Writer

           It was a moment of weakness three months ago, two days before your residency started when you went to a bar. It had been a moment of weakness when you went and met a guy with dark hair turning grey, dark eyes that were shadowed from pain and a voice that sounded like honeyed whiskey, the kind that soothed with a pleasant kind of burn. 

            “Looking for something in particular?” he’d asked you, sitting down beside you, his body large, broad beside you, warmth radiating from him. 

            “Just celebrating the fact that I got the job I wanted,” you had replied, body stiff and rigid. You weren’t the kind for hook-ups, one-night stands; too much rejection in your past, too much pain for it to work. 

            “Celebrating alone?” he’d replied, tone faux-incredulous, the dramatic kind from someone too tired to really mean it. He had a tone you recognized, one you had yourself—the tone of the fucked up who think they’re as fucked up as can be. You weren’t like that anymore, lots of therapy in your pocket making you better. 

            “Who better to celebrate my victory than me?” you had countered, finally turning to look at him, taking in the smirk and the way it made you wonder what his beard would feel like if he kissed you. 

            “I don’t know,” he’d replied, leaning closer, his eyes not drunk but shadowed and tired, gleaming with a kind of mischief, a gleam that made him look boyish—something he probably hadn’t thought of himself in years. “I’m pretty good at celebrating.”

            “Uh-huh,” you had said, turning back from him, back to the bar and the glass before you with just a sliver of whiskey left. Your sign to go home. 

            “You don’t think I could be? Too old?” His tone had been like he was trying to joke around, but you could hear the undercurrent of hurt in his tone, that sliver of pain. That sliver of fear, the one you always try to hide, but never can. The kind of fear that lingers deep, hooking its claws in your soul, your heart. Your thoughts. 

            “I don’t do the whole hook-up thing if that’s what you’re getting at,” you had told him, looking back at him to see his face draw together in confusion, as if the idea of a twenty-something girl not hooking up was something new. 

            “Any particular reason?” he had asked you, but not like he was hinting at getting around it, simply like he was curious. And it was why you answered him. 

            “I don’t want to wake up and find them gone in the morning,” you had said, that one side of your mouth curving up, that sardonic, trying to ignore the pain, half-smile you have. 

            “I’d stay,” he had said and as you looked at him and the exhaustion on his face, the pain and trauma in his eyes, you believed that he would be there. You believed that he would stay because something in him said trust me. 

            And you did. 

            “You don’t do the whole hook-up thing either, do you?” you’d asked him as you flagged the bartender, pulling your card from your wallet, your question rewarded with a snort, one that was like he had never gotten used to laughing, like he tried to keep it all inside. 

            “Literally never,” he’d said. And you’d gone home with him, taking him to your place, the two of you a tangle of limbs and tongues and teeth, hands in each other’s hair before he laid you on the bed, soft and gentle, his touch perfect and measured and exact, his body soft where yours was hard, his hard where yours was soft. A perfect fit. 

            And the way he felt inside of you was heaven, the way he moaned your name even more so, the way he kissed you as he thrusted into you the perfect addition. He kissed you like he was hungry, starving, like he never wanted to stop. 

            And when it was done, he pulled you into his body, curled his arms around you and whispered “good night” and you had whispered back in kind, snuggling into his arms, into him. Into the belief that he would be there when you woke. 

            But you had woken up to an empty bed like he had never been there at all. 

            And you had almost fooled yourself into believing it was a dream, that he didn’t really exist, that you had dreamt the whole thing after probably reading one too many trashy romance novels. 

            Until today. 

            Three months to the day of your moment of weakness. 

            Because there he was, standing before you, dressed in black scrubs, a doctor’s badge pinned to his scrub top Michael Robinavitch, Chief Attending printed on it. Meaning, he was real. He was really fucking real. 

            And he was your fucking boss.

            “Trinity!” you hiss, grabbing her as she goes to walk past you to the computer, your hand wrapping around her wrist, fingers digging into her sleeve. 

            “What’s up, Spitfire?” she asks you and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the nickname—the one you earned after you argued with both Dr. Park and Dr. Abbot on your first shift when you knew their calls were wrong—even as you need to talk to her. 

            “Remember when I told you of my one and only one night stand?” you ask and she nods once, the gesture slow, saying duh without her ever vocalizing the syllable. “While, I just saw the guy.”

            “Where? In chairs?” she asks, lips curving into a sadistic smile, the one she has when she’s going to enjoy the pain she’s causing in whoever she’s treating—although, she’ll say that she never enjoys causing patients pain. 

            “No. He’s our fucking attending, Dr. Robinavitch.”

____

            Robby has never been the person for one-night stands or sex with strangers but the night before he left for his sabbatical, the night after the shift from hell, he did. 

            He did because the girl he met at the bar, the one with glee in tired eyes, a single glass of whiskey in front of her, neat, had caught his attention, his mind. He did because he didn’t want to leave without knowing what she felt like against him when she looked like she would fit perfectly against him. 

            He did because he didn’t want to leave without knowing what choosing someone new would be like. He wanted to feel young and he wanted to know what her lips would feel like on his skin. 

            He did and he fucked it up. She had just wanted one thing, “I don’t want to wake up and find them gone in the morning.” She had just wanted him to be there when she woke and he was too much of a coward to stay. 

            Even though it was the first time he had slept without the TV on in years, even though when he woke, he felt calm and satiated and happy. Even though, with his arms around her, he felt complete in a strange and weird way. 

            He left because he didn’t want her to wake up and see him and not like what she saw in the light of day. He wanted to hold onto the memory of the way she cried his name, fingers digging into his shoulders, half-moon marks left behind from her nails. Ones that on his travels, he ran his fingers over as they healed, bringing back the memory of her underneath him, crying and shattering, the taste of her still a visceral memory. 

            He left and he regretted every second of leaving her. 

            Leaving you. 

            “Glad to have you back, brother,” Jack says now, slapping him once on the back, the force enough to move his shoulder, Jack never actually realizing how hard he’s hitting people. “But the ED survived your quest.”

            “I can see that, yeah,” Robby says his attention drifting, landing on the back of a resident, one whose hair looks so familiar, yet foreign all at the same time. 

            “Just making sure you did,” Jack says, stepping in front of him now arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow arched almost up to his hairline. “Because it seems that all you’re doing is looking at the back of Spitfire over there.”

            “Spitfire?” he asks, voice already tired, body the same. “Who the fuck is Spitfire?”

            “The resident that started after you left. First shift, she called me out on a call I made that was wrong and did notback down and she pulled the same shit with Park on his consult,” Jack says, nodding his head over at you as he steps to the side. Robby watches as you gesture and Trinity—who you seem to be talking too rather than, you know, working—huffs in irritation and anger. “Spitfire!” Jack calls out and Robby watches as you turn, eyebrows up and lips pursed. 

            It feels like the entire world has shifted underneath him when he sees your face. Because you are the girl he left in the morning before you awoke, you are the girl who he’s thought about while jacking off, only capable of getting off to the thought of h—you. You are the girl who made him feel safe, who made him sleep even in the silence. 

            You are the girl he wanted to come back for. 

            You are the girl who kept him alive on his trip. You are the thought that made him wear a helmet. You are the girl he’s been dreaming of and regretting and wishing for. 

            You are her.

            “I have a name, you know, Dr. Abbot,” Robby hears you call as you walk over, arms crossed in almost a mirror of Jack’s pose, the eyebrow arch matching his. It’s creepy, really. 

            “And I called you by one, Spitfire,” Jack counters, nodding his head over at Robby who can still feel the world shifting underneath him. “Meet your Chief Attending, Dr. Robinavitch, freshly back from his quest to find himself.”

            “We’ve met,” you answer, eyes flicking to Robby, an unreadable expression in those eyes that Robby has been dreaming of for three months. “Nice to see you again, Dr. Robinavitch. Pleasure to be working with you.” Your tone is the flattest he’s ever heard and as you hold your hand out for a handshake, he finds himself torn because what he wants to is take your hand, pulling you against him, his hands slipping to your waist, pressing you as tightly to him as he can before kissing you breathless, hard enough to have your toes curling and have you make that sound, the one he’s been hearing on repeat for three months. 

            But all he does is take your hand and shake it twice, only letting go because you let go first. 

            “The pleasure’s all mine,” he says and the way your eyes flare for one second, maybe two has him wondering if you’re thinking about that night too, about the way he made the pleasure yours first, yours always. 

            “Cool. I have to get to work. Nice meeting you, Dr. Robinavitch. Catch ya later, Jackie,” you call out, saluting once before pivoting on your heel, heading back to Trin, but getting waylaid by Dana who hugs you once, slipping an iPad into your hands, whispering something to you that makes you shrug. 

            “You let a resident call you Jackie?!” Robby hisses at Jack, grabbing him and pulling him out into the stairwell, his voice gruff, but not with irritation. No, he’s jealous. Really, fucking jealous because you would barely look at him, yet you call Jack Jackie.

            “Yes,” Jack says, taking a step back from Robby, his eyes narrowing and then widening, something dawning on him. “She’s the girl, isn’t she?”

            Jack was the only one Robby told about his one-night stand, the way he left and the way he can’t think of anyone but her. 

            “Yeah,” Robby whispers, all the ire and jealousy evading him, leaving him only the same tired man he always is, the shell of the young man who once worked in the ED. The one who had hope. “She’s the girl.”

            “Then don’t fuck around, Robby,” Jack snaps, one hand hitting the marble pillar beside him for emphasis. “Because if you do, you’ll have only yourself to fucking blame, Robinavitch. You can’t think about anyone else, huh? While she’s right here. Fucking talk to her. Tell her that you were scared. Talk. To. Her.”

            And then Jack walks away, disappearing back into the ED, his words remaining, echoing around Robby as he sighs again, shaking his head. Talk to her. 

______

            Twelve hours you spent tiptoeing around Dr. Robby, switching cases when he appeared on yours, a simple handoff with Trinity, iPad switched and a fist bump to follow. She switches Langdon cases with you and you switch Robby cases with her. 

            It’s a new system, but it’s one that works. 

            Well, it would work better if Robby didn’t just seem to be following you around the ED all day, stopping by the nurse’s station whenever you were charting, checking in on you and asking you to take a break if you need it, checking in on every case you worked. 

            It was so bad that fucking Huckleberry picked up on it. 

