Welcome!! Here is a masterlist of all my works to make navigating my page a tad bit easier! -My asks are open for (constructive) feedback as well as any story ideas y'all would like to see! (It’s not a corkboard but as always I get all my creative inspo from twin @ebodebo)
٠˟ ˓𓄹 ࣪˖Masterlist٠˟ ˓𓄹 ࣪˖
Dr. Robby - The Pitt
-Calm Before The Storm (RobbyxFem!reader - angst)
-Knight in black figs (RobbyxFem!reader - angst)
-Handle with care(Robbyxfem!reader fluff)
Dr. Jack Abbot - The Pitt
-Honey and Jack Rabbits (Abbot/Fem!reader-platonic soulmates)
-Wondering Why (Abbotxfem!reader - smut)
- Safe in your skin (Abbotxfem!reader-0.5 seconds of smut and a LOT of angst)
-Apple Jack (Abbotxfem!reader - fluff Drabble)
-Jack of all card games (silly Jack head canon)
-Oh, Sienna (Jack abbotxwife/daughter- HEAVY ANGST. Jacks origin story) -TBD
-What’s Eating Dr. Abbot? (Heavy angst, continuation of Oh, Sienna) -TBD
Andrew “Pope” Cody - Animal Kingdom
-Good Luck Charm (Pope Codyxfem!reader - post fight smut)
-In Your Orbit- (Pope CodyxFemale Origional character- ongoing)
Frank Castle- Punisher
Evil In Bed (FrankxFem!reader - fluff, smut if you squint)
Summary: Robby finally makes good on his promise to take you out, but not after some not-so-subtle encouragement from a few PTMC doctors…
|| angst, Dr. Robby x Reader, Dr. Robinavitch x reader, Dr. Michael Robinavitch x reader, Dr. Abbot x reader, Dr. Jack Abbot x reader, blood, hospital scenes, car accident scenes, depression, mentions of drugs, anxiety, reader is afab||
Notes: Slow and steady…both for these characters and my updates LOL thank you sticking with it if you have!
The characters, names and characterizations belong to HBO Max and the The Pitt franchise. This work is my creative property, and aside from reblogs and shares, I do not permit copying of my work without my permission or consent.
18+. Read at your own risk. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Minors DO NOT ENGAGE.
Previous Chapter.
He was embarrassed. Plain and simple. There was no eloquent wrapping he could place over those feelings other than that he was simply embarrassed. What was he doing?
As he wove through the never-ending influx of critical patients with parts of their bodies falling apart, and the less critical, but more heartbreaking ones that witnessed something that should’ve never been a part of their reality, he struggled to shut his brain off.
He’d like to think he was normally a pro at shoving away his feelings during working hours, but the occasional day like today made it hard to keep them locked away in his work locker.
While he was staring at mangled limbs and gunshot wounds that made even the strongest stomach turn, he was seeing your face. Those eyes, glinting at him instead of the paintings before you.
More than one PTMC staff member noticed his unusual lack of awareness. First, there were a few sideways glances from Langdon. He would deal with him and that later. Then, there were the smirks from the nurse’s station. Definitely not from Dana, but Princess and Perlah? He wouldn’t be surprised if bets had already been placed on why he was so distracted today.
Finally, Abbot took pity on him and cornered him after the two of them finished intubating a young woman caught in the crossfire of the incident. Robby’s eyes flicked to the heart rate monitor to assess her vitals as Abbot looked him up and down. Once the patient was wheeled away, he finally broke the silence.
“You going to tell anyone what your problem is? It’s not like you to be so out of it.”
Robby shrugged and threw his used gloves in the bin. He reached around Jack Abbot to grab some hand sanitizer and hopefully, sidestep the comment. Jack was having none of it.
“Is the silence code for something?”
Robby walked out of the room into the bustling hallway, still flanked by countless patients who were still waiting to be seen. He looked at the status board and internally groaned at the mountain looming behind them.
“Robby. Brother, are you good?”
He finally looked at Abbot. Seemingly in annoyance, but Jack knew better. “I’m fine.”
Abbot smirked. “You’re definitely not fine. But seriously,” He paused and reached out to grab the sleeve of Robby’s scrubs. “Are you okay? Do you need-”
“No. Jack…I’m good. It’s just…” He glanced up at the board again but caught Dana giving orders to the newer interns. He exhaled a brief breath of temporary respite, seeing her efforts to give him a moment to think.
Jack tilted his head to the side to motion for Robby to follow him. They walked to the quiet hallway housing the lockers. He widened his stance and used both hands to grab his stethoscope. “What’s up?”
His eyes were curious and assessing, but Robby saw zero judgment. That still didn’t stop him from running his hands over his face nervously. “Do you remember the woman who came in a few weeks ago after a car accident? She was a musician. Her bandmates came to visit.”
