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❀⋆.ೃ࿔*Chapter 8: Tell me how (you reach the moon)❀⋆.ೃ࿔* Sugar Daddy!Michael Robinavitch x Reader
w.c: 5.5k
summary: Robby doesn't have a chance to cower and leave once you show up at the ER. Things complicate when you leave only to come back in a worse condition than you arrived in.
f.c: ER visit, talk of stomach pain, symptoms of appendicitis, talk of minor surgery, fear of needles/hospitals, light mention of Adamson's death, Jack and reader might just work it out in the remix
masterlist ❀⋆.ೃ࿔* chapter 7 (previous)
The sound of your name being called causes you to look up, and you wince faintly as you slowly sit up from your chair in the waiting room. The clerk smiles at you when you come up to reception. Her name tag reads Lupe. When she repeats your name to confirm it, you nod.
"Come around back through those doors, hon," she says, sliding your insurance card back over.
You turn to leave but pause, smiling sheepishly at the woman behind your mask and pulling it down to speak clearly. "Um, by any chance, does a Doctor Robinavitch work here?" It wasn't as though you'd ask to be seen by him if he did. You were merely curious as to how he was at work. The only work version of Robby you've seen so far has been the one after hours, where he's completely exhausted by the end of whatever grueling shift he endured that day. Even catching a glimpse of him today would be nice.
You wonder if he wears a white lab coat with a button up and tie, stethoscope hanging from his neck. You almost smile at the thought.
Cute.
"Sure he does. You a friend of Doctor Robby?" She eyes you curiously when you nod, but still smiles politely. "Do you want me to call him, let him know you're here?"
You shake your head. "Ah, no, I wouldn't want to bother him while he's working."
"Okay, honey. Well, go on in and a doctor will take care of you."
The doors buzz around the side and a young doctor opens one of them. He introduces himself as Dr. Shen and takes care to mention he's a student doctor. All of the triage beds are occupied by other patients, but he assures you that's not an uncommon issue.
"Sorry, guess we'll have to join the band in the back," he says, giving you a goofy wink and a cheeky smile that immediately makes one of your own tug at your lips. "Don't worry, you're in good hands."
Whatever expectations and images conjured by your wild imagination of the ER from the times Robby's spoken of it with anecdotes of patients or his workers are blown away the second you find yourself actually inside.
It's…organized chaos.
That's the best way you could manage in an attempt to describe it, anyway. At a first look from afar, everything overwhelms you into the inability to process a single thing. After you begin walking behind Shen, however, you see things little by little.
It's loud, in a gathered noisy sense of way. Everything's accumulated into a mass of noises and voices. Nurses are bustling about, and the screens above the station standing in the center of the ER contain a myriad of color codes and words you don't understand to overwhelm your vision. Curtains are pulled open and closed all around, with staff flittering about their patients. Your head snaps back when you see Shen hasn't broken his stride and is still walking, so you hurry after him.
The young doctor is in the middle of a word vomit about how he personally finds the day-shift ER a bit too chicken plain for his taste, and how he's been considering switching to nights at first chance when something on the wall to your left catches your attention, and you pause before it to examine it properly.
"Oh," you murmur, glancing up at the wall of framed pictures, all of which contained healthcare workers who have passed on. A particular frame grabs your attention, and you step closer to read it.
Dr. Montgomery Adamson
Chair. Department of Emergency Medicine
1948—2020
Robby had mentioned he and the other doctors of this ER had lost good people. Most had walked out from the severe stress the pandemic had brought, as well as other crushing factors. He hadn't exactly disclosed those exact reasons, but the internet held no secrets, and you'd quelled your guilt of being nosy about the matter by telling yourself you simply wanted to understand his situation better. Apparently it was a nationwide dilemma that was only growing much more severe.
Had this Dr. Adamson been whom Robby had been referring to when you accidentally prodded about whether he'd lost anyone to COVID?
Shen notices you're no longer following behind him and stops walking to turn back and look at what you were staring at. "Did you know anyone on there?" he asks. You shake your head, a small sad smile on your lips.
"No, I—I've only heard of one of them." You point towards Adamson's frame.
"Oh. Yeah, apparently he passed away a while before I started my residency, think like last year."
Last year? And how long had it been after his death that Robby decided to sign up on a sugar daddy website? Or did that occurrence have nothing to do with his decision?
Your lips part to speak, but a hesitant, startled call of your name distracts you.
Robby is standing halfway across the bustling ER, staring at you with brows furrowed in growing confusion and parted lips. In a few blinks, he's standing right before you, bending down to check you over in every which way. Despite yourself, a fluttering warmth grows between your thighs at the very much noticeable height difference between you, and it takes everything in you to fight off the dazed smile threatening to pull your lips from how obviously big Robby is.
Your wandering thoughts about whether or not he might also be in other areas are unfortunately interrupted by the man's concern for your well-being.
"What's going on? Are you okay? Hurt? What are—why did you come?"
"I'm okay!" you rush to say, squirming and fighting back a giggle while his large, warm palms sent a tickling sensation from their worried grasp. "I've been here for a bit and I haven't gotten worse, so." You shrug, beaming up at him.
His brows knit even closer and a frown pulls at his lips. "How much is a 'bit'?" With your choice of vocabulary, he knew that sometimes when you said something, it actually really meant something else entirely.
"…Since eight," you say, looking sheepish when Robby's face drops into a deeper frown. It was currently noon.
"You should've called to let me know you were here, honey," he murmurs. "Would've brought you in so much sooner."
"I wasn't even sure you worked here," you laugh lightly. "I was actually gonna go to Urgent Care, but it's—"
"Closed temporarily," he nods. "It's closed on certain dates as a provider for COVID vaccinations. Been like that since state expanded its eligibility this month."
Well, shit. You'd go above and beyond to keep yourself healthy and safe just to never have to end up back in that waiting room, then. You had better ways of spending your day than evading coughs from a man sat next to you who refused to pull his mask over his mouth and not jeopardize everyone else's health.
"What did you come in for?" He frowns as he looks you over, then glancing up at Shen when the student doctor clears his throat, then at Dana, standing a few feet away at the Hub when she calls his name.
"Central seven is open," she says. She's not even trying to be subtle about the fact that she's openly staring at you rather than Robby, to whom her words were directed at. There's a look of understanding on her face, as though a puzzle she's been trying to piece together for weeks has just been completed before her.
"Let's go somewhere more quiet, yeah?" Robby says, growing acutely aware of the attention his VIP treatment was harboring. It seemed his display of concern had already brought the attention of a few staff who were nearby to witness it. Perlah and Princess will have something juicy to gossip for days, and if it still has some give, there'll be a betting board set up by Ahmad at the security office by the end of shift.
"My stomach started hurting really bad this morning," you're explaining sheepishly, sat on the edge of the patient bed. "Way worse than the cramps I get from drinking whole milk."
