled right out. “What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked, standing up straight.

Slowly warmth grew on your face at his question. “Um– I’ll probably be at my mom’s ballet studio…why?” You asked, excitement growing in your stomach. “Maybe, we could uhh- get coffee tomorrow?” He proposed, nervously waiting for your response.

“How about coffee in the morning and then dinner later?” You asked, clutching your bag strap tightly. Robby chuckled and nodded at you. “I’ll text you the cafe..goodnight.” He smiled like a school boy as you got into your car and took off.

Once out of sight, Robby silently celebrated.

 - - - - - - - -

The next morning was a rush despite being your day off of work. Lovebug had forgotten her ballet bag and needed you to bring it to the studio.

You had gotten ready in a rush before heading out to hand off the bag.

It was crazy how fast you had gotten looped into doing little girls buns as they scurried into the studio bathroom. You sighed as you finished the small line of girls asking for a bun. With the crack of your neck you turned to see lovebug in her tutu practicing rat with the other older kids.

With a chuckle you felt your phone begin to buzz in your pocket. Quickly pulling it out your heart fell; robby’s phone number popped up.

You quickly answered, feeling guilty. “Robinavitch, i’m so sorry I forgot about our coffee and i need to run to the ballet studio, i swear i’m just right up the street-!” You were cut off by his chuckle.

“It’s alright, I was calling since I'm running behind too.” You both sighed, with a pause he asked. 

“Do you need to reschedule?” 

You quickly denied it, “I'll be there I swear.” You reassured, already picking up your purse from the bench outside the studio room. Robby chuckled and let you go.

With a flustered face, you quickly stopped in the studio’s bathroom once more to freshen up before walking to the cafe up the street. Opening the door the smell of coffee beans wafted through the air.

You did a quick look around the room, thankful you had beat robby there. As you stood in line, you swayed light waiting for your turn to order, reading over the menu. As you stepped up to order, another person slides beside you.

You turned, ready to be upset at the line cutter but stopped and smiled warmly at robby.

“Dr. robinavitch, it’s nice to see you out of scrubs and that jacket.” You teased earning a hearty laugh. “That’s what I was gonna say, no compression jacket?” He quipped back. You both quickly laughed about it before ordering your coffees.

“Seriously though, you look very nice.” You compliment, smiling at his outfit. 

His ears turned red, “Same to you, I like the overalls.” he motioned to the embroidered overalls; they had been a matching set with lacey.

“Thank you, the embroidering was all done by my grandma.” You grinned, posing for him.

He chuckled, his heart melting at the sight of you out of the workplace. “So you work at your parents' ballet studio?” He asked as you both stood off to the side for the coffee, helping you sit on a bar stood by the window.

“Occasionally, like for the busier seasons.” You explained, placing your face on your palm. Robby nodded. You both had begun to talk about work and different patients and diagnoses.

You turned, ready to get down from the stool to grab your drinks when robby stopped you and grabbed them before returning, handing you your cup. “Thank you robinavitch.” you smiled and took a sip, robby sat in silence for a second before chuckling. 

Glancing at him, you raised a brow. “What is it?”

“You never have called me Robby, or anything else.” He chuckled, making your face feel warm. “That you know of.” You joked, “I never really thought about calling you anything other than robinavitch..” you pondered.

“It’s jewish right?” You asked, earning a nod.

Robby smiled at you, “Now I gotta hear you call me robby.” 

You both laughed as you kept stopping yourself from speaking. “C’mon honey, just say robby.” he tried to coach you. With a flustered giggle you turned to him, “Stop it robby.” You tried to wave him off. Robby stopped, his heart skipping at the sight of you laughing and saying his name, it was sight for sure.

Noticing his now quiet demeanor, you slowly dropped your smile and looked at him concerned. “Are you ok?” You asked, earning a nod from him. “How did it feel?” he asked, making you smile into your cup.

Swallowing the coffee quickly you snickered. “It felt different”; A good different, it was new and exciting.

He smiled and nodded before picking up his cup. As you both talked about your personal lives you stopped and waved to the passing ballet dancers who passed by the window, them doing the same as they walked past to get lunch.

“I used to be a ballerina, up til I was eighteen; I stopped and decided to follow my brothers into the medical field.” You explained, Robby sat up and listened intently.

“Your brother met his wife there, at your parents' studio?” he clarified, making you nod.

“She was new and he was so fast to offer her a tour of the building, we all teased him. Marissa is a great dancer, my mom hoped I would've followed in her steps..” You sighed, swirling the almost empty cup around.

“Ahh yes, the prima ballerina; the star of the show.” he said jokingly, earning a confused smile.

“She never made it to be the studio prima ballerina; since I left my mom never chose another.” You offhandedly explained, making Robby raise a brow at that.

“:Lacey said her mom was-!”

As he opened his mouth to say something your phone began to ring, you glanced over and picked up. 

“She’s what, I'll be right there!” You said in a panic, quickly getting off the stool and walked to the door, “I’m sorry, Robby, I need to go deal with something!” You apologized before running out the door and back to the ballet studio.

Robby watched, confused; turning his head to your now empty seat he froze as he noticed the item on the table.

You had been too busy being in a hurry to notice you had left your purse. With a heavy sigh he got up and picked up the leftover cake pop you had ordered and grabbed your purse and attempted to follow you.

 - - - - - - - -

Walking into the ballet studio, a group of kids stood in a circle as they watched Lacey and another little girl fight. 

You marched through the crowd and pulled lacey away. “What are you doing? We never hit people, that’s mean and there is no excuse to do that!” You lectured, holding the seething five year old, who chomped her mouth at the other little girl who was being held back by her caretaker.

“She told me that her nanny said you’re a witch and will always be alone and that’s why you don’t go on dates!” Lacey explained, huffing as she recalled the little girl's words, ready to bite someone’s ankle if they made her snap once more.

“She said what?!” You scoffed and turned to the nanny before you both ended up on the studio’s floor, you began to slap the nanny, saying names you never thought of saying in front of your daughter or the other students.

Walking in, Robby froze at the sight of a crowd surrounding a fight, he quickly placed your purse onto the front desk before getting in the middle and helping hold you off the nanny.

“Talk shit about me again and I'll make sure every plastic surgeon knows to give you a messed up nose job!” You yelled, trying to claw your way out of robby’s arms and towards the nanny once more.

Robby quickly walked away with you, cornering you to calm down, blocking out the other lady from your sight. “You alright?” He asked, checking for any bruising or wounds on you. “I’m alright, it would've been better if i broke her nose some more!” You called out, making Robby chuckle before glancing over his shoulder, expecting to see a crowd of traumatized kids only to see them all chattering and laughing about the fight.

Lacey walked over to you both and checked on you herself before nodding and sitting down beside you against the wall. “Are you ok girlfriend?” You asked, earning a tired sigh from lovebug.

“She didn’t get me, but I wanted to bite her ankle so she can't do snow angels..” She scoffed, shaking her head. Robby chuckled as he stared at you both.

You turned to robby with a confused look, “You didn’t have to follow me here.” you told him as you rubbed over a part of your jaw. “I kinda did, you forgot your purse.” He chuckled and motioned for the front desk where you laughed and nodded.

Turning to lacey you smiled at her. “Got you a cake pop.” You nodded your head to the white paper bag by your purse.

She perked up but didn’t move. “But I was in a fight, and you said it’s mean…” She sighed, her eyes downcasting to her shoes.

You shook your head. “You stood up for me, though maybe in the future you just tell me what’s said about momma ok?” You smiled at her.

With a grin she nodded before running to the front desk to receive her treat, leaving you with a shocked robby.

“You’re her mom?”

next pt

robby taglist: @nerdgirljen @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @snowflames-world @whimsicalfungiforager @lovebuggyies @itschelseacisneros @kmc1989 @foolishseven @rhysology @delicatetrashtree @evans-dejong @coffinheartz @equallyshaw @baileythepenguin

[cosmic-whispers]

When I'm Above the Trees - Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

Summary: Heather Collins sees a lot. She sees how Robby is with you. And how you are with him. And she watches you fall in love. A story of heartbreak, healing, and moving on. Inspired by happiness by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: Collins pov (she is NOT villianized in this, but it’s v angsty for her but with a hopeful ending), fem!reader/robby endgame (age gap mentioned, not specified), attending!reader, mention of attempted suicide patient, violence against healthcare workers, jealousy/self-worth issues/insecurity, medical inaccuracies, no use of y/n

WC: 4.2k

Notes: Hi, coming out of writing retirement with this little fic because I’m in love with this man. This is my first go at writing for the pitt, so please let me know what you think! The news from earlier this week about Tracy was very disappointing. Collins was amazing and deserves the world, and it makes me sad that we won't see her again.

In hindsight, she was blinded. It was obvious, right from the beginning. 

When you were first hired on as the new attending at PTMC a few months ago, Heather actually liked you. You were young, had been an attending for just a year before joining the Pitt, but you were eager, kind, and wickedly smart. You were attentive, patient, and listened to everyone’s concerns. You naturally navigated towards Robby. You were both the day shift attendings, you bounced ideas off each other. That wasn’t surprising to Heather. He was an extraordinary doctor, fascinating and full of experience and advice. 

You asked interesting questions, encouraged his ramblings. You challenged him in ways no one else dared to–questioning his judgements with patients. You never did it in a rude or condescending way, you were genuine in your curiosity and your input was valued by everyone. Including Robby. That was surprising to Heather at first–he never liked his medical opinions being questioned. But he let you do it. Maybe you were able to get away with it because you were an attending. Maybe because the patient satisfaction scores increased after you started working there and he valued your opinion. 

But Robby’s patience was short. He was quick to get frustrated, throw a sarcastic comment, and run away from anything that wasn’t medicine. Heather knew that all too well. She had been close to him once. She shared love with him once. But, as it always happened with Robby, his lack of communication, brutal sarcasm, and steel-enforced emotional walls drove her away. It drove most people away. 

But you were not like most people. 

You were patient, stubborn, and unwilling to take no for an answer if you knew there was something you could do to help someone. You listened. Without judgement, without expectation. And it was exactly what Robby needed. A friend. Robby opening up was rare, something that he had outright refused to do in the past and something she had begged him to do for years. It made something ache in her chest that it wasn’t with her, but she was grateful that he had someone. 

She didn’t realize when it became more than what she thought it was. 

She didn’t realize it when he insisted you be at his side for the attempted suicide victim that came into the hospital one Wednesday evening. She had noticed previously that suicide cases were particularly hard for you. You never said anything, and she never asked. But Robby seemed to know and he stayed by your side the entire time. She saw how proud he was of you after the patient was stabilized.

Not when a car accident victim came in and she saw you both working on the patient like a well-oiled machine. You both knew what the other was going to say before you had even opened your mouths. She saw the way Mohan and Mel looked between the two of you in awe–two people completely in their element and tuned to the same frequency.

Not when a patient came in whose lungs weren’t able to provide enough oxygen after catching COVID. She saw Robby’s chest shake in restrained spain when the patient ended up coding. Heather knew he was thinking about Adamson. He walked away without saying a word, disappearing around the corner. She thought about going after him, but noticed you following close behind. 

She assumed it was a friend comforting a friend. 

But she didn’t witness that summer evening on the roof where Robby hugged you so tight you thought he might bruise you. She didn’t witness the moment the shine returned to his brown eyes and he finally let go of whatever was holding him back from you. She didn’t witness how he kissed you with so much passion and tenderness and devotion. 

She didn’t witness the quiet moments late at night in his apartment in the following months–you and him, cuddled in bed naked, and Robby, so unlike himself, rambling on and on about every thought, fear, and insecurity in his head without any hesitation. 

She didn’t know. 

To Heather, you were just his friend. 

To Heather, he was still her chance. 

Her chance to have a family, to have a baby. To create the life she had always dreamed of. And in her dreams, Robby was still the man standing next to her. 

Until that day in August. 

The massive heatwave raging through Pittsburgh was bad enough, the large influx of patients with heat strokes and rashes and sunburns, on top of the usual flow in the ED made it a terrible day for every healthcare worker and patient alike. It seemed like everyone was wound tight like a coiled spring, ready to snap at any moment. 

A patient had come in, screaming and panicked, a stab wound to the shoulder and you took him into a treatment room. Heather could hear him cursing from the nurses station. 

“You fucking bitch, that fucking hurts!”

Heather glanced into the room, seeing the knife still embedded in the man’s shoulder. You were applying what she assumed was lidocaine on the stab site. From what she could tell, his vitals were good and you were stabilizing him for scans. 

“You’ll feel it start to numb you shortly, Mr. Gale,” you said, patient as always. “It should only burn for a moment.”

He grabbed your arm, his strong grip pinching your skin. “Get this fucking knife out of me!”

Heather stood immediately, moving toward the room. Mateo was already there, trying to step in between the two of you. 

“Let her go, man.”

“Mr. Gale, if I remove the knife, it can cause you to bleed out. We need to do scans to be able to best determine how to help you,” you explained.

“Mr. Gale,” Heather said, getting the man’s attention. “She’s right. We need to be able to assess the wound before pulling out the knife. Please, let her go.”

“NO! I’m in pain, I got fucking stabbed, and you’re not helping me!” The man was panicking and started pulling at your arm harder. Heather looked back at the nurses station and made eye contact with Dana, who was already looking their way in concern. ‘Security,’ she mouthed and Dana nodded. 

“Sir–” Mateo started to speak, before the man, in his panicked state, grabbed the hilt of the knife and pulled it out. The three of you watched in shock as blood began spurting from the wound, landing on your scrubs, and he swung at you, slicing the skin on your arm. You screamed in pain, causing him to let go. He ran toward Heather, who he pushed against the doorframe, and ran out of the room. 

She rubbed her arm where she hit it, and looked back as the man was tackled down by who she thought was security. Her eyes widened in shock, mouth agape. 

It wasn’t Ahmad. It was Robby. 

Robby, who was always restrained and stoic and showed his anger in sarcastic quips rather than physical violence, tackled a man with a knife in his hands. She felt rooted to the spot as she watched the patient struggle against Robby’s grip. The knife had slid out of the man’s hand and Robby was holding him down on the floor, pinning him down with his hands against his shoulders and a knee on his lower back. The man continued to try to fight him off, but Heather could tell he was weakening from the blood loss. 

She looked around, noticing shocked faces of the residents who were all staring at Robby. Perlah and Princess were whispering to each other in a corner, looking between Robby and the room you were in. 

Ahmad came sprinting from around the corner and Robby immediately got up, rushing towards her. Heather’s spine straightened and she was about to tell him that she was ok, until he moved past her and into the treatment room. She turned, her gaze following his back as he made his way straight to you. 

She felt something physically crack beneath her ribs and she swallowed the lump that swelled at her throat. She felt…unimportant. Disregarded. 

She looked at you, tears lining your eyes but still composed as always. Mateo was applying pressure to the wound on your arm. Heather backed away, far enough to be out of the way, but close enough that she could still watch. It was masochistic–the sight before her continued to make her chest feel tight and eyes feel warm, but she couldn’t look away. 

“How’s your pain level?” Robby asked you, peeling away the gauze Mateo had been using and assessing the wound. 

“Not high. It doesn’t seem that deep,” you answered, your voice unusually low and quiet. Your hands were shaking, in adrenaline or fear, and Heather did not miss your uninjured hand reaching for Robby’s and squeezing him. He stared at you for a moment too long and let go of a shuddering breath. 

“Just some stitches,” he said, voice low. “I thought…I heard you scream and I lost it. I wanted to kill him.”

Heather was shocked. At the intimacy of the moment, how close you were sitting, how tender he was being with you. 

“I know, but I’m ok,” you said as Robby started gathering everything he needed for your stitches. 

“Get her an IV, we’ll start some antibiotics,” he said to Mateo and the two of them moved fast through the process. You winced when he injected the lidocaine and Robby whispered something low to you that Heather couldn’t hear, but it made you laugh.

“Gale is HIV negative,” Mateo said, reading the patient’s chart. 

“Good. We’ll still start you on PEP right away, just in case,” Robby said and you nodded. 

They continued treating your injury and Heather stood there. Unmoving. Watching.

Watching the familiar way his arms tightened around your waist and cradled your head to his chest once he was done with the stitches and Mateo had left. He leaned his head on yours and she could see his hands shaking where they rested on your back. Your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, holding him close to you and you whispered something in his ear–maybe a thank you or a reassurance. And he chuckled, leaning down and kissing your forehead quickly before letting go of you. 

She knew she was intruding, but her legs wouldn’t move. She had never seen Robby like that. He was always restrained, unwilling to be anything but controlled in front of anyone. But here he was. Grasping your hands as you separated and smiling at you before his eyes flickered back to your arm, making sure you were alright. He looked at you like you were the only thing that could make him smile, the only thing that mattered to him…like he loved you. She couldn’t remember if he ever looked at her like that. 

You took a deep breath and stepped away from him, turning and walking away from the room. 

“You know you’re going home, right?” he asked, walking behind you. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just a scratch, Robby. I’m staying.”

You looked up and your eyes met Heather’s for a moment. 

“Hey, Collins. Are you ok? I saw him push you.” Your concern was genuine and it made Heather feel almost nauseous. 

“I’m fine. Not even a scratch. I’m glad you’re ok,” she said and managed to keep her tone even and calm. 

“Thank God! Thank you for coming to help,” you said, smiling kindly at her. She glanced behind you to Robby, who was still hovering behind you. He was staring at you, like there was no one else in the room. It made her heart burn and she forced a smile on her face as she looked back at you. 

“Of course,” she said and walked away, unable to look at you and him for another moment. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about her dream. In her fantasies, it was still eight years ago. She was waking up with Robby’s strong arms around her, caressing her pregnant belly. It haunted her mind, constantly. At home, where she had too much time to daydream. At work, where she had to bite her tongue every time he saw you with him. The ugly, raging thing inside her chest grew larger every day, and she knew it was a matter of time before it exploded out of her. 

It was barely 7 am, day shift was trickling in for their shift. She saw Robby and Abbot finishing their conversation, with the night shift attending clapping Robby on the shoulder and walking away. She gazed towards you as you walked in. You were heading into the lounge, your bag still strung over your shoulder and you smiled at Santos as she walked in behind you. 

She slowly approached Robby, who was gazing down at the tablet in his hand. 

“Hey.”

Robby quickly glanced at her over his glasses. “Morning.”

She hesitated for a moment, but managed to force the words out of her. “You have a moment to talk?”

He was looking at her now and she wanted to smile. His attention was on her. He almost looked concerned. 

“Everything ok?”

“Yes, it’s just something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” She motioned towards the ambulance bay and began walking out, Robby following close behind her. She made it outside and rounded the corner for some privacy. He stood before her, glasses still perched on his nose and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie. He felt so familiar to her, like no time had passed since the last time she felt like this for him. 

She took a deep breath and spoke before her nerve died. “Robby… I still have feelings for you.”

The silence that followed was deafening and seemed to drag on for hours. She looked at him expectantly, her smile diminishing as the seconds dragged on and he didn’t react. He looked off to the side and took a few deep breaths before looking back at her, seemingly deciding what to say. 

“Heather, why would you say that to me?” 

She was taken aback. 

“Because it’s how I feel.”

“I…it’s been years. Things have changed…What did you expect to happen?” he said, his eyebrows furrowed. His deep brown eyes looked almost sad as they bored into her. 

“Robby…things can be like they used to. Better.” Especially since she had heard from Dana that Robby was finally in therapy. She didn’t think too hard about what or who convinced him to do that. 

“Heather, it’s too late,” he said, voice low and careful. “If you had come to me a year ago with this I would have jumped at the chance, but I’m not in the same place in my life. A lot of my past…I’ve healed. I’ve learned to move on from the pain and,” he hesitated for a moment before continuing. “And I found someone to help me through that.”

Heather whispered your name. He nodded, eyebrows furrowed, face serious. She looked down, feeling tears burning in the corners of her eyes. 

“I didn’t realize it was like that. That you’d move on so quickly.” Her voice quivered as she spoke and she cursed herself for feeling so foolish. So angry and sad and embarrassed. 

“Quickly? Heather, I spent years regretting what happened between us. Years wishing I could have you back in my life, but thinking I wasn’t good enough for you. Or anyone.” His hands rubbed over his face and took a step away from her. He chuckled, humorless and sad. “You know I went to therapy? You always begged me to, and I feel like shit knowing that I never did because of my pride. But…”

But he did it for you. He didn’t have to say it. 

“I wanted you for years. A life with you. But not anymore.”

She couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled out of her. “Why can’t you want that now?”

“You know why. I'm sorry, Heather, I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his hand landing on her shoulder, trying to keep his distance but still comfort her at the same time. “I care about you. I always will. But she’s…she’s everything.”

She didn’t find it fair. You only knew him for a few months. She knew him for years. She had seen him at his lowest moments, yet you were the one to help him heal through it. You were the one he was willing to change for. She wanted to scream at him that he was being cruel, but she knew that he wasn’t.

“It feels like you’re choosing her over me. When we've been through so much together. When I’m the one who’s known you longer.”

“But you never understood me. Not the way I needed you to. And that’s partly my fault for not opening up to you,” he said. 

She didn’t understand him the way you understood him. It was unspoken, but they both knew it. 

“It's not fair.”

“No, it’s not. We missed our chance. But…Heather, you have to move on.”

She nodded, wiping the tears off her face and straightening her spine. “Alright.”

“Are you going to be ok?” He asked her and she forced another fake smile on her face. She didn’t know if he could still tell if it was real or not. 

“You know I will.”

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded and walked away, piercing a hole straight through her heart. She watched him walk away, towards the nurses station where you stood. You were smiling, talking with Dana quietly before your shift officially began. Robby approached you, his hand landing on your lower back and you looked up at him, your grin growing and eyes shining. And him…

The way he was holding you…looking at you. The certainty and devotion in his gaze. A look in his eye that had never existed before you. He was in love. 

She could see it now. 

Her heart split in two, knowing the future she had pictured in her mind—Robby at her side—would never be a reality. Not with her. The baby she imagined would never have his warm, brown eyes or his charming nose. Or his smile. Maybe in another lifetime, maybe if you had never shown up in Pittsburgh. Maybe if she had loved him better back when they were together. 

She loved Robby and wanted him to be happy. That’s all she ever wanted for him. And he was happy with you. Despite her jealousy, she wondered what it was like for you. What he was like with you. Did he cuddle with you? He always used to grumble when Heather would ask him to cuddle saying that he got way too overheated. Did he complain about that to you? Or did he do it without complaint just to be able to hold you close to him? Did he cook his incredible latkes for you? Did you cook for him?

She didn’t know the answers to any of those questions. She didn’t know him like that anymore. But she knew that he opened up to you in a way he didn’t open up to anyone. He let you comfort him after difficult cases, shared long conversations that she only knew existed through brief glances through the window in the break room door. She knew that he was more affectionate and open with you in public than he had been with her. That he was willing to put his medical license on the line and attack a patient because they hurt you. He was healing with you… for you. 

She had no right to feel jealous. The ache in her heart changed as she realized that her and Robby were nothing but a pretty dream. And that it was her turn to heal. 

With the vision of what could never be lingering in her mind, she knew Robby was right. It was time to move on. 

It was difficult. At first. 

You all worked together. It was like a nightmare she could never escape. 

You were everywhere. 

And Robby. He lingered around you and you around him. He did silly things to make you laugh and lent you his sweaters when it got too cold. He gave you secret smiles and held your hand when a case hit you too hard. 

He remained professional with her, continuing to help Heather with her education. He wasn’t avoiding her, he was answering her questions, and he continued to value her medical opinion. But it was awkward now, a weird tension in every interaction. All she could feel was the burning ache of rejection and jealousy. 

Anger. At him. At you. 

It wasn’t warranted. She knew that. But she couldn’t help but feel that way. Every touch, every look, every soft whisper you shared was like a spear to her heart. She tried to look further into every interaction, trying to convince herself that she still knew Michael. Not Dr. Robinavitch. It made her frustrated, trying to move on but feeling stuck in time and lost at the same time. 

Why? Why you? Why was she not enough for him when they were together? Why wasn’t she enough for him now?

Why couldn’t she be the one that made him smile more often, or the one making him laugh when she shared an inside joke? It was you. You made him…lighter. 

Neither of you were particularly trying to hide it. While nothing outright happened, lingering touches and glances and smiles were noticed by more than just Heather. There was a betting pool about whether you and Robby were already together and if not, when it would happen. She noticed the others trying to avoid the subject around her, but it was inevitable. She had ended up joining the pool just to get everyone to stop looking at her with pity.

It was a shockingly slow morning. Heather was at the computer, catching up on her charting and making up to date notes for her patients when Dana approached her. 

“Hey, Collins. Have you seen sad boy and sunshine?”

She didn’t have to ask Dana who she was talking about. 

“Who knows?” She shrugged and continued charting.

She felt Dana’s stare on the side of her face and she tried as hard as she could to keep her features calm.

“You ok, kid?” Dana asked and Heather, composed as always, just looked at her. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not stupid or blind. Things have been…tense lately. With you and Robby.” She waited for Heather to say something, but what could she say? Dana was right. 

