i write fanfics and post sometimes! i also reblog stuff that i love or that i'm still reading and don't wanna lose!
my current obsession is the pitt, so i'm mostly writing and rebloging about that! you can scroll back to find my old hyperfixations and i'd love to talk about those too lmao!
this blog is 18+, so minors please do not interact!
i post a lot of dead dove things! mostly (faux)incest, a lot of daddaughter, and some consensual underage stuff. it's obviously all fictional and that kind of stuff is illegal/unethical/immoral and i would never support it in real life. that's the great thing about fiction! we get to safely explore dangerous themes and concepts!
if you are uncomfortable with or triggered by this kind of content, you can feel free to block me or just choose to not interact! i also tag all my writing with trigger warnings that you can filter out! (#tw incest, #tw underage)
i tag all my original posts with #loveshipsall!
i'm on ao3 and twitter as @loveshipsall! i don't really use twitter much anymore but it's there. i crosspost all my fics on ao3!
my asks and dms are open! i'd love to be mutuals/friends! also if you wanna request anything that'd be super cool!
okay bye! <3
fanfics!!!
the pitt
my man on willpower (dad!robby x daughter!reader x uncle!jack)
gave me his whole heart (then i gave him head) (robby x reader, daddy kink)
robby and abott who loveee to take care of their girl. when you're with them you don't have to worry your pretty little head about anything. all you have to do is sit there and look pretty! be there when they get home from work.
after a long day, robby comes home to find you curled up in jack's lap looking all soft and sweet. you lift your head up as you hear the front door open.
"daddy!" you chirped, a bright smile lighting up your face.
"hey, baby," he hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he steps into the living room. "you been a good girl for jackie today?"
you nodded only to squeak as jack pinched your hip. robby raised an eyebrow. clearly someone disagreed with their baby about her behavior for the day.
"nuh uh," jack tutted. "tell the truth."
"i was good!" you protested, looking up at robby with those pouty lips and those puppy dog eyes, that normally had him doing whatever you wanted.
"nah," jack shook his head. "someone had an attitude all day. threw a tantrum about her breakfast, her coffee, the damn weather. complained about every damn thing."
robby shook his head, clicking his tongue with that disappointed look. you wanted to shrink in on yourself. you hated disappointing him.
"what are we going to do with you?" he asked with a sigh, looking at jack. "think someone needs a lesson?"
"yeah, someone needs an attitude adjustment."
"dad-" you protest but they quickly shut you up. you know you're in for a long night.
robby so pretends to hate cuddling but there's nine million pics in the designated house groupchat of him laying on his back across the couch with reader sprawled out on top of him drooling on his shirt. THAT is canon - 🍓
CANON!!!!!!! YES!!!!! he always acts like he’s resigning himself to letting you cuddle with him, purely for your sake, but it makes his heart feel so full every time <3 god frank always taking pics and sending them when robby’s scolding you <3 like robby will text -> Brat, come clean up your nail polish. I’m sick of asking.
and frank responds with a picture from like an hour earlier of robby conked out in the chair holding you in his arms with the message -> You and brat btw
or you’re out with a friend and text -> can i stay over till 12 tn? 🙏🏻 😇
and robby responds -> Seriously? All you’ve done this week is piss me off. Curfew’s 11 like always.
and frank sends a picture he took the day before where you’re laying fully atop robby on the couch, and you’re gazing at him with big sweet eyes and he’s smiling at you and with it frank just sends -> ?
i feel like with all four of them in the house n reader bouncing between jack n frank that even robby would get a little jealous, missing the way she'd wiggle into his bed at an ungodly hour of the night. he's so sending frank n jack on a grocery trip or something just to get her to himself, insisting she has to stay home for xyz when it's just him boxing her into the couch <3 - 🍓
18+ mdni wait this is so cute… he’s desperate for some quiet girl time with how crazy and chaotic the house is :’) it’s nearing the evening and you guys are almost totally out of food, so it’s time for a store run and robby insists you and him hang back to tidy up the house while frank and jack are out…but he ends up settling on the couch and pats his lap for you to come sit with him… you guys chat and joke and giggle while he rubs his hands over your back and thighs… you totally think you’re pulling a fast one on him as you yap to keep him “distracted” so he doesn’t remember the chores you two are supposed to be doing, but this is exactly what he wanted :’)
frank n jack come back to a still cluttered house. robby’s sprawled out on the couch with you on top of him n both of you are out cold <3
What if Jack has to stay at Robby’s place cuz the heatings broke at his or smth n then Robby’s house only has the three rooms (Robby, frank, reader) so reader says jack can stay in her room
Js thinking abt all the shenanigans they’d get up to 🤭
Maybe even frank getting a little jealous reader is spending so much time with Jack
18+ mdni omg your mind.... several little moments have come to my mind so this is gonna jump around a bit and probably end up kinda long
first im picturing you're all in the livingroom when jack calls robby and the second you hear robby's "Hey, brother" you're grinning, disentangling yourself from frank on the couch, going to robby’s chair, and crawling into his lap <33
"Oh, shit. Four days to fix it? Yeah, man, I heard it's gonna be a cold one. Of course. We don't have a spare room, but--" there's a short pause before robby scoffs lightheartedly. "you kidding me? I like you and all, but I don’t miss waking up to your arm hitting my face. We've got a perfectly good couch--"
"He can stay in my room!" You chirp right away. Robby looks at you with a raised brow, Frank rolls his eyes, and you can just barely hear Jack's chuckle through the phone. Jack says something that you can't make out, but whatever it is makes Robby scoff again. "Please?" You frown. "He shouldn't have to stay on the couch..."
"She ends up in one of our rooms most nights anyway." Frank points out wryly. As if you'll be sharing a bed with anyone other than Mr. Abbot for the short 4 days you have him.
"Yeah. Sure." Robby allows. You break out in a huge grin.
When Jack arrives that evening with his duffel bag, he also comes with pizza, wings, garlic knots, beers, and cookies <3 he shrugs it off when you gape and robby says it wasn't necessary "Gotta eat, don't we? And you're doing me a big favor."
ugh it's like a 4 day long sleepover with your biggest crush <3 you break out all your cutest pjs, you guys are constantly oogling one another and being all touchy... at one point jack comes out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and asks "How the hell do you turn on the hot water?" and you brightly say "Let me show you!" and are up so fast that it's a wonder you don't get whiplash....
of course it leads to Jack fucking you in the shower... and when you both emerge later, hair wet and in your pajamas, frank laughs and robby looks at you both over his glasses and dryly jokes "If you do that every night you're helping with our water bill this month."
ugh YES and frank getting jealous!! i think he’s fine at first bc he really does like jack and doesnt mind the dynamic of the four of you… but by the end of day 2 the constancy of jack having most of your attention does start to get to him.
it comes to a head the morning of day 3… frank’s definitely starting to miss you guys’ usual morning routine of making coffee and being all cuddly :(( he comes to the kitchen to find you already sitting on the counter, looking so cute with your bedhead and your legs swinging idly… but you don’t even look at him when he walks in, you’re staring intently at jack as he cooks breakfast
Frank grumbles back a quiet “morning” when Jack greets him, then grabs a mug from the cabinet… and you scowl and say “That’s Jack’s mug.”
and frank shoots you such an exasperated look, so over it. “Jack doesn’t live here, how could this be his mug?”
