#michael robby robinovitch

[wisps-writes-fic]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Ship: Gen, Background Rabbot

Series Summary: Snapshots of the exciting life of Jack and Robby's daughter.

Ficlet 4: Working in surgery, Emery is never treated to her niece's evening visits to The Pitt. An ED consult on her rare swing shift gives them a few moments together. Abbot spots them and gives her a hard time (lovingly)

AN: Inspired by a comment on AO3 and this headcanon by @autumnsparrow

Essentially, Walsh is Emery’s married name and she and Abbot give each other shit because that’s what you do with your big brother’s spouse when he has an ego the size of Texas.

CW: Silly in-law jibes

Emery

Emery, as a former Robinovitch, had been the lone soul working at PTMC to stand witness to Jack and Robby’s marriage vows. Had been one of the first, alongside Jack’s sister and Jake, to meet their little angel on adoption day almost two years ago. She respected that they wanted to keep the workplace professional and not expose their family dynamic to their colleagues.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t absolutely delighted the first time she saw her niece at the central hub when she came down from surgery on her rare swing shift. Penny’s infectious giggle could be heard the moment Emery was off the elevator, courtesy of Ellis spinning her on a swivel stool. At just past seven, Jack had probably brought her in for handoff a few minutes prior.

“Stahhp!” she screeched, careening in her attempt to run to Emery while off balance. 

“Let’s avoid a head injury, yeah?” Ellis said, barely catching her.

“Let me see Auntie Emery!”

Her brow scrunched tight. “Wait, Walsh?”

“Walsh, née  Robinavitch. I’ve got her, Ellis.”

“Robin—You’re Robby’s sister?” she sputtered, eyes comically wide. “For fuck’s sake, do you people tell us anything? I thought we were friends.”

“Aunt Emery, Parker said a bad word,” Penny stage whispered. “I think she needs a time out.”

She heard Perlah choke down a laugh nearby, but the nurse was quick to pretend she was busy with charts and not watching Emery’s hardass reputation melt away with every word out of the newly-dubbed “Princess of The Pitt’s” mouth.

“You’re probably right, Penny. At the moment though, she probably has a patient to take care of.”

“Rude,” Ellis scoffed. “See you, kiddo.”

Emery sighed. “Give me noses, love bug. I’ve got to go talk to Daddy Jack and then head back to surgery, okay?”

“Noooo,” Penny whined. “Want you to stay.”

“I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow, okay? Promise.” She leaned in to brush noses before nudging her back to her stool. “Wait here for Daddy Robby, okay?”

Turning around, she came face to face with a smirking Jack. “Watch it, Abbot.”

“I didn’t say anything. You’re the one over here outing all our family secrets.”

“Ashamed of me?”

“Always.” His smirk widened to a grin. “Still up for dinner tomorrow?”

“As long as Robby’s cooking.” He scoffed, but didn’t counter the implied insult. “Come on, old man. Sounds like we've got a case I'd rather not lay out with little ears around.”

[jack-abbot]

"To the Pitt crew." "To all the people we saved." "Here, here." "And the ones we couldn't."

THE PITT, 1x15, "9:00 PM"

[yutaspierced]

Nobody has written gay fanfiction about The Pitt yet and I’m upset

[eveningspirit]

The coming week looks promising with regards to my tv watching. *grin*.

Tuesday (morning) -- Brilliant Minds comes back from hiatus (although why oh why is this season only 13 episodes? So that's, like, two more and that's that? *sad!face*)

Wednesday (morning) -- The Rookie S7 premiere (YAAAY!!!) and Will Trent S3 premiere (double YAAAAAAY!!!!!! -- and not just because it's a double episode, but also because I missed Ormie (yeah, I know, I'm the only WT fan that's not in it for Will Trent himself *shrug!emoji*))

Thursday (morning) -- Chicago PD (I kind of include it here, so it's the whole week. ChiPD is a background noise mostly. Unless they let PJ Flueger act, at which time it becomes very exciting. But that's rare. And not this epi, I think)

Friday (morning) -- The Pitt premiere. I don't know why I'm excited about this show, but I am! YAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!! Also -- new epis of Silo and The Agency, but those have been bright points of my week for the past month or more.

[mercvry-glow]

a girls guide to shopping

parings. michael robinavitch x bratty!reader

summary. a shopping trip goes sideways after a teenager clocks your shit at a panty sale. thankfully your hot doctor boyfriend knows what's best.

warnings. age gap (robby early 50s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader gets punched, and passes out, hospital setting, robby is a little stressed and sassy but so is reader, pretty light overall, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I love them your honor! sorry for not posting for a few days while i figured out these stories/dynamics. always feel free to request dynamics like these, I love them more than anything else! as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 1900+

Coming into the ER while you were supposed to be shopping was a total fucking downer. Once, the mall had been a magical place—a glittery,  pretzel scented wonderland where you could lose hours drifting between candle shops and designer racks, sipping iced lattes and swatching lip gloss on the back of your hand like a civilized woman.

Now? Now it was the place where you got decked in the face by some teenage gremlin in low-rise jeans over a pair of lace panties.

And because you were a grown adult, you couldn’t even swing back.

Tragic.

You didn't even remember hitting the floor. Just the sharp, burning pop in your nose, the stars behind your eyes, and then—darkness. The paramedics told you you were out cold for maybe ninety seconds, but it was long enough to wake up under fluorescent lights, head pounding and crop top slightly askew.

“We got a female, LOC for approx one minute,” one of the EMTs was saying now as they wheeled your stretcher through the ER. “Vitals stable, GCS fifteen, alert and oriented, just... uh... kinda pissed.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” you muttered, clutching the melting bag of ice someone had tossed at your face like it could fix your whole life.

