bohemianrapshawty

[bohemianrapshawty]

Dr. D

Dr. Jack Abbott was having a terrible morning.

Someone parked in his spot. The coffee machine was broken. A patient bit him. Bit him.

So when he stormed into the break room to grab a second-hand granola bar and found her sitting cross-legged on the counter, humming to herself while peeling an orange, he just stopped in the doorway and stared like she’d personally summoned his migraine.

Y/N looked up and grinned. “Hey, sunshine.”

He stared.

“You’re not allowed on the counter,” he said flatly.

“You’re not allowed to look this grumpy before 10 a.m.,” she countered, tossing a wedge of orange at him like it was a peace offering. “Guess we’re both criminals.”

Jack caught it reflexively and scowled harder. “What are you even doing in here?”

“Contemplating the meaning of life.” She leaned back on her palms, still swinging her feet like a kid. “Also avoiding blood draws. That last guy called me ‘honey’ in a way that felt like a threat.”

Jack’s scowl twitched.

“You should report that,” he muttered, turning to the cabinet.

“I did,” she said brightly. “But thanks for caring, Dr. Doom.”

He turned back to glare at her. “Stop calling me that.”

“Would you prefer ‘Dr. Broody’?”

“I would prefer you stop talking.”

She gasped, overly dramatic. “You wound me.”

“You’ll live.”

Somehow, she kept showing up. Everywhere.

She was helping in pediatrics the next day, making balloon animals out of gloves and letting a toddler put a Band-Aid on her forehead “for emotional support.”

Jack walked by, paused, stared, and shook his head. “You’re going to get pink eye.”

“Worth it,” she said without missing a beat.

Then she brought cookies. Homemade.

He didn’t eat sweets. Everyone knew that.

He still took one when she offered and muttered, “For morale.”

Dana caught him eating a second one two hours later and raised a brow.

Jack glared. “Shut up.”

Then came The Incident.

Y/N tripped while carrying supplies and twisted her ankle bad enough to land her in a wheelchair. Dana wheeled her into the ER cackling like a madwoman while Y/N did jazz hands from her seat like she was being introduced on a game show.

Jack looked up from a chart. Froze.

“Don’t say it,” she warned, wincing as she tried to move. “If you say ‘I told you so,’ I will wheel myself into traffic.”

He walked over, crouched, and gently took her ankle in his hands.

She blinked. “Dr. Abbott, are you touching me on purpose?”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I live in weird.”

“I can tell.”

But he was careful, so careful, and when he looked up to meet her eyes, the grumpy had faded from his face. Just for a second.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, voice low. “But don’t walk on it for a few days.”

She smiled. “Aw. You do care.”

He didn’t answer.

But the next morning, she found a pair of crutches by her locker with a sticky note in his handwriting:

Try not to fall on your face again. -Dr. D.

She showed it to Dana with hearts in her eyes.

Dana snorted. “Girl, you’ve broken him.”

That night, she found him in the staff lounge, half-asleep with a chart in his lap.

“Hey,” she said softly, nudging his knee.

He blinked awake. “Did you fall again?”

“Nope. Just checking if you missed me yet.”

He stared at her, bleary and annoyed. And then, slowly—he smiled.

Just a little.

Just for her.

��God help me,” he said, voice dry, “I might.”

Y/N’s grin lit up the room.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Trivia

Jack Abbott didn’t like trivia. He didn’t like bars that were too loud or too themed, or drinks that were too warm, or Thursdays that pretended they were Fridays. Mostly, he didn’t like being tricked by Dana.

“You said drinks,” he said, narrowing his eyes as the trivia host tapped the mic like this was open mic night and not a group ambush. “Not… this.”

Dana grinned over her cocktail. “I did say drinks. And now we’re drinking with purpose. You’re welcome.”

Robby sipped his beer. “I tried to warn you, man.”

Jack muttered something that sounded vaguely like a curse and crossed his arms. “I already work in chaos. I don’t need my downtime to be loud and educational.”

“You’ll survive,” Dana said, then perked up, spotting someone across the bar. “Ah—there she is. Our secret weapon.”

Jack turned toward the door—and froze.

She breezed in, a little out of breath, eyes bright, hair windblown like she’d jogged across town in a rush. Which, apparently, she had.

“Sorry, sorry!” she called as she approached the table, waving one hand and pulling earbuds out with the other. “I lost track of time helping an old lady carry her groceries up four flights of stairs and then her cat escaped and I had to convince it to come back with string cheese.”

Jack blinked.

Dana beamed. “Jack, meet Y/N.”

She smiled, all teeth and warmth. “Hi! You must be the grumpy one.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “And you must be the chaos goblin.”

“Depends on the night,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him and unwrapping a scarf from around her neck like it had personally betrayed her. “But tonight? I’m the MVP. You guys suck at trivia, right?”

Robby snorted. “Confirmed.”

Jack leaned back, arms crossed. “I’ve seen fewer disasters in the ER.”

“Perfect.” Y/N cracked her knuckles with a mischievous gleam. “Time to dominate.”

Then the game started, and all hell broke loose—in the most fascinating, delightful way possible.

Y/N was a force of nature. She shouted answers before the host finished reading them, gestured wildly when she explained them, and laughed like she wasn’t in a public place but rather in her own sitcom. She knew everything—obscure movie quotes, weird historical facts, song lyrics from 2007—and if she didn’t know it, she guessed with terrifying accuracy.

Jack didn’t answer a single question. He didn’t have to. He just sat back and watched her, a little confused and a lot entranced.

“You’re always like this?” he asked during the break, eyeing her as she doodled on the answer sheet with the intensity of a caffeinated child.

“Only when I’m happy,” she said with a wink. “Or well-fed. Or slightly unhinged. Tonight, I’m all three.”

“You’re loud.”

“You’re judgy.”

“You have no volume control.”

“You’ve got resting scowl face.”

Jack cracked a smile despite himself. “It’s resting professional detachment.”

She laughed. “You’re such a doctor. It’s painful.”

“You’re painful.”

“You’re cranky.”

“You talk too much.”

“You like it.”

…Damn it.

By the end of the night, their team—“The EpiPen Pals”—came in second, narrowly losing to a table of retired librarians. Y/N pouted dramatically, then immediately started talking about plans to avenge their loss next week.

She was mid-rant about how “the librarian mafia must have studied” when she stood and reached for her scarf.

“Well,” she said, flashing that same smile she’d walked in with, “I’ve got to go rescue that old lady’s cat again. He escaped again. Apparently, cheddar’s not cutting it anymore.”

She waved, spun on her heel, and was gone in a blur of color and motion.

Jack stared after her.

“Yup,” Robby said, nursing the last of his beer. “You’re toast.”

Jack didn’t even try to argue.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Pajamas, Pizza, and Petty Sabotage

It started with a simple plan.

“Let’s have a real day off,” Y/N had said, curling up next to Jack with her cold feet on his warm leg like she always did. “No errands, no workouts, no ‘let’s be productive’ speeches. Just sweatpants and vibes.”

Jack, who absolutely had a “let’s clean the whole kitchen at 10am” voice, gave her a mock-offended look. “You make it sound like I’m fun at parties.”

“You’re not. But you are fun in flannel pants.”

And that’s how they ended up here: Saturday morning, both in mismatched pajamas, surrounded by snacks, with no real plan other than “stay horizontal.”

It lasted exactly twenty minutes.

Then Jack noticed the laundry basket.

“You know,” he said, stretching dramatically, “I could throw in a quick load.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare break the sacred pact of Sloth Day.”

“It’s just one—”

“Put down the laundry basket, Jack.”

He paused, then slowly, smugly, lowered it like he was in a hostage negotiation.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, tossing a pillow at him.

The first real battle started over the blanket.

“You had it all night,” Jack argued, yanking gently.

“Because I need it,” Y/N countered. “You’ve got built-in insulation. Look at you. You’re like a space heater with trauma.”

“Not my fault you’re a blanket thief with cold feet and no shame.”