“He uses it every morning—“
“It’s been two mornings”
Jack’s wearing an amused grin and cooly says “It’s okay, doll, I don’t mind.”
“But you said you pick it cause you love the color.” You insist, stubborn. Then to Frank, “Use a different one.”
But Frank just scoffs and rolls his eyes and continues the process of brewing his coffee. You stretch out your leg to jab him with your foot. “Fraaaank.”
“Watch it.” He snaps with more bite than usual.
You pout. “Why are you so crabby? It’s no fun.”
“No fun?” He mocks. He puts down the bag of coffee he’s holding and approaches you. Plants his hands on the counter on either side of you thighs, boxing you in and getting in your face. “You want me to be fun, princess?”
“Yeah,” you murmur, already a little breathless… his lips are on you the next moment, heavy and rushed and possessive. You gasp into his mouth and he grips your waist to pull you closer to the edge of the counter, allowing you to grind against one another…
Soon Robby walks into the kitchen to see Frank fully fucking you while Jack casually cooks at the stove not 4 feet away. He groans and tiredly scratches his beard. Mutters “Jesus christ, it’s too early for this.” as he moves to stand beside Jack and lean against the wall. “We’ve talked about fucking on the counter.”
“Please,” Frank pants. “You ate her pussy in this exact spot last week.”
Robby ignores the heat that rises to his cheeks when Jack shoots him a boyish grin. “That was after dinner— there is active cooking going on right now! Food is out!”
“Don’t be a prude.” You tease breathily. You grin, pleased with yourself, when both Jack and Frank let out shocked laughter. Robby shakes his head, resigned.
Do you think Robby or Abbott is more prone to dom drop? My take is Robby doesn’t drop super often but when he does it’s a lot worse than Abbott considering the role he plays. Thoughts??
18+ mdni
I think you hit the nail on the head with this!! jack gives the vibe that he'll semi-regularly be a little bit off after a more intense scene, but he's more in tune with himself and his needs so he'll kinda work through it when it comes. like he'll beckon you over to come cuddle with him, ask you questions and give you praise knowing that his sweet girl will give it right back and that it will make him feel better <3 he'll rest a hand on robby's thigh while the other man reads and robby will grasp it in his own and give it a squeeze. just those little things are enough to ease him
but robby is the #1 feelings suppressor!! so when he drops he drops hard-- it isn't controlled, he isn't prepared for it, and it has been building up for weeks if not months. at first he gets huffy, irritable. he'll catch your wrists and pull you away from him with a short "we're done, kid." after a scene. but it's all in a futile attempt to protect against the intense wave of guilt that's coming. he can feel it rushing closer, looming over him, and the only thing he can think to do is try to push everything and everyone away before it gets to him </33
luckily jack's there to make sure that doesn't happen. he's there with his calm voice and steady eyes saying "take a breather, man. You're alright. Everyone's okay."
"Fuck, Jack," Robby rubs a hand down his face. He's looking down at you where you've curled into Jack's side after Robby's rejection. You've made yourself so small. Your cheeks are still wet with tears shed while Robby had fucked you, and degraded you, and fucking smacked you around. And then when you'd reached for him he'd brushed you off, how fucking sick in the head can he get?
"Robby, listen to me. She's okay." Jack ruffles your hair, dips his head down to catch your eye. "Right, babygirl?"
You nod, offering Robby a sweet little smile that he couldn't possibly deserve. ""M okay."
Robby crumbles to his knees at the sound of your voice, reaches out tentatively to cup your face. "Did I hurt you, honey? Was that too much?"
Your brows furrow and you shake your head. "No, sir." He visibly cringes at the term, and Jack gives your arm a little corrective squeeze. "No, Robby." You say quickly. "I had fun, y'know I like it when it gets intense." You reach up and put your hand over his where it rests on your cheek. You stroke your thumb over his skin. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"You did good." Jack echos, reaching out and giving Robby's shoulder a squeeze. "Took good care of our girl like always."
You nod your agreement and then turn to press a gentle kiss to the heel of Robby's hand. "'N now we can take a shower, and put on pajamas, and cuddle in bed." You cast a glance at Jack for guidance, who smiles and nods his head.
"That sounds like a great idea, kiddo." He gives Robby's shoulder a pat. "C'mon, big guy, you're gettin' the special treatment tonight."
You both know he's already starting to fell better when that makes Robby groan and roll his eyes.
jack or robby calling their baby’s credit card that they pay for her “brat card”
oh that's HOT ;; and they both get notifications to their phones when you use it - you make an unreasonably big purchase at a lingerie store and immediately get texts like "does our next talk about financial responsibility need to be over my knee?" from robby while jack is just like "show and tell when i get home?"
being fucked soooo good by jack and your best friend calls and he makes you answer it :(
18+ minors do not interact cw: daddy kink
“shit,” you curse as you look over at the nightstand, seeing that your best friend is calling you right as you start to ride your boyfriend’s cock.
jack stills your hips, looking a little panicked, “what, baby? you okay? it hurt?” you shake your head, quickly leaning over to grab your phone, “no no—let me just send her to voicemail—“
you sit back up, still warming his cock with your phone in hand. jack smirks, fucks his hips a bit up into you, causing you to gasp as he murmurs, “answer it, baby. go ahead.”
you know when he uses that voice there’s no room for argument. wordlessly, you answer, listening to your best friend babble on the other line about her bad date. jack smacks the side of your ass, spurring you on as you slowly start to pick up your pace, grinding your hips back down on his cock, brain feeling so fuzzy.
“you there?—“ she questions on the other line, n you stutter as jack brings his hand forward, playing with your clit. “yeah! yeah! i’m here—he’s a loser, just leave.” you put your hand on jack’s chest, steadying as you bounce on his cock.
fuck, you want to be a supportive friend right now—but the way jack is looking at you, smirking and murmuring lowly, “c’mon baby—you got it. keep ridin’ daddy,” is making you crazy. his hands are squeezing your hips, pulling you down onto him harder n faster, and you finally moan out, “ah, jack—“
your best friend pauses, and you don’t really register it until she starts yelling in your ear. “oh my god! oh my god, is jack there? you know what! i don’t want to know! call me later, freaks! oh my god.”
she hangs up and you giggle with a fucked out smile on your face, throwing your phone on the bed, leaning forward to nuzzle a chuckling jack abbot. “poor thing—she’s gonna think twice before calling now.”
i just know baran and robby are soooo competitive, divorced mom n dad putting u in the middle <3 some days it's a challenge of who can get to u first n put u in that floaty headspace!!! robby's ego blows up to the size of the house when it's him i swear - 🍓
they're both older than you and have so much more experience and you're so pure hearted you never even see it coming </333 as much as they refuse to admit it they both get off to how easily you become a brainless babbling mess for them n it doesn't even have to be sexual things! robby will tuck some hair behind your ear while you're yapping his ear off before bedtime, makes long steady eye contact while he listens to you, nods along n tilts his head following your eyes thumb on your bottom lip, asking "yeah?" all low and attentive and nghhh you're just a girl! of course you start going all gooey in the brain and sticky in your panties when dad gets you on his lap n kisses your heated cheeks n starts rubbing gentle little circles on your clit :(
baran will come into the living room massaging face cream on and immediately assesses the situation. "michael it's almost midnight, she's not gonna go down now."
he just smiles at her over your shoulder, stopping his fingers just long enough for you to start whining and humping pathetically after his touch. "I'll get her down. right, honey?" uses his sticky thumb to wipe some drool from your chin. "you'll go down for dad, right?"
baran shakes her head, all exasperated "you're dealing with her in the morning," but really she's just jealous because that's her baby!!!
