#dr. robby x reader

[slibraries]

Robby who already has a million kids. There’s the one from his first marriage, the one he adopted (Jake), the three you convinced him to have (the oldest he delivered in your bedroom in a snow storm), nieces, nephews, friends’ kids, the neighborhood kids who follow him around and come to him for advice.

He doesn’t need anymore kids.

But when you look up at him with those pleading eyes? Insist that you need an even number of babies?

Well, the positive pregnancy test six weeks later isn’t truly a surprise.

[blackwidownat2814]

Like, don't even talk to me about this story, okay? I love the connection between Jack and his sister and just how loved she is by everyone else and not just her boys.

Don't know if I've said it already, but you're an amazing writer!

aaahh hi hello! :)

first thing, i just wanted to say how much i love the way you write for jack and robby. you capture their personalities so well! reading your works are an absolute treat. <3

second, would it be possible to request something for robby? he finds out that his wife was in a really bad accident on her way to work, so she's rushed to the hospital and admitted to their icu?

tysm, and keep up the amazing work!

And You Came Back to Me

content/warning : Serious car accident, medical trauma, cardiac arrest, emergency resuscitation, hospitalization/ICU setting, emotional distress, PTSD symptoms, brief combat/military reference, grief response, partner fear, sibling care, recovery from near-death experience. Heavy emotional themes including flashbacks, guilt, and the fragility of healing.

word count : 3,791

a/n ; Wrote this as an exploration of what happens in the quiet after chaos—the weight of routine, the people who stay, and the small ways grief and love show up at once.

He should’ve kissed you longer.

That’s the first thing that slams through Robby’s chest when the officer says your name.

Not doctor. Not sir. Just: “Mr. Robinavitch, your wife’s been in a serious accident.”

It doesn’t register—not fully. Not until the next words hit him like shrapnel:

“She was unconscious at the scene. EMS is transporting her to Allegheny General now.”

And suddenly, time snaps backward—throws him hard against the wall of the morning. Back to the kitchen. To the quiet hum of NPR on the radio. To the faint smell of burnt toast from the toaster—because you always forget about it halfway through brushing your teeth. He’s told you a hundred times to stop using the “max crisp” setting. You always say, “It’s faster.”

Back to the sound of your heels on the tile as you rushed in—already dressed, hair still damp and twisted into that messy bun you always called “professional enough.”

“Shit,” you muttered, digging through your purse. “I’m running late. Can you zip me up?”

He should’ve stopped what he was doing.

Should’ve set down the mug. Turned fully toward you. Looked at you the way he used to—like you were something he still couldn’t quite believe was real.

But he was distracted. Reading the news. Checking an overnight lab update. Half-listening to McKay complain in the group chat about last night’s board decision.

So instead, he reached out automatically. Took hold of the zipper. Pulled it up the back of your dress like he’s done a hundred times before.

A quiet, familiar ritual.

“Thanks, babe,” you said, glancing over your shoulder with a soft smile.

He leaned in, kissed the back of your neck, right where your hair curled against your skin.

“You look beautiful,” he said. Distracted. Sincere, but distracted.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You laughed and turned away to grab your keys.

He should’ve stopped you. Should’ve wrapped his arms around your waist, rested his chin on your shoulder, whispered something dumb and tender and marriage-soft like Don’t go to work. Stay home. Let’s be irresponsible. Should’ve asked about the dream you mumbled in your sleep. Should’ve paid attention when you said, “I might take the highway if traffic’s clear—I’m too late for the long route.”

You hated the highway. Said it made you feel like one wrong move could ruin everything. Said the backroads felt safer—winding, tree-lined, steady. He teased you for it. Called you dramatic. But he always agreed.

Take the long way. What’s ten more minutes if it means peace of mind?

And this morning—God—he hadn’t even thought to remind you.

“You driving in or Ubering?” he asked, eyes still on his phone.

“Driving. Highway if I have to. Don’t yell.”

“Just… text me when you get there.”

“I always do.”

You smiled.

He didn’t look up.

You walked out the door.

Now a stranger is telling him you were rear-ended at 70 miles per hour, spun into a guardrail, crushed on the driver’s side. That EMS pulled you from the wreckage with the jaws of life. That you weren’t responsive. That you lost a lot of blood.

That they’re bringing you in.

To him.

To his ER. His trauma bay. His staff.

And you might not survive the trip.

He should’ve kissed you longer.

He should’ve kissed you like it was the last time.

Because maybe—it was.

He drops the phone in the stairwell.

He’s moving before his mind catches up—down the steps, through the ER corridor, and straight into the trauma bay. The doors slam open so hard they shake on their hinges.

“Where is she?” His voice breaks as it rips out of his throat.

Dana’s the first to reach him. She’s just stepped off the elevator—chart in one hand, coffee in the other.

“She just came in,” she says immediately. “Langdon’s leading. Mateo is on the vent. Santos and Javadi are in the room—”

“Where is she?”

The way he says it this time—it’s not procedural. It’s not about who’s on what. It’s you. There’s a tremor in his voice now, something raw enough to cut through Dana’s usual calm.

She steps in his path.

“Robby,” she says gently—too gently. She never uses that voice. Not with him.

“She coded in the rig.”

He flinches like she slapped him. The hallway tilts.

“They got her back,” Dana rushes to add, because the look in his eyes unravels something in her. “But it’s bad. She’s not—she’s not conscious.”

He doesn’t stop to respond.

Robby just shrugs off Dana’s hand and barrels toward Trauma One, like his body’s moving on instinct—like it never forgot how to find you.

And then he sees you.

You’re nearly lost in the swarm of bodies around you, but he’d know you anywhere—even battered and broken, even with your hair soaked through and clinging to your face in tangled strands. One of your feet is bare. Your dress—that dress, the blue one you joked made you look like a lawyer even though you worked in nonprofit, the one he remembers zipping up hours ago—has been sliced clean down the center. Blood saturates the fabric, blooming across it like ink in water, until there’s barely any blue left at all.

Mateo is squeezing the ambu bag. Javadi’s covered in sweat, glove smeared in something dark. Langdon is barking orders like his throat is full of glass.

Robby freezes in the doorway.

Langdon doesn’t even look at him. Just shouts, “Get him out of here!”

Dana’s behind him again. This time, she doesn’t touch him. Just steps into his line of vision and holds it.

“You know better. Let them work.”

“That’s my wife. That’s Jack’s sister.”

Santos’ voice breaks—just barely. “She’s got internal bleeding. If we can’t stabilize her, we’re opening the chest.”

And there it is.

Robby’s hand slams against the doorframe. He backs away without realizing he’s doing it.

He ends up in Observation 2.

He doesn’t remember walking there. Doesn’t know how long he stands in the dark before someone—maybe Perlah—sets a bottle of water beside him. He doesn’t touch it.

He’s never felt like this before. Like the air is too thick. Like he’s breathing cement.

Jack shows up ten minutes later. Not in scrubs—he’s in a weather-beaten field jacket and dark jeans, the kind of outfit that’s survived its fair share of long nights. There’s rain slicking his shoulders, water dripping from the cuffs like he didn’t bother with an umbrella. Or didn’t care.

“They told me,” Jack says, low.

Robby doesn’t move.

“I came as soon as—”

“She took the fucking highway.”

Jack is quiet.

“She never takes the highway. I—I always tell her to take 51. She hates the on-ramps. Says they make her feel like she’s gonna die. She said it, Jack. She said it.”

Jack nods, slowly, but his posture is all wrong—too still, too rigid. Like he’s holding something in. His jaw is locked, eyes fixed somewhere over Robby’s shoulder like if he looks at him directly, he’ll break.

“Yeah,” he finally says, voice rough and frayed. “She told me that too. Said the on-ramps made her feel like the road would disappear underneath her. When we were kids, she’d make me walk the long way to school just to avoid the underpass near 18th. Three extra blocks. Every morning.”

He exhales, sharp and uneven. “She’d hold my sleeve like she thought the wind might carry her off if she let go.”

The pause that follows isn’t empty. It’s full—tight with every year Jack spent being the big brother. Every time he covered for you. Every scraped knee, every school project, every time he stood between you and the door while your parents screamed.

Robby sinks down against the wall. His voice is hollow. “She asked me to zip up her dress this morning.” He swallows hard. “I didn’t even look at her. Not really. I was reading emails. I kissed her neck and said, ‘Text me when you get there.’”

Jack doesn’t answer. Doesn’t offer reassurance or statistics or hope. He just lowers himself to the floor beside Robby, head bowed like he’s praying to no one in particular.

“You love her,” he says, and there’s no bitterness in it. Just something steady. “You take care of her in a way I never could. You know how to make her feel safe when it’s quiet. How to be soft when she won’t ask for it. I’ve spent my whole life guarding her from the world, and now…”

He trails off, staring at the floor.

“You’re the part of her world I trust the most.”

Robby closes his eyes. His shoulders shake, once.

“I don’t know how to be okay if she doesn’t wake up.”

Jack reaches out, sets a hand firm and grounding on Robby’s shoulder—steady, like he’s done for you a hundred times before.

“Then it’s a good thing you won’t have to be,” Jack says. “Because she’s too damn stubborn to leave either of us.”

And for the first time since the call, Robby lets himself breathe.

The updates come like clockwork.

“She’s holding.”

“We’ve got the bleeding under control.”

“She’s going up to the ICU now. Sedated. Ventilated.”

Robby follows the bed upstairs like a shadow. No one stops him. Not even Langdon, who looks like he’s aged ten years in a single shift.

They set you up in 312A.

You’re pale. Still. Your wedding ring sits in a plastic cup on the tray beside your bed.

He takes your hand.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You don’t move.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to your arm. His voice catches.

“Baby, please. Please come back.”

And then—he talks.

About the cat—how she followed you to the door that morning, meowing like she knew something was wrong. How you paused, scooped her up, kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “Hold down the fort, okay? Back before dinner.” Then blew her a kiss like you always did, keys already in hand.

About the coffee mug still sitting in the sink. The one with the chipped handle and the faded red lettering from that anniversary trip to Vermont—the kind of mug that never matched anything else but somehow became your favorite. You used it every morning, even when there were clean ones on the shelf. He used to tease you for it. Then he stopped.

About the basket of laundry half-folded on the couch. A pair of your socks tucked inside one of his. Your blouse still soft from the dryer, draped across the armrest like you might come back and finish putting things away. Like you’d walk in and complain that he always left the fitted sheets for you to deal with.

About the dress you pulled from the closet the night before—how you held it up in the mirror and said, “If this still fits, maybe I’ll wear it next weekend. The red one. You like this one.” And how he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you like you’d already won the room.

It’s those things.

The little ones.

The ones that never get written down or photographed.

The pieces of a life you don’t realize you’re building until everything goes quiet.

“You can’t leave me yet,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I haven’t seen you hold our kid yet. I haven’t told you enough times that you saved my life just by saying yes.”

Day Two

He doesn’t sleep.

Javadi comes by. Says nothing. Just looks through the glass and nods. Collins leaves coffee on the table without a word.

He doesn’t leave your side.

Jack shows up again late that night. Sits with him in the dark.

Neither of them speak. Not until Robby, voice shredded and barely audible, says, “I can’t lose her, Jack.”

Jack just nods. “You won’t.”

“I always figured I’d go first,” Jack says quietly, like the words slipped past his guard. “She’s always been the brave one. Ran toward things I would've flinched from. I was the one who hung back—scanned the exits, counted the risks.”

His jaw clenches. He stares at the floor like he’s trying to make sense of it all from the grain of the tile.

“But when I saw her in that trauma bay…” His voice falters, and he has to force the next words out. “Even in combat, I never felt fear like that. Never felt that kind of helpless.”

Robby doesn’t speak at first. Just sits with it, like the silence might soften the blow.

