charli: i feel insecure around this successful white woman, who’s likeable, commercially huge and beautiful by all average western standards. this is all a me problem, but it’s impacting my mental health and it’s killing me that if i tried, i could never be like her. this experience is so deeply rooted in misogyny, to the point where my partner (a cis man) doesn’t even get it. i’m trying to separate myself from her and i don’t want to be in close proximity to her daily cause this insecurity makes me feel embarrassed and this back and forth in my head is tearing me apart
taylor, over a year later, for some reason: you’re a chihuahua on coke, you must be in love with me or something, and it makes me wet to know i live in your head, but like, i’m unbothered
Fall in Love Again and Again—(Michael Robinavitch x fem!reader)
summary: the five times you fell for michael, and the one time he finally made a move.
warnings: cursing, reader has anxiety, reader has a panic attack, probably butchered medical info
a/n: inspired by the new wuthering heights trailer charli xcx song that has me in a chokehold
wc: 2.6k
read the pt.2 here
dividers by @cafekitsune
One
You were just a baby resident, fresh-faced and fidgeting with the hem of your scrubs when you met Michael, your attending for the rest of your emergency medicine residency. He had greeted your cohort, surveying his new chicks to coddle with an expression closest to apathy, until his gaze settled upon you. You were pretty, with hair tucked into a pastel color claw clip and a slight dusting of blush across your cheeks. But the thing he keyed into the most was the almost unrecognizable anxious tells: fidgeting with the seam of your scrub top, readjusting your stethoscope draped around your neck with the slightest of shake in your hands.
From that day on, Robby tucked you under his wing. He made sure to put you with the kindest senior resident, Collins. He overheard you excitedly talking about how interested you were in cricothyrotomies with Mel; the next crike patient that rolled in had him summoning you to his side to guide you through the procedure.
The one time Collins' was plagued with a nasty cold, you were supervised by Dr. Langdon. It was all well until you made a small mistake during a trauma, almost giving the coding patient ephedrine instead of epinephrine. Langdon quickly swooped in, ordering the nurses to give the right medication. But once the patient was stable and being wheeled up to the ICU, Langdon layed into you.
"Tell me why the absolute fuck you were trying to give an asthma medication to a coding patient? Are you a fucking medical student again, huh? I cannot be dealing with this absolute incompetence from a resident. It seriously cannot be that hard to distinguish epinephrine, the fucking drug we use every code a—"
Robby is in the trauma room before you know it, stone cold expression on his face. You feel your face on fire, heart racing into your throat as you watch frozen from the trauma room as Robby angrily chastises Langdon in the middle of the ED.
"This is a teaching hospital, for christs sake. You cannot expect our residents to be perfect. Hell, your first year was much, much worse than that, don't make me remind you." Robby is practically yelling at Langdon now, to the delight of Princess and Perlah. "Get your fucking shit together and apologize to my favourite resident when you're being less of a dickhead."
You were overhearing their argument from inside the trauma room, gathering yourself as you doffed your gown and gloves. Shaken as you were from the beratement from Langdon, you were smiling to yourself. You'd heard the "favourite resident" slip from Michael's lips.
That was the first time you fell for Michael.
Two
"Shit" you muttered, digging through your bag.
"What's wrong?" Robby asked, walking into the staff lounge.
"Oh nothing. I guess I was being stupid this morning, because I forgot to bring my lunch." You say, resigned as you zip up your bag, settling into the hunger you know will last for the rest of shift now. Michael furrows his brows, telling you to wait here as he swiftly exits the room towards the lockers. He returns quickly, carrying a black lunch bag.
"Here. Eat whatever you want from it. And don't call yourself stupid—you intubated that woman perfectly and did incredibly consistent suturing today." You smile at the kindness, thanking him.
"Don't mention it." He says, "I can't have my favourite resident passing out on me." He winks as he exits the room, leaving you with a flush on your cheeks and Robby's turkey sandwich and chips.
That was the second time you fell for Michael.
Three
It's monthly bar night for the Pitt day shift, leaving the ER to the night shift's chaotic devices to let off some steam. You're sitting at the bar, chatting amicably with the bartenders you've become familiar with in the time you've been coming with the rest of the Pitt crew. Sipping on a fruity cocktail, you're enjoying the relative peace away from the animated conversation between Santos and Whittaker about the goriest procedure they've done, until an obviously drunk man stumbles up to the seat next to yours.
"What's a beautiful thing like you doing all alone?" The stench of alcohol radiates from his breath, as you try to lean as far as possible away.