I can’t stop thinking about gyno Langdon like yes tell me I’m doing so good while you feel my insides
he has two fingers inside you and has the gall to look up at you all innocently when you squirm and tighten up, "you okay? feeling any pain?"
and you just shake your head, all flushed n embarrassed n avoiding eye contact because you think you might come right there on the gurney if you meet his bright blue eyes where they watch you from between your legs. "sorry, dr. langdon," you fidget nervously with the hem of your skirt he asked you to hold for him. "just nervous, I suppose."
he smiles, the picture of warm compassion, and nods understandingly. "I get that. nothing to be nervous about though, I could do this with my eyes closed." his thumb caresses at you inner thigh - the ghost of a touch you think you might be imagining. "we'll take good care of you, alright?"
you nod and he tilts his head, smile a little more knowing. "yeah?"
"yes, dr. langdon."
you're sure the thumb on your clit has a necessary medical purpose.
i was literally thinking of robbybaran x reader a few minutes before you posted that!
i’ve been thinking about the two of them sitting next to each other on the couch while you kneel in front of them <3 they’d share you and be so sweet
i feel like she's always willing to share at the beginning but as soon as he pisses her off it's over </3 and she always wins bc she knows exactly where the switch that turns you brainless is ): she has a wine glass in one hand and two fingers of the other down your throat where you rest your head against her thigh :) robby on the other end of the couch grabbing at his cock through his pants rubbing it like an old pervert all "c'mere, honey, let me see that sweet mouth" n you blink at him all sleepy and so fucked out already while baran sips on her wine and keeps he eyes on the tv "she's busy"
𓏵 ┊ younger girlfriend squirting with jack abbot . 18+
you tell jack who’s been knuckles deep inside your pussy for the past hour that something feels weirder than usual, as you’re sitting in between his legs — your back pressed against his chest with your thighs parted giving him the perfect amount of access needed to pleasure you.
“what’s wrong, baby?” he murmurs against your temple with a gentle kiss as his calloused digits are rhythmically plunging in and out of your hole. curling his fingers sweet into that spongey spot inside of you, it’s almost cruel the way he knows exactly how to make you lose it. “it feels weird.” you testify, eyes fixated on the recurring disappearance of your boyfriend’s fingers inside of you.
“yeah? tell me what feels weird, hm.” he hums, feeling you shift and squirm against him as he holds one of your legs open by the backside of your knee. and you can barely utter the words from your mouth, “your fingers keep pressing against my bladder, its making me feel like i have to go— go to the bathroom.” you bite down on your bottom lip.
every time jack’s fingers plunge back inside you, it feels as if you’re peeing yourself already. as if the motion of his fingers are forcing that specific release from you. “that so?” you feel his chest rumble against you as he lets out a gruff chuckle, “that’s good then. that’s the feeling you want when it starts feeling good, sweetheart.” he reassures, as your walls pulse around his fingers.
you whine, throwing you head back against his shoulder. each drag of his digits bringing you closer, and closer towards the edge as you let out soft moans.
jack let’s out an impressed whistle once he starts to feel your hips rock into hand. “fuck— it feels good.” you moan warm against the side of his neck, “so good i might actually pee.” which earns a low, amused groan from jack.
“mhmm, you gonna make a mess on my hand?” he lifts his thumb up, before pressing mean against your swollen clit making you jolt. “w—wait!” you stammer, throwing your hands towards jack’s forearm in attempt to halt his movements as he shakes his head in disapproval. “uh-uh, can’t have you telling me to stop now.” he rasps, pressing circles around your nub as it twitches under the pad of this thumb.
“c’mon and show me how messy you can get.” his breath fans warm against your cheek, before your body’s involuntarily letting loose. your body is shaking, and your walls are caving in around jack’s digits as you’re whimpering. “thaat’s it, baby— give it to me.” he groans, targeting that sweet spot inside of you, before you’re making a wet mess all over yourself.
“mmgh, jack— jack.” you’re whimpering as slight humiliation fills your chest, though the pleasure is far too euphoric as he coaxes every last drop out of you. “atta girl.” he nudges his mouth against the side of your head to whisper in your ear. “i love nasty girls.” he groans.
and if i said this is giving michael robinavitch what would you say
he doesn’t like to make a big deal about his age, but when he feels you getting tighter when he jokingly calls himself an “old man,” he uses it to his advantage 🩷
Your bf’sdad!Jack always hits all the right spots for me- how do you feel about Reader watching Jack do yard work shirtless and trying not to look like she’s staring?
18+ cw: cheating/emotional cheating + daddy kink
you and your boyfriend are hanging out by the pool at jack’s house—lounging all morning, drinking and soaking up the first bits of summer. around noon, jack comes out, checking in on you two, seeing if you need anything from inside before he starts yard work.
this is why you come over. your boyfriend sits in the other lounge chair, absolutely clueless when you put on your sunglasses, eyes on jack when he shugs off his t-shirt. shorts highlighting his thick thighs and his prostheses—so fucking hot.
he’s trimming the plants, mowing the lawn, kneeling down to check the pool ph levels—everything he does just makes you rub your thighs together, soaking your bikini bottoms.
when your boyfriend gets up to get ready for work, you follow him inside, going to the kitchen to pour a large glass of ice cold lemonade. he kisses your forehead before you head back out—walking straight towards jack.
over the sound of the leaf blower, you yell n wave your fingers, “mr. abbot?” he lifts his head from where he’s focused on the ground, flicking the off button on the leaf blower, eyes moving from your manicured toes, up your smooth legs to your tiny bikini, then up to your eyes. he smiles, wipes sweat from his forehead, pecks flexing as he does.
“hey, sweetheart. you need anythin’?” you shake your head, holding your arm out with the cup of lemonade towards him, “just thought you’d want a refresher after being in the sun all day.”
he hums, smirking as his eyes look down at your tits, “thank you, honey. you havin’ fun?” you bite your lip, looking over your shoulder then back at him, “mhmm—view’s nice too.”
he laughs, head thrown back as his body shakes, “oh yeah? you’re a naughty girl.” you blush, walking closer to him to lift up on your toes, brushing your lips against his cheek to press against his ear, “let me know if you need anything else, daddy.”
he grunts, lets out a little “fuck” as you lean back, smiling to turn back towards your lounge chair. he smacks your ass as you start to walk away, “you’re trouble, baby.”
you squeal, giggling over your shoulder at him, laying back down, watching him work over the top of your book—not reading a single word. ♡
Request - Please write a fic where the reader is a student doctor, but Robby notices instantly. However, he knows that because of the power dynamic and the age gap, this is not right. Basically, pure yearning. Moral questions appear in it; basically Robby questions everything about himself because he is the boss, much older, etc. The reader is also uncertain, but in the end their love is fulfilled.
skipped a few requests for this because I needed a break from all the angst requests I’ve gotten lol 🫶
The first thing you learned about Dr. Michael Robinavich was that everyone was afraid of him. Not terrified exactly. Nobody flinched when he walked into a room. Nobody scrambled out of his way. But there was a particular kind of respect that followed him through the emergency department, the kind earned by a physician who had spent decades making impossible decisions and carrying the weight of them home afterward.