“Can you tell us your name again?” asked the other paramedic—young, blonde, and way too chipper for your taste.

“Yeah. It’s ‘I want a lawyer.’”

He snorted. “Okay, feisty’s good. You remember what happened?”

“I got my shit rocked by a seventeen-year-old with acrylics and rage issues over a five-dollar thong. And I swear to God, if I have to get my nose redone, someone’s getting sued. Possibly everyone!”

The paramedic just chuckled again and turned to the nurse approaching the stretcher. “We got a real diva on our hands.”

“Do not diminish me,” you snapped, even as you adjusted your messy bun and adjusted your once cute, now bloodied, jacket. “I am a victim of retail violence.”

The nurse—a tan-skinned, shorter woman with dark hair, and a clearly unbothered attitude—just gave you a once-over. “Put her in Bay 3. Maybe Dr. Robby can talk her down.”

You blinked. “Wait. Did you just say Robby?”

The paramedic raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

Oh, you knew him.

You dated him.

Michael Robinovitch: broody, brilliant, perpetually annoyed trauma doc. Your boyfriend. Also, the last person on earth you wanted to see you laid out in a hospital bed with smeared lip gloss and a possible concussion.

You shot upright slightly—then immediately winced and laid back down.

“Please don’t tell him it’s me,” you whispered like it was a state secret. “Lie. Say I died. Switch my name with someone else’s. Say I’m contagious.”

The nurse smirked. “Yeah, he’s gonna love this.”

That was the moment you knew you were screwed.

The curtains around North-3 weren't soundproof, but you were trying to pretend they werer. You laid there with an ice pack balanced across your nose and a mild headache blooming behind your eyes. The ER smelled like bleach and overworked nurses, and you were pretty sure one of your press-on nails had popped off in the ambulance.

The nurse—Princess, according to her badge—was updating something on the computer, tapping the keys like she’d done this a thousand times. She had a chill vibe, low braid, cute scrubs. Honestly, you respected her.

“So, just to confirm,” she said without looking up, “you fainted in Victoria’s Secret?”

You sighed. “Technically, I passed out next to a panty display. Slightly more dignified.”

Princess grinned. “Right.”

“I had a head injury,” you added defensively. “And that girl came flying at me like I personally wronged her.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get trampled.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you said, deadpan. “I didn’t get to buy my stuff either.”

Princess chuckled. “I’ll put that in your chart.”

You slumped back onto the gurney, closing your eyes. This was officially the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to you. Which was saying something, considering you once accidentally sexted your building manager.

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled your attention to the hallway.

“Where is she?” came a familiar voice. Calm, but rushed. Less annoyed than… worried.

Your stomach dipped.

Princess didn’t even glance over. “There it is.”

You opened your eyes, sitting up slowly. “He’s here?”

“Yup.”

“Do you know if he’s like—mad?”

Princess finally looked up at you. “He looked… like he needed to know you were okay.”

You bit your lip. “Ugh. That’s worse.”

The curtain pulled open gently—no dramatic whip, no scolding.

There he was.

Dr. Michael Robby Robinovitch. Brown hair slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it on the way down, stethoscope hanging around his neck, scrubs just a little rumpled. His eyes landed on you immediately, softening the second he saw your face.

“You fainted over a pair of underwear?”

Your smile dropped. “Excuse me, I was attacked over a pair of underwear.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but he didn’t laugh. He stepped inside quietly, pulling the curtain mostly shut behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low.

“I mean, my face hurts and my dignity’s practically, but otherwise? Sure.”

He moved closer, reaching out carefully to lift the ice pack away. “Let me see.”

You let him, even though the swelling around your nose made you feel anything but cute. He studied you for a second, then met your eyes.

“Doesn’t look broken. We’ll scan just to be safe.”

You tried to joke. “If I need a nose job, I’m getting a cute one.”

His mouth twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand gently on your knee.

“I got paged when they brought you in,” he said quietly. “Didn’t know it was you until I heard the report and someone described you as all ‘crop top’ and ‘attitude.’”

You laughed, even though your head throbbed a little when you did. “Hell yeah.”

“I was worried,” he admitted, thumb brushing lightly over your knee. “You don’t just faint. That’s not you.”

“I didn’t mean to be dramatic,” you said softly. “I just… kind of blinked and hit the floor.”

“You don’t have to explain. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

You exhaled, letting yourself relax for the first time since the mall.

He looked at you again, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”

You smirked. “You really can’t, look what I get up too.” 

Robby didn’t move right away. His hand rested on your knee, thumb tracing quiet, reassuring circles through the thin hospital blanket. You shifted slightly, trying not to wince at the dull ache spreading from the bridge of your nose up into your forehead.

“Do I look terrible?” you asked, your voice lower now.

He glanced up from your chart, his soft brown eyes sweeping across your face—not with judgment, but with quiet focus. “You look like someone who took a hit and handled it.”

“So... still cute?” you teased lightly.

Michael’s lips curved, just barely. “Always.”

You smiled, then sighed. “This might be the most embarrassing day of my life.”

“Worse than the time you locked yourself out of the house in your underwear?”

“Low blow Mikey, low blow… and that was different. That was private shame. This is public, in my baby tee, with paramedics and nosy mall goers.”

He hummed softly, stepping back just as Princess peeked back in through the curtain, a clipboard in hand.

“Radiology’s ready,” she said with a kind smile. “You want a wheelchair or are you feeling steady?”

You started to sit up. “I’m fine. I can walk.”

Michael gave you a look—calm but pointed. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it.”

“I know,” he said, already offering a hand. “But let me anyway.”