"Think it might have to do with the never ending supply of spicy noodles you keep stocked in your cupboard?" Robby quips with a raised brow. You squirm.
"I don't eat them every day," you protest.
"You eat them often enough," he retorts. You only huff and pointedly ignore his grin while answering Shen's further questioning.
You'd figured it was a bad case of stomach pain from the spicy food you've been eating lately, but it's nice to be assured by doctors that's all there is to it. Even if you had to suffer through Robby's knowing look of your bad habit and the sigh he gives when you make a cheeky joke about having worse ones.
I am well aware of your little nicotine friend, angel, he had said before letting himself be pulled away into an incoming trauma while Shen finished up with you.
Shen is a friendly guy. The two of you end up bonding over your love for movies after he made a Shrek reference, leading to more shared references to discover how many you both knew, which may have then ended in you offering a discount for your services at the nail studio. The "health worker" discount, you'd call it.
You decide from that single conversation that you like Shen. He was cool and didn't make you feel bad for coming in with something as silly as a stomach pain.
"Believe me, you probably saved my ass. Dana gave me a bowel disimpaction case the other day," he grimaces. "I'd take filling out prescription orders for stomach cramps than do that again any day."
After your medication prescription is handled and your discharge papers are signed at the Hub, Dana says you're good to go. She gives a side eye when Robby practically materializes at your side once he's done in Trauma 2.
"I'll walk you out," he says, and his hand twitches to stop the reflex of placing his palm on your back like he always does when the two of you are together, alone and away from everyone else he knows. He idly ignores Perlah and Princess' stares and the way Dana is trying to pin him down with her gaze over her lenses.
Though you've missed the soothing sensation of the morning summer sun on your skin after so many cold winter days that had now waned into the cool spring, you're not looking forward to the infamous heatwaves Robby has mentioned that tended to bring larger amounts of clientele to his ER doors. One of the many under appreciated perks of the mid-season is its gentle breezes. From the small conversations you've had with clients over the past few weeks, however, many are eager for the transitional month of March to be over to be just a little closer to summer.
Today's weather is very agreeable. You'll soak up all the good spring days before summer inevitably catches up. Maybe if you feel better later, you'll take Sonny for a walk in the park.
"Sorry I wasted your time," you say sheepishly once you're both standing on the sidewalk leading back into the street. "Pain just didn't feel normal."
To his credit, Robby makes no pointed comment about your spice intake. "Never apologize for being concerned about your health, OK?" he tells you firmly. "I'm glad you came in. It's good that it ended up being nothing serious."
You promise him you'll follow the medication instructions properly and skip the spicy noodle dinner tonight, though the second one is begrudgingly agreed to. After making you promise to come back if the pain got worse or if you began to experience other symptoms, he sends you off with a scruffy kiss to the corner of your lips that leaves you flushed and airily disoriented the entire walk home.
It's around 9PM when you end up back in the ER. This time, you're grimacing and talking in a breathless tone with Lupe, who doesn't seem to recall your earlier interaction until you mention knowing Dr. Robby. She says that you must be the girlfriend the nurses mentioned had stopped by earlier.
"You could've told me Doctor Robby was your boyfriend, hon," she says. You're too busy trying to not puke your guts out in the middle of the waiting room to do much but allow your lips to pull into a wobbly twitch that's supposed to resemble a smile and is instead mistaken for shyness by the woman. "You wouldn't have waited here so he could see you. Anyway, he just left, but Doctor Abbot is our night shift attending, and he's very good friends with Doctor Robby. He'll see you in triage, OK?"
A small dread begins to bubble in your tummy, but that might also be the sharp cramps you were currently suffering through. Some part of you, a rather childish one, wants to delay the interaction for as long as possible, but it's snuffed out by the rational part of your brain firmly telling you to simply put on your Big Girl pants and get it over with.
If Jack feels anything else apart from the surprise written on his face when he sees you, he does a superb job at not letting it show.
"Lupe said a VIP was coming through."
You huff. "Everyone thinks I'm Michael's girlfriend." You wouldn't have minded if they did, had you already had a talk with Robby about yesterday's kiss that let you know where the both of you stood. For now, it was just a little embarrassing for everyone to think you were together before you did.
You end up in an empty triage room, where you're thankful for the quieter space to alleviate your growing exhaustion. All of his questions seem regularly concerned with your symptoms, except for—
"Any chance you might be pregnant?"
That makes you glare. Meanly.
Jack doesn't know you, but the anger doesn't fit you, and he has half a mind for an apology and a lame excuse you'll both know is a lie about the question being pure procedure, rather than half curiosity and half accusation.
You know he hadn't specifically asked about your sexual history with Robby and any possible consequences from it, but you were strongly aware the question was skirting around whether or not you were…compensating Robby for his financial support. And you're having none of it.
"No, asshole. Michael and I—we haven't had sex."
His unspoken question lingering in the tension between you is promptly shut down by that answer and is instead addressed with a firm, silent statement: I am not whatever you think I am.
"Standard procedure question," he decides to say, choosing the lame excuse.
"Sure," you mumble. "I already came in earlier. I—" you grimace, brows pinching together while you clutch at your abdomen. "I had really bad stomach cramps, so Doctor Shen and Michael prescribed me medication. But the pain is worse, like, right here—" you point to the lower right side of your abdomen.
Jack unfolds the glasses hanging from the neck of his scrubs and leans down to examine your body. His eyes briefly flicker to yours while his hands hover over your tank top before he begins peeling it back tentatively.
"Got some rigidity here," he murmurs, lightly tapping at the skin with the pads of two fingers. You let out a hissed whine and allow your head to drop back. "Looks a little swollen, too. Probably looking at appendicitis, but we'll do a CT scan and some lab work to be sure."
"Like a urine sample?"
"And blood tests, just to rule out any infection."
"Oh." You swallow, and you're completely sure now that that the queasiness in your stomach has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought of needles. "How long is that gonna take?"
Jack raises a brow. "Got somewhere to be with this maybe-appendicitis?" he asks dryly.
"I-I left my dog at home," you stammer, and now it's your turn to sound as lame as you are honest. "He has food and water but he stresses if I'm not home on time—"
"You got any family nearby we can call? Friends that can drop by your place?"
With that, you mourn your chances of leaving this place without getting a needle stuck into your skin and shake your head. "Michael's the only one I know in the city."
Jack nods with a sigh, taking out his phone from his back pocket and frowning at the lit screen. "Service is shit in here," he mutters. "'M gonna go out to the ambulance bay, see if I can't get a good signal to call Robby. Dana's ready to leave, but Lena and her nurses will take care of you."
"How you doin', hon? Have any pain still?" It's Dana, or at least who you're about 99% sure is Dana, if any of Robby's ER anecdotes were accurate with the way he described her. Apart from the clear no-nonsense attitude she radiates, you also note that she's absolutely beautiful.