“I never claimed to have shame.”

Eventually they compromised: one blanket over both of them, with her burrito-wrapped in it and Jack awkwardly hanging off the edge like a reluctant side dish.

Around noon, Y/N ordered pizza while Jack scrolled through terrible movie options.

“I swear,” he muttered, “every streaming service has the same five romcoms and a documentary about mushrooms.”

“I want something with explosions and feelings,” Y/N said. “Something where someone probably loses a limb.”

Jack looked over slowly. “Did… did you just pick a genre based on my leg?”

She grinned. “Representation matters.”

He threw a sock at her face.

Later that day, they made a competition out of who could sabotage the other’s relaxation attempts more effectively.

Y/N hid his phone so he couldn’t “accidentally check his work email.”

Jack changed her phone’s Spotify to play nothing but ‘80s hair metal any time she tried to nap.

She replaced his protein bars with granola covered in glittery edible stars.

He filled her water bottle with pickle juice.

Eventually they called a truce—mostly because the pizza arrived and Y/N insisted they couldn’t fight during sacred meal times.

By the end of the day, the couch was a mess of crumbs, socks, and bad jokes. Jack had one arm around her, the other scrolling through terrible trivia questions on his phone.

Y/N, half-asleep, murmured, “This is the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

He looked down at her, her cheek pressed to his chest, her fingers tangled in the hem of his shirt.

“I know,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb along her shoulder. “Same here.”

Because there was something perfect about this chaos. About not needing to do anything to still feel everything.

No missions. No hospital alarms. No pressure.

Just soft love, loud laughs, and the safest kind of quiet.

[bohemianrapshawty]

The Surprise Lap

It started the day after the Run That Was Actually A Walk.

Jack had expected Y/N to tease him for weeks about it. Honestly, he wouldn’t have minded. Her teasing was half flirting anyway.

But instead, she just kissed him on the cheek the next morning and said, “Today’s workout: pancakes and stretching. You in?”

So yeah—he kind of fell even harder.

Still, something about that moment stuck with him. The way her eyes lit up when she ran. The way she always slowed her pace without saying a word. Jack wanted to be beside her—not because he had to keep up, but because he wanted to match her joy.

So, he made a plan.

Nothing dramatic. No early-morning Rocky montages or shouting “I can do this!” into a mirror. Just quiet determination.

A few nights a week, after Y/N had gone home or fallen asleep on the couch, he’d slip out to the local track. Empty, quiet, anonymous.

He worked on form. On pacing. On adapting his prosthetic to terrain changes. Some nights sucked. Some nights he barely made it a lap. But over time, things got easier. Smoother.

He started texting with a friend—another veteran with a running blade who gave him tips without asking questions. Jack learned how to lace his shoes a little tighter, how to shift his weight, how to breathe past the ache.

And then, one weekend morning, he asked Y/N casually, “Hey. Wanna go for a run?”

She blinked at him like he’d asked her to do algebra at brunch. “Seriously?”

He shrugged, hiding the nerves under his usual dry delivery. “I’ve been training behind your back. Like a very committed secret boyfriend.”

She grinned, eyes narrowing. “Is this a trap? Are you about to pull out matching headbands and make us do couples’ cardio TikToks?”

“No TikToks,” he promised. “But I did consider matching shirts.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she laughed, grabbing her sneakers. “Let’s go.”

The sun was still stretching over the trees when they hit the pavement. She kept glancing at him like she half-expected him to tap out.

But he didn’t.

Block after block, Jack kept pace. Steady. Confident. A little winded, sure—but proud. She didn’t say anything at first, but he caught the way her eyes shimmered when he made it halfway through their usual loop.

When they finally slowed to a stop, both breathing hard but smiling, she turned to him and placed a hand on his chest.

“Okay, so I am wildly impressed right now.”

He smirked. “You should be. I even got the fancy socks.”

“You trained. For me?”

He nodded. “I wanted to run beside you. No slowing down. No limping home. Just us.”

Y/N blinked once, twice, then surged forward and kissed him with the kind of grin that said I’m so in love with you, it’s unfair.

“Jack Abbott, if this is your way of proposing, you’re doing a terrible job,” she teased against his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got a separate plan for that.”

She froze. “Wait, what?”

He just winked and started jogging again, calling over his shoulder—

“Catch me if you can.”

And even though she absolutely could catch him, she let him lead—for just a little while.

[bohemianrapshawty]

The long run

Y/N had a thing for morning runs.

Jack had a thing for Y/N.

So when she laced up her sneakers and flashed him that early-morning, post-coffee smile, he felt that familiar tug in his chest—the mix of God, I love her and Please don’t die on a sidewalk somewhere.

“I’ll be back in like, thirty minutes,” she said, stretching like a cat in the doorway.

He frowned. “You know I hate when you go alone.”

“You also hate olives, traffic, and group texts, but here we are.”

He raised a brow. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

She sighed, stepping closer. “Jack, I know every mailbox on this route. Every squirrel. I think one of them winked at me yesterday.”

Jack crossed his arms. “I’m going with you.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re coming for a run?”

“Yes.”

She grinned like he’d just offered to enter a dance-off. “In those shoes?”

He looked down at his perfectly fine running shoes and then back up, deadpan. “Yes, in these shoes. What’s wrong with these?”

“They look like you bought them to impress a physical therapist.”

“They’re functional.”

She gave him a once-over. “You sure you’re up for it, Super Soldier?”

“I’ve handled worse.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s see if you survive me.”

At first, it was good. Great, even. The morning was cool, her hand brushed his every few strides, and the city hadn’t fully woken up yet. She slowed her natural pace without a word—he noticed—and it made something warm bloom in his chest.

But then… it started.

The socket rubbed wrong.

Each step sent a jolt up his leg, just enough to make him grit his teeth. He tried to adjust, to shift his weight. Tried to focus on her messy ponytail bouncing ahead of him instead of the slow, growing burn.

Until she stopped.

“Okay, you’re either dramatically sulking back there or in actual pain,” she said, turning around mid-jog.

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly.

She walked back to him, hands on hips. “That’s the least convincing ‘I’m fine’ I’ve heard since I tried to use dry shampoo as actual shampoo.”

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just the socket. It’s… a little off today.”

Her expression softened immediately. “Why didn’t you say something?”

He looked away. “Didn’t want to slow you down.”

Y/N blinked, then snorted. “Jack. My guy. You literally survived a war. And you think I’m going to be disappointed because you needed to walk instead of run?”

He glanced at her. “You’re not disappointed?”

“Only that you didn’t let me beat you fairly. I was pacing myself to smoke you on the last block.”

He laughed, chest loosening. “You’re ridiculous.”

She stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “And you’re stubborn. I like us this way.”

He leaned into her touch. “You’re sure you’re not dating me out of pity?”

“Pity? Please. I’m dating you because you look unfairly attractive in a hoodie and make excellent scrambled eggs.”

“That’s a very shallow reason.”

“I contain multitudes.”

He grinned, kissed her quickly. “Alright, multitudes. Let’s head back.”

They started walking side by side, hands brushing, breath steadying.

“I’m serious though,” she said. “Next time, we walk. Or I do a loop and meet you back here. Or we just lie on the grass and pretend we exercised.”

“Now that sounds like a fitness plan I can get behind.”

She bumped his shoulder. “You’re my favorite gym partner, peg leg and all.”

He smirked. “Keep calling it that and I’m making us t-shirts.”

“Deal.”

And as they strolled back through the sleepy neighborhood, Jack realized something.

Love wasn’t about matching strides.

It was about walking beside someone—even when things hurt a little.

And with Y/N, every step was worth it.

[bohemianrapshawty]

More than metal

Dr. Jack Abbott was used to being composed. He’d been through the worst of it—combat zones, field surgeries with no time to hesitate, and the life-changing moment when a blast took part of his leg and changed his path forever. He returned home a different man: still sharp, still kind, but a little quieter, a little more careful with hope.