You hesitated, then reached for him. His hand was warm and steady, and the way he hovered—not overbearing, just present—made you feel safe, even if your pride was still limping along behind you.

The walk down the hallway was quiet. The CT tech moved efficiently, guiding you through the scan with minimal small talk, and before you knew it, you were back in your bay, settling onto the stretcher again with a little more care than before.

Robby was waiting, flipping through a printout from radiology.

“Well?” you asked.

He glanced at you. “No fracture. No concussion. You’re just bruised, a little rattled too, but otherwise okay.”

You exhaled. “Good.”

He softened as he looked at you again, that quiet relief flickering behind his usual calm. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Yet another nurse returned just then, handing over a water bottle and a stack of discharge instructions. “You’re free to go. Ice for the swelling, rest tonight, and take it easy for a couple days.”

Michael took the papers from your hands before you could even skim them. “I’ll go over these with her.”

You gave him a look but didn’t argue. It was kind of nice, having him take over. Quietly protective. Familiar.

They gave you a small smile. “Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

You nodded. “No more shopping trips. Lesson learned.”

Michael helped you off the bed with a gentleness that didn’t surprise you. As you reached for your bag, you felt his hand at the small of your back, guiding you without a word toward the exit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, glancing up at him as the first doors opened.

He looked down at you, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “Always.”

As the next set automatic doors hissed, the cool mid-day air brushed against your skin. The hospital parking lot glowed in the flickering daylight, and for the first time all day, things felt quiet. Still.

Michael walked beside you, not rushing, just staying close. You didn’t say much—didn’t really need to.

At your rideshare pickup spot, since you clearly hadn’t taken your car here. You stopped and turned toward him. He still had the discharge paperwork tucked under one arm, the other hand resting casually on the small of your back.

“You sure you’re okay to go?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “Yeah. A little sore. A lot tired. But I’ll be fine, hopefully.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, not quite convinced.

“You passed out,” he said gently. “That’s not nothing.”

“I know.”

“If anything feels off tonight—headache that gets worse, nausea, anything weird—call me.”

You nodded again, a little slower this time. “I will.”

He studied you for another beat, then stepped forward, brushing a stray piece of hair from your cheek. His hand lingered there, warm against your skin.

“I mean it,” he said. “Even if it’s just a gut feeling. Call me.”

You smiled softly. “Okay.”

Then, without any rush, he leaned in and kissed you—just a quick, careful kiss to your forehead, right above the bruise forming at your hairline. Tender and light. Like punctuation at the end of a sentence that didn’t need words.

“Rest,” he murmured. “I’ll check in later.”

You watched him for a second before stepping back toward the car that had just pulled up.

And even though your face still ached and your head felt like cotton, you suddenly felt a little better than you had all day.

mercvry-glow 2025

[at-this-point-i-dont-even-know]

Lean On Me (Part 1/?)

Pairing: Dr Michael 'Robby" Robinovitch x younger! Langdon's little sister! reader

Reader is the youngest sister to Frank and is called back from Europe to care for her brother.

Warnings: talk about rehab, drug use, casual drinking, slow burn (maybe).

Part Two

You woke with a screaming headache and your phone ringing, the small rectangle vibrating so much it had fallen from your bedside and was halfway under the bed before you had a chance to grab it.

You swear under your breath at the brightness, your hostel room was pitch black as your phone told you it was 2am, just an hour or so after you had stumbled from a nightclub and into your bed. 

“Turn that off.” muttered a voice beside you and you pulled the blanket further up your body. You had forgotten that in the midst of a night of drinking, and dancing you had brought home a ‘guest’.

You don’t bother uttering an apology before getting out of the bed and going to the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Your last hundred euros had gone to this single room in a Hungarian hostel after months of living with ten random strangers, and on your first night you had decided to invite someone back. 

You slam your head back against the closed door and took a deep breath. You’d been in Europe for five months now, any savings you had had left after sorting out your family's drama and almost all of it was gone now between transport and living costs, bar your emergency ‘the world is ending’ fund. 

But this had been your dream once, cut out photos of ancient architecture and historical locations from national geographic magazines had been plastered on your bedroom wall, your locker and phone case, all you had wanted while you worked three jobs and took care of your family was to one day stand in the shadows of castles and cathedrals. So you had used every last dollar to get yourself to Europe, while your friends at home settled into careers, and life.

Your phone buzzed again, pulling you back to the present. 

Your mother was calling.

She had called 15 times according to your cracked phone screen.

Fuck!

“Hi Ma!” you say, as fake cheerfully as you can at 2am after a night of drinking and half an hour of sleep.

“Where have you been! I have been calling for hours!”

Half an hour at most you think to yourself before swallowing a sigh.

“Sorry Ma, it's like 2 am here! What's wrong?”

Your mother huffs and you can almost picture her in the kitchen, cigarette in one hand, a forgotten glass of wine in the other no matter the time of day. 

You do the maths, it's probably around 4pm in Pittsburgh.

 “You need to come home now! It’s your brother.”

Your stomach dropped and your knees buckled. Frank was your big brother, a larger than life figure in your universe, who you had spent many years protecting from your parents, and making sure he had everything he needed to get through life with as little bumps as possible. But in the last few years everything had calmed down on the Frank front, he had gotten married when his girlfriend got pregnant, then another kid had come quickly after that. He had gotten his residency at the local hospital in the town they had grown up in. He had his life on the right track.

“What-” you try to ask for more information but you can’t breath, you can’t stand any longer and the cool, very gross tiles on the hostel bathroom felt like heaven against your now clammy skin.

“Rehab, they sent him to rehab!” 

“What for?”

And with one word your world fell apart and you were back on a plane.

Drugs.