“Look, I know that seeing them together might not be the best thing for you. And I don’t know what happened between you and Robby that made things this awkward. But whatever it is, you got to let it go. The past…it’s not always a good thing to get swept up in what-ifs.”

Heather smiled at Dana, trying her hardest to make it look real. “I’m fine, Dana. I’m happy for him. For them.”

“Is that why you always avoid taking on a case with her?”

Dana didn’t wait for an answer before walking away. It was true. She would avoid you as much as she realistically could. She suspected that you knew what she was doing, but your kind eyes and bright smile never gave away if it made you upset. 

Robby stood in the peds room, his face shoved into his hand and Heather could tell that he wanted to cry. The twelve year old girl had passed away after you and him had been working on her for almost an hour and she knew that Robby was taking it hard. Blaming himself. 

She saw you approach him slowly and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It reminded Heather of what she used to do to comfort him after days like this. She remembered the way he would shrug her off and insist that he was fine and no, there was nothing he wanted to talk about. 

But with you…His hand came up to his shoulder to cover yours. She could see the way his grip tightened around your smaller fingers and you placed your other hand on his back, rubbing it gently. You were speaking, but she couldn’t hear anything that you were saying to him. You were tucked away, near the back of the room, away from prying eyes, but she saw. She saw the way his shoulders relaxed, how he was able to take a shaky, deep breath in and come back to himself. He nodded at you and gave you a real–albeit exhausted and sad–smile. 

It was easy, simple. It was like you knew exactly what he needed without him having to say anything. Like you were attuned to him. 

He was a different man than the one she used to know, she realized. A man you knew intimately. A man you loved just as fiercely as he loved you. 

She knew that now. Accepted it. 

She watched him engulf you in his arms and she smiled.

The rage in her heart lightened, drifting further and further away and it felt like she could finally breathe after months of drowning. She finally understood that since the moment you came into PTMC, she had no chance. And she was happy for Robby. Happy that he had someone who understood him, listened to him, and loved him the way you did. It hurt to accept that, but she knew that Robby was right. 

It was time to move on.

And she was finally ready.

[lucis-dove]

𝖣𝗂𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗋𝖺 {2}

𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 summary; 𝖱𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖨𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗅. 𝖡𝗎𝗍, 𝗎𝗇𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖮𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖽-𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾…

pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

rating: 𝖤𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍

chapter no/𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍: 2/2

wc; 13𝗄

tags/warnings; 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 (18+, 𝗆𝖽𝗇𝗂), 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀), 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖱𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒, 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖾-𝗀𝖺𝗉

Author; @lucis-dove

You arrive at Robby's apartment block not long after. It's not a skyscraper like some others in Downtown, but it's still high enough that you need to crane your neck sharply. 

It isn't until he jostles his arm, the one you still have your hands wrapped around, that your attention is brought back to him. 

You catch the glimmer of the keychain and fob Robby had used to unlock the door he now opens before your eyes track upwards. He's already watching you with a quirk on his lips, one that's almost hidden behind his beard. But, like always, his amusement is noticeable through the creases beside his eyes.

He ushers you inside, your hands dropping from his arm as he lets you step into the building first. But the point of contact simply shifts from you holding onto him to his touch brushing the small of your back.

The elevator is already waiting for you on the ground floor and Robby lets you step into it first after he pushes the button. He isn't far behind. Simply a foot and a bit. It's just enough to not crowd you but still let you feel him close.

As you settle against the metal railing on one side, you watch how Robby's muscle memory kicks in. 

It looks well-practised, reflexive, as he leans against the railing opposite you and reaches to push a button for one of the higher floors.

The elevator kicks into life, rocking upward to begin the ascent.

Even if you and Robby stand on opposite sides of the elevator, the metal box is small enough that he isn't more than a step away from you. It makes it impossible to look at anything else, especially with how he's standing, hands shoved in his front pockets, shoulders hunched as he leans —more so is partly seated, considering his height— on the railing behind him.

Your eyes drag over his form, up to the line of his beard, lips and nose, only to settle once your gaze meets his. But your eyes only stay connected to Robby's for a second before he averts them to the floor. 

The drop of his gaze evolves into a shake of his head, followed by his somewhat awkward chuckle as he admits, "I don't do this."

You don't know exactly how he would specify this. Inviting someone over after a first date or dating in general. You guess you knew he didn't do the second, at least from the sounds of it, so you settle on interpreting it as the first.

"Yeah, no, me neither," your chuckle escapes through your nose, short and leaning more towards a slightly disbelieving huff. 

Brown eyes return to you even if Robby's head stays ducked. As they do, it's your turn to look elsewhere, eyes shifting sideways to watch the numbers slowly change on the display above the doors.

The movement in your periphery makes you unconsciously look back —noting how Robby has moved to stand in front of you— yet you don't have a chance to move your head before a few fingers notch under your chin, angling it straight with a slight pull.

While his hand drops from your face once your attention is on him again, Robby doesn't retake his previous position. He stays standing in front of you with a smile tugging his lips.

"I could've guessed."

"Yeah?" The word is drawn out, your mind replying the way he'd gently urged you to look at him. 

"Your cross-examination isn't so subtle as you would like," he says, voice teasing and light.

"It's not meant to be. I want to scare off those who want easy." 

For a moment, Robby just looks at you, and you look back at him. His brown eyes don't flitter away this time.

When he sighs, it isn't strained but soft. With a dip of his face, he notches his head lower, slightly angled to his chest, seemingly trying to fall to your eye level without actually crouching.

"I'm serious about not expecting anything to happen."

You can't help but smile as you inhale slowly, exhaling as you nod. "I know."

"Good." 

"But-" Robby's eyebrows raise questioningly. "-you're standing awfully close for someone saying that. That nothing needs to happen." 

His lips flatten into a line as he rocks on his feet, more backwards than forwards, even if he doesn't step in either direction.

"Do you mind?"

You can't keep away the smirk pulling at your mouth as your fingers anchor in his belt loops, giving them a slight tug. It's not more force than the crooking of your fingers could conjure, yet it's enough to decide which way Robby finally moves.

"No." Your head cranes backwards, falling to rest against the metal wall as you finally answer him. "I like having you close."

Robby's head drops, his deep and slow breathing… not really fanning, but stirring the air over the skin of your throat. The sensations cease as he speaks, "Don't know what I'd do if you didn't." 

That's not true. 

If anything, Robby was respectful. He'd proved that to you during the evening. If you changed your mind and wanted him to stop, you know he would. If you wanted this to just be a sleepover? He would probably say, 'So be it.'

That's why you find yourself here in the first place; he didn't assume anything or expect things would happen just because you'd agreed to a date.

You chuckle slightly, the difference from what you're used to stark. The suddenness of it makes Robby arch his brows in a silent question. 

You cock your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "I had a whole speech prepared to escape the inevitable home-invite after." 

He chuckles when you catch him up to speed on your thoughts. "Are guys that confident?"

"Even when they shouldn't be." 

Robby hums lowly at that and waits a few beats, then, "But I didn't get it." 

It was the soundless but very incredulous-tinged mental scoff the proposal usually elicits while you gave a polite smile and declined. Sorry, tired and have work tomorrow. Didn't matter if you didn't.

"Well, your confidence-" You don't know if that was the word to use. Robby had been blushing when he'd asked you to stay the night. But neither could you call him shy. No, the confidence was there, but it was the sort you felt, a reassuring kind, rather than one only seen when bragged about. "-it's… sexy."

"Yeah?" Robby tilts his head, brows just slightly raised. Your eyes flutter down, watching your thumbs brush the small strip of denim your index fingers are hooked through. 

You intend to answer. But you're unable to sound out the words you planned, any traces of vowels and consonants dying on your tongue once you glance up at him through your lashes, finding him gazing at you intently. A little, agreeing hum is all you manage to give him instead. 

Robby swallows hard, feeling the stirring low in his gut.

It's not the soft, fluttering kind that made him kiss you before. It's a progression, a corruption, of the worry his invite had stemmed from. Then hesitant and spurred from concern, now beating steadier, hungrier after what you revealed.

"Why did I get the pass?" 

"I- you- it's just- ." Something akin to a warm flush rushes through your chest, making you stutter to a stop as you speak.

All the things you liked about Robby were for your friends to know as you raved about this date tomorrow. Not things you would say to his face during it.

And how would you even describe that it's just him? His slight awkwardness at first. The way he almost haunched his shoulders to appear smaller when you first stepped up to greet him, which you found awfully cute. Only to watch a quick-witted playfulness and calm kind of self-assurance appear during the dinner as he sat tall and much more relaxed in his chair. 

It just fit him and was unbelievably attractive to you. 

"Come on," Robby urges playfully. There's a glint in his brown eyes as if he knows you won't reveal it but enjoys tormenting you about it anyway.

"Are you trying to farm compliments?" You deflect.

One side of his lips rises higher. "Only if they come from you."

"God didn't know you were such a sap." 

He sucks his lips against his teeth to stop his smile, but the telltale lines appear beside his eyes. "It's only been one date. You haven't seen all of me."

You roll your eyes, looking sideways to escape from his gaze once you find him watching you in entertainment. But you only succeed in getting a firsthand seat to follow his hand as it settles on the railing behind your back. You felt the other doing the same, the air on your left side stirring. He wasn't touching you but caged you in all the same, the realisation making your heartbeat pick up.

With your breath caught between your breastbone and the hollow of your throat, you face forward again. Apparently, Robby has never looked away from you.

His brown eyes are intoxicating this close, making it hard to swallow around whatever lump has grown in your throat, and your words come out thicker than you intend.

"Has anyone said you got a staring problem?" 

Robby arches his brows in a quick up-and-down movement, pursing his lips. "Something tells me you don't mind." 

"And that you're insufferable?"

He rocks his head back and forth, looking away but at nothing in particular as if he considers it, eventually responding when his eyes meet yours again.

"Not to my face."

"I can do them a favour." Robby chuckles, head staying cocked, nearly resting on his shoulder.

"Can you?" He questions, lines on his forehead accentuated as he sends you a sceptical look. "I can't be that insufferable if you're still here."

You humph, raising your chin defiantly. "I can still leave."

It's such a fat fucking lie, one you almost laugh at yourself. You don't want this night to end. If you did, you would already be on your way. And with the look Robby pins you with, how he scoffs as if to call bullshit, he knows it as well.

"Ohoh, I know you won't."

"You're sure of yourself." 

"You learn to spot fakers when they visit your department close to every day." He shrugs.

Your brows surge upwards. "Your department?"

"Chief attending," he drops the title as if it's a minor detail he'd forgotten to mention and didn't mind omitting.

You hum at the newly learned fact. It explains his workload and the responsibility he hinted at was attached to him around the clock.

Without knowing where you're going with it —aside from the sudden need to release some of the weight from his shoulders, even if you only can work with distraction from how briefly you've known him— your hands slowly trail up his torso. 

Robby inhales sharply, chest expanding rapidly beneath your palms as his nostrils flare. His eyes snap down to your hands and then up to your face.

"Well, Mr Chief Attending." One of your hands stops at his chest while the other circles his neck. You tug him towards you, feel him exhale only to sharply breathe in the air close to your lips. "You're right. I'm more than comfortable being here," you mumble, this time being the one to initiate a kiss.

Robby reciprocates instantly, pressing his mouth against yours, hands finding your hips. 

You go one step further than he'd done previously when you lick into his mouth, gliding your tongue over his with a tilt of your head and slow flex of the muscle. 

A near-buzzing shiver spreads from the back of your head, down your neck, arms and further along your spine when he meets your tongue with his own.

It's only by luck you manage to stop your moan. It had been so long since you went on a date with someone, let alone made out with anyone. That it was Robby who now broke both of those too-long spells was a dizzying thought. It was not made easier by the low sound you definitely caught vibrating in his throat.

Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, pinning his forehead to yours as his eyes remain shut, a drawn-out groan now audible in the elevator's small space.

"Kiss me like that, and you'll send me mixed signals about tonight." His fingers dig into your hips in a warning.

You know what he means, still, you coily ask, "And what signal are those?" 

He leans away, not far since your hand still cups the back of his head. He pins you with a heated look.

"That we're about to do something neither of us usually does."

It's silent after he says it, at least in the elevator. But in your ears, your pulse is pounding. 

Somewhere, not even deep down, you already knew it could happen. Not in the general way dates could lead to something more, something shared in the dim light after a home invite. But from what had flittered through your head, body, when Robby had kissed you the first time.  

A need was what it had been, a need for this night not to end. The feeling only grew the longer you spent with him, from something excited and pleased into something low and thrumming in your core rather than chest.

And fuck, you really didn't mind if this night ended in the polar opposite to one of innocent bed-sharing, now when you considered it. Not at fucking all with how Robby's brown eyes met yours or how his chest wasn't far from considered heaving.

"You make it feel way too right." If Robby hadn't stood so close, he probably wouldn't have caught your words. They were murmured more against his lip than said into the open air.

His eyes jump back and forth before settling into steady eye-contact. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes, Robby, it is." He surges toward you, lips and tongue moving in tandem with yours, dictating the kiss this time around. 

It literally and figuratively takes your breath away. Your hand on Robby's chest fists the material of his jumper, and the one on his neck digs into the skin just below his hairline. 

You can't stop the pitched sound from forming in the back of your throat. And judging from his reaction, Robby eats it right up. Leaning more, not all, of his weight against you as he grunts into your mouth.

It's the ping of the elevator doors that breaks you apart.

Robby doesn't linger, yet the look he sends as he steps away is heated. His eyes skate to your mouth, returning with a smirk sowly curling his mouth when he sees your lips stay parted.

You fluster, sending him a glare. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." He's so full of it. And of it, you mean smugness. It's eating at his words as he leads you out of the elevator.

"Fuck you," you mutter. 

Apparently, it isn't low enough for him to miss.

It's easy for Robby to settle his hand where your neck meets your spine as he walks beside you. His hand, hot, heavy and large, reaches around your nape in a way that reminds you of a kitten being scruffed. But his fingers don't dig even if they brush either side of your throat. 

If your heart isn't already in your throat, it jumps there when Robby bends until his mouth brushes close to your temple, words dripping down your skin and into your ear, "I'm planning to."

And he says it without losing his pace, not missing a step. Meanwhile, your inhale is sharp as your face jerks to watch him, met by his very pleased expression.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh no," he elongates the o's as he cocks his head. He proceeds his following words with a minimal, single shrug of his shoulders, "You're just making it too easy."

The look in his eyes is way too entertained, brown eyes twinkling in amusement as his crow's feet grow. It's enough for you to knock his hand off your neck, but it only works in his favour as he grabs his keychain again, stopping by a door you presume is his with a deep chuckle.

And well, Robby is right. You make it easy for him because he makes it easy for you. 

You forgo any filling conversation as he loops his arms around you once the door is locked behind you once more. It's not yet teenage desperation. You share a moment where you gaze at each other, your small smile mirrored back at you from behind his beard. 

But once you meet in the middle, you lose yourself in him, how it feels so right, good to kiss him. The tingles never subside, not with how his lips move in sync with yours, the heavy press of his hand at the back of your head, his warm tongue caressing your own.

"Do you want this? To continue?" Robby asks as he parts with a soft groan, head bent, observing you through his brows.

"God, yes," you breathe.

"Good, because I also want to." That he admits it after you answered only makes you realise how good of a man Robby is, not wanting to pursue you in any direction. "Shoes off, I'm not doing it here, too old for that shit." 

Your chuckle slips through the lip caught between your teeth. The way he says it, not meant like anything else than a comment —one that tickles you— but still sounding so commanding does more to you than he ever could guess. 

You could see the chief attending thing, now.

As he toes off his shoes, he offers you a hand to help you balance while you slip off your heels. You don't care that only one remains standing while the other clatters sideways when Robby pulls you forward, attention zeroed in on him.

He leads you straight through the large, open space that serves as his living room and kitchen. The two areas are separated by the feet between the back of his couch and the kitchen island. More than that, you don't manage to gather about his home as he drags you along. 

As he arrives at the door he led you to, Robby is quick to turn around and tug you against him once he steps across the threshold. You let yourself be brought closer to him.

Robby settles his large palm on your cheek, angling your face to his liking before dipping down into a deep kiss. It's the kind that has your heart thrumming wildly and thoughts dispersed in all directions until they rush back, focusing on him.

A heated flush spreads through your body. You feel like you are burning up from the feel of his beard chafing against your chin, how his hand isn't shy to travel down your body and settle on your lower back, and how he pulls your hips flush against his pelvis.

"Jesus, Robby," you break away from him, forehead instantly dropping against his chest as you catch your breath. 

You can't meet his gaze as your chest heaves for air, the tension in your body amounting dangerously fast as there's definitely a bulge pushed into your stomach.

"Too much?" Although the hand previously cupping your face has already moved to your neck, he shifts the one on your back, sliding it until his whole arm encircles your waist. 

You're completely pressed against him now, chest to thighs, realising he's not afraid to keep you close even if you feel him straining against his jeans.

"Too much, not enough," the words rush from you as you look at him again. His chin had dropped considerably to look at you from how close you two were. 

There's a tug in his lips, a delighted kind of satisfaction in his eyes as he steps backwards, leading you deeper into the room. You have no option but to follow along his shuffling steps.

Moving further inwards, Robby slowly reveals more of the bedroom his frame previously covered. As he does, your eyes can't help but track sideways, landing on the corner that's disturbing the otherwise tidy space. A giggle slips out before you can quell it.

Upon the sound, Robby's brows furrow, following your line of sight. 

He groans when he looks over his shoulder. The scattered piles of clothes in the corner of the room are right where he —forgot— he left them. Some hanging over the loveseat, others crumpled on the floor. 

"Sorry 'bout the mess. It doesn't usually look like that."

You find yourself smiling, the incipient haze from desire settling into something more manageable and not gnawing at every fibre of your being.

"Didn't think you would get any visitors?" 

"Would lie if I said no." He chuckles sheepishly, eyes moving back to you

"You should see my place," you laugh along with him. "It looked like a hurricane ran through it. I couldn't find anything to wear."

"I'm inclined to disagree", he hums, not breaking eye contact as his fingers creep beneath your cardigan. Only once he does, Robby finds there's no shirt, only skin. 

His smile falls, his eyes flickering down and up as his lips remain parted once he realises you have nothing beneath the top. One you apparently considered enough of a shirt to wear on its own. 

"But I reckon I'll like what's underneath even more."

"Stop flirting with me." You breathe, inhaling deeply at the sensation of his rough palm finding its way beneath your clothes, now stroking your spine right above your jeans.

"Deserve to be flirted with-" his eyes drop to follow your body, and you can nearly see how he imagines what's beneath,"-when looking this good."

You whine, quelling it by gripping Robby's chin, pulling his face to yours, hastily pressing your mouth to his. Even though he reciprocates the kiss with a surprised grunt, it's brief before he dips his head to your ear.

"Don't sidetrack me," he mutters hotly, his voice rough, deeper than before. 

If your skin wasn't already ridden with goosebumps, the shiver zipping down your pine at the gravel coating his vocal cords definitely would've prickled your skin. 

Your fingers curl into his jumper once Robby's soft lips descend down your throat, his beard scratching along your skin. An unsteady sound swishes past your lips as your head lolls backwards.

You're positive he feels your pulse hammer beneath your skin as he reaches the hollow of your throat. And if he doesn't, he must feel how it halts altogether when he licks into the divot between your clavicles, tongue scooping the thin chain into his mouth to suck gently at, having it tug slightly into your neck.

"Fuck," you barely know where your hands scramble for purchase, but you dig your fingers into some parts of Robby.

You can't understand how he's winding you up this much without a single piece of clothing stripped from your body, with so little skin to access. But he does, and he does it well. 

"Robby, fuck, I-I neeed-."

"Need me to touch you properly?" He chuckles against your throat, dropping the chain against your skin again, now spit-slicked. 

You squirm, a frustrated noise preceding your equally frustrated 'yes'. You feel his mile grow from the way his beard tickles in a new way and a little higher up.

"Want me to start with this?" Robby's words wash over your skin as his hands settle on your stomach, toying with the front of your cardigan. 

Your head drops forward, unable to see how he tugs at the hem of it even though you feel it. 

His soft, brown hair brushes your cheek as your face rests against his. Your eyes are locked on his haunched shoulder, not focusing at first. But once it does, you realise you're the one who's kept him against your throat by the hand on his neck.

"Y-yeah, but don't rip it. I like this one," your voice is shaky as you ease your grip, letting your hand fall to his shoulder.

Robby leans away as he feels the pressure on the back of his head disappear, enough so his eyes can meet yours.

"Never intended to," he inhales deeply as his fingers fiddle with the lowest button, popping it open. "But now, when you've said it, I'm expecting I can rip something off you next time."

"Wouldn't mind." He groans, leaning in to catch your lips momentarily. You hum happily into the kiss, Robby mirroring the pleased sound but a few octaves deeper.

When the press slows until your lips simply brush, his forehead comes to rest against yours, head tilting as he gazes down your body. Meanwhile, you find yourself watching him.

It's torture, pure and debauched torture. 

Robby is teasingly slow to unbutton your shirt. You almost wish he wouldn't have listened and ripped it off your body. Then you wouldn't have to squirm beneath his eyes reverently following the fabric part, revealing more of your skin for each buttoned opened. 

And he seems to like it, taking his goddamn time, stretching out the process, letting his little fingers brush beneath the fabric. Never more than teasing you with his touch. 

By the time he finally undoes the last button, your heart is hammering wildly in your chest. 

The fabric hangs loosely, revealing a strip of skin down your middle. Robby slides his index beneath the fabric covering your shoulders, only to push it off completely. 

When the piece of clothing drops behind you, he leans his upper body backwards. 

"You wore this?" He rumbles, chest rising and falling notably, eyes moving from your bra to lock with your eyes.

"Makes me feel pretty." It does. The lace is remarkably comfortable to make your boobs look as good as they do in it. 

"Makes you look fucking beautiful." The words wash across your skin as Robby bends down to kiss the area above your breasts, the view he hasn't stopped staring at.

Your eyes flutter when his big hands settle on either side of your bare upper body. Splayed wide across your ribs, his fingers press into the soft divots between them.

His lips move feather light first, brushing more than kissing. Then, he grows more intent. The occasional feel of his tongue now laps over the swell of your breast, the softness of them revealed above the line of fabric. Robby groans as he does, and soon, he's pressing open-mouthed kisses firmly enough that he steps into you, forcing you backwards.

Not until you feel a mattress hit the back of your knees and thighs, forcing you to sit down, do you realise he knowingly led you to the bed.

You sit down with a bounce, catching yourself with your hands behind your back. Robby has stopped before you, towering even if you sat upright. Although his head is bowed to accommodate, his gaze is cast lower than your face. 

"Eyes are up here." A smile pulls at your lips when you realise what's got Robby's attention.

His brown gaze travels upwards, a wry smile preceding his excuse, "You would do the same with a similar view."

"So give me something to ogle at." You poke your foot against his calf, truly enjoying the pink spreading across his cheeks. But he doesn't argue, simply grabs the back of his jumper, pulling off both layers in one motion.

As he strips, Robby finds himself waiting for your reaction, gauging in what way you look at him. He does it with glances at you between throwing his shirts aside and working his jeans off his legs. 

He's not expecting anything in particular, but he knows he isn't in his prime. Fifteen years ago, maybe. More visibly toned muscle, sharper lines of definition. All of the accompanying strength remains, if it hasn't actually increased over decades of labour. However, that doesn't take away the fact it's hidden behind aged softness.

But he hears you whisper 'Oh, fuck' as your eyes flicker over him. Only to be followed by his name as you desperately take hold of his hand to urge him closer, a need so evident in your eyes that it even creases your brows.

"Christ," he groans against your lips, catching himself with one knee on the bed, hands beside you, stopping himself from falling onto you as you drag him down. 

"Should I take that as you like what you saw?" He gets out between the press of your mouth against his.

You hear how he tries to beat down his self-satisfaction, but it feels like you don't know where to go. The desire to have him close and stare at him simultaneously tears you in different directions. But the latter wins this time, your head falling against the mattress so you can stare at him.

His body, god, you could snap your teeth, sink them into him with how feral it made you. His arms, the bulge of his bicep flexing beside your head and the tattoos you spotted. The dark hair speckled across his chest, the Magen David you saw for the first time hung from his neck and glittered on its golden chain. 

And when your eyes glide from his sculpted upper body to his softer middle and lower stomach, the dark, happy trail running from his stomach only to disappear beneath his black trunks, you writhe.

"Robby," you whine his name, eyes flittering up to him only to fall down his body again. "You-"

"Don't need to hear it," he cuts you off with a chuckle. One side of his mouth is quirked a little higher, but not without the blush still cresting over his cheeks. "Your turn. You're way too dressed." 

He's got you watching him in silence as he pushes himself upright again. 

With your eyes gliding over his flexing arms as he unbuttons and starts rucking down your jeans —with your assisting wiggles and kicking— Robby barely leaves you any space to be irritated at the ordeal. 