Then, quietly:

“She told me once she felt safest when she was with the two of us. Like the world couldn’t touch her.”

Jack exhales, slow and uneven. His eyes drift toward the bed—toward where you lie, still and silent beneath the tangle of wires and monitors. Still unmoving. Still too quiet.

Like if he looks long enough, maybe something in you will stir. Maybe you’ll meet his gaze and say his name like it means something.

“She better wake up,” he murmurs. “Because she still owes me twenty bucks. And I’m not letting her off the hook just because she got hit by a truck.”

Day Three.

The room is still. Quiet in a way that feels deliberate—like the air itself is holding its breath. Pale morning light creeps in through the ICU blinds, catching on the sharp corners of machines and the softer curve of your shoulder beneath the hospital blanket. Everything hums: the ventilator, the heart monitor, the sound of plastic tubing shifting slightly when you exhale.

Jack arrives before sunrise.

He doesn’t announce himself. Doesn’t knock. Just moves through the doorway like someone crossing into sacred ground. He sets a cup of black coffee on the counter for Robby—no cream, two sugars, just the way you always made it for him—and then takes the same spot by the wall he’s stood in every day since you were brought in.

Robby hasn’t slept. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, eyes ringed with exhaustion. His hand hasn’t left yours all night.

They don’t talk for a while. Don’t need to. Jack watches you breathe. Robby counts each rise and fall of your chest like he’s tethered to it.

The moment happens quietly.

Just after nine.

Your fingers twitch. Small. Involuntary, maybe—but real.

Robby jolts forward. “Jack.”

Jack is at his side in an instant, already reaching, already watching. “Do it again,” he whispers, knuckles white where they grip the bed rail. “C’mon, kid. Come back to us.”

And then you do.

Your hand tightens around Robby’s. Weak. Barely there. But deliberate.

Robby exhales like he’s been underwater for days. A strangled sound escapes him—half sob, half stunned relief—and he bows his head to your hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the world.

Jack grips the back of Robby’s chair with one hand, the other dragging down his face. His mouth is tight. His eyes wet. But his voice, when it comes, is steady in the way only older brothers can manage.

“She’s fighting.”

The nurses rush in. Langdon appears within minutes. Orders are called out. Sedation is reduced. The ventilator settings are dialed down. But Robby doesn’t move—not from your side, not from your hand.

The change is slow. But it’s there.

Color returning to your cheeks. Lashes twitching. A soft wrinkle between your brows like you’re dreaming, or hurting, or both.

When your eyes finally open, it’s dusk.

They’re glassy. Unfocused.

But they find him.

“Hey, baby.” His voice cracks. “You with me?”

You can’t speak. Not yet. But your eyes do the work.

Then—your fingers tighten in his again.

Jack moves to your side, each step careful. Measured. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t trust his voice not to crack the quiet wide open.

And for a second, something flickers across your face. Recognition. A tear.

It rolls down your cheek and Robby catches it with a shaking hand.

He kisses your fingers. Your knuckles. Your wrist.

“You came back to me.”

Jack looks at you, jaw tight, throat working. Then he mutters, almost to himself, “Damn right she did.”

He doesn’t say more.

He doesn’t have to.

You’re awake.

And they’re both there.

That’s everything.

Three Weeks Later.

The apartment smells like lavender and laundry detergent. Your favorite blanket is folded over the back of the couch, and someone—probably Jack—restocked the kitchen with your exact tea and oatmeal brand, like muscle memory. There are flowers on the table, half-wilted, and a stack of unopened get-well cards beside them that you haven’t yet had the energy to read.

You’re home. And you’re alive.

But nothing feels normal yet.

You’re thinner than you were. Your ribs ache when you turn too fast, and your hands shake when you try to open pill bottles. But you walk. You breathe on your own. You wake up in your own bed next to Robby instead of tangled in ICU tubing.

And Robby—Robby hasn’t let you out of his sight.

He tries to be subtle. Tries to hover without hovering. You catch the way his hand twitches when you lean down to pick something up. The way he stays awake two hours after you’ve fallen asleep, just to make sure your breathing stays steady.

“I’m not going to break,” you tell him one morning, finding him standing in the hallway just outside the bathroom door.

He doesn’t smile. Just steps forward and cups your cheek like it’s second nature—like his hand was always meant to rest there.

“You did,” he says, voice low and frayed at the edges. “You almost died. And I stood there and watched it happen.”

His thumb brushes against your skin, gentle. Reverent.

“So yeah,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna be careful with you for a while. You don’t get to scare me like that and expect me to walk away unchanged.”

You don’t argue. Just press your forehead to his and breathe with him.

Jack visits like clockwork. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays. He always calls ahead, even though you stopped asking him to. He comes with practical things—groceries, multivitamins, takeout from that one Thai place you craved when nothing else would stay down.

He never makes a scene of it. Just moves through your kitchen like it’s routine. Like you didn’t code in the back of an ambulance while he was somewhere else—driving home, bone-tired and still smelling like antiseptic, unaware that your heart had stopped without him there to catch it.

He acts like nothing’s changed. Like you didn’t almost leave him without warning. But the way he watches you when you walk across the room says everything.

“You gonna let me in, or am I just supposed to enjoy the doorframe?” he jokes the first time you’re strong enough to answer it yourself.

“You gonna keep looking at me like I’ve got a ticking clock strapped to my chest?” you fire back.

Jack shrugs. Steps inside. Kisses the top of your head. “You’re still annoying. Good. I was worried.”

That night, you all end up in the living room—curled into Robby’s side on the couch, a blanket tucked around your legs, while Jack settles into the armchair nearby. His prosthetic leans against the side of the chair, balanced carefully where he left it, like it belongs there.

He sits back, one socked foot up, the other leg stretched out and relaxed. Comfortable in a way he rarely lets himself be.

The TV plays some half-watched game on mute, casting flickering light across the room, but no one’s really paying attention. The silence between you feels lived-in, not awkward. Familiar. But still edged with something tender. Like you’re all waiting to exhale at the same time.

The kind of night that feels quiet on purpose.

The kind that says: We’re still here.

“I think I scared you both more than I scared myself,” you murmur, eyes still on the screen.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Jack says, voice low. Honest. Not sharp, not teasing—just stripped down. Like it costs him something to say it out loud.

Robby’s grip around your waist tightens almost instinctively, like he can still feel the echo of that moment—the call, the drive, the trauma bay. His fingers curl against your side, anchoring himself to something warm and alive.

“You don’t get to do that again,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Ever.”

You turn your head then, eyes flicking between them—one sitting too still, the other holding on too tightly. And for the first time all day, you let yourself feel the full shape of what almost happened. What almost broke you.

“I didn’t say this earlier,” Jack says, softer now, voice rough around the edges. “But I meant it. Back at the hospital. You have him. You’re not doing this alone.”

You don’t look at him right away. Just nod, slow, like the words are settling into a place they hadn’t quite reached before. Your eyes sting, but you don’t blink them away.

“I know I’m not,” you murmur.

And you do.

Even on the days it’s hard to feel it.

Healing isn’t linear. Some days you get through without tears, almost like nothing ever happened. Other days, it hits you sideways—over coffee, in the shower, folding laundry—and you’re crying without knowing why.

You haven’t driven yet. Not because you can’t—because you don’t want to.

And everyone understands that.

Robby never asks. He just grabs the keys and opens your door first. Jack doesn’t comment, doesn’t tease—he just takes the driver’s seat without question when it’s his turn.

Even Dana understood. One Saturday, she showed up with oversized sunglasses and a tote bag full of snacks, knocked twice, and said, “Girls’ day. Non-negotiable. Collins is already in the car.”

And sure enough, Collins was in the passenger seat, sipping an iced tea and pretending not to be amused. Dana took the wheel, flipped the radio to something from the nineties, and announced you were starting with pedicures and ending with overpriced appetizers—“and maybe a shoe sale if we’re feeling emotional.”

But tonight, the air is still. Your body is tired, but not heavy. There’s a blanket over your legs, the low hum of the dishwasher in the next room, and two people who never let go—even when you tried to disappear.

You close your eyes.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t brace for the fall.

[xximperioxx]

One of me is cute, but two though?

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.7k (not proofread)

Warnings: NSFW (18+ ONLY) age gap, swearing, fluff, established relationship, poorly written explicit smut, p in v, the slightest bit somnophilia, breeding kink, cockwarming?, female anatomy, male anatomy, unsafe sex, (let me know if I missed anything) MDNI 18+

Notes: pls be gentle with me this is my first time writing smut like this and Im so inexperienced it’s not funny. Enjoy the Sarah Paulson meme I put in there. Also I’ve been blown away by the love my work has recent gotten and I truly appreciate it. Anyways enjoy <3

Gif cred: @xxdrixx

———————————————————

You don’t exactly remember how you and Dr. Robinavitch got together. It started out with stolen glances and innocent touches at work and a kiss outside your apartment when he walked you home one night.

Today was busy and you were ready to go home. Except it wasn’t even noon yet.

You sit down at a computer with a huff. Your feet silently thanking you for a break. The sounds of the ED ringing in your ears as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. Your leg begins to bounce out of habit and your eyes look around the busy hospital.

Santos takes a seat at the computer across from you. She gives you a small smile. You return the gesture before your eyes look back at the computer and stare at the time. All you wanted to do was go back to Robby’s apartment and cuddle on the couch with your sweats on. With how this day was going the dream of your Friday night plans were beginning to fade away. Is an easy day so hard to ask for?

Collins catches your eye as she tries to soothe a crying baby. Robby tells her something before she carefully hands the child to him. Your eyes immediately gravitate seeing your boyfriend gently rocking the fussy infant. You perk up, now sitting up straight. If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen you don’t know what was. The two of you haven’t brought up the conversation of kids just yet.

You knew he was getting older and while you were still young, you weren’t sure of motherhood just yet. You’ve seen the horrors and heartbreak of childbirth in this hospital but you’ve also seen the light it brought to people. When the tears of pain turn into tears of joy. You’ve always imagined having a family but you never had a timeline. That was until you saw your man holding a baby right then.

You feel yourself grow hot and your pulse quickens. Suddenly, images of a future as a family with him flash through your mind. Being pregnant with Robby by your side, gently rocking your child to sleep, getting them ready school in the morning. You want it. All of it. God you wanted to climb like a tree right here.

The attending can feel someone’s eyes on him. His eyes search the room before they land on yours. His gently shushing comes to a stop. He gives you a confused look, not able to read your expression. Your lustful eyes soften as your face flushes from enamorment. You love him. You shake your head silently telling him it’s nothing.

He gives you a smile that says ‘I love you’ but a look that says you’ll be talking later. He continues to softly shush the infant in his arms before going to find the mother.

You don’t hear Collins approach the desk. She follows your gaze and lets out a laugh, “You okay there, Doc?”

Santos doesn’t look up from her computer, “She’s been like this for 5 minutes. Making bedroom eyes at Dr. Robby.”

“I think my body just had a physical reaction.” you joke.

Santos grimaced, “I don’t need to know about that. You keep that to yourself.” Collins lets out a snort as you scoff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You let out a yelp as a hand pulls you into an unused room. The person pulls you into them. Out of reflex you start resisting. Which ends up to be you sadly hitting their chest.

“It’s just me– stop hitting me. Hey!” Robby grabs your hands, stopping you from hitting him more.

Your eyes widen in shock, “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Surprised turns to annoyance. You glare at him, “Why didn’t you just leave me a note like you normally do?”

He lets go of your hands and lets out a laugh. You try to fight turning your scowl into a stupid grin at his laugh.

His hands slither around your waist, pulling you flushed against him, “Is it so wrong for me to want a spontaneous moment alone with my beautiful girlfriend.” You roll your eyes as your hands reach up to rest on his chest.

He leans down and his lips meet yours for a gentle kiss.