Attendings listened when he spoke. Residents straightened up. Nurses trusted him. Patients loved him. Medical students tried very hard not to embarrass themselves in front of him. You were currently failing spectacularly at that last one.
“Remind me again why we’re running toward the screaming?” you asked as you hurried beside a senior resident through the crowded hallway.
The resident, was it Langdon?, laughed. “Because that’s where Dr. Robby is.”
“Oh good.”
“You say that now.”
He shot you a sympathetic look.
“Give it twenty minutes.”
You were still trying to process that cryptic warning when you nearly collided with a broad chest turning the corner. Large hands immediately caught your shoulders. Steadying you. Keeping you upright. You looked up. And up. And up.
Salt and pepper beard. Sharp jaw. Tired eyes. Scrubs. A trauma pager clipped to his waistband. Of course.
Because apparently God enjoyed embarrassing you. His hands dropped immediately. Professional. Quick.
“Watch where you’re going.”
The voice was rough. Gravelly. Annoyed. You blinked. Then smiled.
“That’s fair.”
Something flickered across his face. Almost surprise. Like he hadn’t expected agreement. The resident beside you visibly stopped breathing. You stuck out your hand.
“Fourth-year med student. First day.”
Robby stared at your hand. Then at you. Then shook it. Once. Firm. Brief.
“Dr. Michael Robinavich but everyone calls me Robby.”
You fought the urge to laugh.
“Yes. I gathered.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You always this chatty?”
“Usually worse.”
The resident beside you looked moments away from passing out. Robby stared another second. Then shook his head and walked away. Just like that. Conversation over.
You watched him disappear into a patient room. The resident finally exhaled.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You survived.”
“That was surviving?”
“You’ll understand later.”
******
You did understand later. Because Robby was impossible. Brilliant. Respected. Kind with patients. Completely intolerable with everyone else.
Three hours into your shift he had questioned every assessment you’d made. Corrected your terminology twice. Told you to stop apologizing. Asked three separate times if you’d actually read the patient’s chart.
By lunch you were determined to hate him. By dinner you were realizing you probably couldn’t. Because underneath all the grumpiness was something else. Something exhausting. Something deeply human.
You saw it when he spent twenty minutes explaining a diagnosis to an elderly patient. You saw it when he sat beside a frightened teenager and spoke so gently that the kid started crying from relief. You saw it when a nurse snapped at him after a rough case and he simply nodded because he understood she wasn’t actually angry at him.
The man cared. Entirely too much. It leaked out of him despite his best efforts. Which made him dangerous. At least for your heart. Not that you were admitting that. Not even to yourself.
The end of the shift arrived with exactly six minutes left before freedom. Naturally, that was when disaster struck. A middle-aged patient came in complaining of abdominal pain. The workup looked straightforward. Everyone thought so.
Including Dr. McKay who was presenting the case. Including you. Everyone except Robby. He stood quietly beside the bed. Listening. Watching. As the patient talked. Then he asked one question. One.
The answer changed everything. You felt it instantly. The entire room shifted. The diagnosis wasn’t what anyone thought. The treatment plan changed. The urgency changed. Everything changed.
Dr. McKay swore softly. You just stared. Because it wasn’t magic. It was experience. Thousands of patients. Thousands of stories. Thousands of moments exactly like this one.
The room eventually emptied. People scattered to new tasks. New responsibilities. New emergencies.
You remained behind. Staring at the chart. Trying to understand how he’d seen it.
“You’re doing it again.”
You looked up. Robby stood in the doorway. Arms crossed. Looking exhausted.
“What?”
“Thinking loud.”
You blinked.
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is for you.”
“Oh.”
A pause. Then he nodded toward the chart.
“What are you stuck on?”
You launched immediately into your question. The diagnostic process. The symptom presentation. The subtle clues. Every piece of it. And for the first time all day he didn’t look annoyed.
Instead he listened. Really listened. Then spent the next ten minutes walking you through it. Patiently. Carefully. The way someone explains something because they genuinely want another person to understand.
You found yourself smiling. He noticed. Unfortunately.
“What?”
“You like teaching.”
His expression flattened.
“No.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“You absolutely do.”
“You’re wrong.”
“You spent ten minutes helping me.”
“That’s my job.”
“Uh-huh.”
His eyes narrowed. You grinned. For a second neither of you spoke. And something strange happened. The noise of the emergency department faded. Not literally. Just enough. Enough for you to notice how tired he looked. Enough for him to notice your smile lingering a little too long. Enough for something unexpected to settle between you.
Then a trauma alert sounded overhead. Reality returned immediately. Robby stepped back. The moment shattered.
“Go home, student.”
You gathered your things.
“See you tomorrow, Dr. Robby.”
He nodded once. Already turning away. Already moving toward the next emergency. You watched him disappear down the hallway.
******
That night, Robby sat alone at his kitchen table. The apartment was quiet. His dinner had gone cold thirty minutes ago. A chart sat open in front of him. Unread. His attention drifting. Again.
Back to you. The student. The smart one. The funny one. The one who smiled every time he tried to be intimidating.
He rubbed a hand across his face. Annoyed with himself. You were a medical student. Bright. Young. At the very beginning of your career.
And he was…
Old enough to remember when your generation was learning multiplication tables. The thought should have ended it. Should have been enough. Instead he found himself remembering your laugh.
The way you’d challenged him. The way you’d looked genuinely excited to learn. The way the entire department seemed brighter whenever you walked into a room. Robby closed his eyes.
“Jesus Christ.”
The words echoed through the empty apartment. Because he knew exactly what was happening. And he knew exactly how impossible it was.
Tomorrow you would come back. Tomorrow you would smile at him again. Tomorrow he would continue being your attending physician. Professional. Appropriate. Distant. Because that was the right thing to do.
Even if he was already starting to look for you every time he walked into a room. And that realization unsettled him far more than he cared to admit.
******
Six months later, the emergency department had developed an unfortunate habit of assuming you and Dr. Michael Robinavich belonged together. Not romantically. Not publicly. Not in any way that would have triggered a meeting with Human Resources.
But somehow every shift found the two of you occupying the same corners of the department. You ended up on his cases. He ended up answering your questions. You somehow always found the seat beside him during rounds. He somehow always saved the last copy of an article he thought you’d find interesting.
It was becoming a problem. Not because anyone suspected anything. Because nobody did. The problem was that they were beginning to feel like a team. And teams became habits. Habits became attachments. Attachments became dangerous.
Especially when one half of the equation was a fourth-year medical student and the other was an attending physician with enough gray at his temples to remind himself daily that this entire situation was absurd. The worst part was neither of you seemed capable of stopping it.
“Tell me again why we’re ordering this scan.”
You looked up from the chart. Robby stood beside the workstation with a coffee in one hand and an expression that suggested he hadn’t slept in several geological eras. You answered immediately.
“The pain migrated.”
“And?”
“The white count jumped.”
“And?”
“The patient’s grandmother had appendicitis.”
He stared at you. You stared back. Then a smile tugged at your mouth.
“That last one was a trick.”
Whitaker nearby choked on his drink. Robby pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You think you’re funny.”
“I am funny.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Objectively.”
“No.”
“Ask literally anyone.”
Whitaker immediately pointed at you.
“She’s funny.”