You don't care where the heavy material even thumps to the ground before you're sitting up, this time meeting Robby in the middle as he bends down.

Your mouth moves eagerly against his, your arm reaching around his neck as you lay down again, simultaneously trying to scoot up the bed to make room for him. What you don't anticipate is him looping one arm around your waist and heaving you upwards. 

You slide up the mattress with an excited gasp, parting from his lips as your wide eyes meet his as he climbs over you.

It's been more than a while since Robby did this. The memory of someone else's warmth seeping into his body faint, burrowed and forgotten due to time. But if it doesn't feel good to hold you close, feel you crane your neck to give him access to the spot beneath your ear so willingly. 

He feels a moan scratch his throat at the way your nails bite into his muscles, back arching, gasp getting stuck in your throat as he finally reaches and closes his lips around your still-clothed nipple. 

It's perked behind the flimsy lace, and he sucks it through what barely can be called a cover. Yet he only spends so much time teasing you, the hand splayed beneath you slipping upwards, easily reaching the clasp between your shoulder-blades.

You shoot him a look as he opens the clasp and helps peel the material from your arms. Brows arched and your mouth open yet curled upward at the edges.

"You learn a thing or two", his mumble fans between the valley of your breasts as he switches from one to the other nipple. 

Without the barrier of your bra —which you don't know where Robby tossed it— the swipe of his tongue is wetter, hotter. When he closes his lips around the peaked bud and sucks, you moan, the sound soft and breathy. 

You arch closer to him, eyes falling shut. With how he's positioned between your thighs, you can't clench them to ease the throbbing there. But your frustrated whine pivots sharply to a harsh breath when you grind against the upper part of his crotch, sensing the outline of his hard-on.

You hold your breath as you shimmy your hips, reaching just a bit lower. When you roll your hips this time, Robby's bulge presses firmly into you. 

A moan punches out of you, letting free all of the air trapped there moments prior. When you continue to roll your hips, Robby breaks away from teasing your nipple between his teeth, pressing his face between your breasts.

"Fuck." Oh, the way he cursed, low and on the verge of a growl into your skin, dripped straight down between your legs, making you clench around nothing, "If you keep doing that-"

"What? I'll regret it? " His bearded chin scraped across your skin as he perched it on your chest, staring up at you. "Don't think so."

He moves upwards until his head hangs between his shoulders, necklace dangling in the air, face hovering above yours. 

"You got a mouth on ya."

"And you-," you hook a finger in his golden chain, gently tugging it so he sinks closer, never not rolling your hips upwards, not when he now presses himself against you, egging you on. "-got something I want inside me."

A flurry of emotion passes through his eyes and his mouth drops open on a restrained pant. "Oh, be careful what you ask for."

"Do you need me to beg?" 

His head tilts slowly, "I wouldn't mind."

Your heartbeat picks up a few notches at the drawl in his voice, forcing another shiver of anticipation through your body.

You bend your knees as high as they go with Robby between them, feet brushing against his underwear when you cross your ankles behind his back. When you tug him against you by digging your heels into his spine, you feel his cock twitch against you. The feeling is muted through the fabric still separating you but enough to embolden you to speak steadily.

"Please, I need you," you release his chain, cradling his face as you meet his gaze through your lashes, layering it on extra thick when you speak again. "Please, Michael."

He snaps. His mouth crashes against yours, making you swallow his groan. 

You feel him shuffle, knock his knuckles against your thigh when wedging a hand between your bodies to pull at his underwear. Letting your legs fall and splay sideways, you try to concentrate on reciprocating the hungry tangling of your tongues while Robby yanks his boxers down, only parting from your lips when he needs to reach lower to kick them off. 

When a hot, heavy weight taps and stays resting against your stomach, you look down. Eyes travelling down your body —all while Robby settles back to evenly distribute his weight on both his forearms— your mouth drops open.

"Of course."

"What?" You find his head tilted when your eyes return to his face.

"You're big." Big was an understatement to all the synonyms you could use. Thick, girthy, heavy as it hung between his legs, tip flushed, and the base covered with thick, but not unkept, dark hair. "And, of course, you are after I haven't slept with anyone in ages.

"Said to be careful what you wished for," he has the nerve to chuckle, letting himself fall against you, at least his lower body, trapping his cock snuggly between your and his stomach. "But I'll prep you good."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Robby." Your groan, wringing the sheets beneath you in a knuckled grip. 

Even if the smugness faded to give way to something softer as he'd said it, that it came from him in that voice made your stomach flip.

Your breathing was already unsteady, but it grew worse when he began kissing down your body. Only to shudder to a stop when Robby's beard scrapes against your hip as he parts your legs wide to fit his shoulder when he lays down on his stomach. 

The muscles in your thighs tremble as he uses his chin to tease the inside of your legs with his beard. Without realising it, your eyes had shut somewhere along the way of Robby working his way to the fabric of your underwear. Yet, they open once you feel him stop, his breath fanning against your core as he hovers.

Your eyes open, shifting down, lips parting open upon the sight of Robby between your legs.

His brown eyes are dark, with a raw, heady kind of steadiness as he keeps your gaze. And he continues holding it until you squirm, trying and failing not to crumble under his attention.

You catch his slight smirk when his gaze finally drops, and he peels the fabric of your thong sideways, the thin strip of material hooked on his finger.

"Fuck so pretty," his deep groan fills the air. Seconds later, his broad tongue laps up the seam of your pussy.

Your lips part, moan spilling into the air as your hips chase after the sensation leaving a searing trail up to your clit. When Robby's lips find your bundle of nerves, sucking, only to flick it with the tip of his tongue, he has to wrap his arms around your thighs and lock his hands over your stomach to stop your bucking. 

When Robby dips lower, inserting his tongue into your drenched hole, he moans. Your taste fills his mouth, nearly making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

You feel him moan into you as he eats you out. It's enough to make you spiral and want more. Trying to move your hips to guide him closer, you cry out in frustration at the broad palms pressing into your abdomen, restricting all movement.

You don't know if Robby is using all of his strength, but from the lack of tension in his shoulders, you would guess that he isn't. Your head swirls with the realisation that he can keep you pinned with a fragment of his strength.

A strangled whine bubbles in your throat as Robby he drags his tongue back from your entrance and through your slit, circling it over your clit lazily. And then something shifts, like he's done playing nice when you've gotten used to his touch. The edge of finesse is overruled by slurping sounds as he buries his face deeper, dragging his beard without care that it collects your wetness.

Your thighs snap against his head and your hand shoots to his hair to tug on it. He grunts at the sting, making your stomach clench. 

While you ease your grip when his brown eyes meet yours, your head snaps backwards when he uncurls one arm, wedging it between his face and your thigh and pins it with his elbow at the perfect angle to reach your clit.

His thumb rolls the bundle of nerves as his tongue wriggles into your hole, and you keen, mindful enough to wring the life of the already lifeless duvets rather than Robby's hair this time around. 

You feel him smile before he mumbles, "Need something else?" 

With your mouth agape, eyes closed tightly shut, still angled towards the roof, you nod. 

"Need words, sweetheart," he mutters between laps. 

You whine at the teasing lilt in his voice, accidentally tightening the grip on his hair before you catch yourself. "Yeah…" 

"What do you need?" 

"I-I…" your stuttering words halt in a sudden gasp when he increases the speed at which he toys with your clit just as you're about to speak. "What's that?" But he doesn't let up immediately. He enjoys making you moan, being unable to answer his question as long as he rolls your bundle of nerves.

When he eventually lets the digit rest against the bundle beneath his thumb, feeling it jump slightly as you clench around nothing from the previous pleasure, you take a deep breath like you haven't been able to until now. Once you do, the words tumble from you, "I need your fingers, something to fill me!"

He hums low and in the back of his throat. "Promised to stretch you good, didn't I?"

Your nod turns into a gasp when he dips a thick finger into you, which pivots into a moan when he slips another finger in with the first after pumping it a few times.

Robby curls his digits, watching your face contort before it relaxes. Soft breaths or moans spill from your lips depending on how he strokes them and what spot he hits inside you. They all make his cock throb, and he can't help but rock his hips into the bed, groaning at the pleasure.

"Fuck, sweetheart, the sounds you make." He sees you shudder, and a gratifying pleasure rises, watching you writhe in pleasure, knowing you're doing it because of him. 

Maintaining his weight on his knees, Robby pushes up to balance above you. Still rhythmically pumping his fingers, he uses his other hand to curl beneath your neck, cupping it to tilt your head to face him. 

Your eyes open, surprise and pleasure intertwined in your gaze.

"There she is." The skin beside his eyes crinkles. "Can you keep those pretty eyes on me? I want to see how good you feel."

You blink, nod, "Y-yeah."

One side of his lip curls a little higher, and then he starts jerking his whole hand up and down. You squeal, hands flying to hold onto him from the onslaught of pleasure.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Your answer is a moan as you stare at his profile, his eyes cast down at your body. "Yeah, it does. Just look at you, taking them so good for me", Robby mutters, almost as if he doesn't realise he is saying it. 

But you do, the lightning down your spine revealing you certainly do.

His eyes flicker back and forth, from watching himself finger you to meeting your eyes. You can't describe the look in them, but it makes your jaw go slack and your mouth hang open, moans ripping themselves from your lungs.

Robby groans at the way you clench around him, the image of you doing it around him making his cock twitch, greedy to finally slide into you.

"That's it, just a little more," he heaves, eyes zeroed in on the glistening slick coating his wrist. "Doing so good for me, sweetheart."

Your breath hitch, limbs locking up as your fingers twitch, nails dig into his bicep. 

There's a tight vibration in your chest as you register his words. The weight of them, the desire curled around them. They made you melt and tense at the same time. 

A flush burns your whole body, alight and addictive while simultaneously making you fidgety. It's too much, it's-

"Stop, please stop-" 

Robby halts the movement of his fingers, mind spiralling in milliseconds towards the worst possible scenario as his eyes snap up to you again. 

"You can't say shit like that," you continue, eyes open but not really meeting his gaze, flickering across his face, then sideways, only to repeat the pattern.

Robby's breath rushes from his lungs, calming down when he realises he hadn't pushed too far or that you'd changed your mind. "No?" 

You're about to answer, but he accidentally bumps your clit as he slides from within you to settle on your thigh. Your mouth snaps shut, instead giving him a sharp nod. 

"Why?" 

"Because," you glance up at him, trying to send him a 'this conversation is over' kind of look, but it fails hilariously with the visible desire softening the glare.

He jerks his head sideways, not beating down the quirk on his lips. "Not working, sweetheart. You look just as pretty with a pout on your face." 

You squirm enough that Robby needs to move his hand to your hip when your thighs shut. While your gaze falls on nothing in particular, he watches you in intrigue. And it dawns on him.

"You like the praise."

Your eyes widen and snap to meet his, only to be forcefully shut as you groan.

A disbelieving but much more pleased huff escapes Robby upon your reaction. And even if he knows there is nothing to test —your fidgeting and nervous eye-contact was enough— he still decides to tease you.

"You like it. I know you do," Robby hums, eyes flittering down to watch his hand gently slide back between your legs, cupping your mound. 

You whine as one of his long fingers slips between your outer lips, collecting your slick before he slides his finger into you again. Once he curls it, stroking that spongy spot on the roof of your walls, your hips shift.

"Just look at you, writhing so prettily when I praise you for taking my fingers so good," he muses, attention returning to your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pressed tight together as if to force yourself to be silent. 

Robby has to fight a chuckle as he bends down, head dipped low enough to brush your ear and disturb your hair with his heavy breaths.

"Come one, sweetheart, tell me how good it feels." He smirks as you tighten and flutter around him. "Tell me you're growing desperate for me to fill you up with my cock and call you a good girl for taking me so-."

You suddenly whip your head towards him, pressing your mouth against his in a haphazard kiss to shut him up, swallowing his laugh in the process. 

Before Robby manages to more than reciprocate the kiss, you flip him over while he's distracted, knee pushed against his hip as you set him off balance. 

His fingers slip from inside you, the kiss breaking as you settle on his lap.

Your breathing is laboured, pleasure still making your nerves buzz as you stare down at him. He watches you smugly, seemingly not taken aback that you managed to reverse your position.

"You're going to exploit this too much." You tell him, palm pressed pointedly into his chest, brows furrowed. 

His eyes twinkle as he stares up at you. His hands naturally seek out your thighs, one hand slick with your wetness. "You've only known me for a few hours."

"And yet I know you will."

"Yeah, you're right," he breathes, smile unfolding entirely. 

You marvel at the boyish but awfully charming smile of his. But only for a second, utilising having your sopping wet pussy sitting on his aching cock to wipe the too-entertained look off his face. 

When you roll your hips, the effect is immediate. His brows furrow, eyes closing, a moan filling the air, thick and raspy.

It's intoxicating watching a man like Robby give in to pleasure. Feel him do as his fingers dig into your hips, urging you to press firmer against him with each slide of your pussy. 

He must feel your stare as his eyes open, heavy-lidded and pleasure-filled gaze meeting yours.

"Using it against me," his words are cut, followed by a deep moan.

"Just letting you feel how wet you made me," your voice is nearly a purr, never letting up on swivelling your hips.

"Talks dirty but can't take praise," he chuckles breathily, but the sound falters into a groan.

"Bet if I started praising you, you would react-"

"Come here," he cuts you off, one hand yanking at your wrist, tugging your chest flush against his.

He kisses you with an open mouth, tongue pushing against yours as his teeth graze your bottom lip. As he unwraps his hand from your wrist, you wriggle both your hands from between you, planting them on either side of his face. 

You don't care about finishing your sentence when you part from Robby, your lips having the sole purpose of mapping the skin of his throat.

Leaving lingering kisses along the same path, your hands wander, and you soon reach the top of his chest. But you don't stop once wiry hair presses against your lips, and Robby seems to notice as his hand suddenly grips your upper arm, preventing you from shuffling further down than you already had managed.

"Oh, sweetheart, you don't want to do that." 

Your eyes flicker to meet Robby's, which are already set on you. "You don't even know what I was going to do." 

He chuckles admonishingly, the look he sends you silently saying he's been in the game long enough to know exactlywhat you wanted to do.

"I won't last long," he warns, still holding onto your arm. "Even shorter if you blow me."

"Please, just a taste." The sound he releases stems from deep in his lungs.

"Fine," he grits out, releasing you. "But I'm not cumming like this."

Your lower lip catches between your teeth as you scoot down with a nod. 

When your breath fans across his length, it twitches before your eyes. Your gaze flickers to Robby as it does, your smile breaking from the confines you try to keep it under. 

As one of your hands closes around his shaft, you watch how his eyes flutter shut, a groan following as you lean in and swirl your tongue around the tip.

There's a stretch in your jaw when you open your mouth wide to close your lips around him. You can taste yourself, but behind it, it's Robby's unique muskiness, tangy and salty but in no way off-putting. You don't even realise you're humming until his hand tangles in your hair and gives a tug once.

Even if he most likely intended it as a warning, it only spurs you to move. 

Your eyes close as you slip down his cock, taking him shy of your gag reflex before retreating. His hand twitches as you bob your head, but he doesn't demand anything. By the sounds of it, he simply does it to anchor himself.

You lose yourself in swallowing him down, enjoying the girth that you know will make your jaw ache sooner rather than later. But it's worth it. His deep and rumbling moans do nothing but spur you on and make you mindlessly swirl your tongue and suckle at his tip.

"No- no teasing," he chokes out, broken on a grunt and an aborted thrust after you flicked your tongue against the underside of his cockhead. 

You let go of him to speak, but don't stop jerking your hand at his base. With your mouth out of the way, he gives in, rolling his hips into your spit-slicked fist, groans following his motion.

"I'm not." You grin up at him only to lean down to push your tongue pointedly at the underside of his tip, the very same sensitive area that makes him inhale through his teeth, pleasure edging on too much.

"Fucking- no goddamn teasing if you want this to end early." 

"Pent up-", you kiss his cock between your words, "-much?" 

Robby's eyes are already dark, but suddenly, it feels like you stare more into black than brown. His gaze is heavy to hold, clouded with lust. 

You're almost vibrating while running your tongue against the back of your teeth, collecting a pool of saliva in your mouth. 

With your eyes locked with Robby's brown ones, you spit onto his tip, keeping his cock upright with solely a thumb to not prevent the glob of saliva from trickling down his length. 

You bend down to catch it with your tongue once it reaches his base, dragging your tongue flat to smear it over him. You make sure he's still watching you when you slap his cock against your tongue a few times, smiling as you do.

He twitches violently and maybe that should've been enough forewarning that the hand in your hair would tighten and pull you away.

"That's enough from you," Robby drags you off before he feels the curl of his toes, the release of the pleasurable tug in his abdomen. He knew your mouth could get him there. Especially if you pull stunts like that.

You don't speak as you let him guide you into his lap, but your shit-eating grin gives away everything you don't say.

As you straddle him again, he looks sideways as he stretches one arm towards the bedside table. He manages to open it and dip his hand inside, only to pull out an easily recognisable foil. Your lips manage to purse before you roll them inwards. 

"Don't pout," Robby's comment draws your attention back to him again. He's looking up at you with stern eyes, without a doubt having caught your reaction. "Don't tempt me."

"Always feel better without." His hand, which had found your thigh, gives a warning squeeze.

"Don't fucking make me a bad doctor by listening to you," he grinds out, pointing at you with the condom pinched between his index and middle finger. "And you should be careful."

You can't help but chuckle at the medical advice given despite the setting. 

"Don't worry, Dr Robby, I'm on birth control, and I always check with my partners." You card your fingers through his chest, bending until you go from steadying yourself with your hands to settling on your underarms. "Besides, I always test myself after either way."

"Aren't you a good girl?" You reactively swat his chest, body set ablaze, heat licking along your entire backside.

"I know you would do this," you accuse.

Robby smirks at you. "Not sorry in the slightest."

"Fuck you," you murmur, but there's no venom behind it, so he simply hums a 'mhm' and raises his chin to swipe you into a kiss. 

The exchange is slow, leaning more towards lazy, with Robby exhaling heavily through his nose as you melt against his mouth. Regardless, it leaves you breathless, enough that a shaky inhale proceeds your question once you lean away.

"So-" You lick your lips. Robby's eyes flitter to the move as if he wants to pull you close again, before his gaze returns. "-know if you're clean?"

He should be, Robby hasn't slept with anyone in a long time. But he hasn't had a test, don't know for sure and fuck if he wishes he knew. 

"Don't know," he groans, lamenting his own tardiness.

"Don't you practically work where they're taken?" You're mouth jerks as you now twirl his chain lazily around your finger before uncurling it.

"Not like I take my lunch break to do STI checks," he scoffs. Over his fucking dead and buried body that he would take one at PTMC anyway.

Your smile only grows as you curl your finger —making his head raise as the chain digs into his neck— and press a kiss to his lips. "Next time, then?" 

"Yeah, next time," he mumbles, following you as you sit up straight, his necklace resting against his chest once more.

You waste no time in shuffling down his body. As you do, you spot the ripped open foil, only to realise Robby has already managed to roll the condom over himself.

With the low current running through your body, anticipation, need, you don't hesitate to grind against him once you settle atop him.

There's a tinge of disappointment at feeling the rubber keep that silky warmth at bay, but feeling him rock solid and twitching makes your mouth water all the same. 

Once gliding over him easily, you rise slightly onto your knees, grabbing hold of his cock to line him up.

He's prepped you well —just like he promised— his tip gliding in easily once you lower yourself slightly, one hand anchoring you on his chest to not drop too fast.

"Yeah, fuck, that's it, sweetheart," he rumbles as you slowly sink down on him, rolling your hips to go up and progressively lower.

You shut your eyes, exhaling raggedly at the pleasurable warmth of his words and his cock spreading you open.

About two-quarters down, you stop.

No longer required to keep him aligned with your entrance, your other hand falls to his chest to steady yourself as you simply breathe, accustoming to his girth.

Robby must see that you slowed. Heck, he must have felt how tightly you clenched him as you needed a moment to collect yourself. But he doesn't push you to continue when his fingers dig into your hip, simply kneading the flesh. 

What you don't know is there's a loop of 'think of kittens and puppies' rolling around in his head, but it's more words than pictures as he can't wipe away what he sees, you hovering, mouth agape and another two inches to go. It's enough to bust. And with how tight and wet you are, hugging him like a dream, fuck...

"I know, it's a lot to take", his voice thick, raspier than before, eyes seeking yours from beneath. Once you hold his gaze steadily, he continues, "But you're doing so good for me."

A shiver runs down your spine, and you clench around him again, but once you relax, you find yourself sinking deeper. 

Experimentally, you roll your hips, rising slightly on your knees, before pushing down again. This time around, you slide far enough that the hair on his pelvis tickles against your mound. Robby moans as you do, rendered speechless. The sound is intoxicating enough that you chase it again, moving your hips to slide him out of you only to settle down with the added force of your body weight.

"Oh-"

"That's it-shit" The groan, deep and vibrating from the chest beneath your hand, makes you clench as you finally manage to fully settle into Robby's lap. 

You watch with lidded eyes how he clenches his jaw, hissing an additional fuck through his teeth as his head falls backwards on the pillow.

Once you start moving up and down, your and Robby's moans sound at the same time.

The dark happy trail leading down his abdomen, underneath you, to connect with the hair at the base of his cock acts exactly as the stimulation you need when starting at a slow and steady rock. 

When you feel comfortable enough, you lift onto your knees, arching your back, dropping your weight onto him. He hits so deep it makes your head crane back, chasing the sensation over and over again as the sound of slapping skin ensues.

"Look at you-" You barely hear him, but your body feels his words. "-looking so good bouncing on me."

You moan, head rolling forward on your shoulders. It hangs lax as you watch him.

Sweat is starting to collect on his forehead. His chest is heaving, making the star pendant on his chain catch the remaining light from outside every now and then. His eyes are heavy-lidded and there's a dazed, pleasure-drunk smile on his lips.

"You feel so fucking good," his smile pulls upwards at one side, watching your eyes close sharply, brows furrowing. "Real good, sweetheart."

Your rhythm stutters. "You can't, R-Robby-"

His hips buck to meet yours with how you whine his name, and you're thrown off for a second, slowing your bounce into a grind.

"But you're doing such a good job for me." You moan, an almost pleading look in your eyes as they meet his. But Robby is too wrapped up in the way you flutter around him. "So- fucking- good," he punctuates each word with an upwards shove of his hips and you just fold.

Your head falls to rest against Robby's shoulder, moaning out a 'fuck' sounding far too wrecked. He envelops you in his arms, loving to see the power of his praise. 

Now unmoving, just rolling your hips, Robby takes it upon himself to thrust himself into you from below.

He plants his heels into the bed, finding footing to gain enough leverage to push himself into you. The bite of your nails is immediate, digging crescents into the skin above his ribs as your moans vibrate against his skin, unfiltered and constant.

You let him do as he pleases, gripping your hips, angling them to find the best angle to slide deep. Your breaths come out short, mixed with strings of fuck - so deep - Robby. Your moans only seem to spur him on, as he answers with muttering short, moaned expletives and praise.

"You gonna let go for me?" He grunts once he feels you flutter around him. "Gonna come on my cock?" 

You clench him tight, unrhythmically. It's a telltale sign, but rather than nod, you shake your head.

"N-not like- fuck- this, not u-usually. But- s'good," moans fragment the sentence, but you get it out in the end.

You sound on the verge of drunk, not entirely there, and there's a haze in your eyes as Robby turns his head to face you. You're so close he can taste the pleasure on your exhales.

"How?"

It takes you a second to catch up, staring at him with your mouth hanging open as he continues thrusting up into you, even if it's more a roll of his hips than snaps. 

"Missionary."

Your world suddenly tilts, a swoosh in your ears followed by a dizzying sensation behind your eyes at the unanticipated shift from being on top to below. 

You blink, regaining your orientation and focusing on how Robby is now above you.

"Robby, it felt good, I can-"

"Don't mind doing the work if it makes you cum," he cuts you off. "Want you to feel just as good as me."

"Yeah?" And the way you ask, small and vulnerable, makes Robby's chest tight with frustration. 

"Fuck, of course," he bends down and plants a kiss on your lips, eager to reassure you. "This isn't only for me." 

He seals his words, promise, with another press of his mouth over yours.

Partly reluctant and partly eager, Robby leans away, sitting on his haunches and watching you splayed out in front of him, his cock resting against your stomach.

He can't believe the people who rushed this. He could spend hours between your thighs. With you, like this, squirming beneath his attention with kiss-swollen lips and a heaving chest.

"Look at you," the way he says it, reverent almost, makes you swallow. That white, burning sensation isn't only simmering in your core as you wait for him to touch you. It licks your skin right along the trail of his eyes.

You watch as Robby takes his cock and slaps it against your pussy. The jolt makes you twitch, your fingers digging into his kneecaps as he repeats it. 