            “Freedom,” you sigh as the doors slide open to the ambulance bay, your car just off to the side in your space, but as you step out, you feel a hand close around your wrist, tugging you to the wall of the ambulance bay, the hand warm and strong, the touch that that you had almost successfully convinced yourself was a dream. “Not freedom,” you hiss when you feel yourself pulled into Robby, every inch of you pressed against every inch of him for just one second before you step back. 

            “Hi,” he whispers, his lips curving up in a smile, one that makes your heart skip a beat because it’s still the boyish smile, the one that makes his eyes gleam with a glint that’s perfect and beautiful and young. Fuck, you hate him. 

            “What do you want, Dr. Robinavitch?” you ask, extracting your wrist from his grip, crossing your arms over your chest, not to be defensive, but simply just to hold yourself together, his rejection still stinging. 

            “For you to call me Michael,” he says, his voice dropping before he continues, “or Mikey.” And you swallow hard on instinct, the memory of you whispering, good night, Mikey and him closing his arms around you, holding you tight against rising up. 

            “You left me,” you say, enunciating each word clearly. “The sex could have been meaningless, but all I asked was that you be there when I woke. Even if you fucking woke me up before you left. I just needed to know that you hadn’t left me as soon as I fell asleep!” You didn’t mean to become emotional, but you can’t help, the memory of your last relationship, the way he left you while you slept, leaving a letter in lieu of actually breaking up with you. 

            “I left because I was scared,” he breathes out and his hands reach up, taking yours in his, pulling them away, unfolding your arms, pulling your hands up to his heart. “You’re young and I’m…I’m not and I thought that you wouldn’t want me in the light of day. That I looked good only in the dark. I didn’t…I didn’t want to see you look at me with disappointment and so, yeah, I was a coward and I left. But I came back for you.”

            Those words throw you for a loop and you tilt your head, brow furrowing as the events of the day shift and change, now not someone who feels awkward trying to make it less so, but that of someone who wants…

            Who might want you. 

            “What?” you breathe, your throat feeling thick as you swallow and Robby tugs you closer to him, glancing over at the door to the bay, guiding you back and over to your parking space, to your car, spinning you so your back is pressed to the metal of your car and his body presses you deeper into it. 

            “I came back for you,” he whispers, voice soft and quiet, lips curling into that boyish smile. “You’re all I’ve thought about for three months. Everything about you…you’re all I can think about even now.”

            “For everything?” you ask, voice dropping in a leading way, eyebrow arching as he looks at you, pupils flaring across the warm mahogany of his irises. 

            “Everything,” he answers and you might be stupid, you might be a masochist, but he’s here in front of you and he wants you. He still wants you. 

            “Promise me you’ll be there in the morning this time,” you whisper and he nods. 

            “I promise,” he vows, tone fierce and in response you free one hand and pull him to you by his scrub top, pressing your lips against his, his beard scratching you in the best way as he groans into your mouth, the kiss hungry and desperate and hot and the way his tongue slides against yours should be illegal. 

            “Get in,” you breathe out and he chuckles in response. 

            “If it’s what the doctor orders.”

_____

            Your back is against your bedroom wall, his hands on your waist underneath your scrub top, his lips moving against yours, tongue stroking yours, hips rutting into you, his obvious hardness just increasing that need for friction as your hands dig into his back, one on top of his top, the other underneath, digging into his skin as he moves. 

            Even clothed, the way he moves against you is enough to elicit pleasure, his hips grinding against yours nice and slow as his hands creep higher on your stomach, every touch igniting a fire in your skin and that coil in your belly, his fingers just brushing the edges of your bra, a full-support lace number that has him groaning into your mouth at the feel of the lace against his fingers. 

            “I’m gonna pretend you wore this for me,” he whispers, pulling back from kissing you, his forehead resting against yours as he pulls your scrub top up, leaning back and pulling it off completely, pupils flaring even more if that’s possible as he takes in the sight of you in your bra, lit by the bright lights of your bedroom. 

            He asked for the lights on this time. 

            “Maybe I wore it for Jackie,” you tease, having already heard him admit that he was jealous of the closeness that you have with Jack and he practically growls at you when you say those words, his lips finding your neck, his teeth taking your skin just delicately between them, pressing just enough to cause a bit of pain, just enough to leave a bruise behind, his tongue darting out to soothe the bite he’s left behind. 

            “I’m gonna make you forget that he even exists,” he hisses, pulling you from the wall and pushing you toward the bed, your front falling forwards, chest against the mattress, his hands hooking in the waistband of your pants and panties in one go, pulling them off with one sharp tug, tossing them off to the side. 

            “I don’t think you can,” you reply, moving up on the bed just slightly, your ass lifting up for him. “See, he’s got that don’t fuck with me attitude and I think that really ge—ah!” As you were speaking Robby lined himself up with your entrance, sinking in to the hilt as he pulls your hips, pulling your ass closer to him, almost flush against him. 

            The feeling of him inside of you, the stretching and the stinging is its own kind of perverse pleasure as his thumb strays to your clit, circling and pressing on it, just enough to have you crying out, that coil growing tighter, your arousal growing higher. And you need him to move, need him to fuck you, to hit that spot that he found that night you slept together, the one your ex couldn’t find in three years of dating. 

            But he doesn’t move. 

            “Mikey!” you whine, trying to move your hips away from him, trying to move yourself on him, but he holds you firm, keeping your hips from moving. 

            “You mention Jack again and I won’t fuck you,” he says, his voice a low, raspy sound, a groan but not. It’s dark and hot and possessive and it makes you want him to fuck you even more. 

            "Fuck me, Micheal!” you snap, peering back over your shoulder at him, eyes narrowed in a glare. “If this is about possession, I only want you to fu—” You don’t even need to finish your sentence because as soon as he heard only you, he was moving, pulling and slamming up into you, first real thrust finding that spot, the one that you has crying out, your hands fisting the sheets, knuckles turning white, his thumb never losing its rhythm on your clit, that coil winding tighter inside of you. So tight, impossibly tight as it heats, your skin hot and flushed, both burned and soothed by his touch. 

            “Fucking dreamed of—this,” he moans, slamming up and into you, the sound of his body against yours echoing through the room in wet slaps that are lewd and would make you embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good, so damn good. 

            “Dreamed of you. When I was awake—” another thrust into you, his cock slamming into the spot, the coil in your belly so close to snapping, to releasing. 

            “When I was asleep—” he pulls out and you almost cry at the loss of him, of that sensation but then he’s slamming up and into you with, “when I needed release” and the coil in your belly snaps and you cry out as you come around him. The feeling of your pussy clenching and fluttering almost sends him over the edge but it doesn’t and he holds on through sheer force of will, remaining still as your pussy flutters through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

            And when it’s done, he pulls out and turns you around, your eyes lined with tears, glassy and pupil-blown as he lifts your legs over his shoulders before slamming into you again. 

            “Michael!” you cry, your hands fisting in the sheets as he pounds into you, hips never faltering, simply pulling out and slamming in, again and again and again. He fucks you like he’s been wanting to do this for months—and he has. 

            “You were even what I thought about—when I didn’t want release,” he groans as he continues to thrust into you, his strokes fast and rough yet still measured and skillful. “Which was fucking annoying.”

            “Oh god!” you cry as he slams into you, hitting that spot with such force as his hand presses down on your belly, pressure exquisite and coupled with another thrust into you, has you coming around him again, tears slipping from your eyes at the feeling, at the intense pleasure and sensation, sensitivity. 

            “Because you’re—” he cuts himself off with a groan as your pussy clenches around him and you know that he’s close to losing it, so close to release. “Fucking. Perfect,” he groans as he loses, spilling inside of you in thick, hot spurts you can feel on your cervix, a feeling that gives you pleasure in and of itself. 

            “Wow,” you breathe out as he lets himself relax, pulling out with a hiss, reaching one hand under your ass, the other under your back, scooping you up and carrying you towards your bathroom. “You do know I can walk, right?”

            “Let me take care of you, okay? I need to prove somehow that I’m staying the night,” he whispers and you can feel your heart skip a beat, singing at his words and in response, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him carry you to the bathroom, setting you down carefully over the threshold. 

            “I will be right outside,” he says, “let me know when we can shower because you need to ensure no UTI. Deal?” And you roll your eyes, but nod, doing exactly as he asks, only opening the door once you’ve peed and washed your hands. 

            And then he’s stepping into the shower, turning on the water and making you wait until the temperature is right before you guiding you under the stream. He washes your hair, pressing tender kisses to your lips, your shoulder blades and arms as he does so, whispering that he loves every inch of you, every piece of you is perfect. He helps you wash your body, making sure you get every part and then you return the favour, washing his hair and helping him with his body, sharing a long, lingering kiss underneath the spray, clean body against clean body. 

            Then he flips the water off, guiding you out and drying you off and helping you tug on an over-sized t-shirt and a pair of panties. A favour you return for him and then you both climb into your bed, pulling the covers up. 

            “You promise you’ll be here when I wake up?” you ask him, one more time, needing the assurance yet hating that you sound needy. 

            “I promise,” he vows, one hand coming to rest on your cheek, fingers toying with your strands of wet hair. “I don’t want to scare you off, but I think this is it for me, sweetheart.”

            “You do? After sleeping together twice?” you ask, disbelief in your tone and he smiles at you, indulgently and lovingly and nods as best one can when resting on a pillow. 

            “Yep,” he says, the p sound enunciated. “Because I feel something I never do when I’m with you. I feel safe and that first night,” he pauses, his eyes closing just once before opening and locking onto yours, the gleam in them serious and strong and steady, “I slept without the TV on for the first time in like thirty years. With you, I didn’t need the noise to keep the nightmares at bay. With you…with you,” he sighs and leans forwards, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “I feel safe.”

            “Hey, Mikey,” you whisper and he hums in response, eyebrows rising and then falling. “I think this is it for me too.” And then he kisses you again and again and again amidst your giggles, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close to him, holding you tight against him as sleep claims you both. 

            And he’s still there beside when you wake up in the morning. 

            And he doesn’t plan on ever leaving you. 

Not the wound made, or the blood gushing from your palm, or the sight of plate shards sticking out from your hand. Just cleaning.

“Are you done?” you ask, dropping the sponge into the sink. Leaning forward, you just put your hands in the direction of stream of lukewarm water.

“No I'm not done,” she spits. “Frank had so much potential, and you-”

“And I what? What have I done besides support Frank?” This time, she doesn't have a snappy response. Because deep down she knows, this mess is Frank’s fault and Frank’s alone.

