robinav1tch

[robinav1tch]

mama a depressed old man behind you 😭

[robinav1tch]

ok pranked my anxiety said 'clean up ur living room or ill freak it' soooo brb

[robinav1tch]

the only thing robby could feel in the air between himself and doug was a misguided, inappropriate, and surely one-sided crush. he genuinely enjoys talking to doug– respects him as a doctor, as a person. they get along, they've developed a friendship and that should be enough. and it is. it is. but robby has caught himself looking a little too long, thinking about inviting doug up to one of his escapes into nature, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. the deluge of guilt afterwards is usually enough to stop him. it manages to make him feel childish and dirty all at once. harboring a crush feels ridiculous– he's in his fifties, for christ's sake. and on the opposite side of that decidedly unpleasant coin, he is an utter cliche: a middle aged man lusting after a 30 year old.

so he ignores it. just like he had ignored the feelings that had cropped up again years ago when heather collins walked into his er to start her residency– because evidently, robby is nothing if not consistent. and they're friends now. they had put it to bed long before she started at the pitt, and he had put it to bed a second time when his heart decided to act out of turn. he can do the same with this thing he has for doug.

and then he has to go and kiss him.

the second they separate, robby knows he's in for it– because something about it felt distinctly right. doug laughs and robby can't help the rueful smile that crosses his lips. doug is beautiful when he laughs. robby lets out a quiet chuckle. "i know. and if circumstances were different, i might have a little bit of an easier time dealing with the fact that i was eligible to vote when you were born..." something in his stomach drops and he sighs, drags a hand over his face– because he's done the math, and christ he hates himself for the fact that he's already done the math.

live a little, doug says, and robby can only look at him, lips pressed into a thin line, eyes limned with regret. "i would like to. really, i would. but this... it has implications for both of our careers. and aside from wanting to protect my own ass," he says with a hint of irony, "i wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything happened to compromise yours."

i thought i had been laying it on thick all evening. there was something lingering in the air between robby and i, i'd picked up on it for a while now. it started with trading jokes, commentary on sports, grabbing a drink after a shift here and there, lingering glances. i'd asked him out to a bar like i usually did, but this time was different. we both had been off shift, this wasn't just a drink to unwind from a tough work day, and it wasn't just two buds shooting the shit over a couple of drinks. i was trying to see if robby felt what i was feeling too, if the interest was mutual. considering we were approaching drink number four and he didn't seem the least bit concerned by my closeness i figured i might as well make a move, gin and tonics in my system helping to encourage me forward.

robby hesitates under my lips, i can feel it, that split second of what's happening here. but he's not pushing me away, he's not pulling back, those are good signs. the kiss breaks pretty quickly, and it's like i can hear the wheels turning inside of his head when i look up at him. i'm your attending, he says, and i can't help but laugh. i'm not laughing at him, i'm really not, that's just not the response i was expecting from him. "i'm well aware." my eyes break from his for just a moment, taking time to focus on his lips. i want to kiss him again, i wonder if he'll let me.

"i'm the one that kissed you, y' know." there's no abuse of power here, i need him to understand that. i meet his eyes again, leaning in even closer, but not going for another kiss. "we're both consenting adults, michael, and i'd really like to kiss you again." my eyes narrow, head tilting to the side, and i can't stop the smirk that tugs up at the corner of my mouth. if he doesn't want this, i'll stop. but there's this look in his eyes ... it's almost needy. "and i think you want to kiss me, don't you? c'mon, live a little."

[robinav1tch]

THE PITT (2025–)

⇀ 1.06 & 1.10

[robinav1tch]

me: im gonna lock in on here

me: locks in on Tasks instead

[robinav1tch]

Decided instead of dropping my resume at one place I’m running the gauntlet why did I do this in 80 degree weather

[robinav1tch]

good smut is really a character study and that is final. i need it to be about vulnerability i need it to be about trust or lack thereof and most of all i need it to be emotional agony. thats what sex is for

[robinav1tch]

do people think you're STRANGE? DO YOU?? ....then you may be on the right track! "unpredictables" are not alone and possess amazing, hidden powers of their own! Are You Abnormal? THEN YOU ARE PROBABLY BETTER THAN MOST PEOPLE! YES YOUR KIND SHALL TRIUMPH!