The wet slaps of skin echo, soon joined with your whimpers as he every now and then swipes his cock across your folds, jerkily nudging your clit with his tip. He only stops for a second to tilt his head down and then…

"Oh my- fuck- shit, that's-" your ramble, mind shattering as he spits on your pussy. 

It's one of the lewdest things you've witnessed in person. The second filthiest is the smug, pleasure-stained glance he does up at you as his jaw hangs slack, lips curled at the edges, moving his cock with wet squelches over your clit, mixing his saliva with your slick. You moan, throwing your head back dramatically.

You feel his body settle over yours, his hand beside your head while the other grips your cheeks, making your lips pucker. As your head is tilted forward, eyes snapping wide open, you find Robby hovering close to your face.

"I want your eyes on me," his voice is gravelly, serious, and not meant to be argued with. And you don't, only nodding. "Good."

When Robby slowly moves his hips this time around and grinds his cock through your wetness, you keep your eyes locked with his. It's intoxicating, having his brown eyes unwaveringly stare into yours as your breath mingles. 

As his tip bumps your clit, you whimper, already teased and riled up enough by him that the sensation sips up your spine. His chest heaves at the sound, lips remaining parted. But that's nothing compared to the bone-deep sound he groans out when he angles his hips and slides into you again.

You don't know where to go. It is too fucking much.

You trash beneath Robby, back arching only to be stopped by his sturdy chest, the wiry hair sticking against your sweaty skin. One of your hands finds its way to his lower back. The other shoots to his wrist, the one he holds your face with. 

But he doesn't let go, keeping your head locked forward as he simply lets your fingers curl around his limb.

He breathes a drawn-out fuck when he bottoms out. You moan at the feeling of him stretching you out, how his curls rub against your clit and the way his weight and warmth press into you.

It's so intimate, breathing your pleasures into each other's mouths, gazes locked as you feel the furrow between your brows, the same kind pulling his together.

"Keep them open," he orders when your eyelids flutter, attempting to escape his heavy stare.

"Robby-"

"On me," he jostle your head side to side,  not mean or rough, just pointed, fondly mocking.

Even if you complained through a whine, you let him, Robby feels it. Your nails don't bite into the inside of his wrist to stop him. Despite not rocking his hips, the same kind of pleasure curls his toes when realising you simply let him do as he pleases. 

And you listen, you listen so goddamn good as he watches you force your eyes to stay only partly lidded rather than fall shut entirely. Your battle against pleasure —that easy, mindless daze that was growing more tangible in your eyes— makes him chuckle.

The sound is laced with amusement and desire, noticeable in the roughness of his voice, which is gritty and low in his throat. Your eyes flutter, but you keep looking at him. Even as Robby starts rocking his hips slowly —letting you adjust to the feeling of him in this position, pulling out far enough you feel empty and push in just as slowly— your eyes stay connected with his. 

It isn't you who breaks first. 

You keep looking at Robby when his hips start rutting with enough force that your body rocks. Even as he punches a moan out of you upon each jolt of pleasure, your eyes stay connected with his.

No, it's Robby who folds first. 

While you don't know it's because of you —how those pretty eyes of yours display every last drop of pleasure contorting your face and which spills into the air with your moans— he's the one to burrow his face into your neck. The hand that previously held your face also falls, taking yours with it as he pins it at the other side of your head.

His grunts only make you wetter, each slide of his cock now accompanied by wet, squelching sounds. When he picks up the pace a notch, your pussy welcomes him by sucking him back inside as if not realising he pulled out. 

The snap of his hips fills the air with the sound of smacking skin. Your moans grow louder as Robby doesn't leave a single pleasurable zone untouched. Brushing against that pleasurable spot on each thrust inside. Stimulating your clit by grinding his hips enough to curve his spine. Only to pull out and do it all over again.

Your legs cage his body as you sloppily try to meet his thrusts. It feels so fucking good but it isn't enough for Robby. He wants- needs more of you, to be closer, deeper. 

He lets go of your hand and moves the forearm he's braced himself on. All of a sudden, he leans his entire weight on you as his warm hands slide beneath your ass to raise it off the bed. 

Your hands shoot to his back, clinging to him, nails dragging down his lats as the angle makes you take his thrusts deep and his chest press flush against yours, trapping his Mangen David between the valley of your breasts.

"Fuck me," Robby groans beside your face upon hearing the sweetest moan of the evening from you. Deep, warbled and pleasure-drunk.

It almost does too much to him, the coil far down in his stomach jerking, threatening to make his toes curl in more than restraint.

"You feel too fucking good, I'm-" 

You feel him twitch, once, twice, erratically enough you know he isn't coming but that he's damn near close to finishing with how his thrusts grow desperate.

"Do what you need to come, sweetheart. Need you to- shit, show me what you like for next time," he orders abruptly, the words hurried. You follow them with a moan, hearing how equally drunk on the pleasure he is, wedging your hand between your bodies.

It is a mixture of sweat and slick that covers your hand once your fingers circle your clit. 

It's so messy, the way you can't move much with how close Robby is and how you feel him fuck into you just beneath your fingertips. But it doesn't take much. The mixture of rapidly toying with your clit and Robby's grunting in your ears as he praises you with 'that's it, sweetheart' pushes you across the edge.

You jerk, moan ripping out of you as your thighs shake. You try but can barely elongate the pleasurable high form of how intense it is, hand falling slack and being trapped when Robby continues shoving himself into you with a strangled moan upon your tightness. 

It's so much that you have to hold on to the fleshy juncture between his shoulder with your teeth as your eyes fall shut, forced to accept the feeling scorching your nervous system with pleasure.

Robby comes with a near-growling moan after you start twitching each time he bumps your clit and skims your sweet spot. 

His teeth graze your neck in return as he freeze deep inside, back curled as if he wants to climb into you. Your orgasm has left a dazy cloud in your head, but you feel the steady jerks of Robby inside you as he spills into the condom.

Time becomes a foggy concept you don't care much about when Robby melts into you. You welcome his weight, mouth opening and releasing him from your mouth as you pant into the humid air, your neck relaxing backwards. He does the same but keeps his face buried against your throat.

You stretch your arm —that apparently had wrapped around him during your climax— before raising your hand to the back of his head. The slow carding of your fingers through his hair makes him inhale, only to exhale a sated groan.

Slowly, it seems like Robby comes to, his lips finding your skin to soothe where he'd held you betweeen his teeth to ground himself. 

He leaves a trail of feather-light kisses from the curve of your shoulder to the hollow of your throat. Before he emerges, his mouth lingers against your necklace, the metal no longer cold but just as warm as your skin. 

There's a serene kind of look in Robby's eyes once they connect with yours. His brown gaze is heavy even if he pushes himself to his knees, taking his weight off of you. 

Despite twitching in overstimulation once he pulls out, you smile up at him. He reciprocates with a smile of his own, but one side of his mouth bows higher in a lopsided fashion, making you giggle. 

That only makes his smile grow enough to flash teeth as he asks, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing", you mumble, following how easily he takes off and ties the condom. He watches you the entire time, humming a sceptical sound, but does not say anything else about it.

"That was-"

"Good," you finish his sentence for him. His hand dips into a nod, a chuckle preceding his 'yeah'. 

He looks up at you through his brows before he raises his head to face you properly. 

"Do you need anything?" Your head tilts, brows arching. 

It makes his head cock, eyebrows also raise until the lines of his forehead appear. "Don't tell me-"

You hurry to sit up, your body feeling like it moves like molasses, interrupting him. "I'm just not used to it, Robby."

"Boys these days," he grumbles as your hands settle on his thighs, neck craning to keep your eyes locked with his.

"You did say you didn't want to hear about the miserable dating scene." 

Although it makes him chuckle, it's biting, the sound low and frustrated more than amused as he shakes his head.

"Seriously, do you need anything?" His brown eyes are locked with yours again.

"A little bit of water, maybe," you shrug slightly but blink slowly up at him when you continue, "A cuddle?" 

His lips tick upwards at that, bending down to press his lips against yours before he mumbles, "Wait here." 

And you don't mind just flopping back on the bed as Robby leaves the bedroom. 

You can hear him move around in the apartment. The sounds are dull, as if he tries to not make too much noise. Somewhere whilst listening to him, your eyes close, basking in the afterglow.

"Haven't fallen asleep on me, have you?"

Your eyes crack open, pleasantly surprised Robby still moves around naked and for you to witness him in all his glory. "Almost could've."

"And I'm supposed to be the old one," he sends you a smile as you chuckle.

Once Robby climbs onto the bed, he sets aside the water bottle he brought, shifting the grip on the towel you'd noticed he got in his opposite hand.

"What-oh." Your face feels like it's suddenly on fire as he slowly parts your legs, only to gently wipe away all the sticky wetness between them with the lukewarm cloth.

"You should still go to the toilet," Robby's voice is soft as he instructs you, eyes flickering to your face.

"I-I know," you stutter, watching him turn and toss the towel with ease into the hamper once he's done. 

He's smiling once he turns back to face you, but he doesn't mention your flustered look, instead offering the water bottle.

"Here." He holds it out for you and you take it from him. 

The condensation that previously coated his fingers now drips across yours as you prop yourself on an elbow to drink. Your eyes flutter as soon as the cold water soothes your mouth and throat. After a few gulps, you hand the water bottle back to Robby, who'd settled beside you.

Shifting to lay on your side, you watch Robby also take a few mouthfuls before stretching behind him to put the bottle on the bedside table.

A warm feeling blooms in your chest as he turns back to you and instantly draws you into him. 

You seamlessly tangle with him, his legs intertwining with yours, your arms around his neck, and his circling beneath and over you to engulf your upper body in a tight hug. A sigh leaves you, and Robby exhales slowly once the two of you settle.

For a moment, you just lay there, eyes closed, face pressed into his skin that's slightly damp. Your heartbeat slows into a rhythmic pound as he soothes his thumb against your spine. It only stops once he presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.

"I'll melt through the bed if you continue with that," you sigh, looking up at him while he looks down.

"Thought I already had?" Even if you roll your eyes, you catch the pull in the side of his lips. "Not regretting saying yes to my invite yet?" 

You hum, fingers carding through his beard, eyes flickering over him.

"Maybe I'm-" he interrupts you with a kiss, "-starting to," another one, "-just a little bit," your smile only grows between each kiss. You start giggling when his lips stray to your cheeks and nose, "Fine, no." 

You playfully push at him to stop the way his beard tickles across your face.

"Good," he kisses you one last time before you burrow your face against his chest, trying to hide from his onslaught. But Robby only chuckles, notching his chin above your head. 

"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

He doesn't see your face, but he feels your smile grow. "Should I clear my schedule to watch you cook breakfast for me?"

"You picked the perfect time when my fridge looks like a frat boy's"

"Mhm, yeah, sure," you retract from your hiding spot against his sternum to look at him. Robby is greeted with a smile that he can't help but return. 

One of your arms drops from his neck so you can gently trace a finger across his face. It follows the arch of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, the soft skin beside his eyes, and the line of his beard. 

"There's a brunch spot not too far from here. I've heard it is good," you break the silence with a murmured suggestion.

Robby doesn't even need to consider it, kissing you before muttering an equally soft, "Perfect." 

[loverwrites]

vaquero(s)

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader x michael robinavitch

warnings: age gap, jack calls reader kid, cuckold, big dick robby, voyeurism, male masturbation, unprotected sex, oral (m), smut (18+)

summary: consequences of stealing a cowboy’s hat.

note: the remix of the song vaquero inspired this no pressure tags: @superhoeva @ozarkthedog @robbyology @ovaryacted @flofaiiry

gif by @/tomcriuse

“you got your hands full with that one, huh?”

the rodeo bar is loud, not because of the music. no, it’s the screams cheering you on.

jack scoffs at robby’s words, “you have no idea, brother.”

denim shorts that leave little left to imagine ride up your thighs with every roll of your hips.

one hand on the fake bull’s neck and the other swings the cowboy hat that jack stole in the air. your hand does little to keep you on the bull, instead your thighs do all the work.

cheers erupt from the crowd when they see your hips roll faster as the bull moves unpredictably.

in a weak attempt to make you fall, the bull spins. this time giving the men a look down your shirt.

despite the spinning, you manage to adjust yourself. with your upper body loose, you follow the bull’s manic movements.

placing the cowboy hat back on your head, you cheer along with the crowd. securing yourself thighs around the bull you throw your hands in the air with a bright smile.

the action causes your shirt to ride up, give both attendings, along with everyone else in the bar a glimpse of your lacy bra.

there’s an undying blush on robby’s cheeks when you unexpectedly fall forward when the bull tilts forward. only you’re not facing the crowd, curtesy of the worker controlling the bull, your ass is.

then a deep groan from jack when your ass shakes, a result of the frenzied bull.

two pairs of eyes feast on the new angel, one familiar with the view, the other thankful for the lights on you so he can see.

it’s subtle, but jack catches the way robby’s hand lands over his crotch as he excuses himself to the bathroom.

just a few seconds after he leaves the loud cheers turn into groans when you fall off the bull.

playfully bowing to your audience, you quickly rush to pull on your matching cowboy boots and walk to a very lonely jack.

“put on quite the show, kid.”

breathless, you ask, “where’s robby?”

your hands wrap around his neck and his hands fall to your waist before falling down to your ass. fingers slip into your back pockets before giving your ass a harsh squeeze. you giggle but quiet down when jack’s lips brush against your ear.

“after that little ride, he needed a restroom break.”

“no!”

jack only smirks at your gasp and shrugs as he sits down.

“can’t blame him,” he sighs, his eyes dropping to his crotch.

the crotch that sports the same erection robby left to take care of. your skin feels hot when you see jack widen his legs, an invitation to sit on his lap.

usually not one for pda, you walk to the man who sits on the weirdly place couch. your back to his chest, and ass on his cock you smile when you hear his next words.

“if you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.”

you laugh at his words turning to face him, “as if i wasn’t already going to, vaquero.”

a hand that was on your waist travels to your jaw and squeezes your cheeks which make your lips pucker. it’s degrading how he forces your head to turn to the view in front of you.

robby stands tall, with a blush on his cheeks.

“hat’s not mine, kid.”

robby’s hands are tucked over his belt buckle, foreshadowing what’s to come. sleeves of his flannel are rolled up that showcase his forearms.

“it’s mine.”

your neck strains when you turn to look at your boyfriend, jack, who’s sitting on a chair in the corner of your shared bedroom. you raise your eyebrows at him, a silent ‘are you sure?’ to which he nods.

jack smirks, “i’m just here to watch.”

mimicking your actions from earlier, your hips roll against robby’s crotch. your denim shorts are long gone and you’re only left with your black thong and robby’s cowboy hat.

“what’s that?” his eyes glued to where you grind against him, clearly distracted.

you only laugh, eyes finding jack’s, and only laugh harder when you see him shake his head.

your knees straddle robby’s denim-covered thighs and it isn’t long until you’re reaching for his belt buckle. the metal clinks when you throw it to the floor, joining the puddle of clothes on the ground.

hooking your fingers on his jeans, you tug the denim down to immediately find a dark patch of hair. with raised eyebrows you find robby hiding yet another blush. you tug until his cock slaps against his belly, twitching already.

“fuck,” is all you say when you take the base of robby’s cock in your hand.

with wide eyes, your other hand wraps around his cock. still, the tip of his cock peaks from your hold, leaking from your new attention.

“he’s huge, jack.”

jack’s eyes fall to your grip on his friend’s cock. from his angle he can see the way the head of robby’s cock stands just below your bellybutton.

“nothing you can’t handle, right kid?”

with a soft ‘uh huh’ you repeatedly drag the tip along your slit to collect some of your wetness and jolt every time he nudges your clit. lining robby’s cock with your entrance, you slowly sink down his cock, taking inch after inch.

robby stretches you wonderfully and jack watches it all.

overwhelmed by the way your pussy spasms around his cock robby’s hands leave your waist and cover his flushed face. a muffled groan fills the room when you envelop him fully, sitting on his cock til the dark hairs brush your clit.

“‘m so full.” the words are filthy when you let them out with a whine.

the doctor beneath you groans loudly, while the one in the corner drops his hand to his crotch, massaging his throbbing cock.

“come on robby, look at her.”

for a man that gives orders all day, he’s surprisingly good at following them.

the hands that covered his face fell to your hips, gripping it painfully tight. a puff of air unexpectedly leaves him when your eyes meet and your hips roll against his. steadily, you start a rhythm, nothing like the bull you rode earlier that night.

no, you’re careful.

more mindful of the fullness in your belly. a fullness that comes from riding your boyfriend’s closest friend and coworker.

your hands that balanced yourself on his hairy chest trailed down his shoulder then to his hands. guiding his hands to your breasts, you give him the confidence to touch you despite jack reassurance the night before.

holding his hands to your tits, you silently beg for more. eyes closing from bliss when he finally gets the hint.

a soft moan of his name escapes your lips when robby’s thumbs at your hardened nipples. rolling your hips faster when he rolls the nubs between his fingers and gently tugs.

“put your mouth on her,” jack groans out.

before you know it, robby’s tongue licks your nipple, then the other. it’s wet when he wraps his mouth around one - like he wants it to be messy. pulling away from your nipple with a ‘pop’ he does the same to the other, all while you bounce on his cock.

“just like that.”

robby expects the words to come out of your mouth, but they come from your boyfriend.

your eyes find jack’s and you whine when you see him, unknowingly grinding yourself harder on robby’s cock.

you watch as the hand that’s wrapped around his wet cock slides up and down, matching your pace. with your eyes on him, he puts on a show.

rising the palm of his hand to his mouth and licking a wet stripe before wrapping around his cock. his eyes threaten to close when his thumbs swipes over the tip of his cock.

“jack-”

“don’t look at me, look at him.”

not strong enough to look away, robby’s hand grips your face and forces you to look at him, similar to the way jack did at the rodeo bar.

“eyes on me.”

you nod so fast the cowboy hat tilts forward.

eyes locked on robby’s, you work on chasing your orgasm. bouncing on his cock until your heart and lungs threaten to give out.

“robby, man, help her out.”

dizzy, you barely register the way robby plants his feet into the mattress and lifts his pelvis. it isn’t until he grips your hips and lifts you up and down his cock that you cry out his name.

with the new angel, his cock is even deeper, hitting that sweet spot - over and over.

“‘m gonna come.”

robby doesn’t stop.

your eyes fall shut so you don’t get to watch the three fingers that slip into his mouth. you have no clue those wet fingers reach between your thighs until they swipe side to side over your clit.

the combination of his cock buried deep inside you and him rubbing your clit has your head falling back, the cowboy hat following suit.

you can feel jack’s stare and it’s enough to make you come.

your nails dig into robby’s shoulders as you come on his cock. walls spasming around his cock have him groaning your name but jack is quick to shut it down.

“not inside.”

robby nods, holding off his orgasm as you use him to ride yours out.

when you’re satisfied, you slide off his cock and kneel on the bed so your mouth hovers over his cock.

with your knees at the edge of the bed, you arch your back and give jack the perfect view of your glistening pussy. almost immediately your ears pick up on his loud moan.

not wanting robby to wait any longer, you wrap your lips around his cock, your hands jerk the rest. with just a few strokes, he’s spilling into your mouth with a groan.

with robby’s cock still in your mouth, you hum in surprise when jack suddenly stands behind you.

you wiggle your hips, an invitation for anything. to which he chuckles at. a hand falls to your waist, while the other grips his cock and lines himself up with your entrance.

“it’s my turn, right, kid?”

borders by @/saradika-graphics

[m-robinavitch]

so i was bithcing about my back (who is a he, because hes a bitch^^ and also he can be lucky that i dont see him, bc its on sight, and how hes a pain in my ass) so obviously now I'm thinking about who would be more into anal. I just know that Jack is the king of prep, hes so prepared, is actually a bit insane

V my back has been killing me too lately- I can’t imagine how you deal with this pain daily 😭 Trick question- the answer is all. But imma answer this for the fierce five. Because- well I’m a self indulgent whore.

Robby is a little apprehensive when you ask to try anal. He’s not a small man by any means- but he can’t help the way his cock twitched when you mention in casually one night. He’s had the idea in the back of his mind for a while but was afraid you’d say no because of his size and- well he’s ready as soon as you ask but clearly you need to be prepped. It starts with a finger- his thumb really. While Robby fucks you from behind he slips his thumb in your ass to get you used to the feeling- the thick digit slowly working with his thrusts, making you feel so full and he swears he can feel the way his cock glides against your walls. When he finally thinks you’re ready he’ll use as much lube as possible- inching and feeding his cock into you, laying on your back with him kissing your soft moans and sighs with each thrust.

Jack is the king of prep you’re so right. He mentions the idea- thinking about how he told you he’d fuck all your holes and now it’s time he fulfills that promise. He starts with a plug, a small one while you go about your day- just to get you used to the feeling. He moves it around while he fucks you- every couple of days he increases the size with praise and lube and an orgasm. Then with his fingers to stretch you- laid on your back while he sucks on your clit and fingers in both your holes slow and steady. Finally, after fucking a few orgasms out of you, he flips you onto your stomach and kisses your back and shoulders with each slow swipe to collect your wetness- telling you to breathe while slowly pushing inside you.

Charlie uses spit as lube when he wants to be particularly mean. Has you fully naked in his lap while he only has his dick out- dragging your pussy over him to get his cock wet for your untouched hole. Your back against his chest before he leans forward to disgustingly drip a long drop of his spit along his cock- pumping himself a few times to get the combination of spit, precum, and your juices to coat him. He’s so mean and condescending about it- cooing and chuckling when you tense and wince at the intrusion. Asking if it hurts- making you tell him how big he is. If it’s a punishment? Slaps your pussy while he shoves himself inside your ass with a deep groan that you feel at your back.

Andrew thinks is a dirty secret- something that he wants but thinks it’s too terrible to ask of you. He thinks it’s dirty or wrong but can’t help but wonder while he fucks you from behind- watching your pussy swallow him and wonder what it would feel like to fuck your other hole. He drags his thumb over it sometimes- watching your shudder and hearing you squeal when he does and it makes him pull back. Sometimes when he’s between your thighs and licking along your cunt- he lets his tongue trail lower, swirling a few times until you whine again at the feeling before he goes back to sucking your clit. Eventually you have to straight up ask him if he wants to try anal and he says yes- begs even.

Sammy is, again in my world anyway, a little kinky bitch and anal is one of his favorite things. You try anal with him after a month of dating. Swiped his cock along your wet pussy to get himself wet enough and pushes inside your pussy before pulling out to tease your ass a little. When you gasp and look back at him he tilts his head- smirks a little and waits for you to say no before he drops a little spit where you’re barely breached by his cock and shoves himself inside with a loud groan. Sometimes he’ll do the ‘oops wrong hole’ like you don’t also enjoy it but you still play along and complain between moans and sighs.

[espressheauxs]

5:45 A.M || michael robinavitch

summary : before the rest of the world is even awake, Robby likes to steal a few more minutes of sleep.

warnings: none. just a slow and sweet drabble

pairing : michael “robby” robinavitch x fem!reader

a/n : if I see you reposting, stealing, feeding my FICS into AI or some other fuck shit, don’t. 👀🫵🏽

—

SOMETIME IN THE EARLY MORNING, when the sky is still in its inky blue-gray hues, Robby opens his eyes.

He looks over to the nightstand next to his bed and groans slightly as he awkwardly reaches for his phone to check the time.

He sees the time - 5:45 in the morning, and the alarm you asked him to set just below to go off at 6:15.

Robby blinks a few times, trying not to yawn too loudly as the phone awkwardly clatters back onto the side table after he turns the alarm off.

Just because he had to get up early doesn’t mean you had to. But you insisted because you wanted to make him breakfast before he left.

He looks over to you and smiles softly, a small huff escaping his lips. You’re still asleep, hair mussed and lips puffed out as you breathe softly.

The irony of you wanting to get up before him makes his chest rumble, you were not a morning person whatsoever.

He likes watching you like this, when you’re still somewhere between awake and asleep.

It makes his heart bloom with a warmth he hasn’t known in a long time – but with you, he feels safe to want everything with you.

Robby scoots closer into the middle of the bed. One of his arms sneaks underneath your side, while using the other free hand, big and warm in comparison to yours that always ran cold, to scoop you up into his embrace.

He pats the back of your thigh softly as his other arm holds you close to him, shushing into your ear softly.

Robby slings one of your legs softly over his waist, your foot from your leg that’s against his side tucked just under his leg to keep warm.

He knows he doesn’t have long before he has to get up and make coffee for the both of you, but he loves being like this more than anything.

Tucked in under the warmth of the comforter and your love, Robby moves to lie on his back so you’re more comfortable and he can keep himself wrapped around you. Like he wanted to protect you from the rest of the world. Like the only thing he knew for certain how to do was love you.

Your sleepy moan perforates the hushed silence, and Robby mumbles low in his throat with that syrupy slow morning drawl of his,

“Go back to sleep f’me, sweet’art.”

There’s only a hum from you, eyes still heavy and laden with sleep as your hand dances under his shirt, lightly scratching his side lovingly before tucking that too to keep warm.

Sleep comes back to Robby easily.