He rebuilt his life, became a trauma surgeon, and focused on saving lives. Romance? It felt like something from another lifetime. Until he met Y/N.

Y/N was sunshine in sneakers—warm, quick-witted, and sharp in ways that caught Jack off guard. She taught art at a local school, loved mint tea, and had a habit of doodling cartoon dragons in the margins of anything she could write on. She was curious about everything and never once looked at Jack like he was broken.

So when they started dating, Jack felt the unfamiliar flutter of something he’d tried not to name. Hope.

They’d been seeing each other for a little over a month when he decided it was time. He couldn’t keep putting it off. Not if this was going to be real.

They were sitting on his porch one night, watching the stars and sharing a blanket. Jack cleared his throat and looked down.

“Y/N… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

She turned to him, her expression instantly gentle. “Okay.”

He reached down, tapped the side of his leg with two fingers. “I have a prosthetic. Lost it overseas, in the war. It’s… a lot, I know.”

There was a pause. Jack braced himself.

Then Y/N blinked, processing—and her eyes lit up.

“Wait… you’re like Bucky Barnes?” she said, grinning.

Jack stared at her, thrown. “What?”

“You know, the Winter Soldier? You’ve got the whole brave, wounded-soldier-with-a-super-appendage vibe going. That’s kind of amazing.”

He let out a startled laugh. “You think this is… cool?”

Y/N scooted closer, gently nudging his arm with hers. “Jack, you’re literally a war hero with a high-tech leg. If you don’t see how that makes you half real-life superhero, we need to work on your self-image.”

For a moment, Jack didn’t say anything. He just looked at her—this woman who saw him for everything he was and didn’t flinch. And in that quiet moment, something in him settled.

He smiled, soft and full.

“I think I’m gonna keep you around,” he said.

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

And under the blanket, as the stars blinked above them, Jack knew—this was just the beginning.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Off day

It was a rare thing—you and Dr. Robby both having the day off.

No alarms. No scrubs. No charts. Just the promise of a lazy day and the text he sent the night before:

“Aquarium date tomorrow? I wanna look at jellyfish and hold your hand.”

So that’s how you found yourself the next morning, bundled in one of his hoodies because you claimed it was “scientifically proven” to be warmer than yours (he didn’t argue), standing in line for tickets while he read the informational sign next to the entrance like it was a research paper.

“Did you know cuttlefish have three hearts?” he said, wide-eyed, like he just discovered gold.

You blinked. “Did you know I came here to relax and not learn about tiny squishy marine geniuses?”

He smirked, laced his fingers with yours, and said, “Let’s do both.”

Inside, it was dim and glowing and kind of magical. Blue lights shimmered off every wall, and the water tanks lit up your faces in the prettiest way. Robby was in full dork mode—pointing out fish he recognized, reading facts out loud, whispering things like “That one’s definitely judging me” at the grumpy-looking groupers.

You, of course, were on a different mission.

“Come here. Quick. Stand next to the penguins.”

“For what—?”

“Photos. I need to see who’s cuter.”

He groaned dramatically but leaned in close anyway, letting you snap the photo before whispering, “They win. But only by a beak.”

You laughed so hard a little kid nearby turned around and said, “You guys are loud,” which made you both giggle even more.

And then came the jellyfish room.

You didn’t even have to say anything. The second you stepped inside, Robby’s hand tightened around yours and he whispered, “This is my favorite part.”

You knew that. You remembered him telling you months ago that the jellyfish exhibit calmed him down after rough days. Something about how they moved. How they just existed, floating softly, never rushing.

You watched him more than the jellyfish, honestly.

The way his eyes got quiet. The way his shoulders dropped. The way he leaned his forehead against the glass and exhaled like he hadn’t in weeks.

You slipped your arms around his waist from behind and rested your cheek between his shoulder blades.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Then, softly: “I love it here. But I think I love it more with you.”

Your voice was muffled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You make it feel like home.”

You stood there like that for a long time. Just two nerds in love, glowing under soft blue light, surrounded by floating jellyfish and the hum of tank filters.

Eventually, you dragged him to the gift shop where you bought matching plush octopuses (he tried to talk you into a sea slug but you held firm), and he got you both overpriced dippin’ dots because “it’s tradition now.”

On the way home, he drove with one hand on the wheel and one resting on your thigh, and you leaned your head on his shoulder at every red light.

And just before pulling into your driveway, he glanced at you and smiled that soft, quiet smile that was only for you.

“Let’s do this again.”

“What, the aquarium?”

“No. This,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Us. All of it.”

You squeezed back. “Yeah. Let’s never stop.”

[bohemianrapshawty]

Acts

Dr. Robby’s love language wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy or poetic or showy. He didn’t write sonnets or sweep you off your feet with grand declarations. That wasn’t him.

What he did do—what he always did—was quietly take care of things.

He’d get up early on your workdays, just ten minutes before you, and start the kettle. He’d warm up your car in the winter without saying a word. You never asked. You never even saw him do it. But the frost was always melted, the seat always toasty.

He’d take your laundry out of the dryer before it had the chance to wrinkle. Refill your vitamins. Clean your glasses when you left them smudged on the coffee table. You just assumed the world was weirdly in sync those days. You never quite put it together.

He never said, “Look what I did.” That wasn’t his style.

You didn’t notice when he started stocking your favorite snacks in the pantry before your cycle hit, like some kind of low-key oracle. Or how he figured out you always left your phone charger in weird places and started coiling it up neatly next to your pillow every night.

You didn’t see him tighten the screws on the wobbly chair or swap out the dying batteries in your remote. The bathroom light stopped flickering and the weird leak under the sink disappeared like magic.

It just felt like… things were easier when Rob was around.

You didn’t notice the acts, not really. But you felt the effect. The softening of your days. The edges smoothing out.

You only really saw it when he wasn’t there.

The one weekend he was gone for a medical conference, the house felt different. Not messy. Not chaotic. Just… a little more effortful.

The heater made that weird noise again. Your laundry sat in the dryer too long. Your laptop cord went missing for hours.

And when you got home from work, tired and cold, you walked into a dark kitchen and realized no one had made sure the light was left on for you.

You didn’t cry, exactly. But your chest ached in a way it hadn’t in a while.

When Rob came home, late Sunday night, suitcase in hand and tie loosened, you just melted into him. Wrapped yourself around him like gravity had finally remembered what it was supposed to do.

He laughed into your hair. “Hi. Missed you.”

“I didn’t realize how much until just now,” you whispered.

And maybe that’s when it really hit you—how much he did. How his love wasn’t in flowers or fireworks, but in action. In thoughtful, invisible rituals.

He’d never say, “Look at everything I do for you.” He never needed to.

But now, you saw it.

And the next morning, when he was still half-asleep, you packed his lunch for work. Toasted his bagel just the way he liked. Filled his travel mug.

You didn’t say anything. Just handed it to him with a kiss on the cheek.

He looked at you with that crooked, sleepy smile and said, “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” you said, brushing a crumb from his collar. “That’s kind of the point.”

[bohemianrapshawty]

Notes

Dr. Robby—Rob to you, and only you—leaves notes like other people leave fingerprints. Smudged across your life, impossible to ignore, and always just a little unexpected.

They’re everywhere.

On the dash of your car, written in Sharpie on a sticky note you didn’t even see him grab:

“You’re not just going to be okay today. You’re going to own today. —Rob”

In the fridge, taped to the almond milk:

“This expired two days ago. Do not test your luck. Love you though. —Rob”

In your makeup bag, wrapped around your mascara like a secret:

“Your eyelashes could cut glass. Be careful who you look at. —Rob”

The first time he did it, you were running late for work and nearly missed the neon orange note on your coffee cup that said,

“Caffeine first. Existential dread second. —Rob”

You laughed. Out loud. Alone in your kitchen.

It was already a better day.

Now, they just… show up. Tucked in pockets, slipped into books, wedged behind your phone. Tiny, handwritten affirmations, ridiculous jokes, or soft, gut-punching sweetness you never see coming.