Jack nodded. “Her friends called us hot.”
Robby had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Of course you would remember that.”
Jack just shrugged and smirked in response.
“I ran into her not long after she was released. Went to that jazz bar on McKinley. Turns out she was performing that night. We talked. She gave me her number.” Robby’s cheeks were beginning to heat. He could feel the flush running down his neck. He rubbed the back of his neck to try to get the feeling to dissipate.
Jack stitched his eyebrows together and shook his head. “I’m struggling to understand what the problem is.”
Robby raised his eyebrows. “Jack…she’s-”
“She’s what, Robby? Younger? Who gives a shit? She’s an adult.”
Robby let his famous incredulous smile spread across his face as he looked at his friend and coworker. “It feels wrong.”
This made Jack frown. “Wrong. Is she not interested?”
“She is.”
“And you…what? Feel old? Like a creep?”
Robby nodded and crossed his arms. “Among many other things.” His friend chuckled.
“If you can’t get past that, you need to tell her.” Something in Robby’s eyes shifted at this. Jack saw his friend’s…what was it? Desperation? Sadness? “Robby…”
“I want her. But I shouldn’t.”
Jack looked at his friend for the first time in a while with disappointment. He looked down at the ground and shook his head. All he could do was slap a hand on his shoulder and step past him.
“Let me know how it goes.”
He left Robby alone standing by the lockers. Robby’s eyes scanned the room as he felt the weight of his phone in his pocket.
On your side of town, you’re riding the high of your date-not-date. The sidewalks seemed to hum as you made your way back to Roger’s apartment, where the gang was still hammering out notes for the new song.
When you reached the steps to his building, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out not-so-secretly, hoping it was a certain doctor, but you just saw a text from your mom about a storm system moving into the city.
Mom: Hey, this is really worrying me. Looks pretty bad. Please stay inside. NO DRIVING.
You chuckled to yourself. Your mom didn’t know you still hadn’t been able to even get inside a car since your accident, so you definitely wouldn’t be driving one.
You walked up to Roger’s apartment, shared your newfound notes with your friends, and hours later, you had another finished song and potentially the final setlist. After you walked back to your little corner of the city alone, still buzzing from the night.
Apart from communication from your friends about upcoming shows, worried texts and calls from your mom about the never-ending storm, you spent the majority of your time lonely in your apartment. You scribbled down a few songs, listened to some recordings from your students and tried to make sense of music composition assignments, all the while continuously checking your phone to see if there was any sort of bat signal from Robby.
By the fourth day of the endless pour and still no word from Robby, you braved the elements and made your way to the metro to catch a train. You rode it until you reached your favorite uptown neighborhood. The weather may be ass, but a coffee sit-down on Penn Avenue might cure your melancholia.
Within the hour, you were seated with your hands warming around a cappuccino and an untouched book in front of you. You stared off into space, your mental line of notes veering off unfinished songs, sidestepping to a certain pair of warm brown eyes and back to songs. You tried to shake the mental fog away, but it was no use.
It wasn’t until a cleared throat brought you out into the realm of the living. You looked up to see a woman staring at you with a quizzical, somewhat judgmental look on her face.
She looked vaguely familiar, with bright green eyes that stood out against her mixed features. Where did you know her from?
You tilted your head and looked at her in confusion. Her eyes pointedly looked down at your table. Still lost on where this interaction stemmed from, you pushed your bag and drink aside to make room. She nodded and sat next to you, making herself comfortable by leaning back on the cushioned bench you also occupied.
All you could do was stare at her in absolute incredulity as she closed her eyes and held her iced matcha close to her chest. After a beat of just you staring and her enjoying a power nap, she finally spoke.
“You need to text Robby. He’s driving us crazy.”
Robby?! “I’m sorry, Robby? Who…who are you?”
In a burst of movement, she sat up and offered her hand to shake, her face just a few inches from yours. You leaned back in astonishment and took her offered hand. “Trinity Santos. I’m R2 under Dr. Robby.”
You continued to stare at her, confused.
“Dr. Robby… At PTMC? Weren’t you the one who came in after a car crash? Blunt trauma to the chest? Broken arm? A jazz singer, right?”
Your eyes widened. “How…how did you? Isn’t this violating HIPAA or something? How do you know all this?”
She just smirked and crossed her legs. “I also know you went on a date with Robby.”
Somehow, your eyes got even wider. “How-”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows and matcha on her knees and shooting you a stern look. “Not important. What is important is that my attending is acting like a wet blanket right now and is somehow even crankier in his comatose state. All because he hasn’t talked to you.”