Yeah, the coffee can wait.

—

© espressheauxs, 2025

[butyoudidthis4what]

She's Here

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x F!Reader

21.2k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: I know there’s not a supply closet on the floor plan but we’re pretending; took what I needed for the set up of PittFest from the show, storyline diverges once PittFest patients start arriving; angst; active suicide risk Robby; Robby has not been to therapy; miscommunications; Robby cries; Reader cries; suicidal ideation/suicide planning; allusions to PIV sex and oral (m. rec) sex; dry humping kind of; alcohol; joking use of daddy; mentions of blood; mentions of guns and shootings; breaking up; making up after argument; Robby puts his foot in his mouth; reader has some insecurities; grief; mentions of death/dying/coding; seizures; CPR; anxiety about partner's safety; mentions of compartmentalization; age gap kind of implied with Robby but not explicitly referenced (he's an attending when Reader starts as an intern); no use of y/n or related

Series Summary: The day of PittFest becomes unbearably worse for Robby. A little over four months into the relationship you've both been waiting years for, you find Robby on the floor of pedes. When Langdon throws it in his face, Robby assumes you betrayed him and doesn't react well.

AN: Based on this ask sent in by @loveyhoneydovey. First Robby fic!!!!! I don't know how I feel about it!! I'm very nervous about his voice and characterization here and if it feels like him. I'm always very nervous though. We get some development of your relationship through vignettes of the past like I've done before. Dividers made by the amazing @saradika-graphics. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments and as always thank you so much for reading!!

“We’re doing it.” Robby’s voice is just above a whisper as he walks in with Jack.

“That could mean one of several thousand things, Robby.” Jack glances at him. He keeps his voice hushed like Robby’s. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than ‘we’re doing it.’” 

“Her and I,” Robby clarifies. “We’re together. It happened today. I’m taking her out tomorrow night.” 

“About fucking time,” Jack mutters lowly. He claps Robby on the shoulder as they keep walking. “I’m really happy for you brother. For you both.”

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” Jack looks at Robby and raises his eyebrows while squinting a little, asking what Robby wanted instead. “I don’t know,” Robby shrugs, “I thought you’d have some more enthusiasm.” 

“I do,” Jack nods, “but given your near whispering, I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to express it right here in, you know, the middle of the entire fucking ED,” Jack’s dropped his voice even lower the further they’ve walked in, “because it seemed like maybe not everyone knew yet and I wasn’t sure if you really wanted me to be the one to tell them or make them starting asking even more questions.” He gives Robby a look for a second before softening it into a small smile and nodding at Robby.

You grin to yourself when you see Jack. You and Robby agreed that Dana and Jack had to know right away but that you wouldn’t tell Dana until Jack was here. You could tell that Dana knew something was up, though. 

You walk by Robby and Jack on your way to Dana, smirk at them. “Boys.” You nod. 

Robby lets out a long breath and shakes his head a little. He has no idea what to do with you sometimes, in the best way. Jack just smirks back at you a little, but softens it out just a bit at the end and nods to silently tell you he’s very happy for you. 

You smile as you walk up to Dana, standing next to her as she looks up at the board. “We’re together,” you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear. “He’s taking me out tomorrow night.”

“About fucking time,” Dana whispers back. She gives you a sly smile and bumps your hip with hers. “I’m very happy for you, both of you.”

“Thank you,” you nod, making eye contact with Robby across the floor, “I am too.” 

You stand up when you hear someone else enter the supply closet. You think it might be Dana coming to lovingly corner you and get info on how your date was. But it’s not her. It’s Robby. “Hey,” you call out to him. 

“Hi.” His response is a little short and confuses you but you just let it go. He walks over so that he’s standing next to you. A respectable distance apart. Robby starts looking through the shelves but as you watch him it’s clear he’s not really actually looking for anything. “Heard you had a date last night.” His voice is strained, he sounds like he’s trying to hide some simmering anger. But you recognize it for what it really is. Jealousy.

You stop pulling the tubing you need from the shelf but don’t turn to look at him. How did he even know about that and why does he fucking care are the only two things you can really think about. He has no right to be mad. You and Robby have been dancing around each other for years now. At his behest. And at a certain point it felt like his reasoning for that changed. 

After a couple of seconds you sigh. “I did yeah.” 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, mouth in a line. You have to roll your eyes at him as you pull out the tubing. “You sleep with him?” 

You scoff and finally look over at him, but he’s still looking at the shelves. “I’m sorry, please tell me how the fuck that is even close to your business.” 

Robby just pulls his lips down. Not sad per se but thinking. “So you did.”

You just want this conversation to be over at this point. Because it hurts. Because Robby has been and it seems always will be right there but unwilling or unable or not wanting to try being with you. “Yeah. Sorry I needed to get laid and actually went out and got it. You should fucking try it, Michael.” It’s not even a conscious decision, deciding to push him away first in this conversation, to try and act unaffected by the thought of him being with someone else. 

He ignores your jabs, but the confirmation that you were with someone else makes his blood boil, jealousy ripping through him and clouding his thoughts. “You let him touch you. Touch what’s mine.” 

“Ha!” you laugh. Then there’s ten or so seconds of silence as you gape at him while his words fully process because you’re so struck by his fucking audacity. “What’s yours? What’s fucking yours? Are you out of your fucking mind Michael? Please, since fucking when have I been yours?” He still doesn’t look at you. “Hey! Look at me, asshole!” You throw the tubing in your hand at him. 

That gets him to turn and look at you with a scowl on his stupid handsome face. He knows that you’re not at all his. He can’t bring himself to admit it though. “Thought we were going to do this. Do us. When you’re an attending. Guess not.”

You have to laugh at his words again, exasperatedly this time. “No Michael. You don’t get to do this. I’ve wanted to do this. Do us. You are the one who hasn’t. And for a while I understood why, and even when I didn’t, I have always respected your feelings. It was you’re under me and ‘I don’t want to mess up your career or give you a reputation and have that impact us’ and ‘when you’re an attending’ that slowly seemed to turn into ‘I’m not sure if I want you anymore’ and ‘maybe when you’re an attending’ and I’ve spent the better part of a year trying to decide if you really didn’t want to do this, didn’t want me anymore, or if you were just trying to protect yourself or something. Because it went from when you’re an attending to maybe when. So why would I be waiting around anymore, Michael? I waited for years. And if it was just about me being under you and my career and people knowing I earned everything I got then why didn’t you come ask me out and say you were ready to do this the second I got offered and accepted an attending position?”

You swallow hard and have to look away from Robby. You’re so confused by him but still down so bad. Deep down you know him calling you his hit you so hard because you are. You have been. Even if he didn’t know and didn’t want you. You’d given yourself to him. But you won’t cry for him. Not here. Not at work. Not where everyone would know regardless of your explanation. 

And Robby hates it. How sad you look. How you could ever possibly think he didn’t want to be with you. That he didn’t want you. He never realized at some point he’d said maybe. It was never maybe for him. But your last question floors him. 

“When you what?” Robby whispers, face furrowed in confusion, lips pulled down even more. 

You scoff at him again. “Don’t even try Robby. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t fucking know that in fucking August of last year I got offered an attending spot.” You look back over at him. Robby’s still facing you but his head is dropped slightly, eyes looking left and flicking around a little. He looks half confused and half devastated. “Holy shit, you really didn’t know. How the hell did you not know, Michael?”

He shakes his head slowly, still thinking. “Gloria and I were at each other’s throats particularly bad last August. Things were crazy here and she kept harping me about needing to interview and pick an attending and I snapped one day and told her that I didn’t even fucking care, that she could pick one for all I cared.” He looks up at you again. “I never thought she actually would. And she never told me that she actually did.”

You stare at him. It’s a plausible story and you can always tell when he’s lying to you or giving you a half truth or omitting something. And it’s not like you’ve told anyone. You’re one of those people who are afraid to announce it like it’ll jinx it somehow since it’s something that will start in the future. Your one exception to not saying anything was if you got with Robby. You’d tell people and let it be known because you figured it would appease some of his worries about it seeming like you got your job only because you were sleeping with him or in a relationship with him. But he never came to you after you signed. It broke your heart more than you wanted to admit. 

You’re not sure how to respond and Robby’s not sure what else to say. “Well, she did. And it was me. So hopefully that’s not disappointing news to you, I guess.” 

“Disappointing ne-” He decides part way through to not even finish the thought. Because the meaning of it all catches up with him. You have an attending position. And honestly, kind of even better, you have an attending position and Robby can honestly say he had absolutely no input into the decision. So while you’re not quite an attending yet, you’re pretty damn close. And that means Robby doesn’t have to break his own heart and tell you that you guys can’t. Doesn’t have to say when you’re an attending. For all intents and purposes you are one. “You can be mine now, Kid?” It’s almost a statement but not quite. 

You nod a little, look down at your shoes. “If you want me, yeah.” Robby doesn’t think he’s ever heard your voice this small and the fact that you think he could possibly not want you kills him. 

“If I want you? If?” He’s quick to close the distance between you, hands at your waist and pulling you to him as he stops walking. Both of you are breathing heavier and after your eyes flit down to look at each other’s lips the tension between the two of you finally snaps. 

You kiss each other hard, sliding right into tongue and sucking. Your arms wrap around Robby’s neck, hands finding his hair and running through it, tugging at it when he kisses you in a way you particularly like. Robby pulls away so you can see each other and you make a noise of protest. “There was never a maybe. And I’m sorry if I said that. There’s no if. Never has been, Kid. Never will be. So will you go out with me? Be mine?” 

You smile at him, steal another kiss before nodding. “I’ll go out with you. And I’ll be yours as long as you’ll be mine.”

Robby laughs. The two of you are finally together. “Oh, I’m yours. I’m all fucking yours.” 

You and Robby have been together a little over four months now. You’re pretty much living with him, you just haven’t made it quite official yet. It still feels a bit soon, even for you. Your lease will be up around ten months of dating so you think that’s when you’ll make it official and completely move in. If he wants. You’re pretty sure he will. You always hear about it the next day if you don’t sleep in the same bed the previous night.

You’re not surprised when you wake up and the bed is empty, even if you are a little disappointed. You know this is a bad day for him. A hard day. You’ve never actually been with him or around him on this day before because until now he took it off and you always inevitably ended up working it. You’re not sure what changed for him and why he feels like he’s ready to be there and work today and you’re not sure if it’s truly what’s best for him at this point, but you’ll support him, be there for him, let him lean on you, whatever he needs. You won’t give him a hard time about his decision to work. 

Robby’s in the kitchen making coffee when you pad in. You’re dressed only in one of his oversized shirts. He’s not entirely certain about working today. But he’s tired of letting the day have control over him. It feels wrong. And when Jake asked for Robby’s PittFest ticket so he could take his girlfriend Leah instead of Robby it felt like a sign.

“Morning,” you say softly as you walk over to him and wrap your arms around him from behind. You press your cheek against his broad back and rest your hands on his tummy. 

“Morning, Kid.” Robby squeezes one of your hands before continuing to make the coffee. 

He’s been up long enough for the sleep to disappear from his voice and to shower. His hair is wet. “Sleep well?”

“I always sleep well when you’re in bed with me.” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Michael.” You press a kiss to his back. “Seriously.”

“I slept well, yes. I meant it.” There’s a hint of exasperation in his tone and you get it. You do. But you ask because you care about him and worry about him. 

“Good.” You close your eyes and just breathe him in for a couple of moments. “You sure about working today?”

He knew it was coming. And he knows you mean well and are asking because you care about him and he loves it. He really does. Because he doesn’t remember the last time he’s had someone care about him the way you do. Because you’re in love with him and he’s in love with you even if you haven’t said it to each other yet. You both can tell the other is. But for some reason he doesn’t really understand, he just falters right before he can say it, can’t bring himself to as though that’ll somehow be what makes it more real, like it isn’t already. And he knows you haven’t told him because you don’t want him to feel pressured to return those three words.

But at the same time, you asking multiple times just in different words is going to be annoying today. That level of checking in on him. It is already. Because he just wants it to be a normal day. He doesn’t want everyone treating him like he’s made of glass just because one bad thing happened on this day. It’s suffocating. He knows it’s out of love and concern but it gets suffocating. 

Just like all the PPE was on this day when Adamson died. Maybe that’s part of why it hits such a nerve. 

Robby takes a second to breathe so that the mild irritation and frustration doesn’t seep into his tone. He doesn’t, however, explain or communicate that he can’t deal with the constant checking in, that it suffocates him. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be okay. I’ll have you there with me if I need anything.” He’s hoping that last part tells you that he’ll come find you if he needs you and so you don’t have to ask. It understandably doesn’t. 

“I will, yes.” You’re quiet as you listen to the coffee percolate. You can feel how tense he is. You know you’ll never really be able to understand how hard this day is for him or in what ways it is. So you just want to be there for him, make sure he’s okay. You think maybe a distraction will help. Robby pours himself a cup of coffee as you speak. “Wanna shower with me?” you ask with a seductive lilt so he knows exactly what you mean. 

He laughs softly, takes a sip of his coffee and starts to turn in your arms. You relax your arms and let him, greet him with a sweet smile. “Come here,” he whispers, sticking his lips out. 

You shake your head. “I have morning breath.” 

He clicks his tongue at you. “When have I ever cared about that before?” 

You shrug. “It’s different when we both do.” 

“Come here,” he says again, more stern this time as he makes eye contact with you. You consider it for a moment but eventually give in. You want to kiss him. You always want to kiss him. But you keep it chaste and short. There will be time for more after you brush your teeth, you’re sure.

“Shower?” You raise your eyebrows at him, a little smirk on your face, nails scratching gently at his back. 

He smirks at you. “My coffee will get cold.” He holds the cup up and tilts it just slightly before taking another sip.

You breathe out a slightly incredulous and hurt laugh, take your arms from around him as you speak. First he dodges the question and then that. You tell yourself it’s just because of the day and that he’s not in the mood or mentally there and that’s okay. That it makes sense. But coffee? He couldn’t just say no? “Wow, coffee’s better than my mouth or pussy, ouch.”

Michael rolls his eyes at you. That’s not at all what he meant. “Stop. And I’ve also already showered, which I know you know.” 

This time you just scoff and shake your head at him a little. “Yeah, because neither of us have ever gotten back in the shower with each other after we already showered. But okay,” you laugh quietly as you step back. Robby tilts his head at you as you walk away, he knows you have more to say. You stop and turn around to look at him before turning to go back to the bedroom and en suite to shower. “You know, Michael, you can just say no. You’re allowed to say no. I’m not going to force you to shower or have sex with me. Saying no is okay. Not being in the mood is okay, especially on a day like today. I suggested it to try and help distract you and maybe make you feel good.” The maybe is a little slip of insecurity. “You don’t even need a reason and you never have to explain why, but just, the way you communicate that no. The shitty excuses hurt. And they make me wonder about myself far more than ‘no I’m not in the mood’ does.” You turn and walk away. 

Robby sets his mug down and you hear it, shake your head to yourself. “Kid!” he calls after you, pushing off the kitchen counter. He never meant to hurt you or make you doubt yourself. He never meant to make it feel like this was a you thing. Because it’s not. It’s him. It’s the day. It’s his mood. 

You’re really not in the mood at this point. For sex of any kind or to have a conversation with him right now, honestly. You keep telling yourself that it’s just a really bad day for him. It has nothing to do with you or the two of you. It’s the day. You know Robby doesn’t see it well and you don’t point it out more because he has so much of his own shit going on, but you still have so much insecurity. About yourself. About the two of you. You worry you’re not good enough for him or aren’t what he expected and thought you’d be. 

You walk in the bathroom quickly and uncharacteristically lock the door behind you. Usually both you and Robby leave the door unlocked or even partially open when you shower. You turn the shower on and take his shirt off quickly, wanting to just be in the shower and have it as an excuse for not hearing him. If he even tries to talk to you. 

Robby almost slams into the door when it doesn’t open. He hadn’t expected it not to open. For you to have locked it. “Kid, please,” he calls loudly, hoping you’ll hear him over the water. He knocks on the door, with the middle knuckle of his index finger. “Please!” You can hear him. You just don’t feel like shouting, and again. You don’t really want to talk. 

You stand under the stream of hot water and zone out a bit. Ruminate. You know that you and Robby are fine. That you’re great. You know he’s attracted to you. That he loves having sex with you. You had incredible sex last night for god’s sake. It’s the day. It’s the emotions it brings up for him. The grief. You shouldn’t have even brought sex up. He’s sad and grieving and triggered today. Why would you do that? 

“Kid!” Robby calls again, still knocking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you or insinuate coffee was better than you or anything like that.” When you don’t answer Robby goes and sits on the edge of the bed and lets out a long sigh. He lets his head fall back and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He really could do without you doing this. Without this added thing and stress. The day is hard enough as it is. 

His voice brings you back and you start to do all of your normal shower things. You’re surprised when Robby’s not immediately knocking and calling for you again once he hears the shower turn off. You figure he’s probably gone back to his coffee and the thought sends a little pang through your heart. 

You wrap your towel around yourself and open the bathroom door. You almost jump a little when you see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted at you. You look at him for a moment and then walk to his dresser and open your drawer, pull out a set of scrubs, an undershirt and some underwear. You grab your bra off the floor where Robby threw it last night. You can feel his eyes on you, the way he’s tracked you across the room and is watching you. 

When you turn back around and see him he’s smiling to himself, it’s almost anticipatory. His eyes run up and down your towel covered body. He looks like he’s eager to see you naked when you get dressed. And he is. He abso-fucking-lutely is. It melts you a little bit. But you’re hurt still and he hasn’t offered an apology to your face. So you take your clothes and walk towards the bathroom. 

Robby draws out a scoff, but the disappointment rings through more than his irritation. “So what, I don’t even get to admire you as you get dressed anymore?”

You turn at the threshold of the bathroom door to look back at him, capture his gaze. You drag your eyes from him to the open bedroom door and then back to him. You’re stoic as you shrug. “Your coffee’s getting cold out there.”  

You just catch Robby’s shoulders and face fall as you turn back and step in the bathroom before shutting and locking the door. You already regret it. Wish you could take it back. You shouldn’t have hurt him just because he hurt you.

Your words sting, they hurt and sadden him. But he can at least understand why you said it. Robby lets out a long sigh and rubs his face but doesn’t get up. He doesn’t care about the fucking coffee. He doesn’t even want it anymore. He wants you. He wants to hold you close and kiss you. He wants to apologize. He wants your forgiveness. He needs all of that. Needs you.

You get dressed and finish getting ready in the bathroom quickly. You know you need to apologize to Robby and you want to, you really do feel awful. You just kind of hope he’ll also apologize to you. This is not the start to this day that either of you needed. 

Seeing Robby still sitting on the bed when you open the bathroom door is unexpected. You figured he’d go get his coffee and wait for you in the living room. 

You look at each other for a moment and then you break the silence. Robby wants to be the one to but the words just get caught in his throat before he can even open his mouth. “I’m sorry for being passive aggressive and saying that. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve just talked to you and worked it out.”

Robby gives you a small smile. “I accept your apology, and I’m sorry too.” He beckons you with two fingers and you walk over to him, stand between his legs when he opens them for you and rest your hands on his shoulders. He waits for you to look down at him before he continues. “I never meant to make you doubt yourself or feel unwanted. In any way. I didn’t think any of it through before I said it. Didn’t think about how it would make you feel.”

You squeeze his shoulders gently. “I accept your apology.” You’re not sure what else to say.

“You know I want you. I always want you, Kid. I did this morning, I just…” He shakes his head and sighs. “My brain, you know? The thoughts and all that shit.” 

“I know, yeah,” you murmur, running a hand through his hair. “I thought sex might be a good distraction. I should’ve thought a little harder about it before I offered.” 

“It usually is.” He tilts his head at you. “Can I kiss you for real now? Not whatever that was that you gave me in the kitchen.”

You laugh softly and nod. “I’d like that.” Robby wraps his arms around you as he stands up, stopping at the right height to kiss you instead of standing straight. It’s a kiss that at just about any other time would lead to far more. It certainly leads to another kiss and then another, and before you realize it you and Robby have been standing there making out for a solid couple of minutes. 

He groans as he pulls away from you. “I don’t want to stop but I do want to have time to treat you to breakfast burritos and your choice of caffeine from that place down the street. Eat as we walk to work.”

“Treat me or yourself?” You smirk at him. 

“You.” He shakes his head at you a little as he says it. “The fact that it’s also a treat for me is just a fun coincidental bonus.” 

“Yeah, coincidental my ass, Robinavitch.” You try to keep your smirk up but it turns into a smile the more you stare at those big brown eyes you love so much. It almost slips out but you catch yourself, turn to walk to the entryway to get your shoes on. I love you. 

The two of you get breakfast burritos and coffee on the way in. Neither of you say anything but you both think it’s ironic that the coffee was a whole thing and then he just left his mug and the carafe of it sitting there at home. Once you get to work you get your stuff in your lockers, stethoscopes around your neck and head to the hub. 

The day passes relatively quickly. For you at least. From what you’ve gathered from others and what Robby has said when you’ve talked to him, things have not been as smooth for him as they have been for you. You make sure he has some semblance of a lunch, drinks some water. 

Towards the end of the shift he comes and finds you. It’s the first time he’s really purposefully sought you out all day. You wouldn’t say he was avoiding you but a little bit you felt like that. After you asked him if he was okay when you saw him for the second time while at work and got an exasperated answer you realized he was tired of being asked. You knew he was probably getting it from Dana too. So you stopped directly asking, figuring it out subtly through other means. And he’d appreciated it when you backed off. He’d recognized when you’d done so. It had made him feel a little less suffocated and a lot loved even without exchange of the words. Because it was clear how well you knew him and how easily you picked up on what he needed. 

That’s why him seeking you out has you so concerned. It has to be bad. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Robby’s voice is strained as he grabs your elbow and starts walking you towards an empty room. 

Your face furrows as you let him lead you into the room. “Everything okay?” You wonder if this is about Dana and what happened to her.

He doesn’t answer, just closes the door as you walk in the room and stands with his back to the window. “I’m gonna tell you something but you have to keep your reaction really controlled, okay? And obviously you can’t tell anyone.” You nod. “Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and has been stealing meds.” 

The furrows smooth out of your face and you have no real facial reaction other than in your eyes which only Robby can see. They widen just slightly with shock. “What the fuck?”

“I know. I fucking know. I sent him home but I fucking,” Robby’s shaking his head hard. His eyes are a little glassy. You know Langdon is kind of Robby’s protégé. Everyone does. Just like everyone knows you kind of are too. “I let a drug addict practice medicine and treat patients. I fucking let him.”

You tilt your head and shake it at him. “Michael, you didn’t let him do anything. This isn’t your fault. I understand you feeling like it is, and that’s valid of course, but I promise you it’s not your fault.”

He shrugs at you, looks so incredibly helpless and at a loss. It breaks your heart. You walk towards him and pull him further in the room a little bit, drawing the curtain to give the two of you a little privacy. You walk back so that you’re standing right in front of him, just enough space between the two of you that you can see each other. 

You don’t say anything as you reach up and start rubbing at his shoulders and the back of his neck before he can. You feel him relax and he drops his head, eyes fluttering close while his hands come to settle on your hips. 

He doesn’t understand how you always seem to know what he needs. When he needs you to talk to him. When he just needs quiet acceptance and to just be in your presence like this. How you’ve picked up on him rubbing his neck. It’s more comforting and soothing when you do it, the circles he rubs on your hips over your scrubs keeping his hands busy. 

You’re a little surprised by it honestly. You thought he might reject this little bit of comfort you’re offering him. Not because of you but because he rarely accepts it at work even in private like this. You’re pretty sure his brain constantly tells him he doesn’t deserve the comfort here. 

“We need to get back out there,” he finally mumbles, bringing his head back up and opening his eyes. 

“Probably, yeah,” you agree. You stop rubbing his neck and loosen your arms but keep them where they are for a moment to see if he’ll hug you. You’re not going to push it on him, not going to make him feel bad when it’s too much for him right now. 

Robby’s hands squeeze your hips one last time. “Thanks, Kid.” He pulls away and you drop your arms, stepping out of the room with him once he pushes the curtain back. 

You both get sucked back into work and you don’t see much of Robby until him racing in from the ambulance bay catches your attention. Dana comes walking in quickly behind him and you catch her gaze, tilt your head as you walk over. 

A frown and worried brows are etched deep into her face. “There’s a shooter at PittFest. MCI protocol.” 

Everything freezes for a second as you hit fight or flight, limbs going cold and nausea creeping up on you. You say nothing to Dana, immediately turning and following after Robby because you know he put his phone in his locker earlier and is going to get it. 

“Don’t!” you yell at him as he opens his locker. “Michael, do not call or text him!”

He doesn’t stop, grabbing his phone and starting to unlock it. “Are you out of your fucking mind-”

“If he’s hiding and doesn’t have his phone on silent it could give him away,” you rush out before Robby can hit send or call. 