In search of a clean paper towel to dry your hands (although you’re sure that would make matters worse), you turn around fully. Your mother in law goes pale at the sight of your bloody hands.

“I'm going to the ER. Watch the kids.” The walk from your house to the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center was only five minutes and forty five seconds. Hence why you and Frank decided to rent it in the first place, despite it being way over budget. When you arrive, things actually seem kind of slow. That’s good, you don’t want to leave the kids alone with their grandma for too long.

“Hey sweetheart, how are you?” Your eyes pop up from your lap, and you instantly smile at the familiar face.

“Hi Dana, I’d give you a hug but-”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take you to a room.” As you follow Dana down the halls of the Pitt, it looks exactly the same. The last time you were here was a year ago, you think? Sage, your eldest daughter had a pretty high fever, and you had to bring her in during Frank’s shift.

“So, how is everything?” Dana asks, pulling a white curtain aside. For a moment you pause, wondering how honest you should be.

“Everything’s fine,” you smile, albeit a little weakly. Dana knows the look on your face all too well - the mother stretched well beyond her means. But she doesn’t pry.

“Well, if you ever need someone to watch the kids or just talk to, I’m always here. A doctor will be in soon.” Dana was always nice like that - always offering to take the kids for night or two. But you never asked, you couldn’t bear to drag someone else into your…situation.

As Dana leaves your room, she’s immediately met with Robby’s gaze. He was watching, of course he was. Ever since Frank left, the guilt has been eating at his chest. Yes, what Frank did was wrong, but there had to be a better way to go about it. For you and your family.

But Dana’s not impressed. Robby flicks his head back to the paperwork in front of him, but he’s already been made. As she walks back to her station, Robby’s mouth opens, but Dana cuts him off immediately.

“No!” she whisper shouts. “Absolutely not.” There was no way she could let him treat you. You probably hated his guts.

“I was just going to ask if she was alright. Saw some blood,” Robby defended, guilt nestled in his crow lines.

“Robby, Mohan’ll handle it-”

“She’s dealing with a patient in peds,” he interjects. “You know it’ll be a while-”

“You’re the last person she needs to see Robby.” Dana was absolutely right about that. It only took two seconds for Robby to fire your husband, label him a drug addict, and ship him off to a rehab center your insurance didn’t cover. He shouldn’t treat you at all. But he wants to anyway.

“Do you want Santos to do it?” A defeated sigh escapes Dana’s mouth at that. That could actually be worse.

“Fine, but…don’t do that thing that you do-”

“What thing?” Robby asks defensively, pushing up his glasses in confusion. Dana’s head tilts downward, as if Robby should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Dana, I don’t have a thing-”

“Just stay in your lane is all I’m saying. She’s your patient, not a damsel in distress.” Robby just chuckles at that before heading over to you. As he pulls the curtain open, he immediately frowns at the sight of you. Your hands were covered in blood, so much so it had created a big dark stain on your grey sweatpants.

You didn’t look much better either. Don’t get Robby wrong, you were beautiful, always had been. But something about you is just dull. Your under eyes are sunken, bags as dark as coal. When was the last time you’d slept?

“Hey, Dana told me you injured your hand?” Robby asks, voice soft, a little cautious. He’s standing at the edge of the room, waiting for you to give him the okay. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you anymore.

“Mmhm, broke it while washing dishes. Always been a klutz.” The chuckle that follows the end of your words is a little self deprecating, and you almost look ashamed to be here. As if you don’t deserve help.

“Can I take a look?” You nod and unclasp your hands, and Robby winces at the sight. It looks bad - tiny shards of glass stick into your right palm, there’s a big gash too. But you’re not wincing, in fact, Robby doesn’t see a speck of pain on your face. You should be begging for medical attention but you’re not.

“You might have to get an x-ray,” Robby observes. “But I might be-” In the midst of his sentence, the ring ring of your phone cuts him off.

“Could you…could you get that for me? It could be the kids and-”

“Got it.” Robby’s gloved hands snake into the pocket of your sweatpants and you shiver at the feeling of him on your thighs. It’s a call from your mother in law, just your luck.

“Should I answer?” Robby asks, and you nod, bracing yourself for the incoming humiliation. As he does, you’re greeted with the screams and cries of your children.

“How much longer?” your mother-in-law asks callously, and Robby’s eyes widen at her tone. You take a deep breath in and out before speaking, trying your best to keep your composure.

“I don’t know. I might have to get an x-ray. Doctor isn’t sure yet,” you say, wincing at the sound of another cry. It’s Sage, your five year old daughter. The sniffles in the background belong to Hunter, your three year old son.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, and you’re instantly met with a sarcastic chuckle.

“No, everything is not alright! They refuse to go to bed in their own rooms.” Another sigh escapes you. Your babies didn’t take Frank’s absence well, and what child would? Your explanation that Dada was sick and had to leave simply wasn’t good enough.

The first few weeks were rough, Sage and Hunter barely slept. Your once vibrant and cheery babies were now incredibly forlorn, longing for Frank’s presence. So, you let them sleep in your bed every night. It was the closest they could get to Frank, because the sheets still smelled like him.

“They’re supposed to sleep in my bed. We talked about this, remember?” Another scoff erupts on the side of the phone, and you breathe in and out again. But you’re not calm, legs bouncing out of anxiety.

“You can’t just coddle them-”

“They’re five and three, they’re supposed to be coddled-”

“Well I never coddled Frank-”

“And that worked out so well.” The spiteful words slip out before you can even think. And Robby feels as if he’s heard something he’s shouldn’t have.

“You have a lot of nerve! Besides, I have mahjong at eight, I can’t be here much longer-”

“You’re not going to leave the kids are you?” you ask, eyes filling with worry. “Please it’s just one night-”

“I’ll drop them off at the hospital. I’m not a monster.” Before you can mutter another word, she hangs up the phone. Another sigh escapes you, and Robby doesn’t miss the way your leg bouncing even faster now.

“She’s a piece of work,” Robby grumbles. “Sorry I shouldn’t have-”

“No, she is. Sorry for putting you through that,” you sigh.

“Don’t worry about it. The kids okay?” Robby asks, directing his attention back to your hand.

“Yeah, they just miss Frank y’know?” The guilt pierces Robby’s heart like a knife, stopping him in his tracks. The thought of you, stressed and overworked kept Robby up at night.

“It’s not your fault Robby. I mean…Frank screwed up. The fact you’re letting him come back is more than enough.” Your reassurance does nothing, because Robby could’ve gone about things in a more discreet way. But, he snaps out of it quickly. Because right now he needs to take care of you.

“I know, but…I’m just worried about you. I’ll get the numbing solution so I can take the shards out of your hands. Won’t keep you long tonight, but come back in a couple days if it still hurts.” At that, Robby leaves.

“Excuse me, sir?” Turning around, Robby is greeted with the sight of your mother-in-law. In her hands are your two children - clad in matching pajamas. The sight would be so cute if their eyes weren’t so red, probably from crying.

They’re also shivering - it’s so cold out. Despite it being spring, warmth hasn’t creeped into Pittsburgh yet. Robby checks to see if their pajamas are suitable for the weather it’s not - not even thick enough to keep them warm. How could she not even give the kids an extra layer or two?

“Uncle Robby!” Sage exclaims, letting go of her grandmother’s hand. Her tiny feet patter against the floor as rushes to hug Robby’s leg.

“Hi Sage,” he coos, picking her up in his arms. She’s almost cold to the touch. Hunter is a little confused, because he doesn’t really remember Robby at all. However, he still follows his sister, waddling to Robby’s legs. Big eyes that look just like yours peer up at him, and Robby can’t help but scoop Hunter into his arms too.

“You know where their mother is I presume?” Robby is really done with this woman - he can see where Langdon gets his…persona from now. Sage’s hands are clutching Robby’s top, tiny hands balled up in a tiny fist. When Hunter sees Robby’s chain, his eyes glimmer with excitement, looking for something to play with. Cold fingers sneak into Robby’s scrub top, and manage to play with the Star of David on his chain.

Robby doesn’t stop their antics - actually it’s quite cute. He can’t remember the last time he played with kids like this, maybe when Jake was a little younger.

Your mother-in-law is annoyed, probably because Robby is fussing over your children rather than answering her question. The not so subtle tap tap of her feet makes Robby rage, but he bites his tongue.

“Y/N’ll be okay, she’ll just need a couple stitches and some antibiotics-”

“Can you just take them to her? I really have to go.” Dana, who is listening in on the conversation, is clearly pissed, anger bubbling in her chest at how cold your mother in law is.

“I’ll lead you out Mrs. Langdon,” Dana offers with a fake smile, shooting Robby a look of disapproval as they leave. How did you do it?

“Can we see Mama?” Sage asks, and Hunter’s eyes perk up at the mention of you.

“Mama!” He giggles, hands still tracing over the star.

“You can see Mama in a little bit, she’s not feeling well.” At that, a frown overtakes Sage’s face, and Robby is instantly worried that he’s said the wrong thing.

“Is she sick like Daddy?” Sage asks. “Mama said Daddy was sick, so he had to go far away. Does Mama have to leave too?” Sage’s question guts him. For a while he fumbles on his words, but Sage is still looking at him to answer.

“No, she’s not sick like your Dad…people can be sick in different ways-”

“Like when I have an owie but Hunty has a cough?” Robby smiles at that, Sage has always been very smart.

“Exactly. Mommy has an owie that I can fix, but sometimes owies are so big I can’t fix them-”

“Daddy has an owie like that?” Robby nods in affirmation, and Sage accepts it. Hunter is none the wiser, still playing, curls resting on Robby’s chest. Dana comes back, more annoyed than before, but smiles when she sees Robby and the kids.

“How do you feel about hanging out with Aunty Dana for a bit?” At Robby’s suggestion, Sage thinks, lips forming into a pout.

“We have to leave for Mama to get better right-”

“You don’t have to leave honey,” Dana interjects. “I just missed you guys so much. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out hasn’t it?” Sage nods at that, brows furrowing trying to remember the last time.

“So, whaddya say?” Robby asks. “Wanna hang out with Auntie Dana?” The question is directed to Sage mostly, because Robby wants her to have a choice. She hasn’t chosen much these past few months he’s figured.

“We can hang out Auntie Dana. I missed you,” Sage smiles, immediately poking her brother. “Hunty, we have to get down,” she whispers. Hunter, who really hasn’t been paying attention to anything but Robby’s chain, pouts. They have the same one, Robby realizes.