Robby shot him a look and Whitaker abandoned you instantly. Coward. You laughed. And there it was again.
That tiny shift in his expression. That microscopic softening he never let anyone else see. Six months earlier you wouldn’t have noticed it. Now you knew him well enough to recognize it immediately. That was dangerous too. The fact that you knew things about him. The fact that you knew exactly how he took his coffee. The fact that you knew he got quieter after pediatric cases. The fact that you knew his left shoulder hurt when it rained. The fact that you knew he always looked out the trauma bay window whenever he was carrying something difficult.
None of those things should matter. Yet somehow they did.
“Go see your patient,” he grumbled.
“Yes, Doctor Robinavich.”
His eyes narrowed. You grinned. The battle was won. For now.
******
A month later, everybody was noticing. Not the feelings. Not the attraction. Just the connection. The ease. The familiarity. The way conversations flowed between you without effort. The way you challenged him. The way he challenged you right back. The way neither of you seemed particularly interested in pretending you didn’t enjoy each other’s company.
You were sitting in the break room eating terrible vending machine crackers when Dana dropped into the chair across from you. She studied you for a moment. Then smiled.
“Oh.”
You immediately became suspicious.
“What?”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“Dana.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
Your stomach dropped.
“Got what bad?”
She laughed.
“You know exactly what.”
You looked away. Unfortunately that was apparently all the answer she needed. Dana’s smile softened.
“You poor thing.”
“Oh my God.” You covered your face.
“You poor, poor thing.”
“Dana.”
She leaned forward.
“Have you told him?”
You nearly inhaled a cracker.
“Told him what?”
“That you’re hopelessly gone.”
You coughed. Dana laughed so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.
“This is terrible.”
“This conversation is terrible.”
“You know what’s worse?”
You pointed aggressively at her.
“No.”
“He knows.”
Your heart stopped. The room seemed to tilt. Dana immediately shook her head.
“No, no. Not because either of you have said anything.”
You stared. She sighed.
“Honey, I’ve worked with Michael Robinavich for years.”
The use of his full name somehow made everything worse. Dana smiled gently.
“The man notices every time you walk into a room.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. Because you noticed him too. Every time. Every single time. And apparently that made you equally pathetic.
******
Three weeks later the emergency department was chaos. Every room was full. Every hallway was packed. Every physician was running behind.
You had been on your feet for eleven straight hours. You hadn’t eaten. Your notes were unfinished. And a patient’s family had just screamed at you for twenty minutes because their wait time was too long.
By the time you escaped into an empty supply room your eyes burned. Not from tears. Just exhaustion. Pure exhaustion. You leaned against the shelving. Closed your eyes. Breathed.
Then the door opened. Of course it did. Because the universe hated you. You looked up. Robby’s expression shifted immediately.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You look like you’re about to commit a felony.”
You laughed despite yourself.
“That’s fair.”
The tension eased slightly. Robby stepped inside. Closing the door behind him. Not trapping you. Just creating quiet.
The noise of the department disappeared. For a moment neither of you spoke. Then he crossed his arms.
“Talk.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Bossy.”
“Talk.”
You sighed.
“The family in twenty-two.”
His face immediately darkened.
“Ah.”
“Yeah.”
A pause. Then another. And suddenly words started spilling out. The frustration. The doubt. The fear. The constant feeling that everyone around you was smarter and faster and better.
You hated admitting it. Especially to him. Yet somehow he listened to every word. Never interrupting. Never dismissing it. When you finally finished he nodded.
Then said quietly, “You care too much.”
You blinked.
“What?”
“You care too much.”
His voice was gentle now. Dangerously gentle.
“You think every patient outcome is a reflection of your worth.”
You stared. Because he was right. Robby continued.
“You think every mistake means you’re failing.”
Still right.
“You think everyone else has it figured out.”
Painfully right. A small smile touched his mouth.
“They haven’t.”
The room suddenly felt very small. Very quiet. Very intimate. You hated how much that affected you.
“You make it look easy.”
The words escaped before you could stop them. Robby laughed. Actually laughed. Low and warm and tired.
“Kid.”
Your heart squeezed.
“I’ve been doing this for over thirty years.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Something shifted in his expression. Something vulnerable.
“You see confidence because you’re catching me after decades of screwing things up.”
Your throat tightened. Because nobody else got this version of him. The honest version. The human version. For one terrifying second neither of you looked away. Then his pager went off. The spell shattered instantly. Reality rushing back in.
Attending. Student. Boundaries. Rules.
All the things standing between you. Robby looked away first. Always first. Always the responsible one.
“We should go.”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
Neither of you moved. Not immediately. A beat passed. Then another. Finally he opened the door. You followed him back into the noise. Back into the fluorescent lights. Back into reality. But something had changed.
You felt it. He felt it too. And that was the problem. Because six months ago this had been a crush. An inconvenient attraction. Something temporary. Something manageable.
Now it wasn’t. Now it was affection. Respect. Trust. The kind of thing that rooted itself deep before you realized it was growing.
And later that night, long after his shift ended, Robby sat alone in his apartment staring at a beer he hadn’t touched. The television played quietly in the background. Unwatched. Ignored.
His thoughts returning to you again. To your smile. Your laugh. The way you challenged him. The way you listened. The way the department felt brighter when you were in it. And for the first time since this whole mess started, Michael Robinavich allowed himself to acknowledge the truth.
This wasn’t a crush anymore. That would have been easier. This was something far worse. Because somewhere over the last six months, without permission and without warning, he had started caring about you. And he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.
******
One year later, you were standing outside Dr. Michael Robinavich’s office trying very hard not to have a nervous breakdown. Match applications were due. Interviews were beginning. Every fourth-year medical student in the country was collectively losing their minds. And you were no exception.
The folder in your hands suddenly felt like it weighed fifty pounds. You stared at the closed office door. Then stared some more. Then contemplated fleeing the hospital entirely and changing your identity.
Unfortunately, before you could commit to that plan, the door opened. Robby looked up. Paused. Then sighed.
“You know if you’re planning to break into my office, standing outside it for ten minutes is a terrible strategy.”
Your stomach immediately unclenched. Just a little.
“Good morning to you too.”
“You look nervous.”
“I am nervous.”
“Why?”
You held up the folder. Recognition flashed across his face immediately. Residency applications. Letters of recommendation. The future.
“Oh.”
Your heart squeezed. Because suddenly he looked nervous too. And that couldn’t possibly mean what you wanted it to mean. Could it? You cleared your throat.
“I was wondering…”
The words felt ridiculous. You had rehearsed them twelve times. Now they vanished entirely. Robby waited. Eventually you forced yourself to continue.
“I was wondering if you’d be willing to write me a recommendation.”
Silence. A terrible amount of silence. Enough silence that your stomach started dropping. Then his eyes softened. And that was somehow worse.
“Of course I will.”
Relief hit you so hard you nearly laughed.
“Really?”
His eyebrows shot up.
“You sound surprised.”
“I don’t know. You’re kind of terrifying.”
“Good.”
“You are not supposed to agree with that.”
A smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth. Gone almost immediately. Yet you saw it. You always saw it.
“Leave it with me.”
You handed him the folder. Your fingers brushed his. Only for a second. Barely anything. Yet somehow your pulse immediately betrayed you.
Robby’s expression didn’t change. Not at all. Which was impressive. Considering his pulse wasn’t behaving much better.