He freezes and looks up at you finally. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck!” That one is yelled. “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”

You walk over to him and cover one of his hands with yours. “Because you’re effectively his dad in a lot of ways, Michael, and so you’re too close to it, of course your first instinct was to call him to see if he was okay. I love him too and it’s not that I don’t want to know if he’s okay, and I know it’s very unlikely there’s really anywhere to hide and that it’s probably so loud his phone ringing would barely be audible, but I just think it’s better to be safe right now. He’ll know to call or text you or his mom. He’ll know. And if Janey hears from him she will call you. I know she will.”

He’s breathing hard as he looks at you before finally look away as he shuts his locker. “What if it’s David, Kid?” he whispers. Robby looks back at you and his lip trembles just slightly. The implication is clear. Robby had told you about David and everything that was going on there. You know his worry is valid. “What if I just got Jake killed? Killed another person on this fucking day.”

You let out a long breath as you shake your head. There’s a lot to unpack there. “Okay. Everything you just said, and all of your feelings make sense and are real and valid and I’m acknowledging them. I’m not trying to brush anything off. And I will be there for you whatever happens. But we don’t have a lot of time here so we’re going to have to come back and explore this all more if you want. For right now though, you didn’t kill Adamson, Michael. Covid did. You had to make a terrible decision nobody should ever have to make, but that wasn’t you killing him. And you can’t do this to yourself Robby. If and I mean if it was David, it would still be a random act of violence. You can’t control that. And right now the patients about to come in and Jake and Leah need you to focus on getting everyone ready for this and then handling this MCI and you cannot do that and be focusing on the what ifs, okay?” 

Robby wants to believe you. He wants to believe what you just said but he can’t. He just fucking can’t. He did kill Adamson. He will have killed Jake. He knows you’re right about the end bit though. He has to shove all of this in a box so that he can focus on what’s about to happen and patients. 

You can tell Robby wants to fight you about it but decides not to in favor of very uncharacteristically hugging and kissing you publicly at work before walking away to start implementing protocol with Dana. It leaves you standing there blinking at the wall for a second before you’re able to turn and walk back towards the hub to help. 

Robby’s hugging Jack as you walk up. You and Jack exchange a look. You know that Jack knows that Jake’s at PittFest. You know Jack knows how bad the day is for Robby. 

When Jack starts unpacking supplies you go in to help him. 

“How is he?” Jack asks. 

You can’t help the way you huff. “How do you fucking think Jack?”

When he doesn’t reply you look up at him. Jack’s looking at you with his eyebrows raised and mouth set, edges up just a tiny bit to show he’s not mad, asking excuse me? and how did you just speak to me? without a word. 

You sigh. “I’m sorry.” You set down what you’re holding and rub at the back of your neck. You see Jack’s smile pull up a little more as he recognizes what you’re doing, what you’ve learned from Robby. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten snippy. It’s just Jake, you know?” The breath you let out is shuddery. “I don’t know if even I could save Robby if something happened to him and Robby couldn’t save him, Jack.”

Jack’s face softens and he squeezes your shoulder. “I know. I wish there was more I could say, but I know. I’m worried about him and that possibility too.”

The two of you start to unpack again. “I just need him to call or text Michael or his mom and say he’s okay and on his way home. I need this to not happen to him today. I mean or ever, but you know. He doesn’t need to feel more grief and loss that he thinks he’s responsible for today.” 

“All we can do is be there for him,” Jack murmurs. 

“Yeah. I guess,” you murmur back. 

Once you finish unpacking and arranging supplies Jack faces you before the two of you walk out to where Robby is starting to gather everyone. 

“I need you to promise me that if something happens with Jake, if, god forbid, he ends up here and is critical, you will let me run it with Robby. We won’t get him to not work on him, we won’t have time to argue about it with him. We both know that.” Jack nods at you. “So you need to let me be the one to work with him. You need to let me be the one to convince him we’re not getting Jake back and he has to let Jake go. Because you’re the best thing in his life. You keep him going. So I don’t want him associating being unable to save Jake with you. He might work through the emotions it brings up, he might not. But if he doesn’t… Robby’s only going to survive something like that with you by his side. He could survive it without me, he could cut me out and lose me and survive. He couldn’t survive it without you. So I need you to promise me if Jake ends up here, you’re going to let me be with Robby until TOD is called. Same with Jake’s girlfriend.”

You swallow hard as you look at Jack. It will be hard for you to stay away. You worry Robby will wonder why you’re not there, why you didn’t drop everything to come help him. But you also know that he’s not really going to be worried about that in the moment. He’ll be too focused on Jake. And Jack’s words make your heart ache. Yes, because it’s sweet that Jack knows what you mean to Robby, that he can see it and that Robby has talked to him about it. But it’s more because you recognize the sacrifice Jack’s volunteering to make for Robby and Robby’s happiness and ability to get through this. The sacrifice in running the risk of losing his best friend, because Jack doesn’t have anyone else. He doesn’t have a significant other. He has Dana but that friendship isn’t like his and Robby’s. 

“I think you’re selling yourself quite short there, Jack,” you whisper. 

He shakes his head to say he doesn’t care. “Promise me.” 

You hold his gaze for another few seconds before you look away. “Okay,” you nod, “I promise.” 

“Good. Let’s go.” 

“Jack?” He turns at the threshold and looks back at you. “Thank you.” 

He simply nods and the two of you walk out. You stand by Shen while Jack stands by Robby, the two of them talking things through with the group, explaining how a lot of this is going to work, who’s going to be where, what to do when different things happen. 

“Communicate,” Robby tells the group. “Ask for help if you need it.” 

You look at Dana when he says that. Which was the wrong move because you both end up having to stifle laughs. You know it’s inappropriate. You know it’s not funny. And you know that Robby’s really good at the whole ‘do as I say not as I do’ thing, and if what he just said isn’t a textbook example you don’t know what is. So in the moment his words just strike you as funny, in part because all of this is a situation where if you don’t laugh you’re going to cry. Dark humor becomes a coping mechanism. You at least do a good job of stifling it and covering your mouth, can tell you hid it enough and everyone was so focused on Robby and Jack they didn’t see anything. 

Everyone disperses and patients start rolling in. Time loses any real meaning. It could have been forty minutes or four hours. You have no idea. You just know that patients keep rolling in. Never Jake or Leah. 

Neither of you can decide in your heads whether that’s a good or bad thing. Whether it means they’re dead on the scene or that they escaped and are okay and lost their phones in the chaos and are trying to get further away from the scene before they ask to borrow someone’s phone to call people or are just trying to get home.

Robby and you both glance at Dana every chance you get. She has Robby’s phone so she’ll know if Jake or Janey get in touch with him. The patients in front of him at least help distract Robby somewhat. That anxiety about Jake never goes away. The feeling of responsibility never goes away. But it goes to the back enough that he can focus and be a good doctor. 

Patients continue to arrive. In ambulances and cop cars and civilian cars and business vans. 

But never Jake and Leah. 

You’ve been at the Pitt a year and a month now. You’ve been an R2 for a month. You’ve already learned a lot. You’ve already had devastating losses and incredible saves. You’ve already thought about staying here past your residency. You’ve already grown close with a number of people. You’ve already grown very close with one person. 

Michael Robinavitch. Robby. 

You know how bad it could seem. How bad it might already seem. But you and Robby both know it’s there. Something far beyond platonic. You both feel it. And it only grew over your intern year and is continuing to. 

You haven’t discussed it outright but the energy and attraction between the two of you is so clearly there and you’ve seen it in his eyes. When he’s leaning in close to you to help teach you something and his pupils are a bit more dilated than they should be in the lighting. When he sees another man flirt with you and they blaze with what seems like anger but is really jealousy. When you’ve just pulled a double together and have hit silly and are laughing so hard you’re both crying at something so incredibly stupid and his eyes crinkle with affection that never appears for anyone else. 

And Robby’s seen it in your eyes. When something horrible happens and your eyes find his before anybody else’s and a little spirit comes back into them just from making eye contact with him. When he’s hiding how badly something with a patient or family has shaken him and turns to find you and you’re already looking at him with soft eyes full of recognition and understanding that make him feel so seen in a way he hasn’t felt before. When you bring him some sort of treat, sweet or savory, and pass him a post-it note that you pretend is a note about a patient but really says it’s in the fridge with his name on it and your eyes sparkle with an adoration he’s yet to see you look at anyone else with. 

Robby knows he cannot do anything, there cannot be anything between the two of you, not even some semblance of anything until you’re an attending or maybe an R4 if you’ve already accepted an attending position. Being with you before you’re an attending wouldn’t look professionally great for him, but that’s not what he worries about. He worries how it would look for you, like a young woman sleeping with her boss, how people would at the very least have in the back of their minds that you were sleeping your way to the top or you got given things because you were sleeping with your boss or were eventually offered an attending position because you were sleeping with your boss. 

Robby knows not everyone would think that. And he knows it absolutely would not be that. But he doesn’t even want you to risk it. Not for him. He knows your career and reputation have to be your first priority. 

Dana and Jack have both asked him about you after observing the two of you together. He assures them that while, yeah, he has some feelings for you, it is strictly platonic between the two of you, him mentoring just like he does everyone else. 

And so neither of you have ever made any really overt move. Because you both know you can’t.

So there’s been no real discussion about ‘one day’ or if there ever could be a future for the two of you. 

But now that you're a month and a bit into being an R2 and don’t have the label of ‘intern’ and feel like you have a better handle on being a doctor you’ve grown more confident. Not over-confident or cocky. Not even close. Just a bit more sure of yourself. Professionally and personally. And so your joking around with and screwing with and flirting with Robby has intensified a little. It’ll continue to do so your entire residency. 

And while Robby is a bit more reserved, particularly when it comes to flirting and anything vaguely sexual, he still gives it back in his own way. It is overwhelmingly not one sided. 

It’s not just sexual. You and Robby are close. You go to each other with problems and to vent. You seek each other out for comfort. And it’s comfort that forces you both to acknowledge it and discuss it, this thing between you. 

You find yourself sitting on the roof, back pressed up against the wall and legs out in front of you. You’re technically off. You want to be anywhere other than this fucking hospital. And yet you can’t bring yourself to move. 

You stay quiet and still when you hear the door to the roof open, hope whoever is up here won’t notice you before they leave. 

Unfortunately for you the person who walks onto the roof has spent the last thirty minutes looking for you. And Robby’s slightly panicked about it. You’ve seemed off all day. Sad. Overwhelmingly sad. In particular the last time he saw you he felt like you looked… done. With everything. With the world. 

The sigh he lets out when he sees you sitting there on the roof is of relief. You can tell that it’s not irritation or annoyance. 

“Go away,” you call half-heartedly when he starts to walk over. 

“Go away? I don’t think you’ve ever told me to go away before.” Robby tries to keep it light. 

“First time for everything,” you mutter. 

That pulls a small laugh from him. He comes and sits next to you against the wall. He’s close, your sides pressing against each other. Closer than the average mentor-mentee would be sitting for sure. 

You don’t say anything and so for a few minutes the two of you sit in silence, each of you focused on the way the other feels pressed up against you. But Robby wants, maybe needs if he’s honest with himself, to know what’s wrong so he can help you. 

“Talk to me Kid.” And there it is. That name he only calls you. 

You shake your head a little and sigh. Robby hates how sad it sounds. He doesn’t even really think about his next move. He just reaches out and slips his hand into yours where it rests on your thigh, laces your fingers together.

With the setting and context of why you’re both up here together it’s an incredibly intimate gesture. 

You’re not quite sure what to make of it but he initiated it and it feels good. Makes you feel safe and cared for. You look down at your intertwined hands for a moment. His hand engulfs yours with how much bigger it is and it’s so warm. He always runs so warm. 

“I don’t know,” you finally force yourself to say. “I really don’t know.” 

Robby nods slowly. “Just one of those days?” he offers. 

“I guess.” You shrug. It might seem like the silence is purposeful but in reality it’s Robby trying to think of what to say. “I’m just tired, I think.” You sniffle and it’s then you realize that you’re kind of teary. “Fuck,” you mutter. 

“It’s okay, Kid. I’ve had these days too. Some days you’re just tired and so it all hits harder, even shit that normally wouldn’t make you blink.” Robby rubs what he hopes are soothing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Yeah,” you take in a choked breath, “I’m just really fucking tired.” The tears start to fall freely then and you squeeze Robby’s hand hard like it’ll make them stop. They’re at least mercifully silent, it’s not like you’re totally sobbing in front of him. 

But then Robby really notices how much you’re crying and lets go of your hand to raise his arm so you can lean into him as he pulls you to him, your legs shifting automatically to get in a more comfortable position as you lean into his chest. “It’s okay,” he whispers, tilts his head so that his cheek rests on the top of your head.

You shake your head but hold onto him as you cry, relish in the circles his big hand rubs on your back. You don’t cry for long. A few minutes. And it’s not loud or even sobbing, it’s just crying. Just blinking out tears that end up wetting his scrub top, the occasional shuddery or hiccupped breath. 

You don’t move once you stop though and Robby doesn’t ask you to. Doesn’t shift his body to suggest you move. His cheek remains on your head and his hand continues to rub circles on your back. “I’m sorry,” you eventually whisper. 

“Never be sorry for needing to let something out. It accumulates in this job.” Robby goes to turn his head so that he can kiss the top of yours but he catches himself and stops before he can. “And if you don’t let it out somehow it can become debilitating.” 

You can feel the vibrations of him speaking and it soothes you further. “Everything just felt so shit today. All of the backstories of what brought my patients in today. All crime and abuse. Every single patient.”

“That’s one of the worst kind of days here,” Robby sympathizes. 

“I hate that it’s one kind.”

That makes him laugh which makes you smile. “Yeah there’s a lot of kinds of worst days in this job unfortunately.” 

You sigh and finally pull away from him. But his hand on your back doesn’t let you go particularly far. And when you both lean in a little your faces are close enough to feel each other’s breaths. “Does it ever get better?” you whisper. 

Robby shakes his head slightly. “No.”

You both watch each other’s eyes glance down at the other’s lips. You both lean into each other even more. You both tilt your heads in the opposite direction of the other. You both let your eyes flutter closed. 

But the second you truly feel the heat of Robby’s breath against your lips he pulls away. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

You look down, embarrassed and disappointed and guilty. But despite the almost kiss and Robby pulling away neither of you have otherwise moved. You’re still close together. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmur. 

“No!” Robby laughs, a heavy dose of self-exasperation in it. “Don’t be. God, fucking don’t be. And don’t think I don’t want to. That I don’t want… that. With you. But your name and reputation and career… we can’t. We can’t.” Robby moves his head back so he’s looking at you, uses his free hand to guide your chin up so you’re looking at him. “When you’re an attending, okay?” You nod at him and he repeats it. “When you’re an attending.” 

The sinking feeling in your and Robby’s stomachs intensifies as more patients come in who aren’t Jake or Leah and at the lack of phone call or text. You get your patient in Walsh’s hands to be taken up to surgery and change into a fresh trauma gown and step outside, checking on triage but also getting some air. 

“You good?” Robby asks, walking up behind you. He doesn’t really wait for your answer, continuing to walk towards Shen and Ellis. But the quick press of his ungloved hand against your lower back as he walks by makes up for it a little. 

You don’t bother voicing an answer, nor do you follow him to ask him the same question. You already know the answer. 

As Robby’s talking about getting gurneys to the right angle and helping fix them a truck comes squealing in. Shen and Ellis jump up and start yelling out colors. You put on a pair of gloves pulled from your pocket and wait nearby to see if there’s a red coming. But then you hear it and are hopping up on the tire of the truck to look in the bed. “Michael!”

You yell his name. And Robby immediately knows it has to be Jake. He has never heard you yell his name before and there’s only a handful of reasons why you would today. He tells himself there’s a tint of hope to your tone. “Jake?” Robby yells as he runs over. But he hears Jake’s voice and a wave of relief passes through him now that he at least knows where he is and that he’s okay enough for right now to speak. 

“Red zone. GSW left chest,” Ellis assesses Leah. 

“Jake, are you shot?” you ask him as Robby arrives. 

“I don’t know my, my leg maybe, it’s Leah. It’s Leah’s blood, she was shot, was shot in the chest and I’ve been putting pressure on it the whole time, and I don’t know-”

“That’s good,” Robby cuts him off, “you did good, okay?” 

You get Leah onto a gurney and Jake out of the truck. He walks in holding onto the side of Leah’s gurney opposite Robby. “Get him a wheelchair!” Robby calls. He notices you walking away while he argues with Jake about getting in the wheelchair and staying there and out of the way. He finds it odd, is a little miffed that you’re abandoning him with Leah and Jake. 

But you’re speedwalking to Jack. “Leah. GSW left chest. I don’t think there’s any way. It had to have shredded her heart,” you say just loudly enough for Jack to hear as you take the bag of blood he’s squeezing into his patient from him. He nods at you, gives you a rundown on the patient in front of you as he walks backwards towards Robby, turning when he’s finished. 

“Samira!” you call out to her when you see her look around. “Jake.” You flick your head at him. “Probable GSW to the leg. But head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and it’s masking another injury.” 

“Got it.” She nods and is off to Jake, finding a gurney for him to get on. 

Robby glances at Samira with Jake. “What the fuck?” It’s loud enough for you to hear. 

“Me, Michael!” you call over to him. “I sent her to do a head to toe. I’m concerned he’s in shock and not feeling another injury.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, giving you a vague nod as he turns back to Leah. He can’t believe he didn’t think about that either. That’s twice now you might’ve saved Jake. First telling him not to call just in case. Now this. He’s lucky. He’s beyond lucky to have you. “Jake you do whatever the fuck Samira tells you without a fucking word of argument!” 

You get the patient you took from Jack stable and up to surgery, start working on the next red to roll in. They stabilize relatively fast and you find yourself squeezing in blood again. But this time your eyes are flicking between the patient and Robby and Jack and the way Jack is having to talk Robby into accepting that Leah is gone. You can’t hear any of it but you know that’s what’s happening based on the expression on Jack’s face and how he keeps chasing Robby’s eye contact.

After a minute everyone stills and you watch Robby write on Leah’s card and circle around it. You know he called it. Jack’s back over to you quickly, taking the blood from you this time as you give him the rundown on this patient. “Michael!” you call as you walk over to him quickly. 

“I have to go tell Jake,” he mutters, shaking his head and turning to look in your direction but not at you. He’d been watching them wheel Leah into pedes. 

“Do you want me to go with-”

“No. No it’s fine, thanks, I got it. Santos was looking for an attending, go find her.” He walks away without looking at you. He can’t bring himself to. The shame he’s feeling at not being able to save her, at failing Jake a little too heavy to let him lift his head to look at you. 

You watch him for a second as he walks away. Your heart aches for him, for the man you love and the news he has to go deliver to a teenager he considers his son in a way. You can’t ruminate though. Too many other people need you. 

So you do what Robby said and go to find Santos. You get involved with her and by the time you’re done you look around but you can’t spot Robby. “Dana, have you seen Robby?” you ask her as she walks by. 

“I think I saw him taking Jake to pedes.” She grimaces at you. 

You nod and make your way there, opening the door and stopping short. “Michael?”

Robby’s on the floor, knees up to his chest and holding onto his necklace while reciting a prayer through tears. He doesn’t acknowledge you. It hurts to see him like this. It’s physically painful. But he needs you so you set it aside. 

“Michael,” you say softly as you sit down next to him so that your sides are pressing against each other’s. “I’m here.” You grab one of his hands, hold onto it harder when he tries to pull it away. 

“You need to go back out there,” he sniffles. “They need you.” He flicks his eyes up at you. 

There’s truth in his words. But there’s also truth in yours. “Not as much as you do right now.” 

“I can’t,” he whimpers. “I, I…” He shrugs at you before breaking down in tears again, but this time letting himself fall into your gownless lap. 

“Okay,” you whisper, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got you.”

“I couldn’t save her,” he chokes out, “another person I couldn’t fucking save. Another I killed. Another I let down. It’s two because Jake. I let him down too and he knows it.” You curl around him as much as you can, move his gown and kiss at his shoulder. You let him have a moment and get it out. Because you both know you don’t have much longer than that. “And the worst,” he sobs, “the worst part is it should’ve been me, Kid. It should be me on that gurney. It was my pass that I gave him for her.”

That last sentence is hard to hear. Because you can’t imagine a world without Robby in it. A world where you have to bury him. You want to tell him not to say shit like that, but you swallow down your upset because he doesn’t need that right now. You know there’s very little he needs right now in a sense. He doesn’t need a lot of words or you trying to make this better and discuss his feelings and emotions. He just needs to let some of this out.

Robby knows that’s all he needs right now, too. To let some of what’s eating away at him out in the one place he feels safe. 

You. 

You’re his safe place. He didn’t realize just how much he needed you here with him until you walked in and sat next to him and took his hand. You make it better. You make it hurt less. Just by being here for him. 

“You didn’t kill Adamson or Leah,” you murmur after a minute. “And you haven’t let them or Jake down. Your feelings are valid Michael, and I know I can’t begin to understand on multiple levels but the way you are feeling makes sense. We can work through your feelings. You can work through them. You can get through this. No matter how hopeless and impossible it feels right now.” You pause, have to swallow hard and blink away some tears. “And I wish that nobody was on that gurney. I don’t want anyone on that gurney. I wish none of this had ever happened. For you and Jake and Leah and everyone involved. And maybe saying this is wrong of me. It’s probably selfish. Maybe I’m a terrible person for it. You can hate me for it if you need to and like I said I truly wish none of this happened and nobody was on that gurney. But I am really fucking glad it’s not you on that gurney Michael because I have no fucking idea what I would do.” You let out a shuddery breath. “And I wish we had more time and that I could say more and hold you more and that all of this was over but it’s not.” You scratch at his scalp a little. “They need us.” He nods and sits up, looks over at you. “They need you.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. He’s let himself grow numb. Because right now that’s what he needs to be to get through this right now. 

“I need you,” you whisper back. He knows what you mean. He knows what you’re worried about. Him taking a walk off the roof or something.

“I’m not going anywhere, Kid.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He nods.

“Good.” You nod and stand up, hold out your hand to him. He lets out a soft laugh as he takes your hand and lets you help him up. 

You both take a second to wipe your faces a bit. “Find me if you need me, okay?”

“I will,” Robby promises again. 

You nod and open the door, both of you walking out. Within seconds both of your names are called.  

“Hey.” He grabs your wrist gently before you can go. You look at him with raised brows. He wants to say it. He wants to say it so badly. But he can’t. “Thank you.” I love you.

Robby slips off his stool at the high top a group of you are sitting at and follows you up to the side of the bar, takes his drink with him. You were sitting across from him at the end of the table and the rest of the group was so focused on their conversation he doesn’t think anyone even realized he followed you. A little bit he doesn’t care if they did. 

You’re down near the last two stools at the bar, waiting for the bartender to get you your drink. It’s busy so you’re sitting while you wait, wanting to be off your feet after a long shift. Robby setting his beer down startles you for just a second. But you can quickly tell it’s him. 

By the sweatshirt sleeve rolled up. By the smell of his cologne lingering just enough under all the hibiclens you can appreciate it since you know what it smells like very well by now. By the hand that sets down the beer. By his fingers. 

You look over at him with raised brows. His glass is still over half full. He came to talk to you. 

“You’ve been calling me Michael lately.” He keeps his face pretty stoic, for him at least. But you can see the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and his beard shift just slightly as the corners of his lips twitch up. 

“What an astute observation, Dr. Robinavitch.” You keep your smirk to a minimum. “I don’t have a gold star sticker on me to give you but I can buy you another drink.” Very little in life gives you as much pleasure as screwing with Robby. If you were together like you wanted you could think of at least three body parts that would be added to that list. 

Your words earn you the slightest raise of his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Why what?” Your eyes sparkle with mirth as your drink gets dropped off and you take a sip. They’re beautiful sparkling like this. They always are but Robby finds them particularly beautiful like this, when you’re happy and light-hearted and teasing. 

And it’s just like you to make him say it. Be specific. “Why do you call me Michael? Why’d you start?”

“Makes me feel special.” You smirk fully this time. “It makes me feel special because there’s a handful of people you let call you it, especially at the hospital, and you actively try and make people not call you it. I wasn’t actually sure you were gonna let me call you it at first. Guess being an R3 has privileges. But then again, I’m the only R3 you let call you it.”

“You’re the only R3 who has ever called me it. None of the others have tried. And you didn’t answer the second question,” he points out. 

“I mean  yeah, I kind of did. I started because it makes me feel special.” He gives you a look and you sigh. “In part because I wanted to see if you’d let me. In part because, I don’t know,” you smile softly to yourself and look down, “I like it. Calling you Michael. It makes me feel close to you.” Robby’s never seen you look so shy and it rocks him a little. But the shyness fades quickly for you as you look back up at him. “And in part because some of the new interns got comfortable a couple of months in and were getting a little too flirty with you for my taste. So you can imagine how smug and pleased with myself I was every time I called you Michael in front of them and you said nothing and every time one of them called you Michael and you had to correct them and tell them it was Robby or Dr. Robinavitch until they finally got the picture.”