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

It should be illegal for the sun to shine so brightly when you have no time to appreciate it. Pittsburgh had decided to pull out all the stops for a beautiful day, the sun was shining, there were birds singing in the trees and even a butterfly had landed on your jacket as you rushed from Frank's apartment to the rehabilitation facility. 

The only dampening thing about the day was you, as you huffed at the butterfly and sent glaring looks at anyone who tried to make small talk as you waited for the bus, then walked the additional mile from the stop to the door. Your mood was foul and your temper worse.

At 29 years of age you were officially feeling like an old curmudgeon, and after spending the majority of your life looking after your parents and brother, you had thought yourself finally free from their shackles but it had taken one phone call and one overdrawn charge on your credit card to find yourself once again at the mercy of your family.

You tried to remind yourself daily that it wasn’t Frank's fault, addiction is a disease, and one with no real cure.  But it’s hard to do that after two weeks filled with appointments with his therapists, his counsellors and then a stilted dinner last night with his apparently ex-wife and kids which ended up with you getting a puppy dumped in your lap.

The said puppy then spent all night crying on your pillow before peeing in your still unpacked suitcase.

The said peeing in the suitcase meant you were now wearing yesterday's underwear which you had washed in the sink, and one of Frank's shirts, which was tiny on your larger frame, the word PITTSBURGH now stretch tight over your tits.

The rehab facility was nice, a modern building amongst turn of the last century offices. You walked past it twice on the first day, it blended it well to the built up area. 

You had wanted to send Frank to a rehabilitation centre further out of town, somewhere with a big garden, but between the three credit cards you had taken out and the very last of your emergency ‘the world is ending’ funds, an inner city place was the best you could get.

In your brother's defense he hadn’t complained about the location or the facilities, instead on his good days he spent most of his time trying his best to be positive about the whole thing. On his bad days, the location was the last thing he cared about, he just wanted to scream and throw things at you when you refused to let him leave.

Frank wasn’t in his room when you got there, and you knew he didn’t have group therapy or a one on one session this afternoon so you wandered from room to room, looking for him, smiling at the nurses and orderlies that now knew you by name. 

You located Frank in the back common room, hunched over a table with a stranger, a game of chess half played between them.

You couldn’t hear what was being said but you could see the tension in your brother's shoulders and your stomach dropped. 

It was going to be a bad day.

Great.

“Hey Frank.” 

He looks at you as you approach, as does the stranger who offers you a weak smile with sad eyes. You get a lot of sad eyes thrown your way nowadays, from the nurses at the centre to Frank's neighbours who know why you are there and he is not.

“What do you want?” your brother asks, venom lacing each word.

“Just come to say hi, and see if you want a game but it looks like you have company.” you hate how small your voice sounds.

The stranger gets up from the chair and gestures to you to take his place but you shake your head.

“I don’t want you here, I told you that yesterday.” Frank hissed through his teeth, his attention back at the chessboard as his fingers tapped against the plastic chess set, “Go back to fucking around Europe or whatever.”

He had said the same thing yesterday morning, but after a counselling session with Frank's doctors you were told to ignore what he says in anger and to reach out with him daily, if possible, he has to know that his family is with him and that he has the support from them, no matter what.

You were also told to try and prioritise your own mental health when you can, but who has time for that.

So you returned, as you would every day, until he was out of the facility. You would then live with him, supervising visits with him and the children and then get him back to work. 

You took care of your family, you had since you were thirteen years old. 

“Just thought I would come anyway,” you said cheerfully, “I baked cookies last night and they are chocolate chips, your favourite.” it was a complete lie, you had bought them from the shops and decanted them into tupperware containers last night. 

Frank just ignored you and the tupperware you placed on the table, just playing his move and then gesturing for the other man to play on.

But the stranger couldn’t stop staring at you, he was handsome in an older man way with a well kept beard and brown hair that looked like it was due for a trim. Dressed in a hoodie and well worn jeans, he looked like someone you would swipe right on, if you had the time to get back on the apps.

But you didn't and the way he was looking you up and down was unnerving especially as your brother ignores you and wishes to continue with his game.

A lump forms in your throat and you feel panic rising in your chest as you sit there watching your brother continue to ignore you. The stranger kept staring even as it was his turn to play. And you'd just sit there waiting for Frank to say something, do something to acknowledge your existence. 

Until you can't take it anymore.

"I guess I'll go, Frank, and I'll see you tomorrow." your words come out stilted and with almost no emotion. 

He made a rude gesture with his hand before you grabbed your bag and left. 

You're outside the rehabilitation centre before you even know it, and suddenly you wash with emotion. Everything hurts, your body, your head, your heart as you fall to the floor and cry, heaving as the thought of leaving your brother there another day rips into you. He was your Big Brother and you were meant to protect him. That is what you were told since you were a child. And he was the one who was so smart and going to go places and you were nothing but his kid sister.

You couldn't blame Frank for this moment of weakness, of the disease that was ripping through his life, ending his career, his marriage and any relationship he has at the current point with his children. You couldn’t even blame your parents. Your dad for his own alcoholism, your mom for her own absent mindedness, for both of your parents only thinking of the potential of one of their two children. You cannot blame anybody, but you wished you could at that moment. 

You are thankful that it was only 11.00am on a weekday. There were little to no people on the streets to witness your breakdown as you let all the emotions out of your body, tears streaming down your face, your mascara completely ruined. 

Suddenly a hand grabs onto your shoulder and pulls you out of the mania, your tear filled eyes meet big sad brown eyes. 

The stranger had followed you outside. 

“I never introduced myself,” he said. His voice was like honey. He pulled a tissue packet from the pocket of his jeans. You blow your nose ungracefully, cringing internally at the noise, "I'm Doctor Michael Robinovitch."