“But I wanna play-”

“There are a bunch of toys here!” Dana exclaims. “We have Legos and puzzles-”

“Legos?!” Hunter asks, bubbling with excitement.

“Tons.” At that, he scrambles out of Robby’s hold, and Robby slowly bends down to let them go.

“Slow down kiddo,” he chuckles watching as Hunter skips over to Dana. Sage follows him, grabbing Dana’s hand.

“Get them some blankets,” Robby whispers, running to get some numbing solution. Dana nods and leads them to the family room. When he comes back with the syringe, you look a little happier.

“I heard them outside,” you smile. “They’re okay right?” Robby should tell you about the coat situation, but he doesn’t, just laying the syringe on the bed.

“They’re great. You’ve done such a good job with them.” The compliment makes your chest feel fuzzy, heat speeding up to your cheeks. It burns, because you’re not used to being complimented like that. Not by Frank. Not by anyone.

“Thank you,” You reply softly, ignoring the increasing speed of your heart rate. For a man that’s not your husband at that.

“Okay, I’m going to have to inject you. That okay?” Your lips curl into a pout, you must be scared of needles. But your head nods anyway. The kids are really a carbon copy of you huh?

“Just a prick,” Robby soothes. “3, 2, 1.” Your eyes shut afterward, it hurts. Seconds later, the pain is still there, shooting. By the end of it, you don’t even realize you’re crying. But your hands are numb now, so why are you still crying?

“Shh it’s okay.” Robby gets up from his seat to stand up in front of you. Your head drops onto his belly, and he’s a little shocked, but he lets you. He knows it’s unprofessional, but a gloved hand snakes to cradle the back of your head.

“It’s okay.” You’re sobbing now, wet hot tears pouring onto Robby’s scrub top. But he doesn’t mind the stain. Hands smooth down the back of your head as you continue to cry. Robby knows it’s not about the pain in your hand, but all the burdens weighing down on your shoulders.

For a moment, you try to pull your head up, but Robby keeps your head there. His hand doesn’t even exert strength, the warmth seeping through the rubber gloves is what keeps you.

When your sniffles subside, Robby crouches on his knees so he’s eye to eye with you. It burns his knees a little, because he’s getting old and weary. But he pushes through it for you.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. The needle must’ve really hurt huh?” You nod, but a part of your brain thinks Robby’s really not talking about the needle.

“You’re a rockstar, you know that?”

“Robby, I-”

“You are. I mean, you’re handling this so well.” You shake your head no, but Robby doesn’t stop talking.

“You are. Sage and Hunter are great kids, you did such a good job. Can you take a deep breath in for me?” You listen, nostrils opening to engulf a fresh stream of air. You hold it for a little before Robby tells you to let go.

“Good, you’re too pretty to cry like that.” His words are so nonchalant, as if it’s a fact. Your heart is beating even more out of your chest.

“Now we just wait a few more minutes and I can remove the glass. Um, I’ll have to stitch the cut. I’ll give you antibiotics, but I can also prescribe something for the pain-”

“That won’t be necessary.” Robby should’ve worded that differently, your shoulders are slumping into shame now.

“Alright.” With forceps, he carefully removes the shards of glass before stitching your hand shut. Salve is soon applied, and a bandage is wrapped around your hands with care.

“Can I see the kids now?” Even now, they’re all you think about.

“Yeah of course.” Robby leads you to the family room, and when you see Mel, you flash her a smile.

“Hi Y/N! It’s great to see you,” Mel says, smiling back. At the sight of your hand, her eyes widen in worry. “Oh no, are you okay?”

“Y/N had a little bit of an accident. But she’s alright,” Robby replies, answering for you.

“I’m really glad! Langdon has been so worried about you guys.” You freeze at that, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“You spoke to him?” you asked.

“Um, yeah…yesterday.” Funny enough, when you had called him yesterday, so he could talk to Hunter and Sage, the rehab staff said his one call for the day had already been used. You assumed it was his mother, not her.

“Listen, Mel, I have to take Y/N to the family room. You guys can catch up later.” Robby doesn’t know what’s going on - you look angry, and Mel looks embarrassed, running off to peds to assist Mohan. Robby brows furrow in frustration that Mohan’s still not done, but he refocuses on you.

“You alright?” Robby asks, and you let out an absentminded “mmhm.” As you open the door of the family room, the lights are off. Toys are scattered on the floor, and the children are napping on the couch, heads resting in Dana’s lap. Underneath the hospital blanket, Sage clutches her brother in her arms.

“They fell asleep that fast?” Robby asks.

“Gave them some hot coco from the cafeteria,” Dana smiles.

“Thank you,” you say, walking over to the couch. Your free hand brushes the stray curls on Sage’s face, which wakes her up.

“Hi Sagie,” you whisper. With a groan, Sage gets up, and you chuckle at her already messy bed head. You’ll comb her hair later.

“Mama, you’re okay!” She exclaims. You place a kiss on her cheek, and she giggles. Immediately you frown because of how cold she is. Hunter wakes up soon after rubbing his eyes.

“Mama,” he grumbles, getting up only to fall head first in your chest. Dana and Robby both melt at the sight.

“Can you say thank you to Aunty Dana and Uncle Robby?” Tired “thank you’s” spill out of their mouths.

“It was no problem,” Dana smiles, flicking on the light before exiting the room.

“Let’s get your coats-”

“Nana said that we didn’t need them.” Your eyes shut in frustration, but you stop yourself from looking upset. That was incredibly selfish of her, the kids would get sick if they walked back at this rate.

“I can drop you guys home.” You had to take Robby’s offer, because the last thing you wanted was for your babies to get sick.

“Thank you.” After a nurse gives you some oral antibiotics to swallow, you and the kids pile into Robby’s SUV. Because there’s no car seat, Hunter and Sage sit on your lap. Scared of them getting injured, you clutch onto their bodies for dear life. They’re none the wiser, nuzzling into your body, wanting your warmth. The ride is over before it starts, despite Robby driving a little slower than usual.

“Can we have a sleepover with Uncle Robby?” Sage asks as Robby pulls into the driveway. You freeze.

“Sagie, Uncle Robby’s very busy-”

“I can stay the night. Only if your Mama’s okay with it.” Sage misses Frank a lot, so she probably wants Robby to fill the void for a bit. You can tell by her face - it’s the exact same face Sage gets when she misses her dad.

“Okay. Just for tonight.” Sage scrambles out of the car at that, running up to the porch with glee. That’s the first thing she’s been excited about in a long time. After Robby pulls open the car door for you, you try to see if Hunter can get out on his own, but he’s too sleepy. With gentle hands, you carry him up the stairs. The door is open, great. But lucky for you, everything seems to be okay.

“Can we go to bed now?” Sage asks. “We” includes Robby too, and you don’t know how to let her down gently. You flash Robby an apologetic look, and he waves it off.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind,” he says, picking Sage up once again. He follows you up the stairs, holding Sage close so she doesn’t fall. The door to the bedroom is unopened, and you lay Hunter down into your unmade bed. Because it’s so late and way past their bedtime, you unlace Hunter’s sneakers yourself. Robby follows suit, placing Sage on the bed to take off her Crocs.

“They have to use the bathroom, we’ll be right back.” As Robby’s left alone, he takes in your room bit by bit. The walls are decorated mostly by pictures. There’s only one picture of you and Frank. Gosh, you guys got married so young, you couldn’t be older than twenty in the picture. Clad in a simple white wedding dress, your smile is so wide Robby can see all your teeth. Frank’s wearing a suit two sizes too big, but his smile is a little weaker than yours. Interesting.

The other photos are endearing, but it’s mostly just you and the kids. One photo catches Robby’s eye, and it’s you holding a newborn Sage (or maybe it’s Hunter, he can’t really tell). You’re glowing - face all flushed with motherhood.

The only picture of the kids and Frank is at a Phillies game. Hunter is clutching a baseball, and Sage just looks disinterested. For some reason, Robby eyes focus on your ring, which is clumsily discarded on the corner desk. It’s collecting dust, which is interesting because Frank has only been in rehab for a couple months now. But who is Robby to poke his nose where it doesn’t belong?

When you come back, Hunter crawls on the bed, but Sage is standing, inspecting. As if she wants everything to be perfect.

“Mama come,” she says, holding your hand and pulling you to the bed. You let her drag you, and Robby can’t help but laugh at Sage’s antics.

“Mama’s so sleepy, you have to help her up huh?” There’s that pang in your heart again, the one you’re not supposed to feel. It’s the tone of his voice you think - all low and teasing. You snap out of it, because you know deep down, you’re just missing Frank.

As you line down, Sage climbs over your body and squeezes in between you and Hunter. “Uncle Robby, go next to Mama.”

“There should be some clothes in the cupboard if you want to change. My dad’s will probably fit you, they’re at the very top.” Robby listens and picks some grey sweatpants and a t-shirt, heading into the bathroom to change. When he comes back, the kids are already asleep in your hold.

“You don’t have to stay Robby, I’m so sorry. It’s just so hard to say no when she’s like this-”

“I’ll stay.” Robby counters, flicking off the light before getting into bed next to you. The dip of the mattress makes your body sink into the memory form. You can’t see anything, but you can hear the huff of Robby’s breath.

“Go to sleep, it’s alright,” he whispers, and you do, turning to cuddle the kids even more. Robby watches as your breath rises and falls until you finally fall asleep. He’s still wide awake. Since PittFest, he hasn’t really slept.

Hours later, you stir, deep in sleep. Your body turns, and you inch closer to Robby’s chest. When your head finds his pec, you nuzzle into it, chasing the warmth.

“Frank you’re home. I missed you,” you babble, wrapping your arms around Robby’s waist. Robby should pull away, really, but it’d be cruel to deny you of the touch you’ve been longing for. So he wraps his arms around you too, and you only get closer, locking your legs around Robby’s hips.

You look so happy - like Robby’s comfort is all you needed. Although he shouldn’t, Robby’s hands run up and down your spine, slender fingers gentle against your shirt. Just to help you rest is his justification. Still in a sleepy daze, you place a kiss on Robby’s chest, and his heart almost stops.

He shouldn’t take it to heart - because after all, you have a husband.

In the morning, you wake up alone, confused at the warmth engulfing your body. For a moment, you just nuzzle into the sheets. His side is still warm, you can’t help it. It reminds you of sleeping next to Frank. A soft knock on the door makes you stop.