Jeez, is it a requirement to be drop dead gorgeous to work here? Even Jack, you thought begrudgingly but wouldn't dare ever confess, had a gruff attractiveness to him, with his husky, dryly-toned voice, peppered gray curls, and stupidly buff biceps you were absolutely sure had the nurses blushing.
"No," you shake your head, then smile sheepishly. "No, miss. The meds really helped." Sore as your arms were from the blood tests taken from one and the IV currently attached to the other, you were grateful to have been given something to numb the pain.
"Miss?" Dana chuckles. "Cute. Knew I liked you for a reason, kid. Robby went home already, but Abbot's just as good a doctor. You met him yet?"
Under worse circumstances, yes, you almost want to say, but you just nod instead.
"You're in good hands, alright? Wouldn't trust anyone else in the city but this crew to treat me if I was a patient."
"Thanks," you say. For some reason, you want her to like you, and that reason alone is making you nervous to be around the woman. "Um, it was nice to meet you."
She winks. "You too, kid."
"Does—" you pause, then look down at your lap with a quiet, "Does everyone know about me and Michael?"
“Much as I try and stop 'em, my nurses stay sane with gossip around here," Dana offers, not unkindly. "But I'd known there was a good reason why Robby’s been actin’ odd lately. Actually makes time to eat something other than those God-awful protein bars, and tries to go home on time when he can. 'S not much, but—" she shrugs. "It's better than nothin'. All makes sense now. You been taking care of our good doctor, yeah?"
A small smile forms on your lips at her words. It felt good knowing you could take care of Robby the same way (or something close to it) he did you. “Trying to,” you say shyly. “He’s very easy to care about.”
She chuckles and pats your back. "I'll see you around, hon."
You're surprised by how uncharacteristically barren the ER is once the transition from evening to night settles. Whatever you knew of the emergency room's typical environment came from the crumbs Robby offered over your nightly phone calls or when he was at your place, de-stressing over takeout and whatever show you had playing in the background.
It's only when you begin to wonder whether Robby's alleged cases of mangled limbs and horrid injuries had been stretched for the sake of storytelling that a screaming patient is brought in by several paramedics and immediately rushed to one of the trauma rooms by Jack and several other staff members. You were so startled by the noisiness that you nearly miss the bone that's clearly sticking out from his knee.
You swallow back bile and turn your wheelchair away from the scene, pushing it to move elsewhere, to be anywhere but near that.
"Hey, you're the doc's girlfriend!"
You look up to see an older man also sitting in a wheelchair with an IV attached to him, grinning widely.
"Um, yeah," you say. "I think."
He introduces himself as Louie, and after you tell him your own name he shares all too casually that he was brought in for alcohol poisoning, then asked for your reason
"Doctor Abbot said I need surgery," you mumble, rubbing at your teary eyes. "For my appendicitis."
"Oh, that's nothing!" Louie's quick to wave off. "The doctors here will take care of that quick. They're all great. You got nothing to be worried about, kid."
"I know, 'm just…scared of hospitals."
Louie doesn't have the chance to reply before someone else is chiming into the conversation. It's another older man, but he didn't look quite as cheery as Louie
"Only thing to be scared of in this place are their damn tuna sandwiches!"
You can't help the small, wet laugh that escapes your lips. The man's promptly guided away by a nurse who promises to give him an egg salad sandwich, and soon enough Louie's also being pushed off by a doctor to be further treated in one of the trauma rooms.
You've just managed to gather all your courage to seek a nurse and ask for a blanket when yet another patient in a wheelchair approaches you.
"Psst! What are you in for, sweet-cheeks?" It's a blonde woman, maybe twenty years older than you, staring at you with a bit of a manic look, but maybe she's just as tired as you are.
"Appendicitis. 'M waiting for someone to take me upstairs. What about you?"
"See that pussy-ass cop standing over there, talking to Nurse Lena?" She points a wrinkled, manicured finger towards the direction of the Hub. "Brought me in here after I had a seizure."
"Wow, that's—that's really nice of him—"
"Bastard's gonna get what's coming to him," she mutters, glaring down sourly at something on her lap. You only then notice the handcuffs keeping her tethered to the wheelchair.
You blink in surprise. "Oh."
The woman must've noticed the way you begin eyeing her warily, because she grins and winks dramatically, tugging at the cuffs so they'd clink against the arm they were locked around. "Don't worry, honey, I don't kill cute girls."
You slightly tilt your head. "I am pretty adorable, I think."
"Ooh, cheeky. I like that."
"Behaving, Myrna?" Jack's voice emerges from behind. He walks around to look at the two of you, something akin to amusement at the sheer alarm on your face and the mischievous grin on Myrna's.
"Always, Doctor Abbot," she purrs.
The man looks at you and opens his mouth, but he turns when your face eases into a grin at something behind him.
"Mike!"
Robby, who'd rushed in wildly through the ambulance bay entrance and was restlessly looking around the ER, turns at the sound of your voice and rushes towards you, disregarding the crack of his bones to properly kneel before you. He doesn't have a chance to ask what happened or if you're okay or why you were wearing a patient gown before you're wrapping your arms around him. He's thrown aback, but gentles his rigid shoulders to soften into the embrace.
"Hey," he murmurs, pulling back just slightly to look at you. His eyes soften when he sees yours are twinkling with tears. "What happened, honey?"
"I need surgery," you sigh. He nods, taking one of your hands into his and rubbing his thumb along your knuckles.
"Jack told me," he says gently. "What surgery? Appendectomy? Cholecystectomy? Think Jack might've told me which one already, but I was too busy running out the door to hear him over the phone."
That makes something close to a smile tug at your mouth, but you're still worrying a lip under your teeth. Had he not been scared half to death just ten minutes ago, Robby thinks he could appreciate the humor of you, someone completely and utterly terrified of hospitals, going out with a man who stares at mangled injuries and bloody bodies every day for a living.
"Appendectomy," you say. "The medication didn't help when I took it earlier, and the pain was really bad. I couldn't eat anything 'cause I was getting nauseous. You said I should come back if the pain got worse—"
"And you did," he says. "You did good, you know that, right?"
"I was scared," you whisper, and you feel a little silly now, growing teary again, but that's soothed when Robby pulls you into a tight, warm hug.
"I know, baby, I know." He stands up and glances down at the tablet Jack is holding. "That her chart?"
"Absolutely not."
"Excuse me?" Robby says flatly.
"'S my ER for the next ten hours," Jack says pointedly. "My ER, my rules. Gotta keep the circus running smoothly."
"Yeah? Where's Myrna, then?" Robby jerks his chin towards Jack, making the man whirl around to face an empty wheelchair, where the woman had sat merely a minute ago and only a pair of lock-picked handcuffs remained on the seat uselessly.
Jack mutters a curse under his breath. "Lena! Myrna just—"
The woman doesn't even look up from her tablet. "Already on it!"