“Wait a second, I-”
“I’m not done.” This made your eyebrows raise to a dangerous degree. She continued. “He came in floating on fucking butterflies after your little date. However, hours later, he’s up everyone’s ass. This has only gotten worse throughout the week and I really need you to do a girl a solid and text him because he is making my life hell at work. I’m behind on my charts and I-”
You waved a hand to signal her to stop. “Woah, woah, woah. I’m sorry work has been stressful but…he didn’t text me. I’ve been waiting to hear from him.”
This girl actually rolled her eyes at you. “Girl, c’mon. I thought we as a society were past this archaic bullshit. Just text the guy. He desperately needs to get laid and get off my back.”
“Excuse me?!”
“Oh, I’m sorry! Okay? Serenade him with some of your jazz tunes or whatever and put him out of his misery.”
“Misery? I-”
“No.” She reached out and covered your mouth with her hand. You inhaled in shock as she leaned in. “Robby is…look, he’s a pain in my ass on a good day, but he’s my attending. He’s a good guy. He just gets stressed and I think…a little lonely. These couple of months have been…well, they’ve sucked absolutely ass. He needs some happiness.” She lowered her hand.
Your voice came out smaller than you intended. “I tried. I thought we had a good time and he said he would call…”
“So call him. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll deal with it.”
“How do you know he’s in a mood because of me?”
Another eye roll. Your eyebrows shot up again, and she smirked at your reaction. She always liked a challenge. “Nurses talk.”
It took another fifteen minutes of coaxing, but she finally bullied you into opening your text thread with Robby.
You looked at her. “What’s your name again?”
“Trinity.”
You smirked right back at her. “So when this blows up in my face, I’ll know who to blame.”
A light laugh escaped her as she took a sip of matcha. “It won’t.” You wished you were as confident as she sounded.
You: Testing, testing…you still out there?
Robby felt his phone buzz in his jacket pocket, and he pulled it out, shocked to see your name pop up on his screen. Langdon, who was presenting a case to him, peeked over to see who it was. Robby shot him an annoyed look and turned away so he could reach your text.
He stared for a second as Langdon tapped his foot next to him. “You going to answer?”
“Don’t you have some patients to see?” Robby didn’t even have to look up from his phone to see his smirking resident.
“Still waiting on some tests to come back and heading to Central 12 in a second.” He waited a beat. “You should answer her.”
Without waiting for a response, he stepped around Robby to head to his patient, leaving Robby alone to contemplate and text a response.
Back in the coffee shop with Santos, you chewed your nail nervously as you watched the three dots dance. She kept a curious eye on you but mainly sipped her matcha, enjoying a rare day off.
Dr. Robinavitch: I am. I’m sorry.
You stared at his response, your tiny glimmer of hope fading, until another text came through.
Dr. Robinavitch: Let me apologize in person. Please. I still owe you dinner.
He followed Langdon to Central 12 to distract himself while waiting for your response. He smiled as he entered the room when he felt a buzz in his pocket.
You: I’d love that.
Hours later, after Trinity practically shoved you out of the coffee shop, you stepped off the metro in a clacking pair of Mary Janes, taking the steps two at a time to the top of the station to see the man you’ve been fantasizing about. He still wore his work clothes, but you smiled at his tired appearance, which buzzed with nervous energy. You gripped the shoulder of your tote bag as you reached the last step. His eyes flitted over to you and briefly looked at you in awe before morphing into a warm gaze.
You blushed and bit your lip nervously. “Hi.”
He nodded in greeting and laughed.
You decided to break the awkwardness. “I feel like I’m sixteen years old again.” He smiled and nodded along, with a hint of blush on his cheeks. “I’m happy to see you.”
His eyes softened. “Me too. I’m sorry it took me so long to…” He shook his head and continued looking at you with those soft eyes that were seconds away from making you melt. “Are you hungry?”
You smirked and nodded, grabbing his hand before either of you could overthink it.
Somewhere in two separate corners of the city, a certain duo of doctors acknowledged that their not-so-subtle plan worked.
Langdon: Good job.
Santos: Fuck off.
There was no denying it was a little awkward at first, but it was nothing a little small talk, gentle questions and shy smiles couldn’t fix. By the time the two of you arrived at Cafe Notte, you were leaning into each other more, and the stolen glances were becoming bolder by the minute.
The host set the two of you in a cozy corner, only lit by a few scarce wall sconces and a single candle on the wooden table. You let your eyes glaze over all of the warm, wooden tones of the dining room, but Robby couldn’t pull his eyes from your openly joyful expression. It was rare for him to see a smile so pure and unfettered by temporary relief after a horrible tragedy.
He ordered a bottle of Chianti for the table, and for the next twenty minutes, while you sipped and waited for your meal, he let his hand inch ever so close to yours. You finally took pity on the man’s rusty dating skills and let your hand slip into his. His cheeks warmed again, and you ate every second of it up.
“You know, you can grab my hand whenever you want.”