“She still might be sleeping,” Robby shushes, and your face quirks in confusion, as you hear tiny feat tiptoe on the carpet. A small finger, belonging to Hunter pokes you.

“‘M awake pumpkin,” you groan and Hunter jumps up to place a kiss on your cheek.

“Mama, we made you breakfast,” he whispers, and that makes you get up. In Robby’s hands lies a tray with a stack of pancakes. You drool as you smell them, it just happens to be banana, your favorite. The kids must’ve told him. In a glass is a bubbly drink you don’t recognize.

“Thank you guys,” you melt, ruffling Hunter’s hair. Propping yourself up on the pillows, Robby places the tray on your lap.

“I mixed the batter Mama,” Sage boasts. “And Hunty made the smiley face!” On the very top pancake lies a big, crooked, smile made of whipped cream.

“We thought you deserved a little surprise,” Robby says, finally speaking up. This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in ages. Most of the gifts you get, you buy (or basically force Frank to get). It’s been a while since you’ve been catered to.

“Mama, you have to try them!” Sage demands, motioning for Robby to pick her up. As if he’s done it a million times before, Robby scoops her up, picking up Hunter soon after. All three of them wait anxiously for you to try their latest culinary creation.

The first bite is heavenly - you didn’t know pancakes could even taste that good. The second bite melts in your mouth - is that a caramelized walnut? You were going to ask Robby for the recipe later.

“Mama, do you like them?” Hunter asks, and you nod profusely.

“I love them. Thank you so much you guys. Do you want a bite?” you ask, and Hunter shakes his head no. Which is odd, considering he always liked to eat.

“They already had breakfast. Pancakes, with less sugar and more fruit. The kiddos brushed their teeth, but I thought you’d like to handle bath time” Robby replies. He really had thought of everything.

“Thank you,” you repeat, digging into the rest of your pancakes. Hunter wiggles in Robby’s hold, so Robby puts him down. With quick feet, Hunter goes around the bed to climb up next to you.

“Be careful buddy, you don’t want to rock Mama’s tray,” Robby chides. Hunter nods, and climbs up the bed a little softer.

“Wanna get down Sage?” he asks, and Sage shakes her head no. She really needed this, more than you, you think.

“I was thinking about giving you a day off,” Robby suggests. “The children’s museum has a thing going on today. Thought I’d take them.”

“Yeah of course. I can get the tickets-”

“No I got it. Do you need any errands done? I can try to do them while you get them ready.” You do need to go grocery shopping, but you can’t burden Robby with that.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, but Robby’s not convinced. The fridge was a little bare when he cooked breakfast this morning, but he only bought the ingredients for the pancakes because he didn’t want to overstep. But he might have to.

This is domestic bliss you think, the kids have been at their calmest in weeks. Hunter is curled into your side, just resting. Sage looks happier too - you were a little worried about her adjusting. Maybe Robby staying the night was a good idea.

After taking a last few bites and guzzling down the liquid in your glass (the mystery drink was sparkling elderflower lemonade, go figure), you get the kids ready for their museum hangout with Robby. You search for your phone afterwards, checking to see if Frank called. You two had agreed he’d speak to the kids every morning. But there’s not even a missed call or a voicemail. Just like yesterday.

As you kiss the kids goodbye and zip up their coats, they walk hand in hand with Robby to the museum. It doesn’t take that long for you to fall asleep, and when you awake, the kids and Robby are bed with you yet again.

You get up, sort of disoriented. Robby’s up immediately in response.

“You okay?” he asks, voice hushed as to not wake up the kids.

“What time is it?” Robby grabs his phone from the bedside table to check, groaning at the brightness.

“10:45” You had slept for that long? God, what if something happened while they were out. Being tired is not an excuse to drop the ball on things-

“The kids had a blast. Got them lunch and made dinner. There’s leftovers if you want.” At that, your stomach grumbles. Robby gets out of bed for you to leave, and you crawl out softly so the kids don’t notice. As your feet hit the ground, your legs wobble a bit, and Robby’s quick to hold you steady.

“Your leg might be asleep, hold on.” Robby just, carries you, as if the weight you gained from having Hunter and Sage is non-existent.

“Robby-”

“You can’t walk down the stairs like this. Just relax.” Your arms wrap around his neck, and his beard rubs against you with every step. It tickles. Robby goes into the kitchen and rests you on the kitchen counter. Flicking on the light, he throws something in the oven.

“Had a good rest?” He asks, suddenly standing right in front of you. It’s not like the hospital - you weren’t in your right mind then, just needing someone to comfort you. This was different.

“Yeah, thank you,” you reply, voice a little hoarse. Without asking, Robby gets you a bottle of water from the fridge, and you notice it’s full of groceries - cut fruits and organic milk, eggs in fancy cartons. Now that your attention is diverted it, you can see your new grocery list marked with checks.

“Sip.” Robby holds the bottle to your mouth, probably because one of your hands is out of commission. You guzzle the water down, tilting your head back. Robby’s breath gets heavy as he watches you guzzle, stream of water visible through your throat.

“Better?” Robby asks, thumb wiping away a stray bead of water from your chapped lips. You just nod, head too fuzzy to muster a response. Then the oven timer rings, Robby shuts it off and puts the tinfoil on a plate.

“I don’t know if Frank told you, but I did my residency down in New Orleans. My attending, Dr. Johnson, she was like a mom to me. She basically took me in, taught me how to cook and be a doctor.” As Robby unwraps the tinfoil, he holds the sandwich out for you to eat.

Head still fuzzy, your neck darts out to take a bite. It’s an authentic po’boy, and the shrimp, slaw, and crispy bread melt on your tongue.

“Just eat, tiny bites, there you go,” Robby coos, watching as you chomp. That’s all he does for a while, feed you the sandwich and litter you with praises.

“That was so good,” you sighed. “You have to send me those recipes later.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, and I definitely will. Ready to go back to bed?” Robby asks, discarding of the tinfoil and bottle. Washing the plate doesn’t take much either.

“Yeah, thank you.” Before you can hop down, Robby’s in front of you again, beefy thighs prying your legs apart. He’s too close, almost chest to chest with you.

“You know, my sabbatical starts Monday,” he mentions, hands finding purchase on your hips. Only applying a little pressure, his hands grip down. The indentation of his slender fingers feels good.

“A sabbatical? Is everything okay?” you ask, trying to ignore how one of Robby’s hands is massaging a side of your hip. The muscle there is stiff - years of carrying babies on your hip causing tension.

“Yeah, just needed a break. Has your hip always been this tight honey?” The nickname is a new addition, and as you look up at Robby, you see auburn eyes well with concern.

“No - ah - just kids and work y’know?” Robby increases the pressure of his circles, and you bite your lip to hold in a whimper.

“I see. You work too hard. Need to take it easy every once in a while.” Robby’s words make you giggle.

“I can’t take it easy. Too much stuff to do. Gotta take care of the kids, Frank, work-”

“But who takes care of you?” At his question, your face contorts in confusion, as if the concept of being taken care of was foreign to you.

“I take care of me Robby,” you assert. Robby doesn’t like your answer.

“I see that all the time in the er - moms so busy they can’t even take care of themselves. That’s not good honey.” Honey - the nickname sounds so sweet. Everything about Robby is sweet, from the way he takes care of your kids as if they’re his to how gently he’s holding you now.

“Who else is going to do it Robby?-”

“I can.” Robby’s stopped rubbing now, hands moving to your legs. He pulls them so you’re even closer, with no other choice to lock your legs around his hips fully once again. Robby’s looking down at you as if he wants you, and you can’t help but want him too.

“How would you take care of me Robby?” The question is shaky, as if the concept of someone taking care of you is hard to believe. There’s also a part of you that’s scared, because you know a line is being crossed. And there’s no going back.

“For starters, I could stay here. Take the kids to school, that type of thing-”

“I’d have to run it by the kids first-”

“Of course. But I’d like you to rely on me.” Robby doesn’t add a caveat - that his presence in your house will only last until Frank comes back. You know it’s on purpose.

“If you need a break, or someone to lean on. I’m here, always,” he continues, leaning down so you know that he means it. In the process your noses touch, and you can’t help but nuzzle against his. He pulls away, and you can’t help but stare at his lips.

“Wanna go back to bed?” Robby asks. “Don’t want the kids to get up.” You nod, looping your arms around Robby’s neck so he can carry you back up. To support you, Robby’s hands come down to the globes of your ass. He can’t help but feel the fat in his palms, but he doesn’t squeeze, just rubs. When you two finally crawl back into bed, Robby wraps his arms around you.

The next morning, the kids say yes to Robby staying. You want to call Frank to ask if it’s okay, but he still hasn’t called the kids yet. You dial the number of the rehab center, but it goes straight to voicemail yet again.

An hour before Sage and Hunter have to be at school, all four of you pile into your car. Robby barely fits in the passenger seat, and he makes a note to get car seats for both Sage and Hunter. Just so he can drive them around too. You guys manage to beat traffic, and as you pull into the pickup line, you rush to unclasp their car seats.

Drop off had been an issue as of late. Sage usually cries, begging for you not to leave her. Hunter then cried because he hates to see Sage sad, and you hate that you can’t do anything about it.

But this time, Sage gets out on her own, and her brother follows. You watch tears almost welling in your eyes as they walk hand in hand into the school building.

“Oh, we should go to the home office so we can register you for pick up,” you suggest, parking in the nearby parking lot.

“Okay, I brought my ID and everything, so we should be fine.” As you lead Robby into the home office, a woman immediately engulfs you into a hug. It’s Ms. Marla - she was one of Sage’s teachers this year.

“Hi Y/N, how are you?” She exclaims, immediately examining your face. You looked a little more refreshed this time, which was good.

“Great! Sage loves math with you-”

“She’s one of my brightest students! I have to talk to you about enrolling her in one of the gifted classes for next year- oh who’s this?-”

“This is Robby. He’s a family friend-”

“He’s helping out while Frank’s…away?” At the mention of Frank Ms. Marla’s face sours. He loved the kids, but Ms. Marla didn’t like Frank’s habit of disappointing them. Sure he was a doctor, but you had a busy schedule too. You always showed up for the kids, and Frank? Not so much.

“Yeah, we came here to register him for pickup actually-”

“That’s good! You take good care of her alright?” There’s a suggestive undertone to words that you don’t catch, but Robby does.

Registering for pickup isn’t that hard. Just in the event of an emergency, Robby is bumped up to a number-two emergency contact. Frank’s not here, so what are you to do?