He slowly pulls away after a few seconds, “We really need to get you trained on self defense because whatever that was earlier– was sad.”

You hit him again.

“Ow!”

You shut him up with a quick kiss, “Don’t be a wimp. I didn’t hit you that hard.” He grins.

His thumb sneaks under your scrub top and grazes the bare skin. Subconsciously, you feel your body shiver at his cold touch and lean into him closer. He smirks down at you. “What was with that look you gave me earlier?”

Your eyes look up at him with innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A pinch causes your hips to jerk. His fingers caress the area. You sigh and nervously play with his stethoscope around his neck. “It’s dumb.” You mumble.

He gives you a displeased look, “Trust me it’s not.”

You purse your lips and can feel your heart beating faster, “When you were holding that baby,” the image pops into your mind, “It made me realize I want that with you. Like really, really badly.”

Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow at you, not expecting that.

His face softens, “You want a baby with me?”

You nod.

“I want a family with you too.”

Your hands reach up and pull him down for a searing kiss. He kisses you back immediately.

The two of you slowly pull away to catch your breath.

Robby placed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you.”

Your face turns red at the thought of earlier. You laugh and hide your face in his chest. “Michael, I wanted to fuck you right then and there. It was so embarrassing.”

His laugh rumbles his chest. “So that’s what that look was.”

Your groan comes out muffled from his chest.

“Well, how about tonight when we get home,” his thumbs start tracing your skin again, “We can work on that. Plus, you’re ovulating…”

You pull away with a scoff, slightly amazed. “How the hell do you even know that?”

He shrugs, giving you a sheepish grin, “It’s the doctor in me…and the boyfriend in me.”

A knock interrupts you two. Dana’s voice rings out, “Robby! We got a teen. Respiratory arrest. ETA 2 minutes.”

You both pull away from each other. Robby runs his hands down his face before they drop to his side. He sighs.

You lift your hand to his cheek and bring his face to yours.You press a kiss to his other cheek. “I love you.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before walking out to prepare for the coming case. You pull out your phone for a minute, not wanting to make it obvious you were in the room with your attending alone.

You walk out of the room, mentally trying to prepare yourself for what’s to come for the rest of the shift. A body waiting outside the door scares you. Dana.

You greet her with a shy smile, “Hi, Dana.”

The charge nurse gives you a knowing smirk, “Hi, kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby waits outside the hospital by the bike rack with one AirPod in. He focuses on McVie’s bass while ‘The Chain’ plays in his ear, blocking out the thoughts of his shift. His eyes follow the headlights of the cars passing the building.

You see Robby standing with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. As if he could feel you coming, he looks up to meet your tired eyes. He greets you with a faint smile.

“Sorry, Collins stopped me on my way out about one of my patients.”

You didn’t want to tell him that the actual conversation was. It was just Collins leaning into you in passing with a “I hope it sticks tonight” ,a cheeky grin, and thumbs up for luck. All while you gaped at her.

You reach for his hand as you begin the walk to his place. Like most days when you and Robby share the same shift, the two of you walk to his apartment in comfortable silence. Robby normally listened to music to clear his head as you paid attention to the night life of the city.

Robby opens the door to his apartment and walks in after you. After dropping your bag at the table, you walk over to the door and take off your shoes. Out of the corner of your eye you see Robby walking over to you with a smolder.

He goes to reach for you but your hand stops him, “We are not doing anything until I am out of these scrubs and we have food in our stomachs because I know you didn’t eat anything today but a granola bar.”

Robby sighs in disappointment and you let out a snicker. He opens the fridge and pulls out leftovers as you grab two plates out of the cabinet.

The two of you eat while sharing conversations about positive things about your shifts. He brings up working with Whittaker as you share how your cases with Santos went well.

After you both finish, Robby picks up both of your plates as you start putting away the food you didn’t eat, “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”

You wave him off and he gives you a quick peck on the lips before you start working on the dishes. After a bit, the kitchen is now clean. It had been a mess since this morning when the two of you left in a rush for work. You finish washing your hands before throwing the paper towel in the trash. The water had stopped a while ago and figured Robby had gotten ready for bed.

You make your way to the bedroom and find Robby sitting against the headboard in his boxers with a book in his hands. He glances up at you, his readers resting on his nose,“Thank you for cleaning, honey.”

He reaches his arm out to you. Walking over, you lean down and give him a quick kiss. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be quick.”

You come out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, wearing Robby’s bathrobe and some spare panties you had in the apartment. Rummaging through his dresser for a shirt, you feel Robby’s eyes on you. You laugh, “Stop looking at me like a teenage boy.”

“I can’t help it.” You glance down at the bulge growing in his boxers.

He motions you over and you immediately follow. You climb over him with ease, now straddling him. He notices your dilated pupils and how your breathing deepens. His calloused fingers trail from your thighs up to your hips.

Your eyes move from his eyes to his lips once more before leaning down and capturing his lips with yours. He kisses you back feverishly.

His fingers quickly untie the robe. He slips it off you and tosses it across the room. You let out a whimper as his hands immediately grasp at your breasts. Your kiss gets interrupted by your phone ringing from the other room.

You shake your head, “Ignore it.”

He leaves kisses down your neck. His teeth scraping, leaving you out of breath. You subconsciously begin to grind your hips. He lets out a groan before gently biting down on your pulse point.

His fingers push aside your panties. “Fuck,” He choked a groan feeling how wet you were.

You let out a whimper as his fingers collected your wetness. His thumb gently brushes against your clit. You fall into him with a gasp.

Your ringtone interrupts you again. You pull away with a sigh.

Robby’s hands rest on your hips. “Go get it. It could be important. Besides, I’m not going anywhere. ” you nod before he gives your hips a squeeze as you get off him.

You quickly grab an old junky shirt from his dresser. Your footsteps pad against the hardwood to the kitchen and you pick up your phone. You see two missed calls and a message from your mom. Call me.

What you thought was an important call ended up being 15 minutes of your mom trying to catch up and you repeating you would call her tomorrow. The ‘call me’ was just to tell you that she and dad got a new dog. You wanted to slam your head against the wall.

You come back into the bedroom with a snort, ready to tell your boyfriend what happened. You stop to find him asleep leaning against the headboard with his mouth slightly open. Soft snores fill the room. You let out a quiet laugh.

You turn the light off by his bedside and carefully take off his reading glasses before crawling into bed with him. You aimlessly scroll on your phone, looking at social media.

You don’t feel him shift, his head finally sinking into his pillow, “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

You roll onto your side and face him.

“For being tired after a long shift?”

He grumbles and you snuggle into him with your head laying on his bare chest. “It’s okay, I’m tired too,” you reassure him while stifling a yawn. He lays a gentle kiss on the top of your head. You both fall asleep within minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up in the morning you were expecting it to be the smell of coffee and not your boyfriend copping a feel. Your eyes flutter open to see Robby’s fingers carefully massaging your breasts under your shirt, gently pinching your nipples. All while pressing kisses down your neck.

His hardened cock rubs against you. You let out a tired laugh before turning to face him, “Well, good morning to you.”

He gives you a boyish grin. He watches as you climb on top of him. In the same position as last night. “Good morning, hon.”

Your fingers graze his bulge before giving it a squeeze, “You weren’t joking about trying for a baby right away.”

Robby shakes his head while biting his lip trying not to moan. Noticing the damp spot on your panties, his rough fingers brush against your clothed clit, “Not wasting any time.”

You let out a whimper. “P-Perfect.”

He slides your panties down and you awkwardly take them off before he takes his boxers off. His cock springs against his stomach. You lower your hips. Robby grips your hips once more and you gently begin to move. Your slickness now coating his thick member as your pussy slowly rubs up and down. Your hand covers your mouth as you let out a muffled moan when your clit brushes against his tip.

Robby throws his head back, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, “if you keep this up. I-I can’t cum in you.”

You nod. You don’t think you can form a sentence right now. Your body was on fire. Your hips lift as Robby guides himself to your entrance. You let out a whine at the same time Robby lets out a breathy moan as you slowly sink down on him. Every inch stretching you as if it’s your first time together again.

You slowly begin to move your hips up and down as you ride him. After a few seconds you feel yourself grow tired and slow down. Robby lets out a chuckle.

“Don’t laugh. I’m doing all the work, old man.” His fingers find your clit and gives it a soft pinch. You let out a shaky gasp. “Don’t be mean.” You warn.

Your hands scratch at his chest as his hips begin to thrust up meeting yours. The sounds coming from his mouth edge you closer to finishing.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Robby warns with a grunt. His hooded eyes staring at your blissful face. His thumb rubs small circles on your clit.

“Oh fuck, Michael- baby,” you whine as he speeds up his thumb motion.

After a few more thrusts, Robby cums inside you with a guttural moan. Your release follows shortly after, loudly moaning as you feel him cum. Your hips continue to grind, riding out your bliss.

Suddenly, you feel heavy as your orgasm bliss wears off. Your muscles screaming at you. Panting, you tiredly slump on top of Robby. He gently rubs your back still inside you. The two of you even your breathing.

You lay in comfortable silence as you listen to his heartbeat. Robby draws shapes on your back. The sun peaks through a crevice of the blackout curtains.

“I feel good about that one,” you joke, “Having two of me will be a handful for you.”

Getting a second wind, Robby flips you both over. Now smirking down at you on your back, “We should keep trying…just to be safe.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Can I please get an imagine being Dr. Robby gf/wife and having a period and bad cramps and him just taking care of you

Literally have my period right now nonnie and i need this man lol

"The heck are you doing?"

"The heck does it look like?" You bat back, leaning back from the fridge. "I'm gonna make dinner."

"I told you I would handle dinner tonight."

"Well, you've been running errands all day and I'm hungry now."

"Which is why I got takeout—Put those away," Robby waves at the few ingredients on the counter. You arch a brow, eyeing the bags that he sets down on your table.

"What'd you get?" You ask, nodding toward it.

"Chinese. Beef and broccoli, cashew chicken, fried dumplings."

"Crab rangoon?"

"You really think I'd let myself come home without crab rangoon?" He teases, crossing the kitchen. "It's like you don't know me at all."

You grin as he cups your cheeks, drawing you in for a warm kiss. You wince halfway through it, the cramping in your belly making your face twist as you lean back.

"You take anything yet?" Robby asks knowingly. You don't bother to ask how he knows. You don't think that he's actively tracking your cycle, but you wouldn't put it past him; even if he isn't, he's an observant guy.

"Is that why you got half of the food you got?" You counter.

"You need iron right now. You'll feel better." He pinches your cheek before turning away to unpack the food. "So?"

"No. I wanted to eat something first."

"Spoonful of peanut butter, wash it down with one of your protein shakes."

"Now?"

"Next time. If you have it now, you'll spoil your dinner."

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile as you load the ingredients that you took out back into the fridge.

--

"Put the sponge down."

"There isn't much to wash."

"So I'll do it, go relax."

"Robby," You warn, turning to face him. "Just 'cause I'm bleeding—"

"I know you're perfectly capable," He soothes before you can get too riled. "I also know that you've been on your feet for twelve hours, and I had the day off. Go watch something, read something, whatever. Put your feet up. I've got these."

You consider him for a moment before you reach up, hooking your hands in his hoodie and tugging him in for a kiss. You feel the soft turn-up of his smile against his lips, his hands settling on your hips. He gives them a gentle squeeze before he uses the hold to nudge you away from the sink with a murmur of, "Go on."

--

"Incoming."

"Mm?" You let your eyes stray from the tv, shifting slightly from where you've laid down on the couch, tucked in with a sleeping pad and a cozy blanket. You smile when an iced cream sandwich is lowered into your view. You take it with an excited little wiggle, and lean back as Robby drops a kiss to the top of your head.

You tip your head back further as he leans away.