He put out his hand to shake yours and you took it, too stunned to say anything else. The Stranger- No- Dr Robinovitch continues to stare, the big brown eyes looking into your soul as you both stand awkwardly outside the rehab center, no one knowing what to say. He then smiles and asks “Do you want to get a cup of coffee?”

[heirapperent]

INDEPENDENT + MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE FRANK LANGDON from the pitt. mobile rules can be found under the cut. KT + thirty + minors / personals DNI.

PLEASE NOTE : frank is canonically addicted to painkillers and went to rehab. i will use the drugs cw, rehab cw etc. tags when necessary. due to the nature of this blog, there will also be a lot of untagged triggers relating to first responder shows. basically if it's something seen on a first responder show, it could be written/shown in gifs etc. here. ( including but not limited to : blood, violence, guns, death etc. ) but if we're mutuals and you ask me to tag something specific for you i will.

CARRD   +   MEMES   +   MULTI   /   AFFILIATED WITH :    @respondsfirst

MAINS + EXCLUSIVES : frank's main ship will be abby langdon ( @respondsfirst ) and she will also be my exclusive abby. unless we plot something romantic between our muses, i will assume he's married to abby. michael robinovitch ( @respondsfirst ) is also my exclusive because of how intricate we have plotted and developed the dynamic between frank and robby. / @empitthy and @abbotmd are my main samira and jack. while they are not exclusive, if their muses are mentioned, unless plotted otherwise, i am talking about molly's samira and mal's jack.

RULES :

DNI IF YOU OR YOUR MUSES SUPPORT : racism, homophobia, transphobia, pedophilia, zionism, anti-semitism, sexism or any other type of bigotry. there are also some problematic face claims i will not write with. do your own research.

FOLLOWING : i do tend to be more picky with who i follow. when you follow, i will make sure you have rules and some type of muse info easily available. then i will look at that info and scroll your blog looking for threads to see if i can see us writing together. anyone who writes regularly with my trusted mutuals will be an auto follow. but if there is no recent writing on your blog, i will softblock. i am also very block happy. i would rather follow a few blogs that i enjoy writing with than a bunch of blogs that i never interact with. i have the right to unfollow anyone for any reason. do not ask me why i blocked one or all of your blogs, i do not owe you an explanation.

ACTIVITY : this multi-muse blog is private and very selective with moderate activity and will be heavily plot and dynamic based. if you don't interact ic or ooc, i will softblock. i am here to write! which means i also want to see replies to memes/starters that i post. you don't have to reply to everything i post, but i would like the effort i put into writing to be mutual. if you want to read fanfic, go to ao3.

INTERACTIONS : plotted interactions are preferred. romantic ships will require plotting and ongoing ooc interactions as well as ic interactions. familial and platonic ships are just as important. i want to develop my muses and their relationships beyond a surface level, not just answer a bunch of memes that go nowhere.

FORMATTING : i will be using basic formatting on this blog. threads will be a mix of small and regular sized text with bold, italics, and color for emphasis. if you want me to change/simplify my text for any reason, just ask. i prefer to write longer length replies, my most comfortable length is two full paragraphs, but depending on muse it can vary. for a lighthearted, unserious thread, i might write one paragraph but i can't do one liners. and i might write three to four if it's for a dynamic that i have a lot of muse for. i will always match my partners' length though.

TRIGGERS : frank canonically has a drug problem so drugs will be mentioned on this blog, but will be tagged with #drugs cw. frank is from a medical show and i write with a lot of first responders. there will be mature content on this blog including but not limited to violence, blood, trauma, death, etc. i will tag some more intense triggers with the #TRIGGER CW format, but i will not be tagging anything that you would see on the tv shows i'm writing with. if there is something that is a personal trigger for you that i missed, please send a dm so i can start tagging it. there may be sexual themes present on this blog but nothing will be explicitly written.

DON'T BE A DICK! in character drama is fun, but keep it between our muses. if you unfollow me, please soft or hard block.

DNI: if you write the following characters: hank voight (chicago pd) + christopher hermann ( chicago fire ) + sylvie brett ( chicago fire )

CREDIT : carrd, graphics, psd, icon template all belong to me. i am not affiliated with any of the media, characters, or faceclaims represented on this blog.

[kaijubluu]

Have you been enjoying what I, week after week, kept dubbing 'Dr. Michael Robinovitch and the No Good, Very Bad Shift From Hell'?

(i fucking love the pitt so fucking much, its such a good fucking show and i needed s2 the second s1 ended)

I AM ENJOYING IT SO MUCH

also abbott and robby are my favourite old man yaoi

[survivordoe]

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  ,   dr.  michael  robinovitch   ⁽  @s1syphushappy   ⁾

rhiannon  was  outside  the  hospital,  taking  a  much  needed  timeout.  something  about  amputated  body  parts  just  triggered  something  in  her.  she  got  through  it,  didn't  kill  the  patient,  and  then  promptly  walked  out  to  the  ambulance  bay.  she's  looking  at  her  phone,  when  an  angry  man  walks  up  and  punches  her  in  the  face  rather  hard.  

she  falls  to  the  concrete,  hitting  her  head.  she  hears  footsteps  and  a  voice  vaguely  and  she  blinks  a  few  times  to  rid  herself  of  disorientation.

there  stands  dr.  robby.  and  no  sign  of  the  dickhead  who  just  dropped  her.  slowly,  she  sits  up.

"son  of  a  bitch..."  she  wipes  her  nose.  blood.  great.  she  sighs.  "well  fuck  me  sideways..."

the  fucked  up  part  of  her  now  understood  why  hannibal  killed  rude  people.  the  normal,  logical  part  of  her  overrode  that.