[robinav1tch]

obsessed with the way robby says "thank you doctor aaabbot" like they're two teachers talking to each other in front of middle schoolers

[robinav1tch]

I’m already in bed bc I’m approaching hour like 19 of being awake but my apartment is still too hot to sleep so I’ll be lurking a lil

[robinav1tch]

did you see what GOD just did to me man

[robinav1tch]

It ate his pfp but text Robby while I’m at work so I can feel joy

[robinav1tch]

Noah Wyle as Dr. Michael "Robby" Rabinavitch The Pitt, 9:00 P.M

[robinav1tch]

he's learning, slowly, how to let himself be vulnerable. it's frightening, to stretch himself out, to show the world his belly. but genevieve touches him and he feels safe– protected, somehow. it's a wonder he doesn't fall asleep beneath her fingertips. robby can't think of the last time he was handled so delicately, like he is something to be kept out of harm's way. words always fail to express everything she means to him. all robby can think to do, sometimes, is to bow his head in reverence, press lips to skin out of nothing more than simple devotion. he tilts his head to look up at her, a smile faint on his lips, though his eyes flicker shut almost involuntarily when she skims her thumb along the sensitive skin of his temple. a hand closes warm over her knee, gives a gentle squeeze. 'it's an honor to be a part of that quiet,' he murmurs. another kiss is pressed against her thigh, hand smoothing over the spot when he feels her react. 'i would gladly take you up on that offer.'

MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH: SENDER KISSES RECEIVER'S OUTER THIGH.

genevieve looks down slowly; the feeling of robby’s lips on her skin is like drops of warm rain against her own icy flesh. one hand rests lightly on the curve of his shoulder as the other threads lazily through his hair, fingers combing back strands with a gentleness born of something deeper than affection. genevieve studies the shape of him there — stretched out like a supplicant, head pillowed in her lap as if it were the only place he trusted to rest. her voice, when it comes, is low and velvet-smooth, a murmur meant only for him. 'you always find the quiet in me,' she says this as if that quiet is something rare. she supposes it is, for she rarely finds it, herself. her thumb grazes the edge of his temple, an intimate gesture. her thighs tense slightly beneath the soft brush of his lips, only an involuntary reaction to such a warm touch, but she doesn’t ask him to stop. genevieve does not often let herself be seen like this; touchable, softened. but with robby, sometimes she must allow the walls to come down. 'i could stay like this for centuries,' @robinav1tch.

[robinav1tch]

he could live in this moment forever. the gentle way the sounds outside carry into the bedroom, the sunlight soft where it dapples the bedsheets, the floor. safety. peace. he just watches her, lets himself soak in the slow drag of her fingertips, the warmth of her body caged loosely between his arms. he lets out a scoff at the accusation, quiet, faintly indignant. ❝i don't think i always talk like that. though i don't know how you could blame me if i did. ❞ robby ducks his head down to kiss her again, slow and sweet. ❝i'm a pretty big fan of the in between, myself. ❞

he smooths his thumbs along the dip in her waist, hands resting lightly on her hips. she touches her forehead to his and his eyes slip shut almost unconsciously. all she has to do is touch him and he's lulled into a little sliver of serenity. isobel has a way of just... silencing the noise. ❝i'll go wherever you go, ❞ he says, soft like a confession. michael is too lost in her to be startled at the vulnerability as it lips past his lips– or maybe this is what it feels like to feel safe enough to open up.

“  keep kissing me like that and we’re gonna end up back in bed.  ” / @robinav1tch

the windows were cracked just enough to let in the hum of june — distant sirens,  the whisper of wind brushing through new leaves,  the soft rhythm of a city that never really went quiet.  the air was warm,  clinging faintly to their skin.  she could feel it in the space between them,  where his shirt brushed her forearms  &  his breath skimmed her cheek.  his words hung there,  unhurried,  edged with mischief but softened by something else.  something steadier.  she didn’t answer right away.  just let her fingers drift from his collar to his chest,  settling there like a pause. 