"Where were you hiding this?"

"Picked it up while I was out."

"You sneak."

"There's a fresh bag of peanut butter cups in the cabinet."

"Careful, Michael. Keep this up and I'm gonna be tempted to put a ring on it."

[art-by-jas]

Cold Hands

Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Cuddling, Fluff, Short One Shot

WC: 400

Robby sighs, rolling his eyes as you press your hands against his abdomen, feeling him flinch at the sensation of your cold touch.

"Jesus, your hands are like ice," he grumbles, leaning back against the headboard and putting away the book he was reading. You can't help but smile at his reaction, relishing the warmth of his body against your cold fingertips.

"Hey, it's not my fault I have poor circulation," you tease, wiggling your fingers against his skin. He grunts in response, trying to act annoyed but failing to hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should invest in some gloves," he suggests, shifting slightly under your touch. You chuckle, running your hands up his stomach towards his chest, reveling in the soft hair beneath your fingertips.

"But where's the fun in that?" you tease, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. "I enjoy the fact that my cold hands bother you."

His gorgeous brown eyes gaze at you as he lets out a huff of laughter, his cheeks flushing slightly at your words. "You're a menace, you know that?" he says, looking down at you affectionately.

"But you love me anyway," you reply, smiling up at him as your fingers trace patterns across his chest and over his gold necklace, which you've come to be low-key obsessed with. He grunts in agreement, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Yeah, unfortunately, I do," he murmurs, burying his face in your hair and inhaling softly at the scent of your shampoo.

You giggle, nestling in his embrace and reveling in the warmth of his body. "You say 'unfortunately' like it's a bad thing," you laugh, tracing the outline of his collarbone with your fingers.

He grunts again, but you can feel his smile against your hair. "It’s a bad thing when you're constantly freezing and using me as your personal heater," he mumbles.

You chuckle, enjoying the playful banter. "But you're so warm and cozy. How am I expected to resist?"

He lets out a resigned sigh, pulling you even closer. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?" He groans, but there is fondness in his voice.

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his neck and then another one. "But I'm your pain in the ass," you smile, feeling his grip on you tighten. He can’t help the smile spreading across his face.

[blackwidownat2814]

Beautiful and so heartbreaking!!

hello!! i have an angsty request >:3

in the past dr robby and reader were in a relationship but as life changed they decided to separate. reason why reader broke it off with robby was because she was getting sicker and she didn’t want to burden him years later reader comes into the er in bad shape (chronicle ill) he never knew she was this sick until years after they drifted apart and maybe some fluff at the end

babes you know i LIVE FOR THE ANGST <33

warnings: depictions of chronic illness wc: 1.9k

The ER was buzzing—monitors beeping, the sharp scent of antiseptic hanging in the air, footsteps echoing against linoleum. Robby barely noticed any of it.

He’d just finished dealing with a combative overdose in Bay 5 when Dana called out to him, holding a chart.

"Room Three," she said, a little too gently. "Chronic case. Looks like heart failure. She's not doing great."

He grabbed the clipboard without a second thought. Then stopped cold.

Your name stared up at him in clean block letters.

And his world tipped sideways.

It was as though someone had sucker-punched the air out of his lungs. Four years. Four years of wondering. Of half-written texts. Unanswered calls. A full voicemail inbox, all of them from him. Of dreaming about your laugh and waking up angry in tears. Frustrated at himself. At you. Four years of pretending he didn’t still check your name in the hospital system every once in a while.

And now—now you were here.

Collapsed lungs. Oxygen saturation low. Congestive Heart Failure. Decompensated.

You were dying, and you hadn’t said a word.

The curtain around your bed was drawn, but he pushed through without knocking, hands trembling.

And there you were.

Pale. Eyes sunken. Lips tinged gray-blue despite the oxygen mask over your mouth. You were bundled in hospital blankets, shivering slightly, your hand lax around the call button.

Your eyes opened slowly, drawn by the sound of footsteps.

You saw him—and blinked, like you weren’t sure if he was real.

A choked sigh. You pulled off the mask just enough to speak. "Hey, stranger."

It wrecked him. The rasp in your voice. The half-smile you offered like this was just a casual run-in, like you weren’t hooked up to machines that were keeping you alive. 

He moved closer, too fast. "What the hell, Y/N?"

"Nice to see you too," you murmured, voice dry.

"Don’t," he said sharply, chart forgotten in his hand.

You looked away. "I didn’t plan to be here, Michael."

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before kneeling beside the bed. "Heart failure? You’re in advanced decomp. Jesus—why didn’t you fucking tell me? Why didn’t you call?"

You didn’t answer.

"You left," he said, voice quieter now but still shaking. 

He held your hand instantly, cradling it like it was instinct. His hands felt the same—warm, steady, familiar. Like no time had passed at all.

You swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "I didn’t want you to watch me fall apart."

He blinked. "You think I wouldn’t have stayed?"

"I know you would have," you whispered. "That’s what scared me. You would’ve put everything on hold. Your fellowship. Your life. Your chance to be more than just a caretaker for someone who—" You broke off, breath catching. "Someone who was only going to get worse."

Robby’s other hand came to rest on your arm—warm, solid, familiar. Your body leaned toward the touch before your mind could argue.

"You think I wouldn’t choose you? You really think I wouldn’t have wanted to walk through this with you?"

Tears stung your eyes. "It wasn’t fair to ask."

"You didn’t ask. You just left." His voice cracked at the end.

A long silence stretched between you, thick with everything unsaid.

He squeezed your hand tighter. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, grounding you.

"I never stopped loving you," he said quietly.

Your fingers curled around his. You felt like hell, like your body was a failing house, caving in on itself—but his touch reminded you that some parts of you still worked. Still remembered.

"I’m sorry," you whispered. "For not telling you. For walking away before you had the chance to make that choice."

Robby leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours. "I’m making it now," he breathed.

Your eyelids feel heavy, and suddenly you're back in that cramped apartment with the peeling tile and the humming radiator—the place you used to call home.

It had been raining that night. Heavy and loud against the windows. You remember how the lamplight painted long shadows across the floor, how your suitcase sat half-zipped by the door.

You remember the way Robby looked at you when he walked in from his shift—wet scrubs, messy hair, exhaustion hanging from his shoulders.

But the second he saw your face, he knew.

"You’re leaving," he said.

You nodded. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t beg. He just stood there, breathing too quietly, like even that hurt.

"I thought we were okay," he said after a minute. "Are we not okay?"

You tried to smile, but it cracked at the edges. "I’ve been… having more episodes. Dizziness. Shortness of breath. My cardiologist says it’s progressing faster than they expected."

Robby blinked. "Okay. Then we fight it. We adjust the meds. We—"

"No," you said, cutting him off too fast. "You adjust. You take care of me. You cancel your interviews, you stay up all night researching when you should be out living your life. And then one day when you wake up next to someone who can’t even walk up a hill without needing to sit down? What then, Michael? I’m not doing that to you."

His expression twisted. "So instead, you choose to leave me? Without giving me a choice?"

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back. "I’m trying to give you a future. One that doesn’t revolve around watching me wither away in front of you."

"I don’t want a future without you."

You shook your head. "That’s what I couldn’t live with."

He crossed the room, grabbed your wrist—gentle, but desperate. "You don’t get to make this decision for both of us."

You leaned in, let your forehead rest against his. Memorized the warmth of his breath, the way his fingers trembled where they held you.

"I love you," you said. "But I need you to remember me like this. Young and alive. Not dying in a hospital bed."

"No."

"Michael—"

"No," he said again, voice cracking. "God, please. Don’t do this."

His voice broke and kept breaking. He sank down to his knees like his body couldn't hold the grief. Tears spilled fast, falling unchecked down his cheeks, and he reached for you—arms wrapping around your waist, face pressed against your stomach. A sob tore out of him, raw and guttural.

"Stay," he whispered. Then louder, more desperate: "Please—please, let me stay. Let me help you. I’ll do anything, Y/N. I’ll give you everything I have. Just don’t walk away from me. Please."

You fell with him, threading your shaking fingers into his hair, holding him close. He felt like a storm in your arms—chaotic, trembling, terrified.

"I know you would," you whispered, breaking. "That’s the problem."

You closed your eyes, voice barely audible. "You’d give everything for me. And it kills me. Because I love you too much to let you."

You kissed him one last time—slow, aching, full of everything you couldn’t say. His hand slipped into your hair, holding you like he could stop the unraveling.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes were red, lips parted like he still couldn’t believe you were really leaving. You rested your hand on his cheek for a second longer—just one more breath, one more heartbeat—before stepping back.

Neither of you spoke.

You picked up your bag. Turned toward the door. Didn’t look back.

—

Later, when the oxygen helped and your vitals stabilized and they moved you upstairs, you didn’t expect him to stay.

But hours passed.

And he did.

You opened your eyes sometime after 3 a.m. to find him sitting in the chair next to your bed, fingers still laced with yours.

You were the first to speak. "You’re not on shift anymore."

"Doesn’t matter."

"You could’ve gone home. Slept in your own bed."

He glanced at you, then looked back down at your joined hands. "I think I’ve spent enough nights in the wrong bed."

Your breath caught.

"You don't have to—"

"I know," he said, cutting you off, voice softer now. "This isn’t about having to do anything." He moved closer and brushed a kiss against your forehead, lingering. "This is about not losing you again."

You turned your face away, voice breaking. "Don’t say things like that."

"Why not?" he asked. "You think I don’t mean them?"

"I know you do," you said quietly. "And that’s what terrifies me."

His brow furrowed. "Y/N—"

"I don’t deserve this," you said, barely louder than a whisper. "I don’t deserve you. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I chose to disappear. And you’re still here, willing to throw everything away just to sit beside me while I—" You cut yourself off, tears welling. "I don’t want you wasting your life loving someone who might not even have much of one left."

Robby cupped your face in both hands, gently, like you might shatter if he held too tightly. "I’m not wasting anything. You’re the one thing I’ve ever been sure about."

You couldn’t stop the tears this time. "I don’t want to be your burden."

He leaned closer until his forehead pressed against yours. "You’re not. You never were and you never will be. Let me be here. Please."

His thumb brushed away a tear. "Let me love you."

You gave in then. Let yourself fall forward, into his arms. He wrapped himself around you instantly, warm and steady, holding you like you were something sacred. Your body fit against his like muscle memory, like no time had passed.

He smelled the same. That subtle mix of soap, sweat, and something inherently him—clean and grounding. Your nose pressed into the crook of his neck, and it hit you like a wave.

And you felt the same to him. Fragile, yes, but still familiar. Still his.

His arms tightened around you, one hand splayed between your shoulder blades, the other stroking the back of your head. You buried your face in his shoulder, clung to his shirt, and let yourself cry.

He didn’t try to stop it.

Didn’t let go.

And when the tears slowed, and you felt his lips press gently against your temple, you breathed in the quiet between you. His scent. His presence. His promise.

"I missed you," you whispered.

"I never stopped thinking about you," he murmured. "Not for a second."

You pulled back just far enough to look at him—really look. He looked tired, yes, but soft around the edges now. Open. Hopeful.

You touched his cheek. "Okay," you sniffled. "You can stay."

The way he smiled at you then—soft and disbelieving—felt like sunlight after a long winter.

He kissed your knuckles. Then your brow. Then the tip of your nose.

Then, slower, more reverent—he kissed your cheek. The corner of your mouth. And finally, your lips. It was soft, tentative, but steady. Like he needed you to feel it. Like he’d been holding it in for years.

You melted into it, a shaky laugh breaking through your tears.

"We’ll take it one breath at a time," he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, forehead resting against his. For a while, you just breathed together—quiet and close. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles against the back of your hand.

"Tell me when you’re tired," he murmured.

"I’m always tired," you whispered, a soft smile tugging at the edge of your mouth.