“So jealousy?” He smirks. It makes him feel good in a way, knowing that you were jealous of attention he was getting. That you care about him and want him enough to be jealous. To feel a little possessive. “And that’s why you needed to feel special? A little petty of a response, no?”

“Oh Michael,” you chuckle, take a sip of your drink. “You and I both know you are so not the one to talk about being petty as a response to jealousy. Should I start listing things you’ve done in response to me being flirted with?”

“You really shouldn’t call me it.” He’s grown a bit more serious again. 

“Are you telling me to stop?” 

“No.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want you to. Just… You shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Your brows furrow a little in confusion. You don’t get why it matters unless he doesn’t want you calling him it for a personal reason.

“People will wonder why you’re allowed to. It makes,” he gestures between the two of you as you take a sip of your drink but doesn’t name anything, “obvious. People will start thinking and seeing it.”

You choke on your drink, coming close to spitting it out all over him. The coughs you get out once you’ve managed to swallow turn into laughter. “Michael.” You cock your head at him and give him an incredulous smile. “You cannot actually believe that me calling you Michael is what’s going to give this thing between us away. Because it’s been given away. It was given away for sure by the end of my intern year. Nobody asked me anything during my intern year I’m guessing because I was an intern, but a couple weeks into being an R2 I was getting questions. Dana and Jack never asked you or talked to you about it? Because they’ve certainly asked and talked to me.”

Robby blushes at the realization. Deep down he probably always knew that everyone could see it and he’d just managed to convince himself otherwise. “Of course they did,” he answers your question, not sure how to respond to everything before it. “I just thought it was because they were more… perceptive. That they knew me better and could see it in me.”

You have to laugh a little and bite your lip. “You know, you’re sitting here pointing out that halfway through my third year of residency I’ve just started calling you Michael, your first name, and it’s almost like you’ve forgotten you always call me Kid. Only me. Since my first fucking day here. I don’t remember the last time I heard you say my first or last name for something other than introducing me to someone, in front of a patient or in some very formal situation. And I’d like to point out that not a single god damned person has ever heard you call me Kid and then tried to call me Kid unlike with me calling you Michael. I wonder why that is? It’s almost like it comes across as a little more than a nickname to people.”

He looks at you for a second. “I…”

You hold your hand up and half wave him off. “It’s okay. I’ll stop calling you it, Robby.” It’s half teasing and half serious. 

You slide off your stool and grab your drink intending to walk back to the table. Robby’s quick to slide off his stool and stand in front of you though, blocking your path. He looks at the stool you were sitting on pointedly and then back at you. You follow his silent order and sit and set your drink back down.

He leans in a little closer to you than he was. “I never asked you to stop calling me it, nor did I say you needed to.” He raises his eyebrows at you and bobs his head. “Nor do I want you to. I like it when you do. A lot.” 

You smirk at his admission and shrug at him. “You were making an awfully big deal about it.” 

“Yeah because it, it…”

You’re genuinely not sure how he wanted to end that sentence. “It what Michael?”

Robby shakes his head at you. “Just… you’re not an attending yet. Maybe when you’re an attending, okay?”

You know Robby isn’t talking about you calling him Michael. Isn’t saying that you can’t call him Michael until you’re an attending. He’s saying what he’s said since that time on the roof that when you’re an attending the two of you can act on the feelings you clearly have for each other. 

But the maybe in front of that phrase is new and hits you like a slap across the face, heart twisting as it sinks into your stomach. He’s never said that before. It’s never been a maybe and not a certainty. Robby watches your face fall and hurt cloud your eyes. He replays what he said trying to figure out what part it was that hurt you, that made your entire demeanor change. If you’re just that disappointed you didn't change his mind and aren’t suddenly a couple or if it’s something else. He can’t figure it out.  

You swallow thickly, tears sting your eyes but you’re quick to blink them away. “Yeah.” You nod at him finally. “Maybe. But you know, that assumes I become an attending here, Robby. In Pittsburgh at the very least. And I don’t know if I will.”

You slip off your stool, leaving your half empty drink and heading over to the table. You tell everyone the exhaustion has hit and so you’re going to head home. They’re sad to see you go but nobody questions much. You cover well enough that if anyone had noticed you and Robby talking they wouldn’t think you were hurt by him and running away. Which you know is kind of what you’re doing instead of just asking him about it. Asking him if he doesn’t want to try the two of you anymore. If he doesn’t want you anymore. If that’s why it’s a maybe all of the sudden.

Your words throw Robby for a second because he realizes that you’re right, neither of you know for sure if you’ll get an attending job at PTMC or anywhere else in Pittsburgh. He realizes the two of you have never had a real conversation about if you want to stay in Pittsburgh, if you’re going to apply for attending spots in Pittsburgh or if you want to go somewhere else. And then he realizes you called him Robby. 

He’s not sure what to do with that. What it means. He slides off his stool and goes to look for you at the table, doesn’t see you but thinks you’re in the bathroom until he’s told no, you left. He has to play it cool and nod like he isn’t internally panicking about whatever the fuck just happened. And he can’t just leave because it’ll look suspicious. He has to wait a respectable amount of time, ends up leaving when Samira and Langdon do. 

Robby calls you as he walks home. No answer. He has no idea what to even say to you right now so he doesn’t leave a message. He decides to text you instead. He’s worried about you and whether you’re okay and got home safe. He’s always worried about you when he doesn’t have eyes on you. 

R - Let me know you got home safe  R - Please

You don’t reply immediately. Or within five minutes. Or within ten minutes. It’s almost long enough to make him start panicking and change his direction to walk to your place and see if you’re there. Because of course he knows where you live and has been to your place before. But then you finally reply.

You - I did, yeah, thanks. Was showering. I hope you have a good rest of your night

It’s the truth. You were in the shower. In the shower standing under almost scalding water ruminating on ‘maybe when you’re an attending.’ Maybe. When did it become maybe for him? And why? You hate how bad it hurts, the thought of never getting to even try with him. The thought of him not wanting you anymore, of his feelings for you just disappearing. It makes you anxious. 

And more than anything right now, you’re confused. So fucking confused because he’s still flirting with you just as much and as hard as he always has when you guys are alone together or when you’re close enough to whisper. His hands and fingers still linger just a couple of seconds too long when he passes you something or wrap over yours to show you how to do something. You still feel his eyes on you when you talk to other men, especially if the men flirt with you. You still notice him checking you out sometimes. But now it’s maybe. Maybe. 

Robby lets out a breath when your message comes through. He debates calling you again to try and talk on the phone but he’s still not sure what to say. He walks into his apartment and drops his stuff, heads to his room and takes his scrub top and pants off before letting himself sit on the edge of the bed and reply.

R - Good.  R - Are we okay? You left quickly and without saying bye

After you finish getting ready, you slide into your bed and turn the tv on while you think about what to say to his message. Tone is so hard to get out of texts but you can tell he clearly still cares about you and whatever is between you. Enough to ask if the two of you are okay. It helps your anxiety a little bit. 

You - Yeah, we’re fine

He believes you but the word ‘fine’ also scares him. It’s not good or great or perfect or even normal or like we always are. So he can’t let the conversation die. Not when he’s still so unsure about whether you guys are okay or if he did something or if you still want him or if you’re mad at him. 

R - Are you working tomorrow? 

You - Yeah but at night. I’m starting a string of six nights to help cover. 

Robby knows you’ll be with Jack every night. He remembers Jack mentioning a string of six on. He’s not jealous in a romantic sense. He’s jealous of the time Jack will get to spend with you and is already thinking of excuses to stay late to be with you. He’s sad that he won’t see you for more than maybe an hour or so for the next six days.

R - Abbot’s going to try to steal you from days permanently

You type out your reply. It’s genuine but you know it’s going to seriously fuck with him and that the idea will freak him out and make him scared of losing you. Or will it? You don’t seem to know anymore. And that hurts. And hurt people hurt people. But you pause. You erase your last sentence. ‘Maybe when I’m an attending.’

You - He just might. Going to bed at 7 in the morning rather than getting up early enough to be at work for 7 in the morning kind of appeals to me

Robby stares at your response, a wave of deeper anxiety passing over him. You can’t go to nights. He’d barely see you. You can’t be serious about this. 

R - Really?

You - Yeah. Why?

Fuck. You are serious about this. And what the fuck is he supposed to say in response to your question? He knows you know why. He knows you know how he feels about you. How he wants you too. How he can’t wait for you to be an attending or even accept a position because then he can finally have you.

R - Would be a big loss for day shift. You’re one of the best

That hurts a little. That you switching to nights would just be a loss to day shift to him. Not a loss to him personally. That he wouldn’t miss you apparently.

You - You guys would be fine 

R - I’d miss you. I’ll miss you this week

You smile at him saying he’d miss you and that he’s going to this week. But part of you struggles to believe him after the bar.

You - Would you? Will you? 

He can’t believe you’re even asking that. And because it’s a text he can’t hear in your voice whether those two questions are serious or teasing. It hurts him to think that they might be serious. 

R - Of course 

You - Well I really doubt I’ll end up switching. So you’ll only have to miss me for a week 

R - Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

You are so confused by this man. It’s ‘maybe’ and ‘a loss to day shift’ but then it’s also he’ll miss you and his heart will grow fonder. But it was a good line. And between him telling you he’ll miss you unprompted and that being away from you for almost a week will deepen his feelings for you, you’re starting to feel back to your usual self and, while the change has been subconscious mostly, you go back to texting him like your usual self. 

But before you can reply Robby sends another message. It terrifies him. He’s not sure how he even worked himself up to asking you. He just needs to know. Needs to know if the two of you are really okay. 

R - Will you miss me at all?

It’s an incredibly vulnerable ask. You know it. He knows it. He knows you know it. He needs a very ‘you’ answer to it. So you give him one.

You - 🙂‍↕️

R - Good

You - Did you have to google what that emoji meant? (P.S. You should have added girl after good)

Robby laughs to himself and shakes his head at you. This feels better. Normal. Like you. 

R - Did you just call me old? (P.S. Stop it)

You smile to yourself. You know he means the stop it playfully. He’d have said way more if he actually wanted you to stop.

You - 😶🤐 You - Did you change the font size on your phone?

R - I’ve changed my mind about missing you 

You - Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night, Michael

R - Go to bed, Kid R - Don’t  R - Don’t even think it

You giggle to yourself. He’s lucky he was so quick to realize and send the ‘don’t.’

You - Does it make it better if I told you it was going to be daddy and not dad?

Robby groans to himself a little. No. That’s what he wants to tell you. No, it makes it worse in a way. It has him half hard pretty quickly. 

You - I’ve been in bed this entire conversation too, so 

You know you’re getting close to Robby’s limit of this shameless of flirting and overt sexualness. You’re toeing the line. It hits just right though. It makes him harder. Fully hard. And Robby has to groan to himself a little louder this time because if you guys were together he’d work himself up to sending you a picture of his very obvious erection under his boxers, or facetime you and make you talk him through it. But you’re not together. And you’re an R3. And he can’t.

You - Wanna know what I’ve been doing? 

You wait a few seconds just to let him start to think before you hit send on the picture you took of your tv that shows you’re watching some trashy reality tv show he hates. Or pretends to hate. Because he always knows enough about the last episode to talk to you about it. Maybe he hated it before you, maybe he still does kind of hate it, but now he watches it for you. 

You - I’m sure that’s what you were thinking I was doing. Anyway. Did you make it home safely?

Robby lets out a quiet laugh. You’re so ridiculous. So perfect for him. He’s so spectacularly fucked when it comes to you. 

R - Yes and I’m going to shower. You go to sleep

You - 😏😏 You - Alright I’m stopping  You - Sleep tight and try not to miss me too much this week 

R - Sleep well, Kid

Robby throws open the door to the stairwell and walks in. He’s shaking, closer to tears than he wants to admit to himself and he is pretty sure he has never felt this much rage in his life. All of his emotions, all the grief and loss and sadness and guilt have turned into anger. 

And all because Langdon had to come back and then run his fucking mouth. He’s trying to calm down, to let go of the anger before he goes back out there and does or says something he’s going to regret because his mind is too clouded with anger. His hand rubs the back of his neck as he paces to try and burn off some of the adrenaline. 

He replays the confrontation in his head over and over. Eventually he’s struck by one thing in particular. How the fuck did Langdon even know about what happened in pedes? You were the only one who saw him-

Robby stills. It feels like another part of his world is coming crashing down around him. The only way Langdon could have known is if you’d told him. Or you’d told someone else who’d told him. If you were gossiping about him. About something so incredibly private and intimate. 

The door to the stairwell gets thrown back open and Robby walks further into the Pitt, head on a swivel looking for you. His jaw clenches when he sees you standing alone and charting. He stalks over to you.

“We need to talk.” The anger in his voice is palpable. And unlike the last time he sought you out, this time he’s not asking to speak with you. You saw him follow Langdon out so you assume it must be related and Langdon really must have done or said something.  “In here. Now.” 

He’s seething. He leads over to the supply closet and opens the door, walks in behind you, locks the door behind him. “What happened?” you ask, brows furrowed.

Robby just stares at you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to admit something. And you slowly realize his anger isn’t at Langdon or that situation or at anything else. 

It’s at you. 

He finally speaks. “I cannot fucking believe you.”

You shrink back at his words and tone. “What?”

“There are a lot of fucking people here who I would expect this shit from or not be surprised when they did it. But not you. Not fucking you,” he spits out. “How could you? How could you fucking gossip about that?” Robby tells himself the tears forming in his eyes are ones of anger and nothing else. “How could you betray me like that? I trusted you. I fucking trusted you.” His voice cracks on the second trusted.

To say you’re confused would be a massive understatement. Your stomach twists with anxiety. You don’t like any of this. You don’t like how he thinks you betrayed him or broke his trust. Because you’re not sure if your relationship could survive him truly believing that. “Michael, please believe me when I say that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The confusion written all over your face just pisses him off more. It’s like you’re trying to be the victim. “No. Don’t do this shit. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. Don’t try to be the fucking victim. The very fucking least you could do at this point is own the fuck up to it.”

You are desperately trying to play your day through your head to see if you can figure out what he’s talking about, figure out what you did that apparently betrayed him and obliterated his trust. You and Dana talked during the day but you never told her anything, just expressed your concern about him and him saying and acting like he was fine. You and Jack spoke while organizing supplies, but again, you just expressed concern about him and how he’d react if something happened to Jake. You said nothing to either of them that they didn’t already know because Robby had told them. You have no idea how he could consider any of that gossiping. 

“You’re really going to make me fucking spell it out for you, hm?” He bobs his head condescendingly. 

Tears spill over your lash line and slide down your cheeks because of the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s treating you. Because you know exactly where this conversation is headed if he won’t explain to you and then listen to your response. Because he’s slowly breaking your heart. 

“You told someone, Langdon or whoever the fuck else, about what happened in pedes. About me breaking down in there and being on the floor. You just fucking blabbed that to whoever,” he scoffs, a few tears running down his cheeks. Out of anger, yes. 

But out of heartbreak too. You gossiping about this, you breaching his trust like this, shatters Robby. Because he loves you. Even if he hasn’t said it. He’s stupidly in love with you. He has been. He thought you were the one. That you were it. His end game. He pictured a proposal and a wedding and a house and maybe kids.

And then you broke his heart. 

“Okay,” you sniffle through some tears. “I know you don’t believe me but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t tell anyone absolutely anything about pedes. I never would-”

“Well nobody else came in and saw me so how the fuck else would Langdon know? Hm?” he snarls. “You fucking gossiped about it. Like it was this casual thing.” He shrugs at you as more tears fall down his face and he glares at you. “We’re done. Because I will never be able to trust you again. Not with anything like that, with how I feel, to see me when I’m vulnerable. And I deserve a partner I can trust with that.” His anger slips for a moment, the trembling of his chin and the way his eyes soften into hurt and grief give it away. “We waited all this fucking time, I waited all this fucking time for you and you do this before we even hit six fucking months?” You can see when the anger returns as his primary emotion in addition to hearing it. “You threw it all away! And for what. For fucking what? Please tell me. Because I don’t fucking understand.” 

You’re at a total loss. You know that it ultimately doesn’t matter what you say. Robby isn’t in a state of mind to truly hear or listen to anything you tell him and even if he was, he doesn’t want to. Not right now at least. He just broke up with you. For, as far as you can tell, nothing. Your heart is shattered just like his. You thought he was the one. You knew he was deep in your heart. He was always there when you pictured your future. 

It takes you a moment to gather a few thoughts and calm your crying down enough to coherently talk. You clear your throat and sniffle before starting.

“You very clearly aren’t interested in listening to anything I have to say, but I’m going to say a few things anyway and hope you do listen, or think about them later. I did not tell anybody anything about pedes. I would never. Even now.” You take the briefest pause, worried that if you stop for any longer he’ll cut you off and not let you say anything else. “I love you, Michael. I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I never said it because it felt like you weren’t ready to hear it or say it quite yet, or I don’t know, maybe I mistook things and you didn’t, don’t love me.” You shrug. “I was so proud of you when I watched you pull yourself together in the face of multiple things, any one of which let alone all of them combined would have kept most people on the floor of that room, and go out and save lives and rally a team and support others and hold others up while you were dying inside. And I really hope one day, that for yourself, you’ll be able to learn and speak with Langdon or whoever else you need to and know that I was telling the truth and didn’t say anything to anyone and never would’ve. I loved you, Michael. You were amazing today. You are so much stronger than you think or give yourself credit for. I’m proud of you. You should be proud of yourself even through all the hurt, Michael.”

“No.” Robby shakes his head. He’s too angry and hurt and grief stricken to see anything clearly or even truly process your words. He stoops so that he’s face to face with you and you’ve never seen Robby look this angry and hurt. He makes sure you’re looking at him dead in the eyes as he speaks. “No, you don’t get to call me Michael. Or Robby. It’s Dr. Robinavitch to you.” 

He stands back up, unlocks and throws the door open and walks back out. Like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just issue you your very own scarlet letter by telling you that you can only call him by his full name and title, a stark contrast to the intimacy of Michael and even the casualness of Robby that everyone, except for you now, gets to call him. Like he didn’t just break up with you. Like he didn’t just shatter your heart. Like you’re not even worth hearing out or having an actual conversation with or listening to. Like you’re nothing. 

Pretty fucking cruel of the world for it to end where it started. In this supply closet. 

You lock the door behind him and slide down it, give yourself a few minutes to quietly sob, thoughts racing. But you don’t want to do this here. You can’t and you won’t. You open a pack of gauze and use it to clean off your face, unlock the door and peek through it until you see a good moment and sprint to the bathroom. 

You press a cold paper towel beneath your eyes. You know it’s probably pointless but maybe it’ll help a little. You’re focusing on thinking about how to get out of here and have the least number of people see you as possible. After a few minutes you toss the towel, splash some cold water on your face and dry off. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Marginally better, you guess. 

You slip out of the bathroom and look around. You should tell someone you’re leaving. The only two you decide you’ll be able to bring yourself to talk to are Jack and Dana. You spot Jack first.

“Hey,” you greet Jack as you walk up to him. Janey has arrived and Robby’s over talking with her so the hub is free of him for now. “I’m heading out.”

Jack looks up at you. To anyone else it would seem like he didn’t react. But you know him well enough to see the slightest raise of his eyebrows and the corners of his lips turn down. You have a fake smile plastered on your face and even with the damage control you did in the bathroom, someone would have to be an idiot to look at you and not know you’d been crying. And you know Jack is far from an idiot. 

You know he knows when his eyes leave you and go to Robby and then back to you. “Okay… We’ll probably do some sort of debrief and then I’m sure some people will go to the park. Robby’s probably going to be here for a little bit yet.”

“I figured, yeah.” You nod. “Thanks Jack.” You spin and start walking away before Jack can say anything further or Robby can walk back over or even look in your direction. You don’t want to feel it. You have enough already. His glare at you, livid and disappointed and betrayed and disdained and hurt. And even though you know why he’s with her, seeing him with his ex is hard. Especially when you realize you’re now just another ex for him to be seen with too. 

You wonder if they’ll bond over their fear for Jake before they knew he was okay and get back together as you walk to your locker. You grab your backpack and take the back way out to limit the chances of anyone seeing you and manage to hit the street without encountering anyone else.

You have a few things of Robby’s in your locker that you’ll have to figure out how to return to him. More things at your place. You’re going to have to go home and still see him. Have his presence there. Thinking about it makes tears sting at your eyes. But you refuse to break down until you get home, you won’t do it even out here. You need to be home before you break down. About any of it. Robby or the mass casualty incident you just went through. And it’ll mostly be about Robby. Probably 99%. You’re numb to whatever it is you saw and went through, focused on losing Robby.

And as brokenhearted and sad and hurt you are, part of you is mad. That Robby could even think you would do such a thing, much less believe it enough to accuse you of it and end your entire relationship over it without a real conversation. You know it was a bad day for him. Beyond a bad day. Probably one of the worst days of his life. But that’s not an excuse or justification for how he treated you. He didn’t even listen to you, wouldn’t even contemplate it being possible that someone else saw him and he just didn’t see. 

Part of you knows that with the day being what it was and what it became, Robby’s mind was trying to protect himself. That his mind could only see loss and grief and convinced him that you were going to leave him at the end of the day after seeing him like that in pedes. So when he saw an opportunity to control it, to set the terms of losing and grieving you, he took it and didn’t ask any questions. 

Robby does not want to gather everyone and give some kind of debriefing speech, but he knows he has to say something to everyone. Once everyone is gathered he starts talking and as he looks around the group he realizes you’re not there. He tells himself he doesn’t care but he absolutely does. Even with how much you hurt him he misses you. He wishes you were here to ground him a little. He thinks he could forgive you, especially if you had an explanation. Maybe you didn’t mean to say as much as you did to whoever. 

But as everyone walks away and goes back to whatever they were doing he slips back into anger because it’s an easier emotion to process and feel at the moment. You’re an attending now. It’s your job to be here for things like this. To stay for debriefings. No matter what might’ve happened in your personal life. 

So when he feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out and sees it’s you calling him he rolls his eyes  and sends it straight to voicemail on the second ring. And he gets annoyed when you don’t leave a message and immediately call him again. This time he just lets it ring until it hits voicemail. Maybe you’ll get the hint this time, he thinks. He figures you must because you don’t leave a message again and don’t try calling him a third time or send a text. Robby gets involved in another case with Jack and one with Mel and doesn’t think much of it. An hour and a half passes in the blink of an eye.

When he walks out of one of the trauma rooms and stops at the hub the exhaustion finally slams into him full force. He’s hungry too, can feel his blood sugar dropping. His ability to regulate and deal with his emotions is going further out the window with both of those developments. Which, he presumes, is why when he sees Langdon walking towards the ambulance bay doors to leave he walks over to him quickly. 

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Robby glances down at his watch. “I told you to leave over two fucking hours ago!”

“Why the fuck do you care? I’m leaving now.” Langdon doesn’t stop walking. 

Robby stands there for a second watching Langdon walk away. He needs to know he was right. That it was in fact you who told Langdon. 

“Hey!” Robby yells at Langdon and walks to catch up with him. “Who fucking told you?” He knows Langdon will know what he’s talking about.

“I’m not fucking telling you,” Langdon laughs dryly. “Unlike some people here I’m not going to rat out-”

Robby interrupts him by saying your name. “Was it her?”

Langdon laughs, shaking his head at Robby before he apparently realizes the question is serious. “You can’t be fucking serious.” Robby’s lack of response makes it clear he is serious. “Of course it wasn’t her! She would absolutely never spread shit about you, especially something like that. Someone else saw you in there on the floor firsthand. They’re glass fucking doors, Robby!” Langdon lets out an incredulous laugh. 

Fuck. Fuck. Robby’s heart drops into his sinking stomach and everything starts to spin, his extremities turning to ice. He knows Langdon is telling him the truth. He knows he monumentally fucked up. He just broke up with you for nothing. He just destroyed your heart for nothing. He just shattered the most precious and important and meaningful person in his life. He just imploded everything for no fucking reason. 

He just lost the best things in his life, your relationship and you, the person who kept him going. And he has nobody to blame but himself. 

He vaguely hears Langdon start to say something else to him but he’s taking a deep breath to try to get his dizziness to pass and walking back inside. Robby thinks about how he spoke to you. The words he said. How he barely let you say anything and didn’t listen to what he did let you say. He’s not sure if the two of you can recover from this. He’s not sure he deserves you giving him a second chance. If anything, he’s more sure he doesn’t. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try, if he doesn’t apologize and ask for a second chance. 

His eyes skim across everyone on the floor he can see once he’s back inside. He walks by most of the rooms and doesn’t see you in with any patients. You’re not in the breakroom. Maybe the bathroom. He doesn’t want to stand around waiting though. 

The roof. You saw him go up to the roof this morning because that’s where Jack was getting some air. He’d told you he was going up there to talk with Jack. Maybe you’re up there trying to clear your head. As he gets to the elevator and presses the up button it hits Robby. You could be standing on that ledge. You could be thinking about jumping. About disappearing from his life permanently. About really and truly leaving him forever. Nothing left but a grave to visit.