❝you always want to talk like the bed’s the destination, ❞ she murmured,  almost smiling.  ❝maybe i just like the in-between. ❞ her voice was low,  not flirtatious so much as intentional — weight carried in the softness.  it was easier here,  away from the sterile lights  &  clipped voices of the hospital,  to let warmth unfold between them without needing to explain it.  there was nothing performative about it.  just the slow,  unfolding quiet of two people who knew where they stood,   &  chose it anyway.  she let her forehead touch his for a beat,  breathing him in.  she wasn’t in a hurry.  he wasn’t either.  they didn’t need to be. ❝maybe i don't care where we are, as long as i'm with you. ❞

[robinav1tch]

robby nods, a bone-deep recognition going through him. he looks at samira, wise beyond her years, and, at the risk of flattering himself, sees something of himself there. the loss, the growing up too fast. the weight of the world draped around her shoulders, the fact that she may well be the one that put it there. ❝it is. and it would be a lie to say i've found anything close. but all we can do is keep trying, right? ❞

he sighs heavily, can already feel the sting of adrenaline in his palms as soon as he hears the word urgent. eyes flicker to her hands, the way she runs her fingers along the edges of her badge. another reflection, though one he's not much conscious of. ❝it does feel that way. sometimes i think it is. but you don't have to do it alone, ❞ he offers gently. ❝it isn't a failing to ask for help. ❞

his hand lifts, hesitates for the barest of seconds in the air, and then closes over hers. he doesn't linger long, doesn't want to cross a line. but it feels important. ❝it's okay to break sometimes. we'll be here. ❞ never mind that fact that he could never extend that grace to himself.

a smile crosses his own lips, almost unconscious when she smiles at him, twin to hers in its weariness. ❝of course, ❞ he says softly. a part of him thinks he should say more, but there's a peace in the silence that he is in no hurry to interrupt.

it's natural, though, when she speaks. his smile twists into a laugh when she references isobel– because he knows she's referencing isobel. normally, he might say let's not and say we did, but she's startled him into honesty. ❝no,  not tonight. ❞ a quiet beat. ❝that's getting around the department, huh? ❞

she doesn’t respond right away — not because she doesn’t hear him,  but because she does.  fully.  the words settle deep in her chest like something warm  &  unbearably heavy all at once.  she sits with them,  lets them land.  something about the way he says doctor mohan makes her throat go tight.  not formal,  not distant — just full of something rare  &  steady.  respect.  maybe even something like affection. 

when she finally speaks,  her voice is quieter than before.  not fragile,  just a little more bare.  ❝balance is hard. ❞ she says it like an admission,  not a complaint.  ❝i think sometimes i forget there’s supposed to be one. ❞ her fingers worry gently at the edge of her ID badge now,  the motion small  &  absent.  ❝it all feels too urgent.  every second.  every patient.  like i have to hold everything together or it’ll fall apart. ❞

her gaze drifts back toward the floor,  the rhythm of her breathing even but weighted.  ❝ &  sometimes i think i’m doing okay.  but then — ❞ she gestures vaguely toward the hallway,  where the code had happened,  where the world had changed for a family,   &  for her,  too.  ❝ — something breaks,   &  i realize how thin the ground under me really is. ❞

but then she glances at him,   &  the corner of her mouth lifts just barely.  the quiet kind of smile that doesn’t chase away grief but finds room beside it.  ❝thank you,  robby.  for staying. ❞ she thanks him again,  &  she doesn’t call him dr.  robinavich,  not now.  not here.  she knows the boundaries when they need to be upheld,  but this isn’t one of those moments.  this is something else. 

❝a little while longer. ❞ she says,  her voice a touch steadier now.  ❝maybe even longer than that. ❞ there's a thread of wryness in it,  but no bite.  just a tired kind of warmth.  an acknowledgment of something real.  the weight doesn’t lift,  not entirely,  but it shifts.  becomes something shared.  something survivable.  ❝ unless you've got someone waiting for you. ❞

[robinav1tch]

[txt: Jen] I take that as a compliment.

[txt: Jen] Ah, gotcha

[txt: Jen] I gotta go no comment on that one. But thank you.

[txt: Jen] Contract?

[txt: Jen] If you're so invested you wanna come in here and help?

[ txt: robbykins 🩺 ] oh i'm gonna call you rn now [ txt: robbykins 🩺 ] my registered nurse [ txt: robbykins 🩺 ] it means right now though [ txt: robbykins 🩺 ] what can i say? the whole saving lives thing is hot [ txt: robbykins 🩺 ] i'm still going to tell you it's not fun. it's part of my contract [ txt: robbykins 🩺 ] you know, i hear you saying that, but i don't see what you mean in the least? just a woman highly invested in life or death charting measures or whatever