[wisps-writes-fic]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Inspired by this pic

Ship: Michael "Robby" Robinovitch x OC

Summary: A series of drabbles for our hot attendings and their girl.

Drabble 4: Nothing helps the wind down after a hard day like a nice bath. Can be considered a "part 2" to Hold Me Close. Previous drabble isn't required reading.

AN: The scenes don't need to be read in any particular order and each will have an individual summary and warnings if necessary. OC will use the same name throughout the series for sake of simplicity but the drabbles won't align chronologically and small details may vary between scenes.

CW: Slight praise kink

~~~~~

"Ready to talk about it now?"

Adalynn sighed, fully reclining against Robby's chest. It was her favorite place to be, especially when paired with near scalding water and a ridiculous amount of bubbles. "It's just... everything? Nothing? Another day with a shitty guy looking for something to criticize when I'm working my ass off. The usual. I should be used to it by now. And it's nothing as stressful as—"

"Don't do that." He kissed the side of her neck. "You aren't any less entitled to a bad day. To stress and exhaustion and burnout because your job doesn't have the same trials as someone else's. Don't discredit what you face, ever."

He eased her forward just enough to start work his thumbs against the knots tensing her neck and shoulders. "Thank you," she groaned.

"Maybe it's time to put some feelers out. You've mentioned branching out with your degree. You should be doing something you enjoy, Addy. Not working under someone whose ego works above his brain."

Careful not to let the water slosh past the lips of the tub, she turned in Robby's arms so she was straddling his thighs. "I'm going to start looking."

"Good girl."

She melted at the praise, sinking down a little further so she could rest her head against his chest again. "I could stay right here like this."

He made a fond sound above her, kissing the top of her head as the weight of his arms secured her from behind. "I've got you."

[wisps-writes-fic]

Would the people of tumblr/Ao3 be interested in a gift exchange of some kind for The Pitt? We’d make a form so you can fill out ship and trope preferences and what you would like to create and receive (art/fic/playlist/edit/etc)

Even if it’s a small pool of people it’s still fine. Drop your name in the comments/reblogs and one of us will tag you so we can get the event account circulating.

Even if you don’t have to time or desire to participate yourself, we’d appreciate you reblogging to spread the word, especially since I don’t have much of a following right now 😅 Questions at the moment can be directed to @wisps-writes-fic’s askbox or DMs.

Thank you, folks!

Edit: BLOG CREATED! Please follow @the-pitt-gift-exchange if interested!

Edit 2: SIGN UPS

[wisps-writes-fic]

hmmmmm something something ddlg fic for a lil Father's day treat.

[wisps-writes-fic]

Rules are Rules~Robby x Reader

Teaching Hours~Mel x Abbot (platonic sex tutoring prompt fill)

[wisps-writes-fic]

was thinking about Pretty Woman (as one does at 3 am)

that plotin particular, obviously, wouldn't work for the Pitt but now I really need to write sugar daddy!robby of some kind

something something fake dating the cutie who lands herself in the ED because his family thinks a doctor of his experience surely should have landed a pretty SO by now.

[wisps-writes-fic]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Ship: Michael Robby Robinovitch x Jack Abbot

Prompt: What if Robby and Jack are not only work husbands but actually real husbands. Jack's ring isn't a keepsake for a dead spouse but his actual wedding ring for Robby. All just assumed. Something happens and we have the big reveal. What, how and why - you can decide!

~

Summary: Jack and Robby were both private individuals. It was no surprise their lives stayed hidden and their work stations stayed bare. Naturally finding a mini Robinovitch admitted to the ER one afternoon was an adorable surprise for the rest of the staff.

CW: Minor Injury

~~~~~

Victoria

The triage crowd was particularly brutal for no apparently reason and five hours into the shift, Victoria was ready to call it a day. An unfair moment of weakness, of course, while one of her attendings was seventeen hours into his double, but that was beside the point. “Patient name?” she heard a nurse ask from behind her, somehow managing to keep a warm smile in place.

"I need to talk with Dr. Abbot or Dr. Robinovitch as soon as possible.”

“Of course, ma’am. Our attendings will be happy to see you as soon as we can call your daughter back. If I could just have the information for her file.”

“My niece,” the woman corrected, sounding more impatient by the second. “Penelope Robinovitch.”

“Dr. Robby has a kid?” Victoria blurted. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional. I’m Dr. Javadi. I can take you back now and we’ll page him if he isn’t on the floor.”

Walking them back to the nurses’ station she was efficient in finding an empty room for the girl and her aunt. “Perlah’s going to start with the basic vitals and assessment. I’m going to track down Dr. Robby for you.”

“Robby’s in trauma,” she heard just after the curtain shut. “What’s the case? I can step in.”

“Dr. Abbot. Actually, the woman who came in asked about you too. At check in. Did you know Dr. Robby has a kid? Penelope? She was just admitted.”

“Penny’s in one of our beds? Jesus, with what?” he barked.

She would take that reaction as a resounding yes. “Perlah’s doing the work up now. I brought her back when I heard the family relation. No paperwork yet.” 

“Go tell him what’s happening so he can see her when he’s done in trauma.” She nodded, lingering just long enough to hear him greet the pair waiting. “Hey, sweet girl," he said, voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "Show Daddy what’s hurting, yeah?”

Oh.

Oh.