Like the one you found in your rain boot on a Monday you were dreading:

“You’ve survived every version of hard before. Today doesn’t stand a chance. —Rob”

Or the one on your pillow when he was on an overnight shift:

“I miss your snoring. That’s how deep this is. —Rob”

You keep them. Every last one. In a shoebox under your bed that’s almost embarrassingly full now. You’ve got a “bad day” pile, a “laugh out loud” stack, and a few you folded into your wallet like they were dollar bills you might need to spend on hope later.

He knows. Of course he knows. You once caught him reading one of his own old notes, smiling like he’d forgotten he wrote it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him.

He just shrugged. “Ridiculously in love. Sue me.”

Sometimes the notes are dumb—“You are 70% water and 100% smokeshow —Rob”—and sometimes they’re the kind that stop your heart for a second:

“I loved you before you believed me. I’ll love you after. —Rob”

He doesn’t do it for attention. He doesn’t even expect you to mention them. But you always do. With a kiss on the cheek or a smirk across the room. Once, you tried leaving one for him, in his lab coat pocket:

“I love your stupid face. —Yours”

He found it during a meeting and immediately texted you:

“Marry me. Immediately.”

You didn’t say yes right away. You waited until he got home, handed him one of his own sticky notes with just two words:

“Okay. —Me”

Now the notes are part of your shared rhythm. Love letters in disguise. A constant, quiet reminder: that you’re seen. That you’re loved not just loudly, but daily.

And no matter what the day holds, you know at some point you’ll reach into a pocket or open a drawer and find another one, signed with that familiar scrawl:

“—Rob”

And it’ll feel like home. Every time.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Care

The hum of the emergency room was low, the occasional beep of a machine the only sound breaking the silence. Dr. Robby moved quietly through the corridors, checking on his patients. When he reached your bed, he paused for a moment, taking in the scene before him.

You lay there, eyes half-closed, your pale skin a stark contrast to the crisp white sheets. Sweat dotted your forehead, and you seemed so tired, like your body was fighting hard against something, but you were determined to stay put.

Dr. Robby pulled up a chair, his movements calm, his voice gentle. “Hey there, how are you feeling?”

You didn’t immediately answer. Instead, you just blinked at him, then managed a weak, “I’m not going home.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “You’re not going home?” His tone was light, but there was a quiet concern beneath it. “You know, you’re supposed to rest. You should be at home, not here.”

You shook your head slowly, your eyes growing distant as if you were already somewhere else. “I can’t go home,” you muttered, the words barely audible, “Not yet.”

Dr. Robby leaned in slightly, his expression softening. He could see the weight of something heavier in your eyes, something beyond just physical sickness. “Why not? What’s going on?” he asked, his voice encouraging but never intrusive.

You closed your eyes, your voice thick with exhaustion. “It’s just… quieter at home. Too quiet,” you admitted, almost as if saying it aloud made it real. “Here, there’s noise. People moving around. I don’t have to think about everything.”

Dr. Robby sat still, taking in your words. He’d seen this before—sometimes the pain wasn’t just about the body. People came to the ER seeking refuge, not just from physical illness, but from emotions too raw to face.

“I understand,” he said quietly, his voice warm and steady. “But you know, sometimes the best way to heal is to let your body rest, to let it recover. If you stay here too long, you might miss the chance to truly get better.”

You looked up at him, eyes tired but filled with that same stubborn resolve. “I’m not ready to face it. Not yet.”

He nodded, his hand resting gently on the edge of your bed. “I get it. But you’re not alone. Whatever it is you’re running from, you don’t have to carry it by yourself. It’s okay to take small steps. And if you need me, I’m right here.”

You stared at him for a moment, the words sinking in slowly. Despite your illness, despite the exhaustion, there was something comforting in his presence. Something that made you feel, if only for a moment, like you weren’t so alone in the struggle.

Dr. Robby checked your vitals, adjusted the IV, and kept the conversation light whenever you managed to speak. He didn’t push, didn’t force you to talk about anything you weren’t ready to. He simply stayed—there, steady and unwavering—helping your body heal, bit by bit.

As the night wore on, you began to feel a small shift. The fever started to subside, and though you were still far from feeling better, there was a sense of relief in the air. You hadn’t thought about going home, not yet, but for the first time, the idea didn’t seem so impossible.

“You’re looking a little better,” Dr. Robby said, his voice full of quiet encouragement as he glanced at the clock. “I think you might be ready to go soon, but there’s no rush. Take your time.”

You nodded slowly, the tension easing in your chest just a little. “Thank you, Dr. Robby,” you whispered, the words filled with a gratitude you hadn’t known how to express before.

Dr. Robby smiled, his gaze kind but firm. “Anytime. I’m here whenever you need me.”

As he stepped out of the room to check on his other patients, you felt a small flicker of hope—maybe, just maybe, you could find the strength to face what awaited you when you left this place. But for now, in the safety of the ER, you could rest. You could heal, in your own time.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Rainbow

Every Monday, without fail, Y/N arrived at the hospital in her signature navy blue scrubs. It had become her thing. The color was calming, professional, and she liked the way it felt like a fresh start to the week. Every Tuesday, she wore soft pink scrubs—a little touch of sweetness to ease into the middle of the week. By Wednesday, she switched to a cheerful sunflower yellow, bringing a little bit of sunshine to the busy hospital hallways. Thursday was reserved for mint green, and Fridays were always reserved for lavender, a nod to the weekend approaching.

It was a little ritual of hers, and everyone at the hospital knew it. Her colleagues joked about it. “It’s like the rainbow of scrubs!” they would laugh, but no one really minded. It gave the hospital a sense of familiarity and routine, and Y/N’s quiet confidence in her color-coded wardrobe made it feel even more comforting.

But one Thursday, Y/N did something that threw everyone off. She walked into the hospital wearing bright red scrubs. A bold choice—far outside her usual palette. The moment she stepped into the staff room, Dr. Robby looked up from his paperwork, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Y/N,” he said, setting down his pen, “Is everything okay? You’re wearing… red?”

Y/N grinned at his bewildered expression. “I felt like switching it up today. Why? What’s wrong with red?”

Dr. Robby stood frozen for a moment, as though processing the scene in front of him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s just… you’ve never worn red before. I thought you had, like, a whole system or something.”

Y/N laughed, leaning against the counter. “I do have a system, but I figured one day of chaos wouldn’t hurt. Can’t always be predictable, right?”

Dr. Robby rubbed the back of his neck, still clearly not sure how to process the sudden change. “But, it’s Thursday. You’re supposed to wear mint green. That’s like, your thing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I have a thing?”

“Well, yes! Your thing! You’re like the walking color-coded rainbow of the hospital,” he explained, almost defensively, as if he was trying to justify why this felt like an unexpected shift in the universe.

Y/N chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, today, the rainbow got a little more dramatic. Get used to it, Dr. Robby. Sometimes, life needs a little shake-up.”

Dr. Robby blinked at her, still processing, then slowly smiled. “I don’t know… I kind of miss the mint green. But, I guess… it’s kind of fun. A bit of unpredictability now and then is good. Maybe I should try something different too.”

As Y/N headed toward the nurses’ station, she glanced over her shoulder. “See? Change isn’t so bad.”

Dr. Robby stood there for a moment longer, watching her go, a puzzled smile spreading across his face. Maybe Y/N’s colorful scrubs weren’t just a pattern; they were a reflection of her cheerful, unexpected spirit. Maybe he could learn a thing or two about breaking routines.

But as Y/N returned to her work, she noticed Dr. Robby, still sitting at the desk, gazing thoughtfully at the red scrubs she wore. She had no doubt he was still a little confused, but he was also, without a doubt, intrigued.

And that was just the beginning.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Safe in His Arms

It was just another busy day in the Pitt, but today, everything felt off. You were used to the chaos, the constant buzz of beeping machines, and the high-energy environment of the ER. But today, your senses felt overwhelmed in a way you couldn’t explain.