"And that's our cue to leave," Robby leans down to whisper.
"I like Myrna," you say, laughing softly while he pushes your wheelchair through the bustling ER.
"That makes one of us," he says dryly, allowing himself a grin when you laugh again, but it wanes down to something quiet. "Scared the shit out of me tonight, angel. When I got that call from Jack saying you were back in here and needed surgery—" he sucks in a breath and shakes his head. "I don't know."
"I'm okay," you assure softly, reaching back to rub his knuckles gripping the back of the wheelchair.
He lets out a sighing breath. "You'll have to be on NPO for tonight until tomorrow's surgery," he says. "That's no food or beverage after midnight."
"I didn't get to eat dinner earlier 'cause of the pain," you mumble.
"I know, sweetheart," he says sadly, leaning down to kiss your temple. "I'll bring you something from the vending machine to get you by, alright?"
It's then that Jack catches up, huffing and just close enough to catch what his friend had said.
"Lena can ask Jesse to do that," he tells him. "You need to go home." Robby scowls.
"If she needs surgery, I'm going up with her—"
"Michael," you murmur, reaching for his hand. He lets you rub along his knuckles, his lips falling into a frown. Despite his reluctance, he still softens under your touch. "You should go home. You were here since seven."
"You need surgery—"
"—but I'll have to wait a few hours before I'm operated on," you interrupt gently. "Go home, shower, have some dinner." You look at him pointedly, very much aware of his habit of skipping meals, like how he knew of your habit of over-consuming spicy food, to which he sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck. "I'll be here all night 'til I'm taken up for surgery. I'll just…play cards with Louie to pass the time."
That makes Robby's lips quirk into a small smile.
Jack watches the entire interaction with a strange look on his face.
It's a combined effort between you and Jack to get Robby to leave the hospital, which he comments on with a grumble, deciding he didn't appreciate the team-up to get rid of him. Nevertheless, he tells you he'll be back in the morning as soon as he can.
He doesn't kiss you, but his earnest promise is as good as.
Time in the ER is weird. It's slow, like a spoonful of molasses being dropped back into its jar. You wander the ER on the wheelchair, munching on a Clif bar and watching everything and everyone move. You find Louie in North 4, where you finally park yourself and stay with the man, who seems content with the company and keeps you entertained with stories from his work as a groundskeeper back in the 90's. When he dozes off, you stay and decide to stay awake with your phone.
Jack's doing rounds when he passes by North, hurrying as he does quick check-ins per bed before moving on. He gives you a small glance before doing a double take. In his abrupt stop, he notices what's on your screen.
A guided meditation video.
"Robby doesn't do yoga." It's said as a realization, and Jack's lips are parted while he looks at you with knitted brows. "You bought me that yoga book for my birthday?"
"Yeah," you mumble sheepishly.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I—" you sigh. "Michael asked me to help with a gift for you a while ago, back when he and I were barely—" you glance at him and shake your head. "He just seemed really stressed about buying the right thing. Something you'd like and actually use. He said you're ex-army, so I…I did some research on healthy rec activities for veterans that deal with PTSD. I do a lot of yoga, so I felt kinda confident buying the book."
Jack says nothing, continuing to take Louie's vitals quietly. You've just started growing comfortable in the silence when he speaks. "I do use it. The book. Every morning after shift."
The words are quiet and gruff, but nonetheless cause a small smile to spark at your lips. "Yoga always helps ground me for my day. If I didn't have anything to do, I think I would've gone insane with the pandemic already."
That makes him huff out a chuckle. It's more air than laughter, but it's progress for both of you. "Could say that again."
There's another silence, though this one feels much more lighter now. Again, it's broken when Jack speaks up. "About that night at Robby's," he says lowly. "I was just—“
“Upset that Michael came to me for help instead of his best friend?” You say quietly. The faint frown tugging at his lips is enough of an answer, so you offer a small, dry smile “I get it, okay? You just didn’t have to be an asshole about it.”
An apology is needed, but the moment wasn't quite there yet. Jack must know this as well as you do, because he leaves you be once he's done.
Still, the shift between the two of you is subtle, but present.
The next morning, with bleary eyes and a newly bruised, scarred abdomen as only proof of the monstrous pain you'd endured, you're handed off by Walsh, the attending surgeon who'd introduced you the night before to the student surgeons who were to be assistants during your surgery, to Jack.
They trade snarky remarks with every update and question on your condition, which you watch with loopy amusement. Walsh rebukes his sarcastic wave with a rude hand gesture of her own before he begins pushing your wheelchair.
"I like Doctor Walsh. Think she's funny," you murmur, playing with a frayed edge of the blanket on your lap. Jack huffs.
"That makes one of us. Now let's go before Robby has an MI in the waiting room."
"Delivery for Doctor Robby," Jack announces dryly as you enter the main floor lounge. Robby looks as though he didn't sleep well, but he stands up eagerly all the same and groans when his knees crack. You stifle a giggle while Jack smirks.
"Sure took your time with it," he drawls.
"He was flirting with Doctor Walsh," you say. Jack immediately crosses his arms while Robby chuckles.
"Yeah?"
"Uh-huh."
"Yeah, and that's my cue to leave," Jack huffs. He and Robby share a side-hug before he heads back towards the elevator.
"How was the surgery?" Robby asks, sitting back down and grabbing your hands.
You hum. "Weird. I fell asleep counting back from one hundred and woke up with stitches."
He smiles, rubbing your knuckles gently. "That's our best case scenario in that situation, honey."
You just hum again, grunting softly when you pull yourself forward and rest your head on him. Probably exhausted, poor thing. "Are you calling me an Uber so I can leave?"
Robby scoffs as if the mere thought of the idea offended him. "I have a perfectly functioning car in the parking lot that can drive us to your apartment. Besides, I need to have a vehicle in case I have to go buy anything at the store. You can't drive the first week of recovery, remember?"
The implication makes you perk up. "You're going to take care of me?" you mumble, cheek mushed against his warm chest. Robby hums, a deep, vibrational noise that makes something inside you settle, and kisses your temple.
"I'm always going to, angel. Let's go home now, yeah?"
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
a/n: this chapter is so late but i genuinely could not figure out some of the dialogue and spent like a good 2 hours total looking up everything about appendectomies😭that n I do have some personal stuff going on in my life that can't be put off (hate being 20 lol) i feel evil and sick having to tell u guys that angst is coming but this whole series was literally building up an idea i had so long ago that was purely based on angst. show me how is literally just a backstory fic for its main fic where the idea will finally be coming to life🫠 but im always open to requests/chats about this series since i really want to expand reader and robby's relationship before it sinks<3
Omg yess pls for Baelor blurbs!! KotSK is a masterpiece and just what we need after the horrendous way they ended GoT
c.w: targcest (nothing graphic or explicit, only mentioned marriage between Reader and Maekar, who are siblings)
w.c: 1.3k+
It is only even a moment after Baelor enters your chambers and opens his mouth that he's interrupted.