"I’ll be tired with you."

He shifted, carefully, until he was half-tucked into the bed beside you, mindful of your lines and monitors. You leaned into him, head on his chest, and let his heartbeat calm your own.

"I love you," you murmured into the fabric of his shirt.

His hand found yours beneath the blanket, fingers curling tight. "And I love you—more than anything."

You smiled against him, small and real. "Even now?"

"Always."

And in that quiet hospital room, tangled together and half-lit by morning, you let those words hold you—finally, fully—with nothing left to hide and everything to bare.

[loveyhoneydovey]

18+ mdni (reader is implied to be younger)

thinking about Robby coming home to find you under his white sheets, completely asleep with some light snoring that can be heard occasionally. he smiles softly at the sight while leaning against the door frame, looking at you with so much fondness in those pretty brown eyes.

but when he comes closer? oh he has to stop for a second and hold back a groan, cause the realization he's met with is that you're naked under those sheets. and you know what drives him crazier and has blood rushing to his cock at such rapid speed he almost feels dizzy for a second? you smell exactly like him. and the faintly humid air seeping out of the bathroom clues him in on how you came to have his scent on your skin.

as much as he doesn’t want to disturb your sleep, he can’t help the way his hand moves to your face to gently stroke it. and when you begin to stir and wake up he selfishly can’t say he’s too sorry about it. especially not when your eyes finally focus on him and you give him that sleepy naughty smile while the scent of his body wash clings to your skin. and when you rub your thighs together and use that teasing and whiney tone on him?

“oh welcome back, doctor Robinavitch. mind helping me relieve this big ache?”

and how could he ever say no to his favourite patient?🩺✨

[crushribbons]

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, fluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down. 

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.” 

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times. 

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk. 

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped. 

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like. 

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again. 

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed. 

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through. 

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!” 

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

[writtenbythemoonandstars]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Possible content warnings: Jealousy and insecurity, questions of self worth, and a minor injury.

1.1k words

---

Black. With two sugars. And a splash of milk. That’s how Robby likes his coffee. 

Practically the opposite of his girlfriend. Who likes more cream than coffee. 

One in each hand. Made the way they like it respectively. A smile on her face as she walks in to the ER while on her way to work, expecting to find her hot doctor boyfriend. 

Well. She does. Just not in the way she thought. 

Obviously she knows Robby’s dated people before. She likes Jake’s mom, Janey. She also knows about Heather. Dr. Collins. Also a doctor at the PTMC. 

Squeezing the coffee cups tightly, watching them. Maybe to someone else they’re just discussing a patient. Maybe she’s simply asking her senior attending a question. Or presenting him the case. 

But to her… she can’t help the jealousy monster that crawls up her throat. Hot. Tight. 

“What do you think?” A voice beside her. Looking over his badge reads nurse. Mateo. 

“Huh?” Trying to snap herself out of it. She has no reason to be jealous, right? They broke up a long time ago. And Robby was with her now. He loves her… 

So why does the feeling go away? 

“They dated a long time ago.” This nurse has no idea who she is. “We have a betting pool on when they’ll get back together.” 

“… you think they will?” Trying to not let the emotions show through her tone. 

Mateo shrugs, “the kind of relationship they had? I don’t think you ever move on from that.” 

The look in their eyes. She can see it. The way Robby smiles softly when she’s not looking. The mouthed, “good job” when she does the procedure correctly. 

His actual girlfriend had been standing here for the last ten minutes and he hadn’t looked away from her once to notice she was there. 

“Woah.” Mateo’s voice snaps her out again. This time because she’d squeezed the coffee cups so hard they spilled over her hands. 

It stings in a good way. “Come on. I’ll get you and ice pack.” The hot liquid turning her hands a bright pink color. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, letting herself be guided to sit on the bed. 

“Don’t sweat it.” Mateo shrugs. 

She doesn’t hear much of anything else he says. The salve on her hands. The cool water. The dismissal of a doctor who must’ve wondered what was going on in here and if the nurse needed help. 

Thoughts spiraling.

Heather is loved here. She’s pretty… much prettier. Smarter too. She’s a fucking doctor. Why wouldn’t Robby want her? Clearly she’s much more on his level. 

“Thanks..” she gives Mateo a small smile when he informs her he’s finished. 

The nurses and doctors have a betting pool on when they two will get back together. “What am I doing?” Whispering to herself. 

Robby still hadn’t noticed she was even there. It was at least an hour. With the added medical attention. 

When he knocks on her door at 8 after his shift she doesn’t answer. 

Or the second time. 

She hasn’t answered his calls and left texts unread. 

“Honey…” His voice soft through the door. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks. 

“N-no-“ her voice sounding more wet than she intended. 

“Please can I see your face?” Still through the door. 

It’s a long moment before eventually the door opens and his hands immediately touch her splotchy cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He asks, wiping another stray tear. 

“…” there’s no answer right away. “Brought you coffee this morning.” She settles on. 

“Oh yeah? Is that what I saw on the er floor about 10 in the morning?” He sounds amused. 

“Probably. Costed me 8 dollars and some burn cream.” His expression changes. Checking her over for injuries. 

Showing him his hands. “Do you know the nurses have bet on when you’ll get back together with Heather?” Ripping the bandaid off while he’s still inspecting her palm. 

“What?” He sounds confused. 

“There’s a bet. Some kid, Mateo, was asking me how long I thought until you’d get back with her.” She shrugs. Trying to sound nonchalant. 

But she is very much chalant.

“Honey… I don’t understand what’s going on.” Shaking his head. 

“She’s pretty.” Another shrug like there isn’t a knife being twisted in her heart. 

“So are you.” He replies. “You’re very pretty. I love how pretty you are.” 

“She’s smart too.” 

“You’re smart. Remember last weekend when I couldn’t figure out how to turn the tv on?” He leans in. His forehead touching hers. 

“It was unplugged.” Comes the sarcastic response. 

“And look how smart it was for you to even check. I didn’t even think of that.” Robby kisses her nose. “Where is this coming from?” 

It’s a long time before he hears a reply. 

“You have chemistry. I see it. Everyone in the hospital sees it. I’ve been dropping coffee off for months and none of them know who I am. Especially not in relation to you.” She explains. More tears stinging her eyes. “Heather is a gorgeous woman. Fucking smart.. And she’s kind.” A incredulous shake of her head. “I have this… this… it feels like heart burn.” Trying to explain. “I want to be her and kill her at the same time.” 

A deep breath. “I don’t like that feeling.” 

Robby pushes her hair back behind her ears. He chooses his words carefully. “Heather and I split because I couldn’t let my past go. I didn’t let her in. Didn’t make time to see her. We both had a lot of baggage that we didn’t want to unpack.” 

Hands hands around the back of her neck. Tilting her head up. “You… I don’t ever want to make you feel that way. That you think someone- anyone- could be prettier than you. Not to me.” 

Pressing a kiss to her lips. “You may not be medically smart but I don’t know shit about social media. How to make money off posting photos online.”

Another kiss. “We talk. You told me about your family. I feel like I can tell you about mine..” making sure she’s looking in his eyes. “You male me want to take time to see you. Even if it’s watching shitty movies with take out on the floor of your living room.” 

A smile. The tears on her cheeks reduced to temporary stains. 

“I’m sorry.” Guilt replacing the monster that ruined her afternoon. 

“Don’t be sorry honey.” Kissing her. His hands moving to her hips. His next words against her mouth, “I will make sure everyone knows about you tomorrow. Take down that fucking bet.” 

She laughs. The only sound Robby wants to hear for the rest of his life. 

---

Hey everyone! Went through some minor writers block and work got pretty crazy but here you go!

Unedited, like always. and I may go back and add more to this but I had this thought earlier today and just wanted to get it out asap so I'm not sure of its quality. idk

thanks!

[blackwidownat2814]

Love love love!!! I can't wait to see more of these two.

i only see daylight

summary: a few months before the Pittfest shooting, Dana calls you to the ED to calm down Dr. Robby, who's had a rough shift. This is a follow up to a fic I’ve already posted, linked below. This is a prequel, so it’s not strictly necessary to read that first! previous wc:  2 k+  a/n:  Please feel free to send any requests my way! Title taken from Daylight by Taylor Swift warnings: general fluff, canon typical stress

A single text from Dana had sent you running for the emergency department doors. ‘Any time to stop by today?’ You did your best not to panic, but she wasn’t one to ask you to come to the hospital without reason to. It was your day off from the bakery, but you’d spent it in the kitchen nonetheless. Batches of banana bread had already been packed in a bag that you planned to pawn off on the next emergency department worker that was sure to stop in the next morning, but there was no reason to wait, emergency or no, so you threw it over your shoulder on the way out the door. 

The walk was short, but stretched out in front of you dauntingly. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you did your best to take steadying breaths in the interest of not needing a bed once you arrived. You’d long ago been given permission to come through the ambulance bay, but it still felt like you were committing a bit of a crime. You smiled at the EMTs waiting in the ambulance bay and made your way to the nurse’s station, finding Donna on the phone with her glasses perched on her head. She spotted you and tucked the phone against her chest. “Hey, doll,” she called, before whoever was on the other end of the receiver demanded her attention. It seemed the emergency could wait a moment or two. 

You snuck into the staff room, depositing a few loaves of banana bread on the counter along with a little note inviting people to take a slice along with a few plates and napkins. It wasn’t uncommon for all of the dishes to be stuck in the sink, so you took it upon yourself to keep some paper plates and things stocked for them, bringing extra with any treats as well. You allowed yourself a small smile before heading back into the fray. 

“He’s on a tear today.” Heather had fallen into step beside you. You peaked at her, not breaking your stride. There was no need to ask who she was talking about, there’s only one doctor you seem to have a special sauce for calming down.

“What provoked him this time?” you ask, clasping your hands in front of you. 

“What makes you think someone provoked him?” she asked, laughing softly. “You are too nice, sometimes.” 

You shrug, unsure how to respond. 

“Thank god you’re here.” Frank falls into step on your other side. “I wasn’t sure Gloria would live to see the end of the day at this rate.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” you sigh, but take his sarcasm as a sign that things are maybe not as calm as you first suspected. “Banana bread in the breakroom.” 

“If I wasn’t already married…” 

“Go before I tell Abby about this.” you laugh, bumping your shoulder against his arm. The threat was empty, just like his flirting. It used to freak you out, but after meeting Abby and seeing the way they worked together, you knew that he was harmless. Some assurance from Michael on the matter hadn’t hurt either. 

He turned on his heel, marching straight for the room you’d just left. “How bad is it?” you asked Heather, searching the central rooms instead of meeting her eyes. 

“He’s been snippy, Gloria’s caught the most of it but he’s…” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “You know how he gets.” 

You nod, knowing that this likely wasn’t an easy day for anyone. You were searching for the right thing to say when a med student appeared at Heather’s side, pulling her away. She gave you a look that said ‘I’m sorry’, but you were quick to give her one that insisted you were okay in return. 

You flopped into a chair on Dana’s right, glad to see that she was off the phone. “What can I do for you, my love?” you ask, turning the chair side to side. 

“He’s finishing up with a patient in Central 7,” she said, not looking up from her tablet. 

“And?” 

“And we both know you’ll calm him right down.” 

“High expectations,” you huff, examining a hangnail you hadn’t noticed until now. 

You felt Dana’s gaze on you before you even looked up. “I tried it all. I fed him, I plied him with coffee and that special creamer you left last week.” you fought down the heat in your cheeks, knowing that you’d been caught. You always insisted the things you left were for no one in particular, and you were a terrible liar. “We ran interference on Gloria but she’s slippery today.” 

For someone who was not employed at this hospital, Gloria was a surprisingly large thorn in your side. She had a way of choosing the most inopportune time to bother your friends, and you were left to pick up the pieces. You heaved a deep breath, steadying yourself for what you needed to do. “I’ll give it my best shot.” 