You kept your head down, focusing on the task at hand, sorting through patient files and checking vital signs. But as the room filled with the usual flurry of activity, the noise seemed to build up in your ears. The chatter, the footsteps, the machines beeping—it all felt too much. Your thoughts were jumbled, and your breathing started to get a little quicker. You felt the familiar tightening in your chest as your body’s response to sensory overload started to take over.

Your fingers instinctively began to fiddle with the little gold cross necklace you always wore. It was your anchor, the small thing you could focus on when everything else started to feel like too much. But even that wasn’t working now. You felt like you were suffocating.

Dr. Robby had been watching you from across the room. It wasn’t unusual for him to keep an eye on his colleagues—he cared deeply for everyone in the Pitt—but with you, it was different. He’d spent enough time working alongside you to learn your signs, to understand the subtle cues that indicated when you were overwhelmed. And right now, he could tell you were starting to unravel.

He knew you well enough to recognize the slight change in your posture—the way your shoulders tensed, the way your hands fidgeted more than usual. But it was the deep, almost imperceptible breath you took that confirmed his suspicion. You were in the beginning stages of a meltdown.

Robby’s mind raced. He wanted to help you, but he knew that pushing too hard could make things worse. Instead, he stood still for a moment, waiting for the right moment to step in.

But then it happened—something that was rare in the hectic world of the ER. You froze, your face pale, eyes wide, like you couldn’t breathe. Robby’s heart ached. He’d seen this happen before, and he knew exactly what it meant. You were on the verge of spiraling.

Dana, who had noticed too, immediately stepped in. “Robby,” she said urgently, her voice soft but firm. “She’s having an anxiety attack.”

Without a second thought, Robby moved swiftly toward you. He could hear the panicked breaths coming from you as you clutched at your neck, your eyes darting around the room like you were trying to escape the noise, the chaos. He gently touched your arm, trying not to startle you, his voice low and steady.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, it’s me, Robby,” he said softly, his voice like a grounding force in the midst of your panic. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You didn’t respond at first. Your hands were shaking now, and your chest was tight, making it hard to take in a full breath. You were starting to feel trapped, and the walls of the ER felt like they were closing in on you.

Robby’s heart broke as he watched you struggle, but he didn’t panic. He’d seen you like this before, and he knew the routine. He knew exactly what to do.

“Come with me,” he said, his tone calm, guiding you with a gentle touch on your arm. “We’re going to step away for a bit, okay? Just breathe with me.”

You didn’t have the energy to protest. You simply let him lead you through the busy ER, out of the chaos and toward the quieter back hallway. Robby opened the door to a small break room, the quiet hum of the air conditioner the only sound. He guided you over to one of the chairs and sat down with you.

Your breathing was still rapid, your hands clutched at the fabric of your scrubs, your eyes still wide with fear. Robby sat next to you, close enough that you could feel his presence without feeling suffocated. He knew you well enough to know that sometimes, you just needed space, but you also needed someone there who wouldn’t let you fall apart.

“You’re safe here,” Robby said softly, his hand resting on the arm of your chair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, but the words felt like they weren’t enough. Your mind was still racing, your anxiety swallowing you whole. Robby could see it, and he hated that you had to go through this. But he wasn’t about to leave you like this.

Slowly, he began to speak, his voice a calm, soothing rhythm that cut through the noise in your head. “Okay, let’s focus on something simple,” he said. “I’m here with you, and I’m not leaving. Let’s breathe together, alright?”

You didn’t respond at first, but you listened. Robby took a deep breath in, and then exhaled slowly. “In… out… in… out…” he repeated, his voice steady, guiding you.

You slowly began to mirror his breathing, the deep inhales and exhales helping to calm your racing thoughts, even if just a little. The tension in your body started to ease, and for the first time in what felt like hours, you felt like you could breathe again.

After a few minutes, Robby noticed the tension in your shoulders start to relax. Your hands stopped shaking, and your chest wasn’t as tight. You were still overwhelmed, but you were no longer spiraling.

“Better?” Robby asked softly, his eyes full of concern and care.

You nodded, feeling the weight of your anxiety slowly lift. “Yeah… I just… it got too loud in there.”

Robby smiled softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “I know. It’s a lot sometimes. But you’re not alone, Y/N. I’ve got you, okay?”

You gave him a small smile, grateful beyond words for how he was there for you. But then, just as the tension started to fade, Robby did something that made your heart skip a beat.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you in a gentle hug, pulling you into his chest. The warmth of his embrace, his steady heartbeat, made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. It wasn’t just his presence; it was the way he had noticed you needed help before you even knew yourself. How he knew exactly what to do.

“I’ll always be here for you,” Robby murmured, his voice soft and sincere. “Whenever you need me. Just… let me know.”

You held onto him a little longer than usual, letting the comfort of his arms reassure you. "Thank you," you whispered, feeling the anxiety finally loosen its grip on you.

Robby chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. "Anytime, Y/N. Anytime."

And for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t alone in the world, that there was someone who truly understood you—someone who would always be there to catch you when you fell.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Missed Signals

Dr. Robby had always prided himself on his ability to read people. In the fast-paced world of the ER, it was a skill that had come in handy more times than he could count. But when it came to you, his abilities seemed to fail him completely.

From the moment you started working alongside him, Robby was hooked. It wasn’t just your professionalism or your skill—it was the way you moved with a quiet confidence, how you greeted every patient with warmth, and how you never seemed to lose your calm amidst the chaos. It was your smile, your laugh, the little way you always seemed to hum under your breath when things got really busy.

Robby couldn’t help himself. He’d catch himself watching you, making excuses to be near you, dropping by the nurses’ station just to hear your voice or to see you fidget with the small gold cross around your neck—a gesture you didn’t even seem to notice you did.

And so, like any lovesick fool, he tried to drop subtle hints. So subtle, in fact, that even *he* was surprised at how much he’d been able to hide his feelings behind a cool, professional exterior.

"Hey, Y/N. I’m thinking of checking out that new Italian place down the street. You like pasta, right?" Robby said one day, leaning against the counter casually, hoping for a spark of interest. "It’d be nice to get away from here, you know, after a crazy shift."

You glanced up from the patient chart you were filling out, your eyes bright with the usual warmth. "Oh, I love pasta! But I think tonight’s a little too hectic for me. Maybe next time."

Maybe next time. Robby couldn’t help but smile a little, even though the small sting of disappointment lingered in his chest. He didn’t give up, though. He wasn’t the type to take rejection, or in this case, polite disinterest, lying down.

The next day, he decided to try again. This time, he saw you walking out of the break room with your coffee cup in hand, your usual focus on the next task at hand. Robby leaned against the doorframe, pretending to adjust his coat, giving you his best nonchalant grin.

"So, I was thinking," he said, his voice light and playful, "We’ve got a couple hours off coming up… What do you say we hit that new coffee shop down the street? I’ve heard they make the best espresso in the city."

You paused, your eyes brightening for a moment, and Robby’s heart skipped a beat. He thought for sure this time you were going to say yes. You chewed your lip for a second before responding, and Robby’s hopes soared.

"Sounds amazing," you said with a smile that sent warmth rushing through him. "But, I’m actually on call tonight. So, I’ll probably be tied up here again." You tilted your head apologetically. "Maybe another time?"

There it was again. *Maybe another time*. But Robby couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips, and you noticed. You always noticed everything.

“Hey, Robby,” you said softly, stepping closer with a warm smile that made his heart ache. “You know, I think you're the only one who doesn’t give up on me when I turn down all these invitations.” Your eyes sparkled with amusement, and Robby found himself blushing under your gaze.

He chuckled, trying to cover up his growing nerves with humor. “Well, I’m persistent. And besides, I figure you’ve got to be busy, but eventually, we’ll find a time. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” His voice took on a teasing tone. “Unless you want me to stop offering.”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “No, don’t stop offering. I’m just… always working.” Then, in a quieter voice, almost as if you were letting him in on a secret, you added, “I don’t really have time for anything else these days.”