"No, thank you." You decline. The man's already red face goes a deeper shade of crimson, his already objectionable face contorts into an expression you know will surely devolve into him making incredibly vulgar and misogynistic remarks, probably ending with a spat out "bitch".
As he begins to open his mouth to speak, Michael slides his wide frame in between you and the man.
"I highly suggest you shut your mouth and leave her alone." Robby calmly says, using his palm to push the chest of the man back.
"Bro, what the fuck are you doing? Let a dude flirt with a hot bitch at the bar, will you?" Michael's face is steadily becoming more serious.
"I highly suggest you leave now, or you'll be getting a ride to my hospital. I figure you don't want to be treated for a broken nose by people who already despise you." Maybe it's the incredibly intimidating threat Robby just made, or how he is visibly much smaller, but it's enough to have him drunkenly grumbling a few profanities as he sulks off to a corner to his equally inebriated buddies.
Michael takes the seat the man was trying to occupy, lightly touching your shoulder.
"Are you okay? I hope I didn't overstep, but you looked like you were one step from throwing your drink at that douchebag." You laugh.
"Thank you. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to throw this incredibly good, and expensive, drink at him."
"Speaking of which, can I buy you another drink?"
That was the third time you fell for Michael.
Four
This shift has truly been hell, even if it's only 10am. You woke up with a pit in your stomach, the kind of resident intuition that tells you it's going to be a shit shift.
You're already preoccupied and worrying about how you're going to make rent this month, and to add to your bad luck, you've lost 2 patients. The one annoying med student you've been stuck with during his rotation has been asking you one too many questions that could easily be answered by looking at the chart, and it seems every time you're halfway to sitting at the nurses station a new patient comes rolling through the doors of the ambulance bay.
The final straw is an incredibly rude patient who spent the entire 3 minutes you were in his exam room telling you how incompetent you were. All of a sudden, the lights are too bright, every little squeak of a gurney is too much, and you're speed walking to the stairwell.
Michael was just outside the exam room chatting when he heard the remarks of the rude patient to you. He saw you walk out, chest heaving and fighting back tears. Absentmindedly telling a nurse to watch the patient until he returned, he followed you to the stairwell. It was quiet, save for the echoes of his steps and your quiet sniffles.
When he reaches you, he doesn't hesitate to sit down beside you and envelop you into a hug. Recognizing Michael immediately, you sink deeper into his embrace, sobbing into the sleeve of his hoodie. He softly rubs your back, letting you cry. When he feels you hyperventilating, he softly whispers to you.
"Shh, honey, it's okay. I've got you. You're safe. It's going to be okay."
He stays comforting you until your breathing returns to a more normal state, save for the small hiccups that punctuate every breath.
"I'm sorry, I promise I'm not usually like that." You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your long sleeve.
"Don't apologize." He says, "I promise you, we all have bad days. Tell me, what's going on?"
"I've lost two patients today, my last patient was telling me how incompetent I am, which I really shouldn't take personally, but it's hard not to when it's being yelled at you, and my med student was asking way too many questions, and I haven't sat down in three hours, and I have no idea in hell how I'm going to make rent this month, and oh my god I'm rambling," you say, out of breath, "I'll stop, I'm sure you don't want to hear about your resident's rent struggles." He laughs gently.
"I'm really sorry all that has been on you today," he says, "You're the farthest person I've known from 'incompetent'. Here's what I'm going to do. Take a 30 minute break, go up to the cafeteria and find yourself a treat. Don't worry about the med student, Langdon can take him."
He continues, "And give me your PayPal. Don't worry about rent this month." He shushes your objections, guiding you back out into the Pitt.
That was the fourth time you fell for Michael.
Five
It was another day of unfortunate luck for you. Not only were you scheduled for shifts the rest of the week, just as you were leaving your apartment building your apartment manager let you know there was a broken gas line, rendering your apartment almost unlivable.
As you sulked over to the nurses station, you saw Robby and Dana chatting over the desk.
"Hey, sweetheart," Dana said, surveying your disgruntled expression, "What's got you so unhappy today?" You groan, setting your bag down on a chair.
"My shitty apartment manager in my shitty apartment says the gas is broken and won't be fixed for like a week," you say, "So I have basically no place to live with heating and a working cooktop for a while." Dana pulls you into a side hug.
"Aw, kiddo, I'm sorry. I'm sure we can someone to let you crash until your place is fixed," she smiles, "Sounds like you need to get a new place!"