Dana laid a hand on your shoulder, squeezing firmly. “I know, doll.” 

The curtain to Central 7 thwipped open, revealing your grumpy friend rubbing at the back of his neck. He took a deep breath before shaking his hand, shoving his hands in the pockets of his zip up. You gave him a once over, noting the lines between his brows and the way his shoulders were nearly touching his ears. Gloria really did a number on him. You waited for his gaze to drift your way, not wanting to overwhelm him if he wasn’t ready to talk. You knew how to help but you weren’t keen on making him feel like he had to accept it. 

He stopped to talk to Samira, who was your favorite of the residents, not that you’d ever admit to having one in front of anyone else. After a few moments, she caught your eye over Michael’s shoulder, and her eyes lit up. She offered you a little wave, but Micahel didn’t see, already checking over his shoulder. 

You gave him a sheepish smile, doing your best not to curl in on yourself. He said a few words to Samira, nodding once before making his way to the nurse’s station. He leaned on the opposite side of the counter, shoulders hunching as he leaned on the desk. He gave you a once over, checking you over for signs of sickness or injury, half a byproduct of his job and half because he had a tendency to worry about you more than most. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joke, breaking the silence. 

You can see a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but all you get is a heavy sigh. “I’m fine.” he insisted, voice heavy. 

“Mmhmm. I brought banana bread.” you gestured behind you to the staff lounge. 

He gave you one more once over, another sigh heaving from his chest. You lean forward, resting your chin on your folded hands. You do your best to look innocent, but his eyes narrow and you have to admit you’re losing the battle. “I’m fine,” he insisted. 

“You promised you wouldn’t do that with me.” your voice is soft, a stark contrast to the sounds of the ED that echoed around you. 

His head dropped, forehead resting against his arms. Your fingers twitched at your side, wanting to comfort him in a way that you knew would be more effective, but you were unsure if it would be appropriate at the moment. Probably not a good look for the attending to have his hair smoothed mid shift. After a few moments, he peeked at you, shield slipping just a bit. 

“You don’t have to tell me now, or at all for that matter, but please don’t pretend.” you took a breath, centering yourself. “I’m not going to break.”

You could almost see the thoughts swirling in his head. He’d confessed before that he worries about overwhelming you, or dulling some of your shine if he talks about a particularly bad shift. You didn’t say anything for a moment, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t spook him. You’d settled on a simple thank you, and the laughter that fought its way out of him had only made your heart warm. 

He nodded, his own deep breathing mirroring your own. You glanced at the clock, glad to see that it was late enough his shift should be ending soon. “Plans later?” He shook his head. “You wanna walk me back?” A nod. You smiled, some of the tension in your chest loosening. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Go finish saving lives.” He smiled, backing away a few steps and nodding again. “No pressure, though!” you called after him, and his laugh washed away the remaining worry. 

“You did good, kid.” Dana said, and you swiveled your chair towards her, unaware that she had been watching. “Thought I was gonna have to send Abbot up after him.” 

Jack had mentioned their trips to the roof so casually, you weren’t sure if he was being serious at first. But when you’d stopped by with a few treats and a coffee with his name on it and found him on the wrong side of the guard rail, your heart stopped. He’d climbed back over the instant he saw you, and you did your best to quell the guilt over him having to comfort you. 

You shook your head, shooing the memory away. “Glad it didn’t come to that.” you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Dana caught it, smiling to herself. “Hasn’t in a while, dear.” Her tone implied she wanted to say more, but the charge phone broke the tension and you were saved for a bit. The time passed quickly, a few med students stopping by to complement the banana bread, fielding questions about the fall menu from Princess and Perlah. 

“That bad today, huh?” you looked up from your phone to find Dr. Jack Abbot, backpack slung over his shoulder and a mischievous smirk on his face. 

“It’s been relatively calm since I got here-” 

“He usually is after you show up, long as you’re not too banged up.” There was no humor in his voice.

This time, your face went hot within seconds. It wasn’t a secret that you had a soft spot for Michael, and that he was a bit protective over you. But it wasn’t something either of you talked about. “I, um-” 

“Dr. Abbot, can I get your eyes on this?” you were saved by a med student, iPad in hand. Jack gave you a final once over before lending his full attention to the student. 

You blinked a few times, willing your thoughts to clear. You were stuck for a moment in the middle of the aisle, the sounds of heart monitors and other various equipment making it a bit difficult to think. A rough hand rested softly against your elbow, grounding you. You turned to find Michael, familiar backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You ready?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching together above his nose. 

“If you are!” you said, mustering up some false cheer. 

“And you promised not to do that with me.” You spared him a sheepish look, knowing that you’d been caught. All you can do is nod, and let him lead you out. You waved goodbye to Dana, who was leaving in the opposite direction and did your best to focus on Michael’s hand on the small of your back, warm and sure and grounding. 

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so freaked out?” he asked once you were a few blocks from the hospital. 

“Just something Jack said.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not.” you laughed, although the nerves were still hanging around. “I thought I’d make dinner, if you’re up for it.” 

He laughed, the smile finally reaching his eyes. The little crinkles that appeared when he smiled made your stomach flip, in the most platonic way possible. “You’re a terrible cook.” 

“Fine, you make dinner then.” you huffed. He wasn’t wrong, you could make incredibly complicated french pastries, but cooking was often too freeform for you to really wrap your head around.  

“I ordered a pizza about three minutes before we left, we should beat it home by a couple minutes.” 

You smiled, looping your arm through his and doing your best not to focus too hard on how he’d referred to your place as home. There was time to worry about it later.

[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

[aworldinsideaperson]

Coming Home to You - Doctor Michael Robinavitch

Pairing: Dr. Michael Robinavitch x Wife!Reader

Plot: Robby finally makes it home from the worst shift of his life to the only thing that could possibly ease his heartache.

Warnings: There really isn’t any I can think of. Presumed age-gap. Illusion to show events.

Word Count: 965

A/N: No one else has read through this and I wrote it in a little over 2 hours so I don’t even know what happened I just couldn’t get the thought out of my head and tbh this is what our man needs. Frankly it’s what he deserves.

His tense muscles ached as Robby trudged up the stairs of the apartment complex, a habit he’d been trying to get into in the last few months even on nights he was so exhausted he all but dragged his feet from one step to the next. It’s later than he’d hoped, a day of tragedy and despair, bodies piled high. He hated to bring that sadness home, hated to let it fill the space and consume everything around him. Days like this he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help that it was 11pm when he finally slid his key into the door.

Part of him hoped for a silent house. Silence meant they were asleep. Silence meant he could wallow and cry in peace. Yet the bigger part of him felt his shoulders relax and his heart swell at the soft singing coming from down the hall.

Robby quietly kicked his shoes off and placed his bag on the floor. As silently as he could he moved down the hall, her voice becoming more defined as he reached the door with a small soft light peeking into the hallway. His shoulders finally relax, a smile spreading across his lips as he leans against the doorway of the nursery and just listens, catching the last lines of a song he knows well.

Raisins and Almonds, a song his mother had sung to him as a child his wife now sings to their sweet baby. She smiles as she looks toward the doorway, faux whispering to the bundle in her arms “I think someone is hoping to see you, you up for it? Yeah? I thought so.” Her voice dips with exhaustion, her day hard in different ways from his own but no less tiring.

Entering the room Robby kneels beside the rocker, placing one hand on his wife’s knee and bringing the other up to rest on the baby’s head. “How are my girls?” His eyes never leave the wide eyed baby in her arms.

“I think we knew daddy needed us, we woke up about ten minutes before you got home.” She whispers, one hand reaching out to smooth over his hair, still damp from sweat.

Looking at his wife with sad eyes he squeezes her knee. “I’m sorry I’m so late. You know I love doing bedtime together”

She shakes her head, even she knew his day was far from normal. “No no, don’t be sorry. I saw. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

He smiles, lifting his hand to press to her cheek. “Me too.”

“Do you want to rock her? You can have your time together and I’ll warm you up some dinner.” She offers holding their baby out to him.

“That sounds amazing.” He grins taking the small baby in his arms he sighs as she reaches her hand up toward his beard. He brings her closer and her tiny fingers sink into the soft hair.“Hi honey. I’m so happy to see you. You make my day so much better just being in it. You’re looking pretty sleepy, do you want another lullaby?” Her eyes flutter shut, fingers still pressing into his beard and he repeats the song his wife had just been singing, rocking back and forth. It's only a few moments before her hand and arms have gone limp as she sinks into a deep slumber. Though Robby doesn’t put her down right away, continuing to rock and hold her tightly to his chest until a soft beeping makes its way into the room. Smiling, he places her down in her crib,“I love you so much baby, sleep tight.” he speaks softly.

Quietly shutting the door behind him Robby makes his way to the kitchen just as his wife places a plate on the table. A warm meal. A warm home. A happy life. He leans in to kiss her deeply. “This is incredible. You’re incredible. I don’t know how I lived so long without you.”

Smiling, she pecks him on the cheek before sitting across from him at the table with her cup of tea. She shrugs.“You had to, otherwise you wouldn’t have become the man I fell in love with.”

Reaching across the table Robby squeezes her hand. “I love you sweetheart. You’re truly, truly, the love of my life and I am so lucky to have you both.” His smile wanned. The day catching up with him once again.

She frowns and squeezes his hand back tightly, as tight as she can. A reminder that he’s far from being alone. “We’re lucky to have you too.” The two sat in silence a moment longer, holding hands and soaking in the precious time together. “Are you ready to talk about your day?” She asked, taking a sip from her now cooled mug. No pushing just as if he worked in an office pushing papers all day.

Letting out a heavy breath he shakes his head. Robby picks up his fork, stabbing at his plate.“I’d rather hear about yours.” He insists.

Her frow deepens only a moment before a smirk slips onto her face, gossip ready to spill from her lips. Robby leans forward, loving the joy his wife found in telling him all the newest stories, like his own little soap opera. “Oh you’re not ready.” She begins, placing her tea down to lean in like he had. “So we’re at play group today and you know Betty and Andy? Well get this, turns out they’re…”

She continued on; the gossip and her day and all the things his girls had done together. And for a moment the rest of the world melted away. Just Michael Robinavitch, his family, and the loving space he will always come home to.

[xximperioxx]

Help Me Hold Onto You

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k (not proofread)

Warnings: parent death (mother) , mourning, panic attack/breakdown(reader throws up), patient death, robby walks in on reader having a panic attack, fluff, age gap, medical inaccuracies, very brief mention reader having tattoos

Notes: For some reason did not include a dad but oh well. Probably why the reader has a thing for Robby. this took me a while to write idk. Also I based the panic attack symptoms on mine so pls don’t come at me. Totally listened to The Archer by Taylor Swift while writing this. Thank you for all the love recently and hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————

You don’t hear Robby’s voice telling you to call the time of death until he puts his hand on your shoulder. You flinch.

You silently watch Donnie and Mateo cover the woman’s body.

“She was your family?” Mel asks

Your eyes pull away from the now sheet covered body to look at her confused, “No, she-she came in yesterday.”

She sees your confusion and nervously rocks on the heels of her feet. “Oh. You called her mom, I just assumed.”

Your head whips up and your eyes burn with anger. “No, I didn’t.”

Mel shrinks and is about to open her mouth before Robby pops his head back into the room instructing everyone to take a break.

An irritated scoff leaves your mouth as you slip away from the group. Donnie and Mateo share a silent look.

Your heart hurts. It’s not that you didn’t believe Mel- you absolutely did. You just didn't think you would slip like that. Someone else’s mom you couldn’t save. You let her slip away like your own mother. Same cause of death. A heart attack.