Victoria smiled. This shift just got a little better. And a whole lot more interesting.

~~~~~

Robby

“Dr. Robby, I’ve got a four year old asking for you in central 2.”

“A four year old, or an adult with real questions?” he groused. “Cause I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“I know, but it’s Penny. Dr. Abbot’s already over there, but—”

“Stop babbling. What happened?” Javadi flinched at the harsh tone—the whole room did—but he wasn’t going to waste time apologizing.

“Pain in the arm from what I could see. Couldn’t put her coat all the way on before coming in, but it was wrapped around her enough I couldn’t assess swelling. Perlah and Dr. Abbot are with her. Her aunt too.”

He swallowed. The biggest house rule was no ED visits. His nephews could be rowdy, but they were usually careful if Penny got between them. “Give me five minutes.”

He was careful, of course, but efficient in finishing the sutures and disposing of his gloves and mask. A glance at the board over the nurses’ station told him the vague details. Name, age, minimized mobility in the right arm, no swelling. “Jack order an x-ray yet, Dana?”

“Just in case. Sounds more like nursemaid’s to me, though.”

“We’ll get the x-ray, then I’ll do the reduction if we don’t find a fracture.”

“Got it, Cap. Go see your girl.”

His final stop was the staff lounge to grab a popsicle from the freezer before joining his family. “I come bearing gifts. How’s my princess today?”

In the end, the scan came back clear. Collins took one look at their guilty faces and offered to be the bad guy, putting the ligament back in place. But then, no sane child could stay mad at Heather Collins for more than a moment. Clutching her second popsicle, she gave Robby and Jack both a sticky kiss on the cheek and skipped out of the ED hand in hand with her aunt.

“Like it never even happened,” Jack grumbled. “That’s a four year old for you. Alright, everybody, secret’s out. Now quit your staring and get back to your patients.”

The small crowd dispersed and Robby reached to squeeze his hand in passing, choosing to ignore Dana’s pointed smirk at the gesture.

~~~~~

AN: I headcanon after this happens Robby and Jack suddenly have like every single family photo they've taken taped up on/inside lockers, at their work space, lock screens, etc.

[wisps-writes-fic]

Part 2 of my fic for my beloved @roriannesmoon

Ship: Michael “Robby” Robinovitch x Jack Abbot x Fem OC

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: After making it through life as a beta for twenty-five years, her late presentation was the last thing she expected to upend her life. Thankfully there are two alphas willing to help with such an adjustment.

CW: Polyamory, smut, praise kink, age gap, shenanigans typical of omegaverse fic (knotting and the like), dub-con in the sense most heat fics are dub-con, Jack is a little meaner than Robby

Chapter II

Jack

“Well, if there was ever any doubt around here about how you spent your break, there won’t be now.” Having decided to give them their privacy in the time Robby didn’t have to work, Jack honestly hadn’t been sure what state his friend would return in. He dropped his voice, but couldn’t help his grin. “You positively reek of omega, brother. Did you get any sleep?”

“Let them say what they will. Our people won’t judge Hailey," he groused, fishing in his pocket. "Here’s the key to her place. I left her sleeping, but don’t stay here longer than you have to.”

“No way you’re back, Robby,” one of the nurses said, stopping short of her task. 

Word had definitely began to circulate. Despite Dana’s discretion, others had caught Hailey’s scent before Jack hid her away. He didn’t wait around to hear his friend’s explanation. While what they were doing might seem unconventional to some, pack bonding had become more widely accepted over the past several years. He wouldn’t find shame in it.

“Aren’t you in a hurry,” Ellis said when Jack finally had everything wrapped up and made it to the locker bank. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you leave on time, Abbot.”

“Got lucky this time.”

“Right,” she drawled. “Because the rest of us haven’t watched you fuss over that girl anytime you’re in the same room. God knows how much worse you and Robby will be now.”

“Parker—”