"Fool."
His eye twitches, but he inclines his head in greeting nonetheless. "Good evening to you as well, sister."
You're sitting by the hearth, a black bed robe shrouded over your body as you shuffle a deck of cards.
They're black, bearing the sigil of House Targaryen in its crimson red ink with the three-headed dragon rearing itself proudly. Weathered and worn from decades of use. It is one Baelor has familiarized himself with for as long as he could hold memories, and one Maekar has never failed to mention his disdain for in the letters he wrote to King's Landing, speaking of how often his wife spent her time obsessing over the spreads during her tea hour in the gardens of Summerhall.
Much of the childhood Baelor can remember of you, those cards have been on the palms of your hands or spread out on a table while you pored over them. Always has been a master of the esoteric, his sister. Though, he's yet to make sense of what you perceive as easily as one breathes.
Where he sees painted images on worn cards bordering on the abstract, you See. The Sight is not a gift commonly granted by the Seven Gods, but it's been given to you, it seems. However, you seem to think it anything but a gift.
Paired alongside Dragon dreams that have come as visions to many of their ancestors, most notably Aegon the Conqueror, you've confessed to your twin brother many a time that your nights are tormented by vivid dreams and whatever you've seen in the cards of the Oracle.
What details entailed, you have yet to share them with Baelor or anyone else.
"The Fool," you repeat, not looking up from the scrambling of the deck, mixing them with expert fingers. "It emerged from my spread when I asked the Gods to show me your path, as well as The Knight of Swords, The Tower...and The Stranger."
"Does an impending doom loom over me, then?" Baelor's voice is dryly humorous as he joins you, sitting across from you and closer to the hearth. Usually, your lips would tug into a smile but you seem to be in no mood for jesting tonight.
Strange.
"Why are you here, Baelor?" you sigh, finally looking up at him.
He almost frowns at your tone. He wants to ask what troubles your mind, but despite having been born of the same womb and grown alongside each other, he knows he will only meet the same wall that's kept him from fully understanding you for the past thirty-nine years.
"Maekar has made no secret of his…disappointment for the aversion of your presence this evening at the tournament and its celebratory feast," he murmurs. "He wonders why he bothers to bring you if you'll only take to resigning yourself to your quarters before the festivities are given chance to begin."
"Must my softness forever be mistaken as weakness?" you huff. "I have no care for such matters because I fail to find their purpose, not because I lack the stomach for them. You'd think it to be a sin to not enjoy the sound of dying horses and the wailing of injured men."
Baelor inclines his head again. Not in agreement, but understanding. "There was another matter," he says quietly. "Aerion caused a bit of an uproar earlier this evening, choosing unchivalrous tactics to evade harm. He pierced a lance through his opponent's horse and maimed the man's leg in the progress. He rose victoriously, but it was hardly a fair joust."
"Fair?" you scoff. "You, above many, should know battle knows little of fairness. And war, none at all."
"This was no war, merely a traditional tourney. Aerion held no reason to express such display of brutality."
"Have you really come here to discuss the whims of my son as if he were still child enough to be draped over my lap and spanked as consequence?" After a second of consideration, you realize you've never once laid a hand on any of your children. Baelor must know this as well, as he only gives you a flat stare.
You let out a deep sighing breath, and he thinks it's as much acknowledgement for Aerion's cruelty he'll receive. "I know Aerion can be…challenging, but he is my son. I begged and bled and wailed to bring him into this world. I will never forsake him. And should Maekar decide to heed the small council's suggestion of exiling him to the Free Cities, as I know they've brought up, do not expect of me a docile submission. Where my son goes, I will follow."
"You would abandon your duties as Princess of Summerhall to chase after the boy?"
"My eldest spends his days drinking to avoid the same plaguing dreams I, too, cannot rid of. It would be nothing short of a miracle if he remained sober long enough to even make note of my absence," you say wearily. "My third-born made haste for the Citadel at first chance to skirt his duties as prince. Aegon—" your voice cracks and you shake your head, whispering, "I cannot seem to get through to him these days, no matter what I may say. He no longer looks at me for guidance. He thinks me cruel, I imagine, for still loving Aerion."
"And what of your daughters?" Baelor demands. "Or will they be forgotten as a result of your attempts to tame that wildfire of a boy?"
"My daughters, the ones who spend their days under the guidance of septas, you mean? Teaching them what should be my responsibility to teach them?" You smile mirthlessly. "Yes, I'm sure they'll come to dearly miss a mother they hardly know. Even after I refused to let a wet nurse touch either of my girls, my darling girls, I remain a stranger to them."
"They are your daughters, nonetheless."
The way you're staring at him now, as if you've neglected to acknowledge him and his words entirely, is one he's come to hate. It makes him feel not as a person, but a part of the instruments you've surrounded yourself with to anticipate tragedies. Almost as if he were one himself. But you don't pursue that haunting thought, instead looking off into the fire.
"I will not lie to you and say my departure will be entirely willing. In truth, I like being princess," you sigh wistfully. "Especially that of a fourth son of a king. I've no other responsibilities but to dote on my children and spend my days praying in the godswood or overseeing the artisans visiting Summerhall in search of patronage. I am…content with my life. That is more than can be said for many in the realm. But my duties as a mother will always overrule those of the royal blood."
Baelor is quiet for a moment, but there's no need for him to speak, as you begin again.
"Do you remember what he was like before?" you murmur. "I'd spend my days roaming the halls of our castle, calling out for my little cherub. He'd be hiding in the same dragon's breath bush, giggling when I found him, as I had just the day before, and so many other times."
"I will admit, with every transgression he commits, that image of him is chipped even further," Baelor says. "It's become a distant memory."
You give no reply, and your brother gingerly holds your hand as the two of you stare into the depth of the hearth, until the silence is broken by a Kingsguard entering your chambers and informing you Aerion Targaryen has been attacked by a hedge knight.
a/n: this is like my soft launch to posting incest fics since I have a fic in the drafts with Dad!Robby & also this was VERY experimental for my SOIAF fanfics since I'm not very happy with how this turned out but I loved playing with the dialogue:p also planning an Aerion x Reader that I'm still working out the kinks for!!
so upset with the Game of Thrones finale BUT now i can comfortably watch House of The Dragon & Knight of the Seven Kingdoms and start writing my silly little smut blurbs for Aerion and Baelor Targaryen :0
loving the idea of Jack being restless after Pittfest's MCA and getting a roommate after his therapy suggests he engage with other people outside of work sooo here's this
Jack Abbot hates his roommate.
Correction, Jack Abbot is constantly-heavily-aggravated-slash-tormented by his twenty-something-year old roommate.