The way you said it made Robby pause. There was something almost wistful in your voice, as though you weren’t just talking about work, but about life in general. And Robby—who had spent the better part of the last few months noticing every little detail about you—wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were feeling the same way he was.

That evening, Robby had another idea. If he couldn’t get you to go out for a meal or coffee, maybe he could do something else that would be a little more subtle, yet just as meaningful.

He found you in the hallway later that night, a stack of patient files in your arms. You were walking quickly, head down, and Robby couldn’t help but notice the way you rubbed your thumb over the little gold cross around your neck—something you did whenever you were stressed, something Robby had quietly observed on countless occasions.

He stepped up beside you, a casual smile on his face. “You’re going to wear yourself out, you know that?”

You glanced up, startled for a moment, before relaxing when you saw it was him. “I’m fine. Just a long shift.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Robby said, his tone gentle. “But you’ve been going nonstop for hours. Maybe you should take a break before you burn out. How about we go get that coffee? You’ve got to be running on empty.”

You blinked, your expression softening for a second. “I… I could use a little break, actually. And I guess I’m always saying no to you. It wouldn’t hurt to take you up on it this time.”

Robby’s heart leaped in his chest. He couldn’t believe it. This was *finally* happening.

“I’ll let you pick the place,” you said with a grin. “But only if you promise to stop offering every time. You might give me a complex.”

Robby laughed, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. “Deal. I’ll even let you choose what we order.”

Later that night, you and Robby found yourselves at the little coffee shop down the street. It was quieter than the hospital, the dim lighting casting a calm glow around the cozy tables. Robby smiled across from you, watching you laugh and relax in a way he’d never seen before. There was something so natural about being with you outside the hospital walls, and as he listened to you talk about everything—your favorite books, your love for traveling, the things you dreamed of doing someday—he realized he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he had admitted.

You took a sip of your drink and leaned back in your chair, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “You know, Robby, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken the time to get to know anyone like this. Life’s just been… too busy.”

Robby couldn’t resist. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low but sincere. “Well, I’m glad you’re taking the time now. I’ve been pretty smitten with you for a while. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, Robby thought maybe he had pushed too far. But then, you smiled—genuinely, warmly—and his heart stuttered.

“Robby,” you said softly, “I’ve been noticing you too. I guess I was just waiting for the right moment.”

And just like that, all the subtle hints, all the missed signals between you two, faded away into nothing. It was no longer about trying to get the other person to see what was there. It was about finally realizing what had always been in front of you both.

“Guess it’s a good thing we didn’t give up on each other, huh?” Robby said with a grin, feeling lighter than he had in months.

You smiled, your eyes sparkling. “Guess so.”

And from that moment on, it wasn’t about hints or missed opportunities anymore. It was just you and him, finally seeing each other the way you were always meant to.

[bohemianrapshawty]

The Cross

It was one of those days in the Pitt when things were moving at breakneck speed—patients were in and out, emergencies left and right, and the hum of activity was like an unrelenting background soundtrack to the chaos. You were no stranger to it, having worked in the ER for years now, your faith and your dedication to helping others always keeping you grounded. But today, there was something extra weighing on you, something that had your thoughts constantly wandering.

Your gold cross necklace.

It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry—it was special.

That was, until the chaos truly began.

You had just finished checking on a patient when things took a sudden turn. The man in the bed, a little too delirious and a lot too agitated, began thrashing around. He was an older gentleman who had been through a lot, and now, in his confused state, he was yelling and trying to claw at his IVs. You rushed over with the nurse to calm him down, but the situation only seemed to escalate. You tried to hold his arms down gently, offering soft reassurances, but suddenly, he jerked back, his hand knocking against your chest.

And that was when it happened.

Your precious necklace—the one you had worn every single day since you’d gotten it—snapped free from your neck, flying off and clinking to the floor.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you bent down to grab it. But as you fumbled, searching desperately on the tiled floor, it was nowhere to be found.

“No, no, no…” you muttered under your breath, your heart racing. “Where is it? Where is it?”

“Y/N?” Dr. Robby’s voice cut through the frantic moment. You looked up to see him standing a few feet away, concern painting his features as he watched you scramble. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, panic rising in your chest as you scanned the floor again, hoping, praying that the necklace would magically appear. “I—I lost my necklace. My cross necklace. I can’t find it.”

Robby’s brows furrowed in confusion, though he immediately moved to your side, kneeling down to help. “It’s just a necklace, right? We can find it, no problem.”

“No, you don’t understand!” You shook your head, voice trembling. “This necklace—it’s everything to me. I’ve had it since my 18th birthday. My parents gave it to me. It’s a symbol of my faith, my beliefs, and—” Your voice cracked as you choked back a sob, too overwhelmed to even finish the sentence.

Robby’s expression softened. He wasn’t entirely sure of the significance, but he could see how important it was to you. You’d always been a beacon of calm and strength in the chaos of the ER, but right now, seeing you so frazzled made him feel helpless in a way he hadn’t expected.

He watched you crouch down again, your fingers trembling as you searched the floor, all sense of calm lost.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Robby said gently, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll find it. I promise.”

You sniffled, but the panic was still there, bubbling up. “What if we don’t? What if it’s gone? I can’t—I can’t lose it.”

Robby thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up with an idea. He straightened up, giving you a comforting look. “Okay, look, we can fix this. We just have to, uh, calm you down first. I’ll help you.”

You looked up at him, still panicked but too exhausted to argue. “How?”

“Well,” Robby said, his voice soft and gentle, “I might not be a jewelry expert, but… I do know the Bible. Maybe we can recite a verse or two. That always calms me down when things feel out of control.”

You blinked, not quite following his logic but desperate to try anything at this point. “Verses? Like… Bible verses?”

“Exactly,” Robby nodded enthusiastically. “I mean, it’s not quite the same as finding a necklace, but it could help, right?”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but you nodded anyway, hoping for something, anything to calm your nerves. Robby cleared his throat dramatically, as if preparing for a great recital, and began.

“Um, okay, let’s see… ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,’” he said, looking up at the ceiling as if for divine inspiration. Then he faltered, his voice trailing off. “Wait, that’s from the Psalm, right? Uh… no, no, not that one…”

You watched, half-exasperated and half-amused, as he stumbled through a few more verses, getting a word here or there right but completely butchering others. “Robby,” you finally interrupted, laughing softly through the stress, “maybe this isn’t the best time for a Bible study session.”

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Not my strongest moment. But hey, I tried. And, uh, we still haven’t found your necklace.”

Just then, one of the nurses, Lily, walked by, her eyes widening when she saw what was happening. “What’s going on in here? Everything okay?” she asked.

You shook your head in frustration. “I lost my necklace. My cross necklace. I’ve looked everywhere and I can’t find it. It’s—” You stopped, your voice cracking again.

Lily’s face softened. “Oh no, Y/N I’m so sorry. Do you want me to help you look?”

Before you could even respond, Robby turned to the rest of the room, his expression shifting into something serious. “Alright, listen up, everybody!” he called out, his voice carrying through the bustling ER. “We’re locking down the Pitt. Nobody leaves until we find Y/N’s cross necklace.”

There was a collective murmur of confusion among the staff, but Robby wasn’t backing down. His usual calm demeanor had shifted into something more determined as he gave orders to the nurses and doctors to start searching.

“Robby, you don’t have to do this,” you said, a mix of disbelief and gratitude flooding through you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied with a soft smile, looking at you like he was on a mission. “We’re going to find it. I’m not leaving until you’ve got it back.”

The next few minutes were a blur of activity. Staff scoured the floors, checked under beds, and even peered under the counters and cabinets. Robby stood by your side, keeping a close eye on you, offering words of reassurance, though his focus was equally on the search. And finally, after what felt like an eternity, one of the nurses found it—a small glint of gold beneath a set of medical charts by the counter.

“There it is!” the nurse called out, holding up the necklace triumphantly.

You rushed over, your heart soaring as you took it in your hands, relief flooding through you. “Thank you, thank you,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as you clutched it tightly to your chest.