******
Three nights later, Robby sat alone in his apartment staring at your recommendation letter. Version seven. Or maybe version eight. He had lost track.
The cursor blinked on the screen. Waiting. Judging him. He rubbed both hands across his face. Then looked back at the document. Most attendings spent fifteen minutes writing these things. Maybe twenty. Maybe thirty if they really liked the student.
Michael had spent nearly four hours. Not because he was in love with you. At least that was the lie he kept telling himself. No. The problem was that every word he wanted to write happened to be true. Brilliant. Compassionate. Fearless.
Exceptionally gifted under pressure. A natural leader. The strongest student he’d worked with in years. Every sentence felt inadequate. Every paragraph felt incomplete. Because how exactly was he supposed to explain what happened every time you entered a room?
Not to him. To patients. To families. To staff. People trusted you. People relaxed around you. People listened. Medicine could teach knowledge. Medicine could teach procedure. What it couldn’t teach was humanity. You had that naturally. And he knew residency programs would fight over you once they realized it.
The realization should have made him proud. Instead it hurt. Because sooner or later you would leave. That was how this worked. Students moved on. Lives changed. People left. He knew that. He had lived it dozens of times.
Yet every time he pictured you somewhere else, some other hospital, some other city, some other emergency department, something in his chest twisted painfully. The feeling unsettled him enough that he immediately closed the laptop. Because he didn’t want to examine that thought too closely. Didn’t want to ask himself why it felt so much like loss.
******
You got the letter two weeks later. You read it alone. Sitting in the locker room. Still wearing scrubs. Still exhausted from a twelve-hour shift. The first paragraph made you smile. The second made your eyes sting. By the third you were openly crying.
Because it wasn’t generic. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t obligatory. Every line felt personal. Every line felt earned. It was the kind of recommendation written by someone who had actually seen you.
Not your grades. Not your evaluations. You. Your strengths. Your failures. Your growth. The physician you were becoming. You stared at the signature at the bottom.
Michael Robinavich, M.D.
Then immediately burst into tears again. Which was pathetic. Deeply pathetic. Dana found you twenty minutes later.
“Why are you crying?”
You shoved the letter toward her. She read it. Slowly. Carefully. Then looked up.
“Oh.”
You groaned.
“What?”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“No.”
“That man is in trouble.”
You buried your face in your hands.
“Dana.”
“I’m serious.”
“Dana.”
She handed back the letter.
“You don’t write something like this unless somebody matters to you.”
Your heart immediately started doing dangerous things. Dangerous, stupid things. Things that needed to stop. Immediately. Unfortunately they did not stop. Not even a little.
******
Match Day arrived in a blur. Months of interviews. Months of waiting. Months of pretending you weren’t terrified. The conference room buzzed with nervous energy. Students crowded around tables. Faculty members lingered nearby.
Everyone pretending they weren’t seconds away from vomiting from stress. You spotted Robby immediately. Of course you did. You always did.
He stood near the back wall. Coffee in hand. Watching. Waiting. When your eyes met across the room, something warm settled in your chest. Steadying. Grounding. Like it always did. The announcement finally came. Envelopes opened. The room exploded.
Cheers. Crying. Laughter. Celebration.
You stared down at the paper in your hands. Then stared some more. Certain you had read it wrong.
“No way.”
The words escaped before you could stop them. Someone beside you screamed. Another person burst into tears. You remained frozen. Then looked up. Across the room. Straight at him.
Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.
You matched at PTMC. You were staying. For a moment neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Then Robby smiled. A real smile. Not the tiny secret ones he tried to hide. Not the amused ones. A genuine smile.
Bright enough to completely transform his face. And suddenly every sound around you disappeared. Because you had never seen him look happier. Not once. Not in all the time you’d known him.
The realization struck hard. Far harder than it should have. Then people started hugging you. Pulling you into celebrations. The moment vanished. Just like that.
Hours later, long after the party ended, long after everyone went home, Michael Robinavich sat alone in his office. The congratulations had been given. The paperwork finished. The day was over.
Yet he remained. Staring out the window. Thinking. You were staying. Not leaving. Not moving away. Not disappearing into another city. You would still be here. Still walking these halls. Still making him laugh. Still challenging him. Still making every room brighter the second you stepped into it.
His chest tightened. Not with relief. With realization. Because somewhere along the way this had become bigger than attraction. Bigger than longing. Bigger than a crush. The truth was simple. Terrifyingly simple.
He loved watching you become the doctor you were meant to be. And that fact scared Michael Robinavich far more than anything else ever had. Because if he was honest with himself, truly honest, he was no longer worried about what happened if you left. He was worried about what would happen if you stayed.
******
Your first day as a resident should have felt different. Technically, it did. You had a new badge. New responsibilities. An alarming number of people suddenly expecting you to know what you were doing.
Yet somehow the most noticeable thing about the entire day was that Dr. Robby no longer introduced you as a student. That was it. That was the thing that nearly undid you.
Not the workload. Not the pressure. Not the realization that actual lives now depended on your decisions. It was hearing him say, “One of our residents will take a look.”
One of our residents. Not student. Not trainee. Resident. Doctor. You.
The words settled somewhere deep inside your chest and refused to leave. Unfortunately, so did he. Because while the title had changed, the problem had not. You still noticed him the second he walked into a room. Still looked for him during difficult shifts. Still felt calmer whenever he appeared beside you during a complicated case. And somehow that was worse now. Because there were fewer excuses. Far fewer.
******
Three months into residency, you were exhausted. Not tired. Exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that lived in your bones. The kind that made you forget what day it was. The kind that turned every emotion up too high. You had just finished a brutal shift. A pediatric trauma. A cardiac arrest. Three difficult family conversations. And one patient you couldn’t stop thinking about.
The department had finally quieted. Most of the residents had gone home. You sat alone in the conference room staring at a chart you hadn’t read in ten minutes. The door opened. You didn’t look up.
“You missed dinner.”
Of course. Robby. You smiled despite yourself.
“You sound like my mother.”
“Your mother is probably smarter than you.”
You looked up.
“There he is.”
“There who is?”
“The old man who insults me instead of asking how I am.”
His eyes narrowed. You immediately felt better. That was probably unhealthy. Robby stepped inside carrying two coffees. He set one beside you. You stared. Then stared some more.
“You bought me coffee.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“Dr. Michael Robinavich bought me coffee.”
His expression immediately soured.
“Keep talking and I’ll take it back.”
You wrapped both hands around the cup.
“Touch it and I’ll report you.”
“To who?”
“Dana.”
He actually laughed. A real laugh. Low and warm. The sound settled directly beneath your ribs. Dangerous. Very dangerous. Because somewhere over the last year and a half, Michael Robinavich had become your favorite person.
Not your crush. Not your fantasy. Your person. The one you wanted good news from. The one you wanted to make proud. The one whose opinion mattered most. The realization frightened you every single time.
The silence stretched comfortably between you. Then Robby studied your face. The amusement faded.
“You okay?”
You immediately looked away.
“No.”
His voice softened.
“What happened?”
The answer should have been easy. It wasn’t. You swallowed. Then told him about the patient. The one who didn’t make it. The family. The guilt. The questions still rattling around your head.
Robby listened quietly. Never interrupting. Never offering empty reassurances. When you finished, he nodded once. Then leaned back in his chair.