You come to a stop and your hand rests at your chest. Your heart thumping loudly. Your eyes begin to burn as you try to focus your breathing.

Your feet move you to the closest bathroom which happens to be the unisex bathroom.

You bust open the bathroom door, fully hyperventilating now.

You couldn’t save her. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to your own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mel finds herself approaching Dr. Robby at the hub. “Dr. Robby,” She interrupts, “I’m um… concerned about Dr. (Y/N).”

Robby continues his work on the tablet, “Well, she did just lose a patient, Dr. King, and that doesn’t get easier no matter how many times.”

“She kept calling the patient ‘mom’. At some point during compressions I heard her say, ‘Please don’t do this mom’.” Robby’s eyes glance up with concern. She continues, “I tried to ask her about it and she got angry.”

He sets the tablet on the counter. “I’ll check in on her.” He gestures to the screen, “And you keep up the good work with your patients.”

As Dr. King walks away, Robby slides his glasses to the top of his head before running his hands down his face. He knew something was up. Normally the two of you worked in sync. Two peas in a pod. You were his top senior resident, not that he would admit it out loud.

You were always in his eyesight and even on your days off, Robby’s eyes would search for you. You had taken a few days off during the week and you had left suddenly. Not even letting him know, he had found out from Gloria you would be taking a few days off due to personal reasons. He knew something was wrong when he texted you and never got a response or when you had come back to work with dark circles under your eyes. You looked fragile and not your usual radiant, lighthearted self. There were no jokes, no smiles, no laughs, no glances directed at Robby or anyone in the Pitt.

Robby had watched Gloria approach you at the beginning on your shift. How she took your hands and gently told you something he couldn’t read on lips. How you gave her a weak smile as you said thank you. When you just silently stood with your arms around yourself for a few moments after Gloria walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slide to the floor gripping at your chest and neck as if it would help you breathe.

You don’t hear the door open with the ringing in your ears nor do you see who swiftly comes into the small bathroom. Your eyes are closed with the intent of trying to focus on your heartbeat. Hopefully to also stop the tears from flowing.

Robby rushes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He let out a sigh of relief, finally catching a moment to pee.

The sound of a zipper causes your eyes to peek open. A noise attempts to come out of your throat. You recognize the navy blue sweatshirt and cargo pants. Your head finds itself back in between your knees.

Robby jolts at the sudden noise, “Jesus – fuck.” He whips his head around. His eyes widen at the sight of you. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

He quickly zips his pants back up ignoring his belt as he kneels in front of you. His hands pull your face up, his eyes scanning your face. Your name continues to slip from his mouth.

Your eyes open and your vision is still fuzzy. His fingers graze over some stratch marks on your neck before checking your pulse. 160 bpm. Your shortness of breath suddenly turns into dry heaving. Without thinking, you shove Robby to the side and retch into the toilet. All that comes up is the iced coffee you had this morning.

Robby places a gentle hand on your back. You let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally feeling like you can breathe again as if you threw up the heavy feeling in your chest. You finally pull your face away from the toilet and let your body relax. Grabbing some toilet paper, you wipe the lingering tears on your face before looking at Robby.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your bathroom break,” your voice raspy. A tired smile attempts to form.

He leans against the bathroom wall with you. He doesn’t say anything. His eyes studying you. “You doing okay?”

You blink.

He takes in your bloodshot eyes and the dark circles before letting out a nervous chuckle at your reaction.

“Besides the fact that you walked in on me having a panic attack?” You press your lips into a fine line, “Just peachy.”

He nods and nudges your shoulder with his. “What’s going on? You’ve been distant.”

You scoff while standing up. Robby lets out a groan as he stands up, his joints yelling at him. You turn the faucet on and begin washing your hands. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded.

You wipe your hands,“That’s rich coming from you.”

Robby wants to flinch. There had been moments in the past where you had begged him to tell you how he was feeling whenever he would shut himself down. You had begged him to let you help him. You always saw right through him. He always pushed you away and you would always pull him back in.

He sighs. “I just want to help you. I’m worried about you.”

You huff, “Just stop. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Robby tries to reach for you. You jerk away as your voice wavers, “Please just leave me alone. I-I want to be alone.”

His heart breaks. You sound like him. His lips press together as he watches you unlock the door. He runs his hand through his hair. The roles are reversed now.

You pause before leaving, “Don’t forget to piss.”

All you hear is a snigger as you slip out of the bathroom.

You make your way to the hub. Your eyes up to see Langdon already staring at you. A small smirk resting on his face.

You sigh, “What?”

He leans against the counter, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you just walked out of the single bathroom Robby happens to be in.”

The two senior residents watch Dr. Robby walk out of the bathroom. You quickly clear your throat and reach over Langdon, grabbing a tablet, “You just love being an asshole, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Robby would never want to admit it to himself but you’re the one he would risk it all for. Yet he’s too scared to act on his feelings with you. When he looks at you, he’s reminded of his failed relationships and deep down he knows he’s better off alone. He wouldn’t make you happy in the long run. You’re young. You have your whole career left ahead of you and he doesn’t want to put that in jeopardy.

Dana snaps her fingers in front of Robby’s face. He gently shoves her hand out of his way. Her hands now on her waist.

“I’ve been calling your name for like two minutes.” She searches his face. “You okay?”

He aimlessly nods, his mind still on you. Dana gives him an update regarding some patients. Half listening, he glances past Dana and focuses on you. You meet his gaze.

Robby interrupts her, “Do you know what’s going on with (Y/N)? She’s not herself.”

Dana tries to joke, “Worried about her, lover boy?” He gives her a look. “Right. Well, the poor kid just lost her mother. She just lost a part of herself. So of course she’s going to be out of it.”

Robby's face falls. His heart drops. The pit in his stomach is now bigger. Why didn’t you tell him?

Dana notices the look and frowns, “Did she not tell you?”

He goes to look for you but you’re nowhere to be seen. He shakes his head out of frustration. “It’s like she’s shutting me out.”

The charge nurse puts her hand on his shoulder, “Sounds like someone I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Robby finds you making a coffee an hour later. Just as you’re about to take a sip, Robby takes the cup out of your hand and tosses it in the trash.

“Robby, are you fucking serious?” If looks could kill.

“You’re going home.”

“What?”

“Grab your bag. You’re going home.”

This time you laugh. You brush past him.

He backs up, blocking the doorway. “I’m serious.”

You look at him unimpressed, “Well, jokes on you I don’t have any more PTO or sick time so I can't leave.” You try to sneak under his arm through the doorway.

His arm curls around you, stopping you once again. He sighs, “As your attending, I am making the decision to send you home.”

You furiously blink away some tears, “You’re going to pull the attending card now, Robby?”

He silently nods.

“Y-You don’t understand I need,” you let out a shaky breath, “–I need to work. Please Michael.”

His lips press into a thin line as the sinking feeling in his chest returns. He was trying to do what’s best for you.

Robby’s arm drops. He looks down and gently takes a hold of your hand, “You need to mourn.”

You rip your hand away. Almost angry he knew about your mother. Your lips trembling while shaking your head, “No-No, I don’t.”

Robby lets out a deep breath. “Please.” Finally, you look up at the man in front of you. “You need to go home.”

You stand there, bitterly wiping away tears as you watch Robby walk away to grab your backpack from the hub. You sniffle.

How could he just send you home like this? How could you let yourself break down this much? He can’t just do this to you when you have tried to help him mourn Adamson for years. You angrily take your bag from his hand and brush past him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jess, if I get any more sympathy flowers I’m going to start giving them back as a warning. Like an omen.”

Your roommate, Jessica, takes the vase of flowers from you. “I like them. They brighten up the apartment.”

You begin to walk to your room, “Yeah...nothing like being reminded your mom just died with flowers.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” She yells from the other room.

You lay on your bed, picking at your fingers. Your eyes close. You haven’t slept in days. You have a migraine from crying. Any time you were alone your thoughts were plagued with her. Childhood memories. Her passing. The future without her. She would never see you get married, meet her grandkids, see you succeed.

Your mind wanders to Robby. She would never meet him. You talked about him enough that she probably had him imaged out. You see him with you. Your future. Together.

Your eyes pop open. Did you just think about marrying him? Suddenly your heart aches, feeling guilty with how you treated him. You were shutting him out. You don’t want to push him away. God if anyone knew what you were going through it would be him.

You stare at the ceiling fan. Maybe you should text him.

“(Y/N)! You have a special delivery.” Your roommate sings out.

You sigh and curl into your bed. You hear her call your name again.

Slowly but surely you stand up from your bed. Your feet pad against the wood floor as you make your way to the living room. You can hear Jess making small talk with someone. “Jess I told you - give the flowers back. Let them be an omen.”

You pause when you see Robby in your apartment. Tired eyes, a warm smile on his face, a hand in his sweatshirt pocket, the other holding a coffee, and his backpack on the floor by his feet. He’s still in his scrub top and cargo pants meaning he had come right after work. To see you.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes move away from Jess, taking you in. Your hair still damp from a shower, an oversized college shirt, and a pair of pajama shorts. Robby’s eyes can’t help but trail up your legs, noticing tattoos he didn’t know you had.

He snaps out of it, clearing his throat. “I brought you a coffee.”

“To make up for the one you threw out?”

He nods. You purse your lips to stop you from grinning. You take the coffee from his hand.

“I’m uh–going to go grocery shopping. Please make yourself at home.” Jess picks up her bag from the kitchen table. She hesitates, stopping by you. She whispers with excitement, “Is this doctor daddy?”

With a roll of your eyes, you give her a shove. You notice the tip of Robby’s ears turned bright red at the not so quiet comment. Your roommate waves goodbye before heading out.

You take a seat on your couch. “How’d you find my address anyways?”

Robby rubs the back of his neck, “Langdon.”

“That little fucker,” you mutter. He cracks a smile.

Robby follows you to the couch. He walks over to a shelf, admiring your life outside of work in pictures. You sip your coffee. It’s quiet.

He gently picks up a face-down picture frame. It’s you and your mom smiling at each other. You watch him as his eyes study the picture.

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want people knowing.” You sigh, “I guess it’s been a way for me to feel like the whole thing never happened.”

He takes a seat next to you. Your knees touching, “You don’t need to apologize. Especially to me.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to send you home like that– I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I know you didn’t get to mourn Adamson like you should have. I know it still haunts you.”

He shakes his head almost wincing at his mentor’s name, “I could see myself in you today and that terrified me.”

He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Your eyes become watery, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Robby mutters, “I hated that you shut me out.”

Looking down, you blink away your tears, “I just feel so broken. Alone.”

He looks at you and whispers quietly, “I’ll put you back together,” he lets go of your hand. His calloused fingers trace your jawline, gently turning your head to look at him. “Just like you’re doing with me.”

Your eyes search his, “You would stay?”

A grin spreads onto his face, “Can’t get rid of me. Even if you tried.” His face softens, “Help me hold onto you.”

Your face mirrors his, “I mean I’ve held onto you this long.”

Robby jokes, “I know how you feel now when you try to take care of me.”

You lean into him, “I can be pretty annoying.”

He smirks and leans in closer, “I’d say so.”

“Maybe that’s why we work so well together.”

He brushes your hair out of your face, “And why’s that?”

“We see right through each other.”

There was never a time where you didn’t see through Robby’s bullshit lies. Whenever Gloria would get on his nerves, when he was struggling with his depression or anxiety, or when he had a tough patient. Robby always seemed to know when you didn’t get enough sleep, having a rough mental health day, when you were hangry, or when you just needed a hug.

Robby’s dilated eyes dart down to your lips.

“Are you going to kiss me, Dr. Robinavitch?” You murmured. Your soft lips brush against his.

“If you’d let me.”

He takes your nod as a yes. Robby closes the gap between you and connects your lips together. You immediately reciprocate, gently kissing him back. His rough calloused hands cup your face, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds you slowly pull away. His forehead rests against yours.