The only thing that stops Robby from turning to give into the feeling and be sick in the trash can is the elevator doors opening. He slips inside and hits the button for the roof, holding the close door button down the entire way up as though it really does anything. He tries to tell himself he’s just projecting his feelings onto you and that he has no reason to think you’re on the ledge.

Robby can’t decide whether he’s relieved that you’re not on the roof. Certainly he’s relieved you’re not on the ledge but it means he still doesn’t know where you are. He stands in the middle of the roof sucking in huge breaths of air trying to come down from the panic that’s starting to consume him. It’s not really working though. It’s just turning into hyperventilating. 

“Well you’re almost in my spot,” Jack calls to Robby as he walks out onto the roof. “What is going on? She-”

“I fucked up Jack,” Robby blurts out. “I fucked up so so badly and I don’t, I don’t know if I can fix it.” He slips completely into hyperventilating at this point as it plays in his head again. Him destroying everything in that supply closet. 

“Okay you’re having a panic attack, Michael-”

“No, no I’m not, I’m not, I’m just,” he’s shaking at this point, his body and his voice, “I just lost her and I, I, I…” Robby can barely put that three word phrase together. 

“I promise you that you are having a panic attack, Michael, believe me I know.” Jack steps in front of Robby and catches his gaze. “You have to follow my breathing, okay?” Robby shakes his head for a second and squeezes his eyes closed trying to fight back tears before starting to nod. “Look at me.” Robby opens his eyes and watches Jack. He watches Jack’s exaggerated breathing and tries to follow it. By focusing so hard on following Jack’s breathing Robby’s mind stills for a few moments. “Alright, better?” Robby nods at him. “What the fuck happened?”

Robby’s quiet for a moment and turns and takes a step so that he’s not facing Jack anymore. It’s a little too much. “I broke today. During the middle of it all, after Leah.” Robby’s voice cracks on her name. “She found me crying on the fucking floor in pedes and helped me get through it and back.” Robby pauses and lets out a huffed laugh. “For this to make sense I have to tell you that Langdon’s addicted to pain meds and stealing meds. Fucking, I don’t even know what to say about that right now.” He can see Jack’s slightly surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “Anyway, after everything calmed down Langdon and I had it out in the ambulance bay and he threw it in my face. What happened in pedes.”

“Mmmm,” Jack cringes in acknowledgment. Robby knows he knows where this is about to go. 

“She was the only one I saw see me in there. So I assumed she told fucking Langdon or someone else who then told him. That she was gossiping about it.” Robby shrugs and sniffles. “I dragged her into that fucking supply closet with me and lost it. Asked her how could she, told her I couldn’t believe her, all while she was looking at me confused which just pissed me off more in the moment. She said it wasn’t her but I wasn’t listening. I barely let her speak. And then,” Robby pauses, lips trembling hard. “And then she said she loves me and is proud of me and she ended her last sentence with Michael and all I said was that she didn’t get to call me Michael or Robby. That it was Dr. Robinavitch to her. Then I walked out. I saw Langdon just now and he told me it wasn’t her and I know he was telling the truth.” Robby takes in and lets out a big breath quickly, sniffling again and wiping some tears away. “So I broke up with her and broke her heart for nothing. And I’ve been trying to find her to apologize as if she’ll ever take me back. She shouldn’t. I know she shouldn’t but I have to try Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “I have to try.” 

Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out. He looks like he’s trying to decide what to respond to first. He runs a hand through his hair and then drops his hands to his hips. “Yeah,” he draws the word out. “That’s…” he sighs. “You guys might be able to work this out. It’s very obvious she knows you and how you think, better than you probably, and she is so fucking in love with you,” he tries to give Robby a somewhat reassuring smile, “so, I don’t know. You have to try, I agree. But she left, Robby.” Jack glances at his watch. “Two hours ago.” 

“What?” Robby whispers, turns back to face Jack. He glosses over everything Jack said to try and give him hope because he can’t take any possibility of false hope right now, as much as he knows Jack wouldn’t lie to him. 

“When you were talking to Janey. She came up to me at the hub, looking like she’d just had the conversation you described with you and said she was leaving.” Jack shrugs. “I said we’d do a debrief and some people would probably go to the park after and that you’d be here for a bit yet and she said she figured that and thanks and walked away.”

“Did you actually see her leave?” Robby doesn’t know why the thought of you leaving and being at home in your bed sobbing, or having already sobbed yourself to sleep makes it all feel worse. 

“No-” 

“So she could still be here.” Robby nods as he says it. “She could have gotten involved in a case or something and not left yet.” He starts walking back to the elevator. 

“Theoretically,” Jack agrees. “I think she probably left, Robby. You know her locker code? See if her stuff is there.” 

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Robby nods as they step in the elevator. “That’s good, that’s a good idea.” He’s praying that your stuff will still be there. That you’re not at home alone crying over him and how he treated you and the end of your relationship. Because he doesn’t want that. He’s not sure anymore if that’s really what he wanted when he was so sure you gossiped about it. 

As soon as he’s off the elevator Robby’s speed walking to the lockers, Jack following behind at a more normal pace. Robby hears Jack stop a few feet behind him as he opens your locker. Your stuff is gone. You’re gone. At home alone. Just like he didn’t want. 

“Michael,” you pant as his lips move down your neck and to your collarbone where he sucks a bruise into your skin making you moan softly again. “We should stop, you, you should go home and get some sleep before work.” The hand in his hair tugs at it to get him to look at you. 

It’s the night of your first date. After dinner you guys came back to your place. It started with just sitting and chatting on the couch, having another drink. Then you started kissing as you talked. Then you were kissing more than you were talking. Then you straddled him. And now he’s laying on top of you on your couch, bracing himself with his arms to not put too much of his weight on you. You have to have been making out like this for the better part of an hour. You’ve both been shamelessly grinding into each other, pulling little sounds you’ve always wanted to hear from the other. Robby’s painfully hard. Your underwear has to be soaked through or close to it. 

“What?” Robby’s already halfway gone, mind hazy with thoughts of you. It takes a second for what you said to process. “What? No first date sex for me?” he pants softly. You know he’s teasing you, that he truly didn’t come here with any expectations and he would absolutely never pressure you. 

“Nope.” You smile at him as you pop the ‘p.’

Robby groans a little at you as he moves off of you to sit normally on the couch, helping you sit up next to him. “Why not?” He pushes his bottom lip out at you a little as you climb into his lap. “That hardly seems fair.”

You give his bottom lip a quick nip before kissing it. “Because I care about you and this. Us.” 

“But if there’s already an us…” he trails off with a raise of his brows at you. “And we’ve been basically dating for four years.” You snort a laugh and give him a look. “Okay, we’ve been close friends with feelings for each other for four years. That should count for something right?” He lets one hand rest at your hip and the other in your lap. 

“In a way, yes, of course it does.” You run your hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp a little just to see the way his eyes flutter closed. “I still need to keep you interested though. Make sure you have a reason to ask me out again and keep me around.”

Robby scoffs as he opens his eyes. He gives you a look. “Kid, you really think that after pining for you and dreaming about you for four fucking years that I’m going to finally get inside of you and then just decide I’m romantically done with you?”

You shiver at his words and the thought of him inside of you. “Maybe I won’t be good in bed or you won’t feel a spark or it’ll be flat.”

Robby lets out a breath as he takes your face in his hands. “I can pretty much guarantee you none of that will be the case.  Having sex with you is just going to make me more obsessed with you, Kid.”

You nod, give him a small smile and lean into one of his hands. “Maybe I just like torturing you.” A slow smirk pulls onto your face. “You made me wait four years. And yes I understand and respect and appreciate why. But I still think it means you can take me on a date for every year you made me wait, and then maybe I’ll let you put your cock inside of me, Michael.”

He groans, dropping his hands back to your hip and lap where they were. “So breakfast, lunch and dinner dates tomorrow?” 

You giggle at him, lean in and give him a kiss. You love knowing how desperate he is. It makes you feel good. But while you and Robby have known each other and been dancing around this for four years, that’s almost what makes you feel like the sex is going to be more meaningful and like for some reason you should wait just a couple of dates. Because you could fall in love with Robby. Because you know you already are starting to fall in love with him. That you have been since you met him. 

“No.” You shake your head at him. “But that was a great try.”

“Can I at least do four days in a row?” he whines. 

You hum in fake thought for a few seconds. “I’ll allow that.”

“Good.” Robby leans in and kisses you again, deepens it when you open your mouth a little for him when his tongue presses at your lips. He’ll never get enough of this. Enough of you. He pulls away just a little before you’re both desperate for air and rests his forehead against yours. “I’m going to make you break before the fourth date.” 

You chuckle. “Oh, Michael, Michael, Michael.” You pull your forehead from his and give him an almost sympathetic look. “You should know better than to challenge me by now. Because now that you’ve said it, I absolutely won’t let you break me.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs the word, “I was trying so hard to be hot and sexy for you I forgot how incredibly stubborn you are.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “You know you don’t have to try, Michael. You just are hot and sexy.” 

He just hums at you and squeezes your hip and thigh. “Come on, I’ll go. We both do need to sleep before work.” You sigh a little about it as you get off his lap and stand up. You don’t really want him to leave but you know it’s better to do it this way. “I’m gonna use your bathroom before I leave.” Robby kisses the top of your head as he passes you. 

You get a thought and slip to your kitchen while Robby’s in your bathroom, quickly getting your bottoms off. You make sure your underwear adequately reflects how turned on and wet you got just from making out with him and then them off and get your bottoms back on. You tuck the underwear in the back of your waistband and pull your shirt down over them. 

You wait for Robby on the armrest of your couch, smiling at him when he reappears. The two of you walk to your door together. “I had a really great time tonight, Michael.” You’re smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. 

“So did I, Kid. The best time.” Robby’s hands find your waist again, just holding you gently. “Will you go on a second date with me?” he asks like you don’t both already know the answer. 

“You know it.” Your smile somehow widens a little more and you have to fight to get it off your face so that Robby can kiss you when he starts leaning down and in. Neither of you are surprised or mad when the kiss turns into making out for a couple of minutes in front of your door. 

You break apart naturally when you need air and you let your forehead fall to rest on Robby’s chest. After a second you pull back. 

“Here.” You grab your underwear from your waistband. You let them dangle off your finger for a second to make sure Robby knows exactly what they are. “To get you through the night and proof you don’t need to try to be hot and sexy.” You smirk at him as you shove them in his pocket. “Took them off while you were in the bathroom. You can feel they’re still warm. And maybe if you’re good you’ll get a pair at the end of each date.”

Robby swallows hard, breathing picking up a little just at the beginnings of thoughts of what he could do with them at home and how you’ll know he’s doing something with them and how you want him to. He presses his palm against his pocket. They’re still warm like you said. A blush creeps up his neck to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He has to close his eyes for a second as he tries to regulate a bit. “You’re gonna kill me, Kid,” Robby breathes out. 

“I’m a doctor, remember? I would never let that happen.” You and Robby exchange soft laughs as he opens the door. “Text me when you get home safely please. Or on your way home.” You grin at him. 

“I will.” Robby nods at you. You lean up and give him a soft and lingering kiss. It’s simple, but the perfect way to end the night. 

“Have a good night, Michael.”

“Have a good night, Kid.”

There’s very little thought to it. Robby just follows the instinct that tells him to run after you. Doesn’t grab his backpack. Doesn’t say another word to Jack. He just turns and runs. 

Robby knows that you’ll be at your place. That you won’t have gone to a bar or something. You’ll just want to be alone. He hates himself for it, hates the thought, can picture you curled up alone and crying or sniffling heavily in your sleep because you finally cried yourself out. 

He books it to your place, comes close to being hit once or twice when making a few unwise crossing decisions. He’s panting hard by the time he gets to your building and fumbles with his key to get in the main door, taking the stairs two at a time as he hauls ass up to the third floor. He’s running on sheer adrenaline. 

He doesn’t take a moment to collect himself when he gets to your door, just starts knocking. When you don’t answer he uses his key to let himself in. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows he should respect you not wanting to see him and wanting to be alone right now, but he needs to see you and apologize and make everything okay again. 

But your apartment is dark when he steps in. Hot. Like the AC has been off because you’ve been at his the past week. You’d have turned the AC on if you were here. He checks anyway though. But you’re not there. Not in your bed or the shower or on your couch. And so Robby’s left a sweaty and panting mess as he closes your bedroom door and leans back against it. 

He tries to take a moment to calm down, get his breath back, some focus back so he can think about where else you might be. But he can’t. 

Instead, Robby slides down your bedroom door, bringing his knees to his chest and starting to cry again. Just like he did in pedes. It’s more sobbing this time, especially because of how hard it is to breathe, how out of breath he was before he started crying. Some of his tears are for the loss, Adamson and Leah, for his guilt at giving Jake his other ticket and thoughts that it should have been him to get shot and not Leah, for the damage to his relationship with Jake, for Langdon, for breaking down in the middle of an MCI and letting his team down. 

But most of them are for you. The loss of you. The way he’s already grieving you while praying and hoping and wishing that he’ll be able to stop, that you’ll take him back and so he won’t have to keep grieving the loss of you in his life. For accusing you of something horrible like that. For yelling at you. For the way he snapped at you all day. The way that, although you were quick to shut it down most times, he took out a lot of his emotions on you over the entire day. Took out his emotions on you who was only ever there for him whenever he needed it. Who kept him together and in check. Who saw only the best in him and stayed. Who saw the worst in him and stayed. Who was proud of him. Who he needs to survive this. And for the way, he realized on his run over as he replayed the scene in the supply closet over in his mind, your tense changed. You love him to you loved him. Love to loved. An audible breaking of your heart.  

Robby looks over at your kitchen. Maybe it would just be better for you and Jake and everybody if he just disappeared. If he just ceased to exist. He told you he wouldn’t. He promised you he wouldn’t. But maybe you want him to now. He’s tired of feeling. Of hurting. Without you he doesn’t really have anyone. Jake hates him. Jack and Dana will be fine without him. You have sharp enough knives. He knows exactly where to cut.

His phone ringing pulls him out of it for a second. He sniffles and clears his throat as he moves to pull his phone out of his pocket. He knows it’s not you because you’d given yourself a special ringtone and it’s not the one playing.

It’s Jack. If you’re there at the hospital still with Jack then he won’t. He’ll keep his promise and run back. Apologize. Beg. Grovel. Anything. Everything. 

“Did you hear from her?” There’s no greeting. Robby’s straight to the question. 

“Robby, she’s here.” Jack’s voice is strained. He sounds exhausted, but more emotionally than anything. He sounds pained. Like speaking these words is physically and emotionally hurting him. He didn’t sound like that when Robby left. But Robby brushes it all aside.

“Oh fuck, okay thank you.” Robby lets out a sigh of relief and wipes at his face. He sniffles again and lets out a little laugh. Because at least he knows where you are. “Keep her there Jack, please. I don’t care how you do it, lock her in a room or use restraints, just keep her there. I need to talk to her. I need-”

“No, not like that,” Jack tells him, voice clipped, still strained. “Like-” Jack gets interrupted. Robby can hear what sounds like a door opening, muffled movement and beeping of monitors. He can just make out a female voice tell Jack ‘she’s seizing again.’ Jack’s voice is muffled like he’s holding the phone away from him but Robby can hear him say ‘yes’ to what sounded like the shout of a medication order, followed by Jack yelling ‘and where the fuck is neuro?’ 

“Fuck. You need to get here, Michael.” Jack rushes it out but Robby recognizes Jack’s tone clear as day because he’s used it so many times himself. 

It’s the tone they use when stressing to family members that they need to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible because a loved one is about to die. 

Tears start to stream down Robby’s face again because he knows. Robby knows exactly what Jack means when he repeats it. “She’s here.”

I know. 😶🥲😶‍🌫️😭

I've affectionately called this Robby's No Man's Land. It was named the same way too. Obviously there will be a Part 2 unless nobody wants one. 😂 I PROMISE that what happened in NML Part 2 will not be repeated in the Part 2 to this.

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[hauntedhowlett-writes]

TITLE: rainy day

PAIRING: michael "robby" robinavitch x female reader

RATING: explicit | WORD COUNT:

SUMMARY:

when a thunderstorm cuts your plans short, you and robby make the most of his day off together at home.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

no use of y/n, established relationship, domestic fluff

explicit sexual content (18+ - minors do not interact): oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, multiple positions, creampie.

let me know if any are missing!

LINKS:

main blog | masterlists | AO3

The bed is empty when you wake up. It usually is, given Robby’s schedule, but you know he has the day off. You sit up, stretch your arms above your head, and leave the comfort of your mattress in search of the man.

You find him in the kitchen, standing at your stove with a spatula in his hand. He looks up when he hears you, smiling in the way that creases the corners of his eyes.

“She lives,” he jokes, sliding the spatula beneath a pancake and flipping it expertly. “I thought you’d sleep longer.”

“Probably would have if you were still in bed,” you respond pointedly. He raises an eyebrow at you and gestures to the pan.

“I made breakfast.” He points to the fridge. “Even got some of that juice you like.”

“You went to the store? How long have you been up?”

“Since five.”

“Jesus,” you laugh. “You’re insane.”

He doesn’t argue, just laughs and shakes his head.

“What did you want to do today?” He asks.

“Coffee, used bookstore, farmer’s market,” you reply. “In that order.”

“Yes m’am.” He flips the finished pancake onto a stack of similar ones. “But first, eat some of these.”

You gladly accept the plate and get the fancy maple syrup from the fridge, along with the juice he picked up for you and the last of your strawberries. You slide everything across the island towards the barstools on the other side and grab some plates and forks before taking a seat.

Robby sets the dirty dishes in the sink and joins you in the seat next to yours, using his foot to drag your stool closer and kissing your cheek when you’re within reach. A warmth settles in your belly.

Mornings like this one are rare with Robby’s schedule. He works a lot — more than he should, really, but that’s an argument for another day — so when you get the chance to see him for more than a brief kiss goodbye as he heads out the door, you both try to savor it.

Because rest looks good on him. The circles under his eyes fade, if only slightly, and the tension in his shoulders eases. He smiles at you when he catches you staring.

“See something you like?” He asks.

“Always,” you respond easily, relishing the way his cheeks grow pink and the flush spreads down his neck, disappearing beneath his t-shirt. “Thanks for breakfast.”

He hums, leaning in to kiss you. It’s slow, soft — syrupy, like your pancakes. Your fork clatters against the plate as you drop it in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

His big hand settles on your waist, squeezing, feeling the shape of you, before sneaking beneath the hem of your shirt in search of skin. A little moan escapes you at the warmth and he swallows it, licking into your mouth as he does.

Robby pulls away first to say, “You better go get dressed if you want to leave the house today.”

“Leaving is overrated,” you reply, stealing another kiss that’s more of a shared smile against each other’s mouths.

“I’m happy to keep you in bed all day,” he murmurs, “but I know how you get when you don’t get your fancy coffee on the weekends.”

“Fine,” you acquiesce, giving his lips one last peck. “Rain check?”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Coffee in hand, you wander the aisles of your favorite used bookstore. You’ve already got two in the reusable bag slung over your shoulder.

When you cross paths with Robby, he pulls you in for a kiss that turns into a heated make out session against a shelf in a little corner of the shop, tucked away from other shoppers. He pulls back when he hears footsteps approaching and reaches above your head for a book, opening it and pretending to read as another customer passes by the aisle. They don’t spare you a glance, thankfully — otherwise they would see the way your lips are still spit slick and swollen, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, or the way Robby looks down at you, gaze dark and expression smug as he reaches down to adjust himself in his jeans.

The weather starts to shift while you’re at the farmer’s market. Dark clouds rolling in, wind picking up speed, the scent of the earth growing thick in the air. Vendors start packing up, finishing transactions with furtive glances at the sky.

“Let’s head back,” Robby suggests. You agree, taking his hand and following him through the crowd.

You’re nearly home when the sky opens up and the rain pours down, soaking you to the bone. Water drips from your clothes and onto the floor of the elevator, little puddles forming at your feet.

Back in your apartment, the two of you kick off your shoes by the door. Robby sets your bag in the kitchen and follows you to your bedroom, shutting the door. You turn on one of the lamps on your nightstand, bathing the room in warm, gentle light.

Outside, rain batters the windows in a tempo that matches your pulse as Robby’s hands find the bottom of your shirt, lifting the soaked fabric up over your head and dropping it to the floor. He reaches behind your back, unhooking your bra with one skilled flick of his fingers and a smug tilt to his lips.

“How about that rain check?” He asks, his voice a deep rumble like the thunder that grows louder as the storm rages on.

His hand is on your lower back, pulling you against his body. You tilt your face toward his and he takes the invitation, kissing you, hot and hungry.

He reaches for your jeans, popping the button and dragging the zipper down. The warmth of his mouth and his hands against your damp skin as he drags the denim down your thighs makes you shiver. Before standing up, he pulls your underwear off as well, adding them to the growing pile of clothing and leaving you bare.

“On the bed,” he rumbles. You follow his command, lying back against the pillows and watching him remove his clothes.

He joins you on the mattress, caging you beneath him with his broad frame, his lower body cradled between your thighs. His cock is hard and heavy against your mound, trapped between your bodies.

Robby drops his head to kiss your neck, leaving a searing trail that begins beneath your ear, moving down until he’s taking a nipple into his mouth. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation, the harsh pull of his mouth and gentle flick of his tongue over the hard bud.

“Fuck,” you breathe, arching into him. Your fingers tangle in his hair. “Feels so good, Robby.”

You can feel his smile against your skin. He releases you with a slick pop, giving the opposite breast the same attention until you’re whining beneath him. He shifts lower, peppering kisses down your stomach, stopping just shy of where you crave his mouth most.

He gets comfortable, urging your legs over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your thighs before leaning in and dragging his tongue through your slit and circling it over your clit in slow, lazy circles. Your hips buck at the sensation but he presses a hand to your lower belly, fingers splayed against your skin and broad palm holding you down against the mattress.

Robby doesn’t care about finesse when he’s got those pretty noises you make filling his head. He’s messy with it, sloppy, spit and slick coating his chin and his nose bumping your clit when he drives his tongue inside of you, desperate for more. Your fingers are in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him moan against your pussy, the vibration only serving to send you spiraling even fast towards your release.

Two thick fingers slip inside of you with little resistance, making you gasp. He drives them into you in time with swirls of his tongue, rough in a way that has your eyes rolling and your head dropping back against the pillow.

“Robby, fuck—I—“

You come undone before you can even finish getting the words out, squeezing your thighs together against the wave of sensation that crashes over you. He eases you through it, gentle laps of his tongue instead of maddening circles, slowing the push and drag of his fingers until you’re fluttering around him.

He sits up, beard shiny and lips swollen. He lies in his spot on the bed, turned to his side to face you, reaching for you and dragging you closer, until you’re chest to chest and he can reach down to hike your leg over his hip.

You reach between your bodies and wrap your fingers around his cock. His breath stutters, a quiet fuck, yes spilling from his lips. He’s slick with pre-cum, your fist moving over him easily.

When he flexes his hips, the flushed tip of him drags against your cunt and you both gasp. You angle his cock so that the next thrust drives him into your body, one steady slide into your tight heat that has you seeing stars.

Robby’s hand is on your ass, grip tight enough to ache as he rocks your body against his. The position is intimate, all shared breath and sweaty limbs and your nails dragging across his shoulders, leaving little red lines like a brand.

But it’s not enough. He wants to be buried so deep you feel him for days, so he pulls out even though you whine about it and turns you on your stomach, dragging your hips into the air to meet his and sinking back into you with a groan.

“Fuck,” he growls through clenched teeth. He spreads your cheeks, watches his cock disappear inside of you, watches the way you clench desperately around him when he pulls out.

It drives him a little insane, the way your back arches on instinct and your ass bounces against him with each thrust. He won’t last long like this but he won’t have to, not with the way you’re moaning his name and fisting the sheets.

He brings his fingers to your clit, drawing tight circles over the sensitive bud and waits for that telltale little pulse of your cunt around his cock that means you’re close to finishing and then pinches your clit, a little rough, making you completely shatter, your moan muffled in the pillow and your body shaking with the force of it.

He follows soon after with three sloppy thrusts before burying deep, holding your hips in a tight grip as he fills you with his spend. You collapse against the mattress, exhausted and sore in the best kind of way.

Robby disappears into the bathroom and emerges with a wet washcloth that he uses to clean up between your legs while you lie there in the aftermath of your orgasm, spent and sated. When he’s done, he adds the cloth to the pile of wet clothes and crawls back into bed with you, tugging the duvet up over your naked bodies.

“I guess that’s one way to spend a rainy day,” you comment, playing with the chain around his neck.

“Day’s not over,” Robby says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Rain hasn’t let up either.”

You laugh, warm and bright, and he can feel it through his chest. Closing his eyes, he commits the sound to memory, tucking it away for when he needs a little sunshine on his rainy days.

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