“I still remember every single one.”
You looked up.
“What?”
“The ones that keep you awake.”
His gaze drifted toward the window. Far away. Somewhere years in the past.
“I remember names. Faces. Conversations. Cases from twenty years ago.”
Your chest tightened. Because suddenly he looked tired. Not shift tired. Life tired. The kind of exhaustion that accumulated over decades.
“You carry all of them?”
A faint smile appeared.
“You don’t?”
The answer hit harder than you expected. Because yes. You did. Already. And if this was what medicine looked like after only a year, what would thirty years feel like? Robby seemed to read the question on your face. He smiled sadly.
“That’s why you need people.”
Your pulse immediately betrayed you. Because neither of you missed the weight behind those words. People. Not procedures. Not medicine.
People.
The room suddenly felt very small. Very quiet. The kind of quiet that made every glance matter. Every breath. Every heartbeat. For one impossible moment, neither of you looked away. Then the conference room door burst open. Dana walked in. Paused. Looked at both of you. Then immediately sighed.
“Oh my God.”
You nearly jumped out of your skin. Robby groaned.
“What?”
Dana pointed between the two of you.
“This.”
“What this?”
“This.”
You buried your face in your hands.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Dana looked genuinely offended.
“You two have become physically painful to watch.”
Robby rubbed his forehead.
“I’m leaving.”
“You should.”
“I am.”
“You absolutely should.”
He stood. Immediately. Like a man fleeing a fire. You laughed despite yourself. Dana waited until he disappeared down the hallway before looking at you. Then she smiled. Slowly. Dangerously.
“Oh sweetheart.”
You groaned.
“What now?”
“He loves you.”
The words hit like a freight train. Your entire body froze. Every thought stopping instantly.
“No.”
Dana simply raised an eyebrow.
“No,” you repeated.
“Okay.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Okay.”
“You are impossible.”
Dana smiled.
“You know what I think?”
You already hated this conversation.
“No.”
“I think Robby has spent the last two years trying very hard to be a good man.”
Your heart squeezed painfully. Because that sounded exactly like him. Dana’s expression softened.
“And I think being a good man is becoming a problem.”
******
Three weeks later, Robby found himself sitting in an empty trauma bay with Dr. Collins. Which was unfortunate. Because Collins was observant. Far too observant.
“You look miserable.”
Robby didn’t bother glancing up.
“I’m at work.”
“You look extra miserable.”
Silence. Collins waited. Patiently. Like a predator. Eventually Robby sighed.
“I need advice.”
Collins nearly fell off of the bench.
“What?”
“I immediately regret saying that.”
“You asked me for advice.”
“I didn’t.”
“You literally did.”
Robby closed his eyes. This had been a mistake. A terrible mistake. Unfortunately it was too late now. Collins leaned forward.
“Oh this is incredible.”
“Stop.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Collins.”
The younger doctor grinned. Then the grin slowly faded. Because suddenly she understood. The realization crossed her face instantly.
“Oh.”
Robby looked away. That alone was enough confirmation. Collins stared. Then stared some more.
“You’re serious.”
“Unfortunately.”
A long silence followed.
Then Collins asked quietly, “Does she know?”
Robby laughed. A short, humorless sound.
“No.”
“Do you?”
The question hit harder than expected. Because that was the real problem. Not whether you knew. Whether he did. Whether he was willing to say it out loud. Whether he was willing to acknowledge that somewhere along the way the brilliant medical student he’d tried so hard to keep at arm’s length had become the person he thought about most.
The person he looked for first. The person he worried about. The person he admired. The person he—
Robby stopped that thought immediately. Collins watched him carefully. Then spoke.
“She’s not a student anymore.”
The words landed heavily between them. Robby didn’t answer. Because that wasn’t the issue. Not really. The issue was that he remembered the first day.
The first rotation. The power he had held. The responsibility. The trust. The lines that had existed then. The fact that he had spent two years making sure he never crossed them. Collins seemed to understand.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Robby looked away.
“No.”
“You protected her.”
Silence.
“You protected yourself too.”
More silence. Then Collins smiled slightly.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“You talk about her like she’s the best doctor you’ve ever met.”
Robby stared at the floor. Because that wasn’t true. Not yet. But someday? Someday it might be. And somehow that realization made him love her even more. Which was exactly the problem.
Because by the time he finally stood and walked back into the emergency department, Michael Robinavich was running out of reasons. Running out of excuses. Running out of ways to convince himself this was only happening to him. And for the first time since meeting you, that terrified him more than the possibility of getting hurt ever could.
******
It happened after the kind of shift that reminded everyone why emergency medicine aged people faster than time itself. Fourteen hours. Three traumas. One pediatric code. Two successful saves. One loss.
The department finally settling into a rare pocket of quiet sometime after midnight. Most people had already gone home. The fluorescent lights felt softer. The hallways emptier. The world somehow smaller.
You were sitting alone at a workstation trying to finish notes when you realized you had been reading the same sentence for nearly ten minutes. Your brain was done. Completely done. A coffee appeared beside your elbow. You didn’t even look up.
“You’re becoming predictable.”
Robby’s voice. Warm. Tired. Familiar. You smiled automatically.
“You’re one to talk.”
The chair beside you shifted. He sat. You kept typing. Or pretending to. Neither of you spoke for a minute. The comfortable silence settling between you like it always did. Then Robby sighed. The kind of sigh that carried years inside it.
You finally looked over. His eyes were fixed on nothing. Some distant point only he could see.
“You okay?”
A small laugh escaped him.
“No.”
The honesty surprised you. Robby was honest. Always. Yet rarely about himself. You closed your laptop. Giving him your full attention.
“What happened?”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Nothing happened.”
“That’s never a good answer.”
His mouth twitched. You waited. Patiently. Eventually he looked at you. Really looked at you. And something in your chest tightened immediately. Because there was a vulnerability there you had never seen before.
“Can I ask you something?”
Your pulse stumbled.
“Sure.”
Another pause. Then another. Like he was physically forcing the words out.
“Why are you still here?”
You blinked.
“At work?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately. Without thought. Without hesitation.
“Because I love it.”
His eyes softened. You continued.
“I love the chaos. I love the patients. I love the people. I love figuring things out.”
A smile tugged at your mouth.
“And unfortunately I apparently enjoy being exhausted all the time.”
That earned a quiet laugh. Then silence returned. Until you finally asked the question sitting between you.
“What are you really asking?”
Robby looked away. Toward the dark hallway. Toward an escape route. Toward anywhere except you. Unfortunately for him, you knew him too well.
“Michael.”
The use of his first name made him freeze. You almost never used it. Neither of you did. Not because it wasn’t allowed. Because it meant something. Slowly, he looked back. And suddenly you knew. Not guessed. Knew.
The realization hit so hard it stole your breath. Years. Two years. Two years of stolen glances. Late night conversations. Coffee cups. Teaching moments. Shared laughter. Mutual concern. Mutual admiration.
All of it crashing together at once. The room felt impossibly quiet. You swallowed. Then spoke before courage abandoned you.
“At some point you’re going to have to stop pretending this is only happening to one of us.”
The words landed between you. Heavy. Irrevocable. Robby stared. Completely still. You could actually see the moment his defenses failed. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough.
Enough for the truth to finally show. His eyes closed briefly. Then opened again. Tired. Honest.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve talked myself out of this.”