Granted, he hardly ever sees you. Lifestyles hardly aligning with each other and whatnot. Not to mention you're a bit of a recluse. That was why he let you move into his place to begin with, actually.
You weren't his first choice for a roommate, mind you, but his options had been scarce. Besides a man who ruined his chance after stating he walked around his home nude (despite the fact that Jack quite literally did the same thing every morning for his nude yoga), you'd been the only other person who replied to his Facebook listing.
lmao $500 for rent??? pls don't be a pervert i might kms if this is a scam
After Jack had pushed past your horrible texting style with elderly dismay, he thoroughly assured you there weren't any hidden strings attached to the deal and he wasn't looking to get off on your company in any way, shape or form. The money would cover groceries, but he did require assistance with a few chores he didn't often tend to because of the hours he worked at the hospital.
You moved in a week later while Jack was at work. Apart from the scare you gave him after he came home that morning after his shift only to find you casually eating breakfast in his kitchen and using his favorite mug ("Sorry," you'd shrugged when you noticed his pointed staring. "My stuff's still in boxes."), the two of you hardly interacted the first month of living together.
Jack shrugged it off when his therapist expressed that there would have been no point in acquiring a roommate if he was simply going to ignore you, and told her he was simply trying to get used to your sudden presence after building a decade old independent life.
That made him sound like you and Jack were two shelter cats trying to accustom themselves to each other's scent, but oh well.
However, it's a different story when he complains to Robby about the situation and his best friend simply suggests he kick you out. He's immediately backtracking on everything he said.
"Just kick her out if she bothers you so much."
"And leave her on the street?" Jack snorts, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Don't hate the kid that much yet." And a small part of him knows he probably never will, either.
You bring some seasoning to his life that neither the ER or his SWAT duties bring. You're a whole other human. That's an entire new life added into the equation.
In the ten months Jack has known you, these are a few things he's learned:
You argue with your boyfriend.
Like, a lot. It's not even stupid juvenile shit Jack could simply roll his eyes and scoff at, either. There's been times where he's gotten so worried that he stood at your closed doorway and listened to your loud altercation over the phone, pose stiff and mind racing.
Afterwards, while the two of you watched Barry in the living room, empty boxes of takeout on the coffee table, he'd quietly and subtly remind you he worked in the ER, home to people who waved off these relationship issues as mere "couple's quarrels" and then turned up with bruised cheeks or bloodied lips, sometimes worse.
You've yet to take him out on any offers, but he's content to know that despite your relaxed and humorous nature, you never roll your eyes or send him away with a remark about dramatics.
You love to cook.
On his rare days off after Robby denies him entry to any available shifts, Jack also has the pleasure of being kicked out of his own kitchen in the house he owns so you can thrive in the making of your dishes. You insist you can't focus with him practically breathing down your neck in his attempts of helping out, and he's forced to either sit on the small kitchen table where the two of you usually eat or go watch whatever game is playing on TV.
The food is pretty fuckin' good, so he lets it slide. After some grumbling about your generation and their variety of needs to function, of course. And if he keeps his complaints to a minimum, sometimes you send him to work with treats to share with the Nightcrawlers.
Sure, he has to send you stern voice memos now and then to remind you to blow out your candles before going out (which never fail to amuse Ellis and Shen, who witness these before shift starts and have begged to meet the chef for the delicious lunches Jack brings in). And it's a pain in the ass scrubbing the sink where you dye your hair (he's quite literally offered to pay for a salon dye job just so you'd stop, to which you claimed it's an experience of its own doing it yourself, causing Jack to throw several rolled pairs of socks in your direction while you squealed and ran off). Not to mention the ungodly amount of packages that make their way to the front porch that he trips over after his shifts.
But…it's home, in a way. In between his grumblings, complaining, and constant aggravation for your habits, he's grown comfortable with the space you've burrowed into his life.
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omg lol all the people waiting for the angst to come has me feeling evil
and this is a feature Ellipsus is providing with their new Ellipsus Plus ! im on the 7 day free trial just so i can mess around and see if i wanna commit to one of their subscriptions<3
came across your got au in the robby tag!!! can’t tell you how excited i was when i read westeros popped in the post. my two fav fixations, much love mwah!
ahhh thank you! i have no more solid ideas for this AU but i am planning on writing more blurbs🙂↕️knight!robby has my heart and i wanna add more pitt characters
you got me thinking abt touching got au robby's hands 🥺 you can see his years in their wrinkles and calluses
"Do they hurt, Ser?"
"Do what hurt?"
"Your scars," you frown down at his worn, marred hands. Years of training and decades of serving have left them calloused and rough, and until Robby draws his last breath, he reckons they'll continue to be worn out. They've been soaking in a basin filled with warm water and now being massaged with the most expensive whipped goat milk cream that could be bought in Westeros. Little good it'll do, but Robby has never been one to deny you and your fretting whims.
"No, but they do serve as reminders, princess," he murmurs.
"Oh? Of what?"
"Well, for one," he takes in a breath and thinks. "Of the battles I've won. Hardships I have survived in the long life I've lived. I suppose, then, they serve not only as reminders, but as a source of pride." He smiles down at your own hands, soft and soothing as they caress his. They've yet to know a life outside the soft one you live within the walls of the Red Keep, though he supposes they never will. All is as it should be. He'd never want you to know even a sliver of what he's encountered or what could happen to someone with less luck than the one the Seven Gods bestowed upon you.
Dishonorable bandits. Sly thieves ready to leave you beaten and dry on the side of a dirt road. Slavers who would rape you bloody before handing you off to the highest bidder in a black market auction.
No, a life of luxury suited you fine. His place at your side as knight of the Kingsguard would make sure that was never disrupted.
"They do bring a certain charm," you muse, a smile of your own tugging at your lips. "You must have captured the attention of many ladies in your younger days with your gallant manners as a knight."
Robby huffs out a chuckle. "I would not be so sure of that, princess. I always thought that to be Ser Jack's mastery. He was married many years before his retirement into his duty as Master-At-Arms."
Your eyes widen into a curious awe. "Really?"
Robby bows his head. "He has been widowed longer than he knew her, but…I've yet to see a love as fiery as theirs once was."
You sigh dreamily, clasping your hands together. Ever the romantic, this knight's princess. Has been a lady for years now, but her girlish dreams of sweet romance and gentlemen that commonly ruled in ballads and poems have yet to dwindle. "I would give all my jewels and gowns to find true love. Don't you ever wish you could find something as priceless as that, Ser?"
Robby thinks he has. Here, with you. Protecting you intimately, and yearning for you from afar. This life is fulfilling and priceless as they come.
He clasps your pressed palms with his own warm hands and rests them on his steel chest plate, brown eyes crinkling with his smile. Your girlish want wades into a bashful softness when you glance up at him. "My vows have sworn me into a place forever at your side, my princess. Nothing else could prove more important."
The only thing that could possibly be more priceless than that is the shyness on your face before you look away and begin to fret over his hands once again.