“What time do you have to clock in for work? Thought we could get some breakfast or something. Dana took her daughter to this brunch place - she loved it.” You mull over Robby’s suggestion, breakfast in a restaurant would be nice. It’s been a long time since you’ve gone out to eat.

“Breakfast would be great! I don’t have to clock in until later. My hours are long, but the great thing about it is that they’re flexible,” you reply, heading into the car. Somehow, you and Robby have switched seats, he’s driving now.

“What did you do for work again?” Robby asks, turning on the ignition. It takes a while to start up, but eventually he’s able to drive.

“I work in marketing. I head up digital campaigns for my company’s clients-”

“I remember Frank telling me about that. Were you always interested in marketing?” You struggle with the answer.

“Not uh…not exactly,” you chuckle awkwardly.

“You didn’t study marketing in college?” Robby asks. You quickly shake your head no.

“No, I actually majored in biochemistry. Um, I wanted to go to med school too. But I got pregnant with Sage in my senior year. Had to turn Harvard med down, it’s just… with the baby… and Frank had just started his residency too. So I had to tell them no.” Despite it being years later, regret is still on your face. Maybe you could’ve done it, defer your acceptance then move to Boston after Sage had grown a little. But you were a lot younger then. Frank had sold you the promise of this big happy family, and you believed him.

“You can always go back,” Robby interjects. “There are lot of women who go back a little later, after their kids are older-”

“Ehh, I don’t think I’m cut out for it. Frank says it’s a lot, so…But anyways, I needed a job, and my sister, completely fabricated my resume so I could get this job with this marketing company. Well, fabricated is the wrong word, tailored my resume so I could get the job. Miraculously, I got hired… and I really like it there.” You’re not being honest, sometimes you dream of being a doctor. Whenever Frank tells you about his day, a life he’s saved or a wacky procedure he had to do, your heart pangs with jealousy. You always wanted to be a pediatrician, or maybe an OBGYN. But the pinnacle of motherhood is sacrifice isn’t it?

Robby knows your spiel is not really an explanation, but rather, you’re trying to convince yourself that you like the life that you settled for. Sadness creeps in into your face, and Robby wishes he never asked. Soon, you two arrive at the brunch place - it’s casual but way out of your budget.

“My treat,” Robby smiles, opening the door for you. You really should go Dutch with him, but you don’t. There’s no prices on the menu, and you get some French toast with caramelized figs. It’s good, but not as good as the pancakes Robby made you earlier.

“What are you doing for Mother’s Day?” Robby asks, taking another bite of his eggs. You had almost forgotten that it was next weekend.

“My sister’s visiting actually. Um, but I don’t know exactly what we’re doing yet,” you reply. Robby doesn’t want to interfere, but he still wants to celebrate you, even if it’s just a little.

“Hmm,” Robby replies, still mulling it over. Afterwards, you two head back home, but Robby has to leave and go do some errands.

Mother’s Day weekend comes faster than you think. Robby staying over has helped a lot. He cooks, cleans, does the laundry exactly the way you like it, and you actually have someone to rely on. The kids like being around him too, finally able to go back to their respective rooms.

Frank still hasn’t called.

Tuesday was pretty rough. Last minute a client had requested a re-do of a previous campaign. As project manager it was your responsibility, so you stayed at the office until late. When you arrived at home, almost at midnight, the first thing you did was hug Robby.

He was a little surprised at the action, but welcomed it nonetheless, cuddling you on the couch. The best part of hugging Robby was the way the pudge of his belly pressed into you - which sent shockwaves of warmth through your body.

“Tough day?” Robby asked, but you just nodded in the crook of his neck, nuzzling against his beard. Robby relaxes soon enough, melting into your touch.

“Don’t you want to take of your work clothes honey?” Robby asked, and you just grumbled, too tired to even move. With gentle hands, Robby slowly undoes your heels, slipping them off and tossing them on the floor. He’ll put them away once you’re tucked into bed. Once touching your feet, Robby realizes you have pantyhose on, so a hand travels up your skirt to yank it down.

In the process, he accidentally grazes your pussy. He didn’t mean to, he promises, he just couldn’t see. You let out a tired moan anyway, wetness spurting out of you. Robby feels it on his hands, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

You must be pent up with Frank not here. He yanks your pantyhose off slow, as to not to rip them. Then, your skirt comes off, slipping down your legs. A pained whine escapes you, and Robby immediately stops what he’s doing.

“You okay?” he asks, swiveling his head to see what’s wrong.

“My tits hurt,” you grumble, sitting up on Robby’s lap. You’re really sleepy and irritated, so much so you can’t even unclasp your own bra. So of course Robby helps you, hands reaching under your collared shirt. Without even looking, he undoes the snaps, flinging your bra aside. You wince as your nipples brush against the fabric.

“That bad honey?” You nod profusely, lips pouting in pain.

“Can I see? You might have a bruise or something.” You nod once again, and Robby undoes the buttons until your tits spill out. They’re beautiful - littered with stretch marks. Robby wonders what they look like when they’re full.

But your nipples are swollen, it must hurt so much. Removing the fabric definitely helped with the pain, but you might need something a little more.

“Want me to make it all better?” Robby asks, and you just nod your head. You don’t expect his mouth to engulf a nipple. It’s warm, and it only takes a small suck for some of the pressure to dissipate. Robby sucks again, enveloping more of the underside into your mouth.

He can’t help but be greedy, especially when you’re like this - eyes shut in pleasure and relief. Robby wishes he could drink from you, it’s probably so sweet too.

Robby’s mouth caresses your tit gently, he’d hate to make it even more sore. A hand of his comes to your other tit, massaging the flesh in between his fingers. A thumb swirls over your nipples, slow, but it’s stimulating all the same.

“So good, Robby” you moan, and Robby just smiles on your nipple. He’s paying special attention with his tongue, licking back and forth over it. It’s making you gush again, hole clenching on Robby’s lap.

One suck in particular makes your back arch. You haven’t felt pleasure like that since before you had Sage. It’s so much you try to inch yourself off Robby’s lap, but he doesn’t let you, pulling you in closer.

You don’t even realize you’re cumming until you twitch in Robby’s lap. He stops his ministrations at that, and he relishes in the feeling of your wetness staining his pants again.

“All better honey?” Robby asks, revving up to carry you up the stairs.

“Thank you,” you sigh blissfully.

“Let me know if they get sore again okay?” You two didn’t really talk about what happened. But sometimes when the kids weren’t home, Robby would sneak back into your bedroom. Just to hold you, and suck on your tits as needed.

When your sister, Jasmine, arrives in Pittsburgh, Robby insists on going with you to pick her up, even as far as driving. Your car is too small for all that luggage, he says. Once she sees Robby, a smirk quickly creeps onto her face. So this was the doctor you had been gushing about.

But she doesn’t say anything until you guys are in bed later. Although she got a hotel, with her living in Seattle, you two barely see each other, so a sleepover was well over due. Robby had no problem with sleeping in the guest room this weekend.

“So are you fucking him?” she asks, albeit a bit too loudly, you immediately hit her with a pillow to shut her up.

“I am not-”

“But you guys have done something. You always bite your lip when you feel guilty-”

“He…sucked my tits the other day-”

“Wow, who knew Dr. McDreamy was such a freak! And Frank’s boss too? Good for you” your sister’s words make embarrassment over take you, and she notices.

“Hey, you have nothing to be ashamed of. The moment Frank chose drugs over your family, that’s the moment your vows no longer mattered-”

“I’m not doing this to spite Frank…it’s just Robby takes such good care of us, y’know?” Your sister lets out a sigh like that - you had always been the responsible one. Despite being the youngest sister, it was your job to please your parents. But you never complained, always happy to shift the burdens off Jasmine. As a kid, it was kind of fun to do whatever she wanted. But as an adult? She realized it wasn’t fair.

“You deserve to be selfish Y/N. And if you wanna fuck Robby, fuck Robby. Plus, what’s Frank going to do? Leave you? That’d be a fucking blessing if you ask me.” Jasmine was right - you did deserve to be selfish. And you had a creeping suspicion that Frank’s affections had shifted elsewhere. So were you really in the wrong?

“Alright-”

“Yay!” Jasmine squeals. “Ooh, we should go shopping before dinner tomorrow! For some sexy lingerie.” The wiggling of Jasmine’s eyebrows make you roll over with a groan.

“Go to bed.”

The next morning, the house is dead silent. Suspicion creeping up your bones as you walk downstairs only to find the living room pitch black.

“Happy Mother’s Day !” At that, the lights switch on, and a big banner that reads “Happy Mother’s Day Mama” hangs over the TV with a bunch of balloons in your favorite color. Hunter, is standing with a little gift bag in front of the stairs. Robby’s holding Sage, and your sister has a little smirk on her face yet again.

“Mama, Uncle Robby got you a gift!” Sage shouts, and Hunter reaches on his tippy toes to give you the bag. As you take it, you find car keys nestled in between colorful tissue paper.

“You did not!” you exclaim, and your sister nods in affirmation.

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise,” Robby smiles, and you almost pinch yourself in disbelief. “Go outside and see.”

At that, you slip your shoes on and head out the front door. In the driveway, there’s a glistening white Cadillac Escalade with a big red bow. You’d seen that car in ads, it was more than Frank’s yearly salary.

“Robby, this is too much!” but Robby waves you off as you come back inside.

“There’s this guy who owns a dealership a couple miles out of Pittsburgh. Saved his life a couple months ago, so he practically gave me the car for free.” That was partially true, a former patient of his did own the dealership. But Robby paid for the car in full, just because you deserved it.

“Mama, we got you presents too!” Hunter shouts, running to the kitchen. You follow, and of course there’s a hot stack of pancakes just for you. Homemade gifts are scattered around the kitchen island, and in family photo Hunter drew, it’s you, Sage, him, and Robby. Frank’s nowhere to be found.

“You guys are the sweetest!” You gush, picking up Hunter into a hug. After kissing his cheek you walk to kiss Sage’s, and she climbs onto your hip too. No matter how big they get, you’ll always have the strength to carry them.

“Your gift will be bought later at the mall, it requires your input,” Jasmine teases, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks because you know what she’s talking about. You’d kick her, but you’re in company.

“Thank you Jasmine,” you reply, and she just snickers at your annoyed expression. Robby is so confused.

“The car’s all full of gas, so you guys can leave at any time. But dinner’s at seven!” After putting down Sage and Hunter, you quickly rush to get ready before heading to the mall. After getting manipedis, Jasmine drags you to a very fancy lingerie store.