Robby stood behind you, grinning like he’d just won a great victory. “See? I told you we’d find it. We’re a good team.”

You looked up at him, a soft smile spreading across your face. “I… I don’t even know what to say. You didn’t have to do all this, but you did.”

“Of course I did,” he replied with a shrug, his expression warm. “I’ll do anything to make sure you’re okay.”

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude—and affection—wash over you. “You’re a good person, Robby.”

His cheeks flushed slightly, and he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “Well, I’ve got to make sure my favorite nurse is happy, right?”

“Guess so,” you said with a grin, your heart lighter than it had been all day.

And as the hustle of the ER resumed around you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful—not just for finding your necklace, but for the kind, thoughtful doctor who had gone above and beyond to make sure you didn’t feel alone in that moment.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Peace in the quiet

The hospital was always a whirlwind of activity. Nurses darting from room to room, doctors huddling over charts, the beeping of machines never quite stopping. But amidst the constant noise and movement, Dr. Robby had learned to notice the quiet things—like how you’d start getting a little too still when things overwhelmed you. How your usual smile would fade, and the weight of a long shift would settle into your shoulders.

Robby had been working with you for a while now, and he’d started to pick up on these small changes. It wasn’t a loud cry for help or an obvious breakdown—it was the way you would sometimes disappear. He didn’t always know where you went, but he had a pretty good guess.

He’d learned early on that whenever you were truly overwhelmed and needed a moment, the little chapel at the end of the hall was your escape.

It was a tiny, almost hidden space that most people overlooked. Soft light filtered through stained glass windows, casting a peaceful glow over the worn wooden pews. It smelled of incense and old prayer books, the air still and calm, like a breath in the middle of a storm. Whenever Robby walked past and noticed the door slightly ajar, he could almost feel the stillness coming from inside.

One afternoon, during an especially hectic shift, Robby noticed you slip out of the ER, your shoulders tight as you walked briskly down the hall. You hadn’t noticed him yet, but he knew. He had learned to read your subtle cues—the way you pulled your hair back more tightly when you were frustrated or how you bit your lip when you were trying to hold it all together.

Without a second thought, Robby followed you.

He rounded the corner and saw the chapel door crack open just enough to see your figure inside. You were sitting on one of the pews, your hands clasped in your lap, your little gold cross necklace twirling between your fingers. Your head was bowed, but he could see your lips moving, the soft hum of a familiar worship song drifting through the air.

It wasn’t the first time he’d found you here, and every time, he couldn’t help but watch for a moment, quietly amazed by your peacefulness. He knew that this little corner of the hospital was your sanctuary. It was your way of finding peace amid the chaos.

As he watched, Robby noticed how you twirled your necklace absentmindedly, the delicate cross spinning between your fingers like you were grounding yourself. Your eyes were closed, but he could tell you were lost in the music, finding comfort in the familiar melody.

He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that drew him in—maybe it was the calmness that surrounded you, or maybe it was the way you looked in that moment, so at peace, despite everything. But whatever it was, Robby felt a soft pull in his chest. You were the only person he knew who could find such peace in such chaos, and it made him want to understand you even more.

You didn’t hear him at first, so he quietly stepped inside, leaning against the doorframe. You froze for just a second, startled, before you turned to face him with a warm, albeit slightly tired, smile.

“Hey,” Robby said, trying to keep his tone casual, though his heart was beating a little faster than he expected. “I figured I might find you here.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers still fidgeting with your necklace. “I know, I’m a little predictable, huh?”

Robby shrugged, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “You’re not predictable. But… you do tend to disappear when things get too much. Thought I’d check in on you.”

You looked at him with a smile that was a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. “I’m okay. Just needed a minute to breathe. You know how it is.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced. He had seen you work through stressful situations without breaking a sweat, but this was different. There was a weight to you today, a weariness that he couldn’t ignore.

“Do you… ever take a break?” you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I swear, you’re always running around.”

He gave a soft laugh. “I don’t have much time to take a break, but I guess if you can find peace in here… maybe I should try it.”

You tilted your head, looking at him curiously. “What, like… sit in here and pray with me?”

Robby hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing against the doorframe. “I mean, I don’t really know if I believe in all that. I’ve never been the church-going type… but, uh…” He cleared his throat, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve seen you in here so many times, and it looks like it helps you. So, I thought… maybe I’d give it a shot. If you don’t mind having me join you.”

You stared at him for a moment, surprise crossing your face, before it melted into a soft smile. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, even if he wasn’t sure about it. “You’d really do that?” you asked, your voice light but warm.

He nodded. “Yeah. Maybe you could teach me how it works.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t really have any answers, Robby. I just hum when I need to feel a little more centered.”

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, “I could use a little more of that right now.”

You smiled again, and for a moment, the world outside the chapel felt so far away. Without thinking, you reached out and handed him the little cross necklace you’d been twirling. “Here,” you said softly. “If it helps, you can hold this.”

Robby took the necklace in his hand, feeling the cool metal against his palm. It was small, delicate, but it somehow felt heavy in his hand—like it carried more weight than it seemed.

“I’ll try anything once,” he said with a grin, “but don’t go thinking you’ve converted me yet.”

You laughed, and the sound felt like the most comforting thing in the world. “No pressure, Robby. Just… sit with me for a minute. That’s all I ask.”

And so he did.

The two of you sat there together in the quiet chapel, Robby holding the little gold cross in his hand as you hummed your favorite worship song under your breath. He wasn’t sure what it meant yet—he didn’t know if he believed in God or any of this—but as he sat there with you, surrounded by the peace of the room and the calm in your presence, something shifted inside him.

Maybe it wasn’t about believing in anything right away. Maybe it was just about being there, in the moment, with someone who truly cared.

As the song wound down, Robby glanced over at you, his smile soft. “I think I get it now,” he said quietly.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity lighting up your eyes. “Oh yeah? Get what?”

“The peace,” he said simply, squeezing the cross in his hand. “I don’t know if it’s God or something else… but this? This feels good.”

You smiled, a little twinkle in your eye. “Well, it’s always here if you need it. And if you ever want to actually go to church with me… I wouldn’t mind.”

Robby’s grin widened. “Alright, alright. I’ll bite. But only if you promise not to make me sing.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of warmth. “Deal.”

And just like that, amidst the quiet of the little chapel, Robby had found something he hadn’t expected to discover today: peace, companionship, and a little spark of something new he wasn’t quite ready to name yet. But he knew, whatever it was, it was a journey he wouldn’t mind taking with you by his side.

[bohemianrapshawty]

One step ahead

It was another hectic day in the hospital, with the steady rhythm of beeping monitors and the hum of nurses rushing from one room to another. The emergency department was always a whirlwind of activity, but it had become second nature to you—there was no other place you’d rather be. You loved the fast-paced, ever-changing nature of your job, even when it meant long shifts and little downtime.

But there was one thing that made it all a little bit better.

Dr. Robby.

He wasn’t just any doctor—he was a quiet force of calm, someone who always seemed to sense exactly what you needed before you even knew yourself. It wasn’t some grand gesture or an overly obvious thing. It was in the little moments—the ones that caught you off guard and made your heart flutter without you even realizing why.

Like today.

You’d just finished a particularly grueling shift. Your shoulders ached from leaning over patients all day, and your feet felt like they were about to fall off. As you walked to the staff lounge, you were already mentally preparing yourself to take a quick break, grab a snack, and recharge for the next round of chaos.

But when you walked through the door, there he was—Dr. Robby, standing by the coffee machine. His usual soft smile greeted you as you walked in, but it was the way he was holding the coffee cup that made your heart skip a beat.

“I made your usual,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Thought you might need it.”

You blinked, surprised. “How did you—?”

“I could tell you were getting a little frazzled earlier," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And I remembered you mentioned needing coffee after a particularly long shift.”

You smiled softly, feeling an unexpected warmth flood through you. You hadn’t even realized how tired you were, but Robby had somehow sensed it. The little things he did always seemed to fall into place perfectly, like he had some magical ability to anticipate your needs.