“Hurry home, lover boy.”

~~~~~

Hailey

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Hailey winced, slowly withdrawing from the counter where she’d been hunched over trying to down the highly unhealthy snack of Fritos and Nutella before Jack came in from work. “Um, replenishing my salts?” she tried.

“Uh huh. Not my greatest concern at the moment. The little you’ve been eating these past few days you’re telling me there wasn’t a single bit of protein in this house? And soda, Hailey? Really?” She expected this, of course. Her partners had taken one look at her fridge when they first met and fussed about substantial meals more than anything since then. Her lack of routine with her heat was only making things worse.

“Robby’s been forcing gallons of water down my throat. Believe me, I’m hydrating.”

“And sweating out every bit of it.” Snagging the can, he put it back in the fridge door and grabbed one of her last bottled waters. Reading into her discomfort, his frown softened and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Back to your nest, sweetheart. I’ll bring you something in a minute.”

She hurried to do as she was told, silently cursing the situation when that familiar heat began to pool low in her belly, once again adding to a fever flush. The possibility of ignoring it long enough to eat was wishful thinking.

Likely sensing the shift the same way Robby could, Jack joined her empty-handed and began peeling her out of her robe. On shaking legs she was grateful for the arm he kept banded around her waist before her hand could slip from the door jamb. “Food later, then. Lay down, Hailey.”

“Not much of a reprieve, huh?” Thankfully, he didn’t counter the statement with anything resembling an ‘I told you so’.

“Soon,” he promised, stripping down and bracing himself over her. “It will get easier soon.” 

He didn’t grant her another word, sinking two fingers as deep as he could and quieting her sharp gasp with a claiming kiss. His tongue swept against hers, his gentle hold collaring her throat to deliver the slightest pressure—for the moment. All familiar motions, but they never failed to execute his intentions. Having presented as an omega, she was just that much more susceptible.

She’d managed to keep herself from truly comparing the two men she’d fallen for over the past year when it came to the main event. But the difference in that first moment of their joining was undeniable. Robby was all tender kisses and soft strokes. Teasing touches to drive her into that pure bliss. A man who gave and gave, time after time.

Jack… There was no steady climb most days. The man could show a soft side and spoil her rotten, but he was also a man who needed her submission from the start. Bruising kisses and love bites left where only the three of them could see. Creative punishments scattered through their time together on those days she played at resisting him. 

The contrast seemed impossible when Jack had first joined her and Robby, but they’d managed to blend to each other’s tastes effortlessly and had never once left her unsatisfied.  

“Such a good girl,” he said, his praise the slightest anchor for her drifting thoughts and the relentless spiral of sensation. She lifted her hips with the next curl of his fingers. “Needy, too. We can fix that, can’t we?”

“Jack. Alpha, please.”

As usual, begging did little for her when it came to him. Always the man with a plan.

“Please what, baby? You have to tell me what you need.” Head tilting down, he caught one nipple between his teeth, tongue flicking over the tip. The hand opposite that side remained around her neck, tightening just enough to send her head spinning. “Nothing to say?” he asked, mouth shifting to the other side of her chest. “What a shame.”

Hailey whined, gathering just enough sense to remove a hand threaded in his hair down  and grip the hard length between them. His hold around her neck slackened, shooting down to wrap over her wrist. “Fuck, Hailey.”

“Need it,” she whimpered. “Need your knot, Alpha. Need filled up.”

“There it is,” he groaned, fingers slowly withdrawing. “Good girl.”

Seconds later the room was spinning. That is until she found herself face down, Jack’s hands a familiar weight at her hips as he pushed into her from behind. The relentless ache was only brought higher with the joining and had her groaning into the sheets. He pressed a kiss between her shoulders, his grip tightening to keep her from rocking back against him. Frustrated beyond sense, Hailey squirmed beneath him as best she could.

“Bratty today, aren’t you?” he growled. “Robby been letting you get away with it?”

“Not a brat. You just—”

Drawing her messy braid to the side, Jack shifted forward, teeth pinching down at the back of her neck. She spaced. There was no better word for it, honestly. Less than a second and the sass and fight was drained. Like a troublesome kitten, caught by the scruff. A dirty play from a cocky alpha. And still a turn on, heat or no heat.

He withdrew, surely leaving a mark behind for both of her alphas to tease her for later. “Not so hard, is it?” he asked, stroking down her spine as she melted into the bed, save their main point of connection. “You’ll get a knot little one. Just have to be patient.”

And just like that, she felt the shift. Every bit of his attention pulled away from the slow work up to focus on driving them both towards climax. Just out of reach until she felt the slight flick against her clit—the catch of his knot against her pubic bone as they finally came together.

Jack groaned from behind her, teeth sinking into her shoulder this time. Hard enough to bruise, but not to break skin. It was for the best, when she wasn’t entirely herself. But the boundary still hurt something inside of her. A venom to that last bit of self-worth he and Robby had finally started to heal. She wondered if they could sense that, too. ~~~~~ Jack

There was a change when they came down from the high. Mostly a change in Hailey. It wasn’t drastic, wasn’t even necessarily awkward. But the heaviness there… As many times as they’d been together these past several months, he’d never sensed anything like it. At a bit of a loss, he began the usual routine—as best he could with his knot keeping them together. Blanket, water, physical contact, and every damn word of affirmation he could think of. Whatever it took to shake her out of this funk, he’d do it.

Sighing, he wrapped his arms a little tighter, bending his head to press a kiss to the side of her neck. He barely grazed skin before she flinched. The first true crack. “Hails?” She wouldn’t let him so much as turn her head. “Hailey, sweetheart, you know I wouldn’t mark you without your permission. I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know. I know you wouldn’t. I was just spacing. You startled me is all.” It was the most obvious lie he’d heard, but now wasn’t the time to challenge her. She would open up when she was ready. So the tense silence remained through the long minutes it took for his knot to go down. “Want me to start a bath for you before you get too comfy here?”

“Jack Abbot, are you suggesting I smell?” 

He tried to restrain his frown, but her quip clearly lacked its usual amusement. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Another moment of silence, then, “A bath would be nice.”

Tugging his boxers back on, he set about his task and a few minutes later the tub was filled at a reasonable temperature, scented bath salt in the water. “Ready, little one?” he asked, returning to her nest. She nodded, letting him help her to her feet before lifting her in a bridal carry and straight down to the tub. “Can I help you?” She flushed, eyes wide as she pulled her knees up to her chest. “It would hardly be the first time.”

“I just thought… I mean the slick…”

He shook his head. “Honey, Robby and I work sixty plus hours a week in an ED. You think a little thing like slick is gonna have either of us turning tail?” She bit her lip, unwilling to answer, apparently. “You tried to pull this with him, too, didn’t you?” Silence. “Little girl,” he growled. They both let the quiet linger, the slight splash of water the only sign of motion as he shampooed and conditioned her hair. “There is nothing about you that either one of us would be bothered by. No trait or habit or designation. Not a damn thing. If you’re uncomfortable with me washing your body, I will respect that. But don’t think for a moment there’s anything to be embarrassed about. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The last thing he wanted to do was pretend her mood change was only about the situation just discussed, but pushing their girl had never ended with anything but further withdrawal. She didn’t stop him when he reached for the rag and soap, so he was confident to continue in the usual routine, a hair quicker than normal when running over her lower half.

“Soak a while longer, Hails. I’m going to get some real breakfast going.”

“You’ve been on your feet for twelve hours. Longer, maybe. You don’t have—”

“If you don’t let me take care of you, you really will find yourself over my knee.” He watched her narrow her eyes. “Don’t push it, Hailey.”

Returning to the kitchen, he pulled out his phone. With the chaos of the ED, he doubted he’d get an answer anytime soon. Still, he found himself hitting send. 

Tell me you haven’t been letting her brat you all week