“Let me do all the shopping. Dr. McDreamy gave me his card.” Before you can protest, Jasmine throws a bunch of things in her shopping basket, bodysuits, silk slips, crotchless panties, and other things that make you blush. You don’t even want to know the cost.

As you arrive back home, Robby and the kids are sitting on the couch watching TV. You get the kids ready for dinner. As you change, your sister throws you a piece of lingerie to wear tonight.

“Just trust me,” she winks. You listen, hiding it under the nicest dress you own. When you head downstairs, Robby’s fixing the bowtie Hunter begged to wear to dinner tonight.

“Mama, you look so pretty!” Sage says, running to hug you. Robby looks up from Hunter and he’s taken aback by how beautiful you look. But he doesn’t say anything, only flashing you an endearing smile. You know what it means.

In the car, Robby drives, but everyone else piles in the back seat. The kids couldn’t decide whether they wanted to sit with you or Jasmine, so you gave them the best of both worlds.

The restaurant, which is a jumble of French words you can’t even pronounce, is even fancier than the brunch place you visited a week ago. There’s valets, waiters in well pressed suits, and the menu lacks prices. Before you can say that it’s too much, your sister pinches you under the table.

“Sorry, but I have one last gift,” Robby slides another gift bag on the table. Red with gold lettering, it has a heavy bracelet inside. There’s a matching ring too, but you don’t take it out. Your sister eyed in the bag, and her eyes widen at Robby’s brazenness.

“Oh it’s so beautiful,” you awe, and it slips onto your wrist perfectly, go figure. Dinner is amazing, and at the end of it all, you’re honestly ready to head straight to bed.

“You know what? I think the kids deserve to sleep over at my hotel. There’s a pool in it. Wanna see?” At her suggestion, your eyes crinkle in confusion, until Jasmine has a mischievous look on her face.

Oh.

“Mama can we please?” Hunter pleas. “I wanna see the pool-”

“You can’t go in Hunter. Only look from the balcony okay-”

“Duh! I wouldn’t let them actually go,” Jasmine replies, whispering the last part. “Have fun!” Before you know it, the valet has been brought around, and Jasmine’s putting the car seats in the Uber she called. You kiss the kids goodbye, and it’s just you and Robby.

It’s silent until you drive home.

“You didn’t try on the ring,” he observes. “Do you not like it? I can-”

“If we’re doing this, we have to be smart about it Robby. If Frank finds out-”

“He wouldn’t take the kids away from you would he?” Robby asks, voice suddenly worried.

“No…I don’t think so. I mean he’s so preoccupied with work, no judge would give him full custody. Plus, with the whole rehab thing-”

“Right…right - but that’s the last thing I want. I just want to see you happy-”

“I know. Can we…can we establish some rules? Like I don’t want the kids to even have a clue. Not until…Frank and I get a divorce. Actually, it would have to be a year or two after. The kids would need to be in therapy-”

“I can wait. As long as it takes. I’ll sleep in the guest room, and if we want to do anything, we can go to my place. It’s not too far from where you guys live actually-”

“Can we go to your place right now?” Robby halts the car at the red light, tires coming to a skrrt. Robby’s eyes are on the road, but in the mirror, he can see the lustful expression on your face. Your eyes are overflowing with want, and you’re frowning . But it’s not a sad one, but one of desire, finally acknowledging how pent up you are.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

“I want to, I really do,” Robby interjects, and that, you recline the chair back just a bit. Robby doesn’t notice how your legs part. The slit of your dress is now exposing the garters wrapped around your skin, decorating your thighs as if it’s a gift.

Your fingers take Robby’s free hand in yours. At first he thinks it’s an innocent gesture, but when you maneuver his hands in between your legs, his eyes widen. Now he can see the lace you’re wearing, it’s intricate with floral details. The light of the dashboard illuminates the colors - and it’s a pastel version of the color of your dress.

As his fingers glide around your thighs, then your stomach, the fabric is soft in between his finger tips. He can make out a bow at the top of your panties. Lazily, already lost in your arousal, you drag Robby’s hand down to your core, his thick knuckles grazing against the already wet patch of fabric. Another brushes against your clit, and although the action was accidental, it elicits another moan from you.

Your moan is hypnotizing like a siren’s song. Robby already wants to hear more of it. He wonders how loud you can really get. How far can he push you until your vocal cords break?

God, he was so fucked.

Before he can even think, your legs snap shut, letting his hands drown in your warmth. Digits straighten out for comfort, pads of his fingers gently rubbing against your clit. Despite not being able to see, Robby finds your bud.

The fabric is so thin, he’s practically touching your bare pussy. But the rustling of the fabric against you combined with the swirling of your fingers makes you moan sweetly.

“Ngh - Robby. Feels so good.” You accompany your words with a slight roll of your hips, grinding your clit into Robby’s fingers. Then the light turns green. And yet, Robby can barely look away. You’re just using him, and he loves it.

The honk of the car behind Robby is what makes him hit the gas. But you’re still fucking yourself on his hand, grasping his forearm to hold him steady. Like he’s a toy for you to use.

For a while, Robby just drives. He’s not fully ignoring you, his crotch hardening every time a moan escapes your mouth. But still, you want his undivided attention, road safety be damned. So you turn in the passenger’s seat to face Robby.

Propping yourself up, your breath is suddenly hot on him. He can almost feel your glossed lips on his neck. That’s where you place a kiss - it’s a tiny peck but it ruins him all the same, shivering at the feeling of gloss smearing on the bottom of his beard.

“Touch me,” you beg. Your words are so soft, rolling off your tongue as barely a whisper. “I wanna cum before we get to your place. Please.” It’s hard for Robby to say no to you when you’re like this - all needy and spread out for him. His fingers resume their movements, and you part your legs just a little bit so he has more space to move.

With one hand gripping the steering wheel for dear life, Robby drives but keeps swirling his fingers over your clit. He goes slow, Robby wants to make your orgasm sweet, dragging it out until you guys finally get inside. He doesn’t want to have to reupholster your seats already, and he makes a mental note to deep clean the car later.

You’re needy for his touch still, gripping his shoulder as your hips meet his fingers. The car is filled with your moans and pants. Robby doesn’t stop, instead, he matches your rhythm. Head tilting back in ecstasy, your tits loll out of your flimsy lingerie top, and it takes everything in Robby not to park on the side of the road and fuck you right then and there.

Frank had never made you feel this good. Sex was a boring ritual since the kids - always rushed in between his shifts. He just rammed into you, thrusts lacking any love and care. Most times, you didn’t even cum. Robby was so different. He wasn’t even trying but you were on the brink of euphoria.

Soon, your thighs lock up against Robby’s hand. At the red light, he finally turns to meet your gaze. Luckily, it’s taking a while, so Robby gets to really take you in - your messy hair, frizzy from rubbing against the car seat is the first thing he notices. You also look relaxed, face overtaken in a lustful daze. It’s the calmest he’s seen you in ages. The bags under your eyes have almost disappeared too, but your gloss lips have smeared over your chin, probably from kissing his neck.

And your eyes - they’re so full of need. For him and only him. Not Frank. Robby’s not a placeholder any more, he’s yours and yours alone. Deep down, that’s exactly what he wanted. Despite having regard for your leather seats, Robby doesn’t pull his hands away. How could he even think to deny you of such pleasure?

“Cum,” he orders, and your body caves in instantly. Robby can feel your clit spasm on his fingers, hole gushing on his palm. Then, you kiss him. A part of you has forgotten how to do it all together, but Robby guides you, letting his tongue swirl in your mouth. His mustache brushes your top lip as your lips fuse together. But then the light turns green.

Robby pulls away, drips of your cheery lip gloss staining his lips. This time, he’s behind a car or two, so one honks. A disappointed whine escapes you, but Robby just squeezes your pussy to reassure you.

“When we get home honey,” he promises, and you just pout, angry you didn’t get your way this time. You’re so cute, he thinks. And for a moment, he’s really glad Frank fucked up. Because now he gets to have you. For the rest of the car ride, your thighs cuddle Robby’s hand, but his stern gaze makes your movements still.

“Thank you for today,” you say. “The car, dinner, treating me and my sister-”

“You deserve it. You deserve everything,” Robby says, stopping you before you say it’s too much. Soon, he pulls into his driveway, a tall modern townhouse right in front. Your legs full open so Robby can pull away his hand, which are now pruned from your essence.

After parking and opening the door for you, Robby takes your gift bag and leads you upstairs to his bedroom. It’s so high up, you can overlook the Pittsburgh skyline. Even at night, it twinkles.

“Honey, I’ll be right back. Take off your clothes and wash your hands okay?” You nod, a little disappointed that Robby’s leaving so soon. Following his instructions, you slip your heels off, then your dress, opting to fold your clothes up and leave them on Robby’s nightstand. But you keep the bracelet on.

When you flick on the lights in Robby’s bathroom, heat engulfs your feet. Fancy, you think. In the midst of washing your hands, the bathroom door opens, and as you turn around to face Robby, you freeze. He’s naked, and you can see all of him, including his pudgy belly and big cock. It’s really big, girthy too, and you wonder how it’s going to fit inside.

“You okay?” he asks with a chuckle, watching as your eyes are trained on his hardened member.

“Yeah, I just…how is that going to fit?” you ask, and Robby just comes closer, until his cock is resting on your tummy.

“Well, I’ll make it fit. Stretch you out real nice.” His answer isn’t reassuring, and your face is loosing all its color, and that’s when Robby gets serious.

“Hey, if you’re not ready, we don’t have to do anything-”

“I want to…I just don’t want it to hurt-”

“Does it usually hurt?” You don’t answer, and all that does is make Robby’s eyes shut in frustration. Frank Langdon was really a fucking idiot.

“We’ll go slow. If it hurts even a little bit, we stop-”

“But I want you to feel good-”

“The only thing that would make me feel good is you feeling good. See?” Robby takes your hands so you can touch his cock. Already it’s so receptive to you, twitching at the graze of your fingers. The tip feels soft, but his balls look so heavy, full of cum.

“You did that, honey. Made me all hard just by using my fingers.” At the thought of what happened in the car, Robby’s cock spasms, precum bubbling out of his slit. Actually, Robby was a little shocked he got hard so easily, his meds making it a little harder to get it up sometimes. But you were so irresistible, his mental blocks were overridden.