You took the cup from him, inhaling the familiar scent of your favorite blend. "You’re a lifesaver," you said with a smile, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you.”

He gave a small, shy smile back, almost like he wasn’t used to hearing the words from you, even though he did things like this for you all the time. “I just try to pay attention.”

And that was the thing about Dr. Robby. He didn’t make a big deal about it, didn’t draw attention to his thoughtfulness. He just quietly observed, always knowing exactly what you needed, even when you hadn’t realized it yourself.

Later, after a few hours of chaos and patient check-ins, you found yourself at your desk, overwhelmed by a growing headache. You rubbed your temples, trying to push through, but the pounding in your head was making it difficult to focus.

That’s when you felt it. A soft, almost imperceptible pressure on your shoulder. You looked up to find Dr. Robby standing next to you, holding out a small bottle of water and a packet of pain relievers.

“You look like you could use this,” he said softly, his eyes full of that gentle concern you’d come to adore.

You took the bottle, your fingers brushing his ever so slightly, and smiled at him. “You’re always one step ahead of me.”

“It’s the little things,” he replied quietly, almost shyly. “You take care of everyone else, so I figured I could take care of you.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you realized in that moment just how deeply Robby had embedded himself in your heart without you even realizing. He wasn’t just a coworker or a friend—he was someone who made your days easier in ways that were so small, yet so significant.

Another time, after a particularly stressful emergency call, you found yourself standing in the hallway, staring at the floor. You hadn’t realized how close you were to the edge of exhaustion until now—your vision blurred, your mind overloaded. You hadn’t even felt the tears starting to gather in the corners of your eyes.

Before you could gather yourself, Robby appeared in front of you, a gentle hand on your arm. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard today,” he said, his voice full of care. “Come with me.”

He didn’t ask questions, didn’t pry. He simply guided you to an empty break room where he had a chair waiting for you. He didn’t need to ask if you were okay—he already knew you weren’t. He handed you a cold bottle of water and just sat with you, silently, his presence soothing.

For a while, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward—just comfortable, like the two of you didn’t need words to understand each other. You could feel his steady presence beside you, and somehow, that was enough to help you breathe a little easier.

After a while, Robby gently broke the silence. “If you need to talk, I’m here. Or if you just need a minute to breathe... I’m here for that too.”

You turned to him, your heart swelling at how genuinely kind he was. “I don’t even know what I’d do without you, Robby.”

His eyes softened, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’ll never have to find out.”

And that was Robby in a nutshell—always there, always paying attention, always just a step ahead, knowing exactly what you needed even before you did. You didn’t have to ask. He simply took care of you.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized how deeply you were falling for him—not just for the thoughtful things he did, but for the quiet way he made you feel safe, seen, and cared for.

One day, you’d have to find a way to thank him, but for now, all you could do was smile and drink in the comfort of his presence, knowing that with Robby around, everything was a little easier to handle.

[bohemianrapshawty]

Operation: Ask You Out

The hospital was a busy place, full of rushed footsteps, life-or-death decisions, and the constant hum of monitors and beeping machines. But there was one thing lately that wasn’t so life-or-death—though it was certainly taking up everyone's attention—and that was the ongoing "Dr. Robby and Y/N Situation."

It had started innocently enough. Robby had been his usual charming self, quietly going about his work, always there when you needed him. But one day, someone—probably a nurse who’d had too much caffeine—had jokingly remarked that it was only a matter of time before Robby asked you out.

From there, things had spiraled out of control.

It began with little comments here and there: a playful nudge from a nurse as you both walked past the break room, a teasing grin from one of the doctors. "So, when's the big date, huh?" someone would ask, a wink accompanying the words. At first, you brushed it off, too busy with patients to pay much mind. But then, the bets started.

It began innocently enough—a whisper between two nurses, a comment that was passed along the hallways. But soon, everyone in the Pitt was in on it. The doctors, the nurses, even the janitorial staff. Everyone had their own guess: when would Dr. Robby finally work up the nerve to ask you out?

"Alright, alright," one of the nurses, Lily, said one day, smirking as she pulled you aside, "I’ve got five bucks on next Friday at 4 p.m."

"Five bucks?" you raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Robby, who was completely oblivious as he scribbled on a clipboard across the room. "Are you really betting on this?"

"Oh, absolutely." She grinned. "Robby’s been looking at you like a puppy who's waiting for permission to chase a ball. It’s only a matter of time."

You sighed, shaking your head. "You're all ridiculous."

But no one could stop. The bets just kept coming, growing in absurdity as the days passed.

"Okay, 7:30 tomorrow morning, in the staff lounge," another nurse, Julia, declared one morning, flashing a grin at Robby. "He’s too obvious—he's definitely going to ask you out soon."

As for Robby, he had no idea what was going on. He was just his usual self: kind, quiet, focused on his work. But every now and then, he’d catch someone watching him with a knowing smile, or see a nurse wink at you in passing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on.

And then there were the whispers. The whispers that grew louder with each passing day, until they were impossible to ignore.

One afternoon, as Robby was walking past the nurses' station, he overheard a conversation between two of the nurses.

"Do you think Robby’s going to do it today?" one of them asked.

"You know, I think he’s too shy. I’ll take next Thursday for sure."

Robby paused mid-step, his brow furrowing. "Wait… what’s going on?"

Lily, who had clearly been in on this for a while, quickly cleared her throat. "Oh, nothing, Robby. Just a little… hospital game."

"A game?" Robby’s voice carried with confusion. "What game?"

The nurse exchanged glances, their eyes flicking nervously between Robby and you, who was busy talking a few feet away.

Lily leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’re betting on when you’ll ask Y/N out. It’s obvious to everyone, Robby.”

Robby blinked, his face flushing a deep red. "Wait—what?"

"Yup," Lily continued, all too pleased. "Everyone’s got their guess. Some think it’ll be tomorrow, some think next week. You’ve got a lot of fans, Robby."

He turned toward you, his eyes wide with panic. He was pretty sure his heart was racing. "You… you know about this?"

You looked up at him, trying to keep a straight face. "You know, Robby, I’ve heard a few things."

He felt his ears turn red as a group of nurses gathered behind him, all casting amused glances his way.

"You’re all betting on me?" Robby stammered, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yup," one of the doctors chimed in, tapping his pen on the counter like a judge with a gavel. "I’ve got ten bucks on next Friday."

"Ten bucks?" Robby nearly choked. "Why does it have to be next Friday?"

"Because," Julia said with a grin, "you’re a little slow on the uptake, Dr. Robby."

At this point, Robby wasn’t sure whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. He could feel his face burning as all eyes turned to him, some of them mischievous, others downright expectant.

"Okay, okay, enough with the bets," Robby said, raising his hands in surrender. "I—uh—don’t even know what’s going on with this whole thing, but now… well, now I feel like I’m on some weird reality show."

The group burst out laughing, and you—who had been trying to hold it together—finally let out a small giggle.

"You’ve become the hospital’s favorite game," you teased, unable to resist.

Robby shook his head, a sheepish smile forming. “I didn’t even know there was a game.”

“Well, now you do,” you said, still chuckling. "But seriously, Robby, do you even have a plan for this, or are you just going to keep everyone guessing forever?”

He paused, taking in a deep breath. The teasing had gone on long enough, and the truth was, he was so done with being the subject of bets.

“Fine,” he said, stepping closer to you, his face serious but his eyes soft. "You know what? Here’s my bet: I’ll ask you out, right now. No more waiting."

You blinked, surprised, and for a moment, you thought he was joking. But when you saw the genuine look in his eyes, you realized he wasn’t.

You grinned, your heart skipping a beat. "Alright, Dr. Robby. I’ll take that bet."

And just like that, Robby—finally free from the endless teasing—asked you out, in front of all the amused onlookers. The rest of the hospital may have been watching, but for Robby, there was only one person he cared about in that moment.

And it was you.