Your heart squeezed.
“I probably do.”
A humorless laugh escaped him.
“No.”
His gaze dropped. Then returned.
“I met you when you were a student.”
The pain in his voice startled you. Because this wasn’t an excuse. This was guilt. Real guilt. Years of it.
“I know.”
“I was your attending.”
“I was there.”
“I’m older than you.”
You smiled softly.
“I am aware.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Robby stood suddenly. Running a hand through his hair. Restless energy pouring off him.
“You deserved better than this.”
Your eyebrows pulled together.
“What?”
“You deserved somebody uncomplicated.”
You stared. Then laughed. Actually laughed. The sound echoing through the empty department. Robby looked mildly offended. Which somehow made it worse.
“What?”
“Michael.”
The affection in your voice stopped him cold.
“You think the problem here is that you’re older.”
His jaw tightened.
“It is.”
“No it isn’t.”
“It absolutely is.”
“No.”
You stood too. Closing the distance slightly. Not all of it. Just enough.
“The problem is that you’re convinced you’re somehow not worthy of being loved by me.”
Silence. Complete silence. His face went completely still. And suddenly you knew you had hit the exact target. Years of grief. Years of loss. Years of carrying everybody else. Years of never extending himself the same grace he gave everyone around him. His voice came out rough.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I do.”
“No.”
“I do.”
The words came quietly now. Steadily.
“You’ve spent two years protecting me.”
His eyes immediately dropped. Because he had. God, he had.
“You never crossed a line.”
Still silence.
“You never treated me differently.”
More silence.
“You never took advantage of the fact that I cared about you.”
His throat moved. You took another step closer. Heart pounding.
“I fell in love with you because you’re a good man, Michael.”
The confession hung between you. Soft. Terrifying. Beautiful. His eyes closed. And for one awful second you thought he might walk away.
Instead he laughed. A small, broken sound. Then shook his head.
“You make this impossible.”
A smile pulled at your mouth.
“I’ve been told that.”
His eyes opened again. God. You had never seen him look at you like this. Like he had spent years starving. Like he had finally stopped running. Like he was terrified. Like he was hopeful. Like both things existed at once.
The space between you disappeared slowly. Neither of you rushing. Neither of you willing to break the moment. His hand lifted. Carefully. Almost reverently. Fingers brushing your cheek. The touch alone nearly undid you.
“You are the worst thing that’s ever happened to my self-control.”
You laughed through the tears gathering in your eyes.
“You think you’re the only one who’s had to control themselves?.”
The familiar spark returned immediately.
“Don’t get smug.”
“Too late.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Michael—”
His groan interrupted you. And then finally. Finally. He kissed you. Not desperately. Not recklessly. Not like a man who had been waiting two years.
Like a man who wanted to remember it. Every second. Every feeling. Every breath. One hand settled against your jaw. The other wrapped around your waist. Pulling you closer.
The kiss was warm. Tender. Certain. Everything the two of you had never allowed yourselves to say. Your fingers tangled in the front of his scrub top. Holding on.
His forehead rested against yours when you finally pulled apart. Neither of you speaking. Neither of you able to stop smiling. Then you ruined the moment. Naturally.
“So.”
His eyes narrowed immediately. You grinned.
“So?”
“Does this mean I still get free coffee?”
Robby stared at you for three seconds. Then laughed. A full laugh. The kind you had only heard a handful of times. The kind that transformed him. The kind you wanted to spend the rest of your life hearing.
His arm wrapped around your shoulders. Pulling you against his side.
“You are unbelievable.”
“You love me.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them. The world paused. Just for a second. Robby looked down at you. Softly. Completely. And this time there was no hesitation. No fear. No excuses. No running.
“Yeah.”
His lips brushed your forehead. Then your temple. Then your cheek. The smile in his voice was impossible to miss.
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
And for the first time in two years, neither of you had to pretend anymore.
How do u feel about mean!reader and Robby getting off on being talked down to😳 Like maybe Robby likes the idea of us being like “ew ur so old…” while hes jerking off in front of us acting bored on our phone or something IDK
i feel very very good about that!!!
robby has a humiliation kink (afab!reader)
you’re sat at the top of the bed, your back against the headboard lazily swiping through some dating app. you’re not looking for anything from it, you downloaded it simply for the purpose of teasing robby.
he’s sat next to you, eyes glued to your phone, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking away as you swipe through all these guys who are much younger and much more ‘conventionally attractive’ than he is.
“oh he’s cute,” you muse stopping on a guy who looks like he came straight out of an early 2000’s abercrombie campaign. “bet he could fuck me so good, make me cum. you know, i bet he doesn’t have to take little blue pills to get it up…unlike someone.”
robby whimpers, the speed at which he’s jerking himself off increases, “not fair..” he pouts, a sadness laced in his voice but you don’t feel bad, you know he loves it when you talk about him like that.
“maybe i should message him, invite him over, get him to show you how a real man fucks a woman…bet he could show you a thing or two, old man.” you smirk, swiping right on the guy who just so happened to like your profile too.
the guy messages you immediately and you message back, having a whole conversation while robby watches with his cock in his hand, whimpering and whining whenever the guy compliments you and you compliment him back.
and then he sends you a dick pic. you open it and let out a faux gasp, zooming in on it and purposefully tilting your phone so robby can see it better. “wow, that’s a nice cock. it’s sooo big! much bigger than yours, don’t you think?” you bite your lip, showing robby the picture on your phone.
he shakes his head and whines, “nuh uh.”
you laugh, “okay, sure. of course it’s not, your…dick is so big baby!” sarcasm heavy in your tone.
you slide your hand down your front underneath the waistband of your underwear, rubbing slow circles over yourself with your eyes glued to the picture on your phone.
“god, i want his cock so bad. bet it’d make me feel so full, fill me up so good.” you fake moan, you’re not even attracted to this guy in the slightest but had to put on a show for robby who’s hips are bucking up uncontrollably to meet his hand now, unabashed whines and groans tumbling from his swollen lips.
“maybe i’d let you watch, maybe not. depends if you’ve been good or not…think you’ve been a good boy?”
robby nods furiously, his hips stuttering at he nears his release. “uh huh, i’ve been good.”
“oh…i don’t know…”
“i have! please!”
“okay fine, maybe i’ll let you watch..maybe. do you think he’d eat me out? bet he’d be so good at it, only take a minute or two to make me cum. how long did it take you last time? half an hour was it? pathetic. i can do it faster myself, don’t even know what i keep you round for, can barely even make me cum…maybe i should ask this guy over, wouldn’t be such a waste of my time, unlike you.”
robby cums then, thick ropes of cum splattering his tummy as he whines out soft cries, “i-i can make you—fuck—cum, i’m n-not a…waste– shit– of t-time, i promise….fuck, pleaseee”
robby pants as he recovers from his high and that’s when you finally turn your attention back to him, discarding your phone on the bed before wrapping your arms around his neck and curling up to his side. “i know you’re not a waste of time, baby. i didn’t mean that, you did so good today. i love you.”
he leans his head against your chest, his face adorned with a lazy smile as you pepper sweet kisses all over it, “t-thank you, baby. i love you too”
ughhhhhh humiliation kink!robby i loveeee uuuuu!!! <3
want to be added to my robby taglist .ᐣ reply to this post ᝰ.ᐟ (taglist is tagged from another acc)