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ve thought about that for an embarrassingly long time.”

A groan rumbles at the back of Robby's throat. “You don’t want to know what I’ve thought about.”

You snicker before placing a soft kiss beneath his beard. “We can discuss that later.”

He pulls your legs over his lap and wraps his arm around you. Your head rests on his chest as his hand rests on your bare thigh.

You listen to his accelerated heart beat slowly calm. He lays his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. You stifle a yawn.

“I wish you could have met her,” you whisper.

“I would tell her she has the most intelligent and beautiful daughter…” his thumb gently caressing your skin, “And that she won’t have to worry about you because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart swells, “Thank you.”

“Adamson is proud of you. I know it.” You mumble into his chest. Robby releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A sense of reassurance floods him. Something he hasn’t felt in a while.

After a few moments, Robby hears your breathing become slow and rhythmic.

Robby sighs, “I would also tell your mom–I have loved her daughter for a long time and have just been too afraid to admit it.”

“I love you too, Michael.” You tiredly mumble as the curve of your mouth curled up slightly.

He presses his lips to the top of your head with an embarrassed smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica comes back to the apartment to find the two of you on the couch. Robby quietly snoring and you in his arms, sleeping for the first time in days.

[wlwloverwrites]

oh hi ily, i just saw this. still fangirling over you! thank you for reading. more to come, promise!!!

cap’s reward

pairing: dr. michael ‘robby’ robinavitch x fem!reader

warnings: referring to robby as captain, praise kink, handjob, premature ejaculation, smut 18+

note: pretend this isn’t the worst shift he’s had - just a long one.

no pressure tags: @eugenedream @ozarkthedog @abbotjack @lostfleurs

“long day?”

“the longest,” he sighs, scratching the back of his neck.

you walk up to him, hands sliding beneath his scrubs, helping him pull them off his head. you’re immediately met with soft hair on his chest and a gold chain resting between his pecs.

“how bout you take a nice shower,” you hum, “i’ll have dinner ready in a second.”

instead of answering, a soft kiss is pressed on your forehead before he lazily walks to your shared bathroom.

“no falling asleep in the shower!”

“no promises.”

you roll your eyes playfully - still you opt out on playing music, just in case he does decide to close his eyes and hit the bathroom floor. it’s happened before.

keeping an ear out for anything out of the ordinary, you focus on prepping dinner for your long-term boyfriend.

it isn’t long until your ears pick up on the water shutting off, so you begin to plate his food.

by the time hes out with dripping hair, you’re setting his plate down in front of him. refusing to start without you, he waits until you across from him - still you’re close enough for him to reach.

he mumbles a soft ‘thank you’ and you watch as he scoops a mouthful of food and moans.

“is this your first meal?”

you dread his answer.

“something like that.”

“honey, you need to make time to eat. don’t care what it is, eat anything.”

you make sure to keep your tone light, not wanting to start a fight.

“why? are you offering?”

the tired, yet hungry look in his eyes has you blushing and pushing the foot that playfully trails up your bare calf.

“i forget how horny you get after your shifts.”

this time the doctor laughs around his fork but continues to eat, however, its hard to ignore the blood rushing to his cock. heavy eyelids fight to stay open as he stares at your mouth, holding in a groan when you tongue peeks out to lick the cream off your bottom lip.

distracted by your mouth, he doesn’t notice the way you drink him in. his sharp nose that sits above his salt and pepper beard, damp hair, plaid pajamas pants sitting low on his hips giving you a view of his soft tummy. and of course your eyes pick on on his chubbing cock that sits on his thigh.

“what are you thinking about?”

like a deer caught in headlights, your eyes jump to his knowing ones. there’s a smirk on his face, his eyebrows raise causing wrinkles to form on his forehead.

you hum in response, “just the reward you’re getting later.”

this time your words have his his cheek heating up, “what reward?”

disregarding the food on your plate you push your chair back and make your way to your partner. you extend your hand towards, smiling at his empty plate then him, “i’ll show you in the bedroom, come on cap.”

hand in hand, he follows you into your shared bedroom, playfully squeeze your ass when as you walk through the doorway.

it isn’t long until you’re climbing over his body, straddling his hips, and sitting prettily on his lap. his strong hands grip your waist before falling to your ass - your skimpy shorts do little to protect you from his wandering hands.

sounds of wet kisses fill the softly-lit bedroom. sighing into his mouth, you experimentally roll your hips to which you’re immediately blessed with a deep groan.

“still want that reward?”

his eyes are still closed, lips shine with a mixture of spit, but neither of you seem to mind. “y-yeah, yes please.”

awkwardly crawling down his lap, you settle yourself between his thigh, ass sitting on your heels. quickly you slip out of the oversized band t-shirt and present your naked breasts to the excited man admiring you.

“so pretty.”

you smile at his compliment, the smile travels down to his aching cock. tugging his pj pants just enough to have his cock out, you’re quick to grab a hold of his sex - curly hairs at the base of his cock tickle your hand.

“you do so much during the day, it’s only fair i get to help you relax. want to make sure you’re get a good night’s sleep.”

the tip of his cock shines - like his lips - with precome, pressuring you to have a quick taste.

“always.”

letting your spit pool in your mouth for a few seconds you lick a wet stripe on the palm of your hand. the moan that leaves him when you wrap your hand around his cock sends heat trailing down between your legs.

you slide your wet hand up and down his cock, making sure your grip is loose enough to tease, but tight enough to send him spiraling. you place your non-working hand on his hip to help you balance yourself as you lean down.

before he can beg for more, you press his the tip of his cock against your lips. intentionally you smear his precome on your lips, giggling when he curses under his breath.

“you’re so good to me,” he confesses, sitting up on his elbows so he can see you perfectly.

this time you tighten the grip you have on his leaking cock and let your spit dribble onto his cock. mesmerized, he watches the line of spit that starts on your lips and drips down to his dark curls.

“you deserve it, cap,” your tongue peeks out to lick up his salty taste, never putting him in your mouth, “you work so hard.”

his thighs flex uncontrollably in response to your praise.

“save so many lives.”

he swallows his protests, swallows the urge to mention the lives he didn’t save.

instead he moans your name and leaks into your hand. his orgasm is approaching fast, embarrassingly fast.

you’re hand moves faster, with the help of your spit, your hand strokes his cock with ease. shifting between his legs, you hover so your tits lightly brush against his cock.

“fuck.”

the contact has him twitching in your hold - he always had a thing for your tits. you remember how his eyes drop to your cleavage anytime you wear a v-neck. remember how his thumbs always find a way to rub at your ribs, traveling higher until he is full on groping your breasts and tugging at your sensitive nipples. he thinks he’s sly, but you know him.

“gonna come for me?”

there’s a pretty pout on your face, one that has him tilting his head back - trying his best to hold off his orgasm.

“come on cap, you know you want to.”

this time you carefully aim the tip of his cock to brush over your nipple, once then twice.

the moan that escapes your lips has him groaning with want and before he knows it he’s spilling all over your chest.

“fuck…”

your hand never stops, milking his cock for all he’s worth, you smile brightly at the man who stares down at you like you’re his world.

“doing so good.”

his orgasm seems to last longer than usually, but you don’t mind.

“that’s it, captain, come for me.”

spurts of come land on your breasts as he thrusts his hips upwards to meet your strokes. the heat in your belly only grows when you feel his come drip over your left nipple, never minding the come that suddenly lands on your chin.

twitching from sensitivity, the satisfied man relaxes under your halting touch.

“made a mess.”

his words catch you off guard, but you only shrug, “it’s okay, cap. it happens.”

he shakes his head at you, urging you to climb on his lap once more. mindful of his sensitive cock, you sit on his lap and place your hands beside his head.

his eyes fall to your tits that you’ve unintentionally shoved in his face, his mouth already watering at the sight.

your nipples are hard, your left one begs for his mouth, begs to be licked clean.

“it’s only fair i clean it up, right?”

first time writing for dr. robby!! lmk what you think!

[thepencilnerd]

Feels Like Trouble

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3

It started at the nurses’ station.

You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.

"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"

You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."

He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.

"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."

Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."

"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.

Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"

Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."

Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.

At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.

Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.

Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.

Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.

Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.

Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.

Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.

But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.

It was you. 

You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.

Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.

You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.

But not to Robby. Never to Robby.

He noticed everything.

The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.

He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.

Because he already knew. He just... knew.

Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.

Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.

And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.

You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.

You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.

"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"

You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.

"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."

You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.

Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.

From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—

"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.

You turned and there he was.

Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.

"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."

You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."

You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"

You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"

Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."

You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."

You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"

His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."

You blinked. "You’re jealous?"

"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."

You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."

"He was twelve."

"He's definitely at least twenty-six."

Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."

Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.

Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.

His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked. 

"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."

You smacked his arm, giggling.

"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."

He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."

Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."

His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."

You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.

Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"This is not over," he muttered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"

Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."

You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."

He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.

"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Got a Second?

Pairing: Dr. Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Notes: Not beta-read. Just a lil Robby drabble that came to me this morning.

Warnings: Just fluff; mentions of blowjobs, mentions of public sex

Summary: The second you get the text, you call. You learned a long time ago that when Robby has a second, it sometimes really is only a second—a minute, tops.

The second you get his text, you call. You learned a long time ago that when Robby asks if you've got a second, it sometimes really is only a second—a minute, tops. He spends his day getting pulled in a hundred different directions. He hardly has time to get a bite to eat or use the bathroom, let alone call.

You push your seat back, raising your phone to your ear and heading for the entrance to your office. You're listening to the gentle brrrrr, brrrrr of the phone, and just as you step outside, you hear the line pick up.

"Hey."

"Hey, baby," You lean against one of the pillars outside, shielding yourself from the wind. "How are you doing over there?"

Robby lets out a tired hum, and you wince.

"Doin' what we can."

"I'm sorry."

"S'alright. How are you doing?"

"In my high-stakes, fast-paced office job? Oh, it's wild over here. We had a forty minute meeting about which color we should be making the border on a powerpoint and whether or not that particular shade of blue aligns with both our brand guidelines and team values."

"Forty minutes?"

"Yeah, we went ten minutes over. And then Zach said 'happy to give you the gift of your time back,' as if he hadn't taken up way more than he's supposed to."

"Jesus. Can they hear you?"

"No, I'm outside."

"You bring your coat with you?"

Your half-second of hesitation makes Robby groan, and you hurry to cover, "I did!"

"Uh-huh."

You smile ruefully, curling your arm around yourself.

"You in the break room?" You ask.

"Yeah."

"You eat anything?"

"Yes."

"Good. You know how snippy you are when you get hangry. You'll need a snickers, stat."

"Is that a medical diagnosis?"

"Uh-huh. Snickers and a blowjob."

"Jesus christ," The laugh is spluttered, and you grin. Not only did you catch him off-guard, but the days when Roby calls you mid-shift feel like the days when he needs you most.

"It's true," You insist. "How about I come with you to work the next time I take a day off. I'll just sit under your desk and wait for you."

"That would be out in the open, you know that."

"Oh, sure. But maybe that would be for the best. At least it would get Myrna to stop calling you a fruitcake."

Robby laughs again, and you grin.

"Robby?"

"Yeah?"

"You really doing okay?"

"…Yeah. I—"

Your brows raise as he goes quiet, and hear someone calling for him on the other end of the phone.

"I gotta go."

You bite your lip, glancing toward the door to your office. "Well, I'll be waiting for you at home with that blowjob."

"And the snickers?"

"Sure. We'll need to get your strength back up for round two."

"I love you, honey."

You grin, practically melting back into the column.

"I love you, too, baby. I'll see you tonight."

"Bye."

"Bye." You murmur it as the line cuts, lowering the phone and eyeing the call time. Two minutes and forty seconds—a new record.

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