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SHOW ME HOW UPDATE COMING SOON, NEW MRS MAGIC CHAPTERS IN THE WORKS, DARK!ROBBY FIC IN THE DRAFTS, WRITING AN ONLY JACK X READER FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME, AND WADING INTO GAME OF THRONES FIC WRITING!!!!!
currently on season 2 of game of thrones so my brain's been filled with thoughts about the Hound and maybe even Tywin Lannister but I just saw fanart online of Robby + Abbot as knights so im getting ideas for fics 😵💫😵💫😵💫
❀⋆.ೃ࿔*Chapter 7: Show me how (you're proud)❀⋆.ೃ࿔* Sugar Daddy!Michael Robinavitch x Reader
w.c: 1k+
summary: You are in love with Michael Robinavitch. He is not (or at least, he's pretending not to be).
f.c: not really an interlude, but also not not an interlude? also not a character study, but we have some Robinavitch lore crumbs
masterlist ❀⋆.ೃ࿔* chapter 6 (previous)
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You are in love with Michael Robinavitch.
Past a neatly typed agreement and the transactional dynamic you share from the emotional support you provide and the Amex he has ready whenever he's around you, this fact is irrevocable. The universe is well aware of your affections and it seems to taunt you with it whenever you're around the man.
The affection for Robby started in those late nights you spent together, where his money didn't have anything to do there except pay for the takeout you occasionally ordered, at Robby's insistence. You only realized the gravity of your predicament when you found yourself wishing to be around him at times when neither of you had scheduled anything together.
It's ironic, honestly. You signed up on a website for money and ended up having a much better time whenever it wasn't involved.
That wasn't to say you didn't appreciate the financial stability Robby brought to your life, though.
Rent was no longer something you dreaded budgeting for the month, utility bills were always paid on time, the nail studio's refurbishment was nearly complete, and you'd even started buying brand products from the grocery store instead of the generic cheap ones that saved you a few bucks.
Robby didn't exactly get off on providing for you, but something inside him was soothed by the fact that you got to live comfortably because of his money. In turn, something inside you was soothed too by being taken care of and taken into consideration so thoroughly. For the two of you, there's a comfort in the company you serve each other, in no longer being alone. Feeling isolated despite the people surrounding you day by day.
You hadn't been quite sure what you felt for Robby was actually love, for the simple fact that you didn't know love could come as easily as you breathed. An instinct that emerged since that night at the restaurant and slowly crept up towards you until it morphed into something that couldn't be ignored.
As a child, you often reveled in being included in women's discussion in the kitchen that came from family gatherings, parties and whatnot. It felt like an entirely different world from the one in the living room or the backyard, where the men chortled and made a ruckus over matters you never quite cared for.
You thought it meant you were mature enough to know what they knew. It took many years to realize that they'd never cared to send you elsewhere because it was an unspoken agreement, ingrained by generations of the same cycle, that every girl should bear the same problems of an adult.
Suffering, of course, is the rite of passage towards becoming a woman.
Laboring over steaming pots and wiping at sweating foreheads from the strain of the work that was never really appreciated, you bonded over the shortcomings of men. You'd laugh along to the teasings any of your cousins would suffer when she confessed to being in love with who-knows-who, asking how she could do such a silly thing while she told you to shut up.
Love has never been a common companion in your family's marriages. As a child, you always found it funny how your aunts were always complaining about this and that when it came to their husbands, all while your mother nodded along and sighed that it was the same with your father. As you grew older, you pitied that the misery in their lives came from the one person that was supposed to be at their side to soothe it, promising yourself that you'd never end up living the same life they did. Romance became something unattainable, only experienced under the sheets of your bed while you lived vicariously through dainty protagonists of the books you shoved at the bottom of your schoolbag.
But you are in love with Michael Robinavitch.
And with this irrevocable fact, you can only hope that you don't break your promise in doing so.
Michael Robinavitch is not in love.
That is the one long lie he's been telling himself ever since those late nights with you began.
He's known love, of course.
Love was what his grandmother had given him since he was basically dropped on her lap when he was only eight years old, crying and running after his mother while she ignored him and slammed the door on her way out of the house, never to return again.
Love was the lessons his grandfather taught him "the tough way" throughout his entire childhood, because God knew he couldn't keep running to his grandmother whenever the littlest things upset the boy. Needed to man up, he would say. If tears needed to be shed while he was still small, fine, so be it. So long as he didn't carry that blubbering on to adulthood. They wouldn't be around to coddle him forever.
Love has been fleeting throughout Robby's entire life. Something conditional most times and never permanent.
Even through the unbearable loneliness its absence brought, he found love to be a waste, especially after his grandparents died only a a year apart from the other while Robby was just finishing medical school. They hadn't even made it to his graduation.
What was the point in giving it if it was only going to end?
Then he met you.
Somewhere between early morning texts and exchanged wishes to have a good day, late evening calls to lean on each other for support when neither of you had anyone else to really talk to, and restless nights spent together with the TV lulling your quiet conversations, Robby had fallen.
Easy as it was for it to come and nestle itself somewhere so deep inside his body he couldn't reach it even with a scalpel, that love also scared him.
Robby has known love, and every time, it's burned him somehow. Had him hissing and pulling away farther each time. He doesn't know what he'd do if it happened again, this time with higher stakes because it's you.
And God, isn't that the funniest thing? That there really isn't much to his argument about why this is a bad idea except for that little fact?
It's you.
That's all it ever needed to be for him to be doomed.
Michael Robinavitch cannot be in love, and he has to be the one who leaves first.
So, with that last thought, he tells himself he'll break things off with you tonight.
That plan goes down the drain when you show up to the ER in the middle of his shift.
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next chapter
a/n: 5 more chapters until the fic is over:((( and i honestly can't even believe I've got 25k words in the doc for this fic omg cannot wait to have it all done and posted here<3!!!
do you plan on making a follow up to the robby soulmate au? i was left on the edge of my seat! you’re so talented !
honestly i don't have much written in terms of a pt. 2, just some scrambled dialogue between Santos and reader post ending:p kinda just reader in a depressive episode and how Robby's stifling care just keeps her forced into that bubble of dependence of him.
even though i don't have anything planned, after leaving the fic kinda opened ended after revealing Robby was the one who messed up her soulmate connection, I did come up with some scenarios of Jack only growing more concerned for their relationship, some of the staff (like Whitaker) kinda just telling new staff (Ogilvie and/or Joy) smth along the lines of "...so that's Robby's patient, don't ever try to treat her without his say" lolol, and Santos just growing even more wary of the power imbalance between Robby and reader
I'd be happy take in any requests for that fic since it was a one shot and I hadn't planned much for it! :p
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Hello lovelies, thank you so much for 400 followers! It blows my mind that there are 400 people who enjoy my blog and the things I write! I’m so grateful for each and every single one of you 🫶 To celebrate, I thought it would be fun to share some of my recent favourite fics and highlight some of the amazingly talented writers on here (almost all of these fics have smut so minors do not interact)!