He rubbed his thumb across the inside of your palm, and you felt all the breath leave you. “Sorry if I’m a little…” You bit your lip, waiting for him to continue, and he chuckled. “I’m surprised at how nervous I am.”
You scooched closer to him. “So tell me something good. Let’s ignore the first date flutters and just talk.”
He blushed again. “You first.”
And so you did. You smiled and leaned your head on one hand while still using the other to hold him, talking about the million and one setlist changes your band has made and how you’re still so nervous to take the stage over and over again, but it feels like something you’re meant to do.
He listened intently, almost as if he was watching a star streak across the sky and didn't want to miss a second of its trajectory. The conversation was broken up by the two of you moving closer and a shared plate of carbonara. Eventually, when your heads were bent together with the unspoken promised tease of a kiss, he finally took over the conversation and told you about his first years as an intern and resident.
You smiled, hearing about the antics of a young and awkward Dr. Robinavitch. After his third story from way back when, you begged to see a photo, and he pulled out his phone to show you a grainy photo of a photo of a tall, gangly doctor smiling ear to ear with his attending after his white coat ceremony.
“Who is this?”
“Dr. Adamson. He was a hard ass sometimes, but he taught me a lot.” He swiped on his phone and you saw a slightly older version of him smiling next to a new face. His voice grew thick and he straighted, putting more space between the two of you. “I worked with him at PTMC for many years before he…” He cleared his throat and shoved his phone back in his jacket pocket. “I’ve been lucky enough to work with many incredible doctors.”
Your hand now covered his, your thumb moving in soothing, soft circles. “And you’re an incredible doctor because of them.”
His shoulders inched toward his ears as if he was physically trying to clam up. Noticing this shift in his demeanor, you changed tactics just in time for the waiter to drop off the bill. Without even glancing at it, he dropped his card and cleared his throat. “So, tell me Robby, are you a sweet tooth kind of guy?”
He forced a smile as the waiter picked up the bill. “That depends. If we’re talking ice cream, I can be persuaded.”
You squeezed his hand, attempting to bring him back to the moment. “And a walk by the water?” When he didn’t look at you, you dropped his hand and tried to swallow away the tension.
It was silent for a beat as he signed the check that the waiter had already dropped back off. When he looked at you again, his soft gaze was back. “I know a great spot where there’s usually a busker or two.”
Your cheeks warmed. “Well then, I hope you’ll ask me to dance.”
You hadn’t noticed that the two of you were back with your heads bent together. “If you’ll have me.”
You practically squealed as he led you out of the booth and into the version of Pittsburgh painted by a soft dusk. You looped your arm through his as he led the way down the street and to the river.
Before you saw it, your ears pricked from light tones coming from a brass instrument. You smiled and looked up to see him softly gazing at you. You quickened your step until you saw a man of about sixty with golden, brown skin playing a saxophone like he was serenading the very air circling around you.
You stood in awe, watching his fingers dance over the keys. Your fingers tapped against your leg in beat with his song, but every couple of notes, you were off by half a beat as he switched up the rhythm, staying true to the warm tone of jazz.
Robby watched you, enamored, as you lost yourself in the music. Eventually, he broke the spell and gently grabbed your hand. In his honey-dipped voice, he said, “I believe a dance was proposed.”
You smiled and let him bring you closer to the small gathering of people swaying in time. You felt the familiar rush of butterflies that usually comes with seemingly monumental moments, like your first homecoming dance or the first time someone says, "I love you."
You awkwardly placed your hands on his shoulders, and he let a small smirk paint his face as he pulled you closer. It took a few tense sways before you melted into his arms and let your head rest on his chest. He hummed softly, not knowing you could hear it, and you smiled to yourself.
It felt like one of those magical movie moments that you either roll your eyes at or secretly wish would happen to you. You’d previously had both reactions, but this time, it felt different. It felt golden and sweet and a little scary and safe. His hands rested on your lower back, anchoring you to him, and you swayed side to side for a few songs.
You had to admit, the man had a little rhythm, and the thought made your cheeks warm. After the current song ended, you broke your little bubble.
“I’m nervous for this upcoming tour.” You felt his hands tighten against you.
His whispered voice finally responded. “Nerves are our body’s way of being cautious. They show we care. And it’s obvious that you care a lot about your music. This tour…it’s going to be incredible.”
You didn’t respond, just nuzzled your face against his chest. He lifted a hand to curl around your hair as the saxophone player began a new tune.
“You’re going to be fantastic. I just know it.”
Again, you smiled at his blind faith in you, letting it wash over you. You needed this comfort; this bolstering from someone outside your little world of music, because inside you were a mess of nerves.
But ever so briefly, a tall doctor with warm brown eyes made you forget as he swayed with you to jazz music by the river.