"I fucking wish I could on my resident salary." You say drily. Michael, who has been silently listening to your conversation whilst chatting, looks up at you.
"You could stay at mine, until your apartment is fixed." He says. You look at him.
"Wow, um, thank you. I really don't want to impose on you—"
"I don't want to hear it. You're not imposing, I'd love having you around." He says plainly. Blushing, you smile.
"I'll only say yes on one condition—you let me cook you something. I seriously hate being a freeloader."
"Deal."
After a good shift, you gathered your things and followed Robby out the building. He drove you to your apartment, to grab the things you'd need for staying with him. He noticed just how cold it was when you started to rub your arms through your long sleeve top. Zipping off his navy hoodie, he draped it over your shoulders in the elevator, blushing to himself as you unconsciously snuggled into the soft fabric.
As you stepped out of the elevator into the dim hallway, chipped paint on the doorframes and creaky floorboards making noise every step you took, Michael look around at the surroundings.
"Damn, that elevator is fuckin squeaky. You didn't lie, you really do have a shitty apartment." You put your hand to your chest in mock hurt.
"Well, geez, Robinavitch, didn't have to insult me like that. Welcome to what a poor resident can get in Pittsburg. Not all of us are loading attendings, you know." Unlocking your door you step into the frigid living room. Michael first notices how nice you've decorated it: cozy throw pillows on the couch, bright and pastel colours perfectly scattered everywhere. Second, he notices just how bad the place you're living is, the cracks and mystery ceiling spots almost worse than the location.
He waits patiently on the couch, carefully studying the artwork on your walls as you pack a lilac weekender bag with all your essentials.
When you get to Michael's large downtown penthouse (in his very nice Porsche), you're almost rendered speechless at the difference between you and Robby's lifestyle. Robby chuckles to himself at your face of awe, leading you to the guest bedroom.
"I knew the attendings were paid better than us lowly residents, but goddamn." You say.
"Sorry kid, I don't make the payroll, but you're welcome to make yourself at home. Let me know if I can get anything for you."
The next days were nothing less than bliss for you. Robby's guest room was far superior to your own room, his plush mattress coddling your aching muscles from being on shift. Michael quickly figured out how superior your cooking was to his bachelor pad-esque deli meat and pre-sliced bread sandwiches and frozen meals. He realized how nice it was to have your bubbly, comforting company to break his string of depressing thoughts after shift. You realized having someone to share your cooking with was better than cooking for one, especially when it was Robby, who payed for the groceries and washed the dishes.
That was the fifth time you fell for Michael.
+One
It was the eighth day of living with Michael when you got the text. The gas was fixed, the heating and gas on your stove should be perfectly fine. You got the message in the middle of the day, during a particularly busy shift. With no time to tell Robby, you had time to reflect. On how good it was to stay with Robby, how hard going back to your horrible apartment would be. You'd miss his mattress, and most of all, the shared post-shift dinners and lively back-and-forth conversations over a glass of wine with him.
You went home with Robby just like you had for the past week. You cooked dinner, the pasta dish you'd made on your second day with him that he'd quickly declared his favourite dish he'd had. Over a glasses of white wine far too expensive for a casual Thursday night dinner, you broke the news.
"Um, I got a message from my apartment manager today. The gas is fixed." Robby looked up suddenly from his plate, his face turning into the closest thing to sadness you thought he could manage.
"Oh wow, that fast."
"I'll miss having someone to cook for. And your nice apartment." You smile sadly. "Thank you for everything. For letting me stay, for being such a receptive taste tester." You laugh with him. As a silence settles over the small kitchen table, Michael looks at you.
Before you know it, he's leaning over the table to kiss you. You reciprocate, kissing him back. He kisses softly, like he's scared of it getting too intense, like he wants you to be able to pull away at any time. But you lean in, grasping a tuft of his brown hair at the back of his head.
When you pull apart for air, a red blush has dusted his cheeks.
"Wow. I've wanted to do that for so long." He says. "I've been too scared to make a move, didn't want to be unprofessional."
"I think we're a little past professional, but I'm glad you did. I was kind of dreading going back to just seeing you at work." Michael smiles.
"So, you're on the same page? You want to be my girlfriend?"
"Yes, Michael, I'll happily be your girlfriend." You say, grasping his hand across the table.
"Great. Is it too soon to ask you to move in? I hate seeing you in that shithole apartment, and more selfishly, I want you to keep cooking for me."
"With you Michael, I don't think it could ever be too soon."