My favourite series:
To Be Loved Is To Be Known (Dr Michael Robinavitch x reader) | @shoniebalognie
Eye of the Hurricane (Andrew "Pope" Cody x fem!reader) | @romantic-insomniac
Show Me How (Dr. Michael Robinavitch x reader) | @cicadasexfest
Sweet as Pie (headchef!Jack Abbot x pastry chef!fem!reader) | @di1fluvr
Shared Custody (Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader) | @cinnxmxngxrl
Love You Anyway (Andrew "Pope" Cody x F! Brother's Best Friend reader) | @rynwrites4fun
Redamancy Series (Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader) | @softundermoonlight
Jack x controversially young gf!reader | @eternalabbot
Robby x controversially young gf!reader | @eternalabbot
My favourite one shots:
imgonnagetyouback (Dr. Robby x f!resident!reader) | @robinavitchslut
You Belong To Me (Pervy!Robby x Nurse!reader) | @shoniebalognie
Forever Mine (Pervy!Robby x Nurse!reader) | @shoniebalognie
Hard To Get (Dr. Robby x reader) | @bluetimeombre
My Best Friend (Bsf!Andrew "Pope" Cody x Fem!reader) | @rhettsunshine
I Pay For It More Than I Did Back Then (Jack Abbot x Shy!Fem!reader) | @ceriseangels
Just Ride (Dr. Robby x f!reader) | @robinavitchslut
Hate (Titus Danforth x f!reader) | @yournamesnob
Temperature Control (Jack Abbot x fem!reader) | @mrshatosy
I'm Not Afraid Of Hard Work, I Get Everything I Want (Michael Robinavitch x Fem!reader) | @ceriseangels
Slim Pickins (Jack Abbot x reader) | @seewhoyouwanttosee
then, there is the opportunist (Brendon Park x fem!reader) | @jackrrabbot
You're Just In Time, Make Your Tea And Your Toast (Sabbatical!Robby x Fem!Waitress!reader) | @ceriseangels
teasing uncle!robby (uncle!Robby x reader) | @robinavitchslut
Baby Fever (Jack Abbot x peds!f!reader x Michael "Robby" Robinavitch) | @di1fluvr
Until the Water Runs Clear (Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader) | @kissalready
stepdad!Robby finds your OF account (stepdad!Robby x reader) | @robinavitchslut
your dad's best friend jack abbot helping you with your "virginity problem" (dbf!Jack Abbot x reader) | @valleyanimalz
robby taking advantage of his young, pretty intern (toxic!bigdick!perv!robby x intern!virgin!fem!reader) | @drjohncarters
ErectileDysfunction!Robby (Dr. Robby x reader) | @cinnxmxngxrl
we always want what we can't have (perv!Jack Abbot x Robby's wife!reader) | @yournamesnob
flick the tip (andrew pope cody x f!reader) | @grimgasm
Finals Season (Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x fem!reader) | @rollerskategirl
Brett Richards x fem!reader | @belleeebelleee
My favourite blurbs/drabbles:
Class Time (Professor!Robby x student!reader) | @shoniebalognie
Grant Reilly, Yours (Grant Reilly x reader) | @wistfulyears
telling robby you want to have a baby with him (Dr. Robby x f!reader) | @robinavitchslut
Breeding kink with icky!stepdad!Robby (icky!stepdad!Robby x female!reader) | @robinavitchgf
Andy (Andrew "Pope" Cody x fem!reader) | @firewalkwithmme
he gets hard seeing you in high heels (Pope Cody x reader) | @cuti3-81
Forever (Pope Cody x fem!reader) | @kisscoabbot
Semi-public sex with perv!mean!tennis coach!robby (perv!mean!tennis coach!Robby x female!reader) | @robinavitchgf
in case of emergency (Robby x attending!reader) | @miniswritinblog
Jack's Human Utah (Jack Abbot x reader) | @mrsmckay
hot tub with dbf!jack (dbf!pervy!jack x reader) | @bloodnguts17
A Very Happy Birthday (Jack Abbot x reader) | @thatfanficstuff
Sweetest Little Belly (Michael Robinavitch x Fem!Reader) | @rhettsunshine
stepdad!robby loves his mini me (stepdad!robby x f!reader) | @robinavitchslut
Dividers by @robinavitchslut
I will be updating this list with new fics as often as possible! Pls let me know if you do not want to be tagged or if any links don't work!
bits and pieces of dialogue from the upcoming mrs magic homecoming!au fic that @pinkstuff0 's ask kept me motivated to keep working on!!
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.
"There wasn't any reason to leave Oceanside, y'know. Pope probably wanted us to take care of you." A lie. That or Baz just didn't understand his brother. Pope would've wanted you as far away from Smurf while he was in prison. Especially with you getting pregnant a year into his six year sentence.
"Yeah, I don't know, I guess I got a little worried Smurf would get bored of me while Pope was gone," you say dryly. Out of all of Pope's brothers, you were the least friendly with Baz. Infidelity was not something you could quite look over in a person. That and overall his entire history with Julia.
Baz shakes his head with a disbelieving grin. "Smurf wouldn't have hurt you. You're like family."
"Like family isn't family, Barry," you tell him pointedly. "You of all people should know that." You don't mean for that to come off as a dig at his non-blood relation to the family, but Baz is a fragile man, with a much more fragile ego.
"I've earned my place with Smurf," he snaps.
"Yeah," you murmur. "Keep telling yourself that. Nobody earns anything from Smurf. Everything she gives you…it'll be expected to be paid off every day of your life until you die."
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.
"Nice one, Robinavitch," Dana says dryly, the two of them staring at your waddling figure retreat back out into Chairs. Despite the way you'd practically blown up at him, Robby still finds the sight of a very pregnant you very much gorgeous. More than usual, anyway.
He wonders if it's because this is his first time seeing you swollen and glowing.
"I was just offering our resources," he defends. "She might need them."
"Our domestic violence hotline?" she deadpans. "She was looking for a job for her husband."
"Who is a felon," Robby hisses.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.
"Dana's like, my best friend," you say to him, like it's some sort of confession. "She's so nice and pretty, bub. And we hang out all the time. You'd really like her if you got to know her."
"Not sure what we'd talk about," he murmurs back.
𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.
"Yo, you, uh, you look good," Craig says. "Looking nice. Y'know, well-rounded." Deran smacks his head, to which his brother grunts and indignantly calls out a, ow, what the hell man?
"You're not supposed to tell pregnant ladies they look round, asshole." You laugh, beaming at them. It's nice to be around people you're familiar with. Comfortable to be around. Even if their mother was the only reason they were here.
"It's alright. I feel kinda round, too. I can't see my toes anymore."
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