“Can we…can we try? Want you to fill me up.” Your pussy was gaping with need, begging for Robby to stretch you out.

“Okay, we can try. But if it hurts even a little bit, tell me and we stop.” Robby guided you to the bed, and you laid against his chest. You looked so pretty in the lace, Robby wouldn’t dare take it off you, opting to move your panties to the side instead.

Your pussy was so pretty, bush hiding your pretty clit. He could smell you too, and the fragrance was an aphrodisiac, warm musk he was dying to taste. But you weren’t thinking of Robby eating your pussy now, you were craving his cock, eyes trained on it even as Robby touched you.

A simple flick of his finger makes you gush. Your eyes widened, as a surprised moan escapes your mouth. Holy shit. Robby can’t believe how sensitive your pussy is. After your first orgasm, your nerves were heightened. Stretching you out might not be as hard as Robby thought.

“‘S okay honey, Robby’s gotcha.” Another finger rests on your clit, joining the first. With a minimum speed, Robby’s fingers glide back and forth. He doesn’t want to hurt your clit, which is already puffy and overstimulated, so his pace stays steady.

“Robby,” you babble out, back falling into his tummy even more. His pudge always feels good against you, always warm against your spine. In a way, it grounds you, comforts you almost, as the arousal spreads. Robby diverts his gaze from your pussy momentarily to check in on you.

“You okay?” he asks, pitch of his tone almost a coo. Your eyes are lidded in pleasure, almost shut. With each flick of his fingers, your mind melts even more.

“Ngh” is the only syllable you can muster out, and Robby just awes at how far gone you are. He hasn’t even fucked you yet.

“Oh honey, your pussy is so pretty. Look.” Your face furrows in confusion, because how could it be pretty when it was so mangled and hairy? Looking down anyways, your breath halts as you see Robby’s slender fingers touch your clit. You look so…wet. Drips of clear slick cover your folds, making your clit shine. Honestly, you didn’t know that was even possible.

“She’s so pretty. Thank you for letting me play with her. Can I finger you?” A hum of affirmation escapes you, and Robby dips his middle finger inside. Bit by bit, his joint creeps inside. He’s going a little too slow for your comfort, treating your pussy like fine china that could break at any moment.

You’re the one who pushes his hand inside, weak fingers gripping his wrist. Robby takes that as his sign to move. With more speed, Robby draws his finger out of your pussy, covered in bubbles and strings of you. Then he dips it back in, curling his finger so his knuckles can stretch your gummy walls.

“Faster,” you whine, your first full word in ages. It’s impossible for Robby to say no to you, so he increases his speed. Your pussy loves it, gushing all over his digit. Your babbles and moans have gotten more uninhibited, echoing in Robby’s ears.

He’s getting lost in the feeling of you too. The strokes of his fingers increasing the more he feels the warmth of your pussy. You were stretching so well, gummy walls accommodating him with ease. Robby’s so lost in thought he doesn’t even notice that you cum. Your cream creates tiny rings on Robby’s finger.

When he finally notices, you’re almost out of it. Regaining composure, his digit retracts. You need to hydrate before you fuck. Quickly, he rushes downstairs to get you a glass. Still stuck in a daze, you whine at Robby’s absence. When he comes back, you crawl to the edge of the bed, desperate for his touch.

Big doe eyes, smudged with mascara pleas for Robby’s attention. Robby looks at you with so much love in his eyes. A hand cradles your face for a moment, before he tilts you back. When the cup comes to your face, your mouth opens, letting the stream of water flow in your mouth. Then he pulls away.

“You want this still? I need to hear you say it-”

“I want it so bad Robby.” At that, he puts down the glass and reaches to get a condom from his bedside table. Ripping the package open, he rolls it on his cock, discarding the other plastic.

Instead of touching you, he walks over to the gift bag to take the ring. Walking back to you, he drops on one knee.

“Robby-”

“It’s just practice for the future. The ring I’ll get you then will be a lot nicer.” Your ring finger darts out, and Robby slowly puts the ring on your finger. It fits perfectly, of course it does. Once the thick band is secure on your finger, Robby kisses it.

“I’ll wait as long as I have to.” Your lips find Robby’s again. But this kiss isn’t like before, it’s a promise, perhaps a binding vow.

“I’ll talk to Frank about getting a divorce when he gets back-”

“I’ll see what I can do about getting you a lawyer. No judge in Pittsburgh would give him custody, you were right about that-”

“I just don’t want it to be this whole big thing-”

“Don’t worry about it. Lay on your stomach baby.” You listen, heading back to the pillows. As your stomach hits the sheets, Robby comes behind you. Back arching, your legs spread so he has easy access.

You look appetizing like this - ring secured and clad in lingerie. Right now, you two are playing pretend. Robby’s your husband and you’re his wife. There no Frank, a pile of bills waiting for you in your mailbox, or the impending doom of the future.

It’s just the two of you. Robby’s not concerned with making your pussy accommodate all of him. No that’ll be for another time, maybe your honeymoon he thinks. The idea of taking you someplace nice, maybe a tiny island of the coast of Greece or the South of France, Robinavitch as your last name, makes Robby even harder.

He presses the tip at your entrance, your warm folds kissing his cock. An impatient whine escapes you, and Robby doesn’t tease. Slowly, he pushes in, watching as his mushroom tip disappears inside.

“Fuck,” you cry, back arching at new sensation. You felt so full already. With a small jerk of his hips, Robby fully bullies his tip inside, a guttural moan escaping him.

“Your pussy is so…shit she’s so fucking good.” Robby’s hips snap forward a little more forcefully. In your ears, you can hear the clank of his chain. Heavy balls snap against your clit as he pushes even more inside. But it’s still not enough. You want to be closer, needing to feel him on your spine.

“We can be closer honey,” Robby says. Your mouth must’ve slipped. Robby uses his strength to push you back down on the mattress, and you moan as his cock retracts just a little bit.

But soon, the last few inches are thrust inside you. The air is sucked out your lungs. Not because it’s painful, but because you just feel so full. Robby lays his body on top of you, just like when you cuddle. His face falls in the crook of your neck, lips kissing your shoulder. Warmth covers your hands as Robby intertwines his hands with yours.

“Can I move baby?” You nod into the pillow and Robby soon slips in and out of your creamy folds. Lewd squelches spill out of your pussy as his cock hits his cervix. Robby’s fingers are still woven in between yours, finger brushing your ring with every thrust.

“Suh good,” you cried, as Robby’s belly rolled over your back. Neither of you were going to last long. Not when you two were like this - two halves making a whole. Your coil snaps again, cream turning the condom white. As Robby spills into you, you fall asleep, his cock still nestled in your walls.

The next morning, you two revel in each other’s company. After changing the sheets and showering, you two lay in each other’s arms until Jasmine’s ready to bring the kids back. When the kids see the two of you, Sage runs to jump into Robby’s arms as usual. Hunter, still sleepy, just waddles clutching your leg.

The Monday after Mother’s Day, your company always closes. So you spend it on the couch watching Pixar movies of the kids’ choosing.

You, the kids, and Jasmine are cuddled on one side and Robby’s on the other. Just to keep an appropriate distance. But every once in a while, he looks over at you, eyes full of longing.

The tranquility is interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Before you can stop him, Hunter runs to get the door. Robby is about to get up but stops in his tracks when he hears-

“Y/N, are you home?” Frank had managed to come back early. Sage runs over to the door in excitement, yelling ‘Dada’ on the top of her lungs. But Hunter starts crying, and you run to get the two of them.

Frank had looked better, like himself before the drugs. But still, he was the man who had betrayed your family. And you two hadn’t really discussed what life would be like before his return. Your affair with Robby aside, it wasn’t safe to let him around the kids just yet.

So, you pull Sage aside, gently, and bounce a crying Hunter on your hip. “Go inside baby.” Sage listens, despite wanting to see Frank. Your sister comes behind you for support, and to take Hunter.

“Frank, what a surprise,” Jasmine says, clearly pissed. Usually, Frank would retort with something snappy, but he doesn’t. As you pass Hunter to Jasmine, you shut the door behind you. It’s just you and Frank on the front porch now.

“Happy Mother’s Day, I know I’m a day late, but here.” Frank hands you a bouquet of flowers, fresh from the grocery store. They’re cute, you’ll give him that. He’s doing that thing - when he tries to smile his way out of trouble.

A part of you wonders how you ever fell for it.

You don’t take the flowers. “Why didn’t you call the kids Frank? You promised-”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to-”

“Bullshit! I went to the ER, Mel told me that you were calling her. What the fuck Frank?!” Meanwhile inside, Jasmine turns the volume of the TV way up high, and takes the kids in the kitchen to make ice cream sundaes. Robby’s on the couch still, eavesdropping shamelessly.

Caught in a lie, Frank’s eyes shut in frustration. “It’s not what you think-”

“I don’t care if you slept with her or not. I care about you being there for the kids! I mean…you can’t just walk back in here and expect to play house again. You lied to me Frank! You were high when you were with them-”

“I never took them when I was home!-”

“Like that makes it any fucking better!-”

“Just let me see them-”

“If you weren’t so selfish Frank, you would’ve called. Hunter doesn’t even remember you!-”

“How long are going to punish me?-”

“Punish you? I’m not punishing you-”

“I made a mistake-”

“A mistake is forgetting to take out the trash, not stealing benzos from your patients!-”

“I sacrificed so much to come back early-”

“Frank, getting clean from drugs isn’t a sacrifice! You wanna talk about sacrifices?-”

“Oh here we go-”

“You promised me! You said that you’d provide, take care of me and Sage. I mean, I gave up Harvard for you! I paid for this house, and for your fuckin’ rehab, and you don’t do shit!-”

“Y/N-”

“I want a divorce Frank.” The argument’s over now. Frank has finally lost everything. Unlike all your other arguments, you don’t even wait for a response, just heading back inside. The door slams in Frank’s face, bouquet drooping in his hand.

As you walk back inside, you try to figure out how you’re going to explain this to the kids. Maybe you should’ve been less impulsive. Once the sound of the door closing hits the living room, Sage runs towards you.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asks, face full of confusion.

“Let’s talk upstairs Sagie.” You pick her up with somber slumped shoulders, perching her on your hip. A word doesn’t leave your mouth as you two head upstairs.

Jasmine comes outside the kitchen, Hunter’s holding her hand, traces of whipped cream on his face.

“Robby, you don’t think she?-”

“I think so.” Upstairs, you lay Sage on her Minnie Mouse sheets. Closing the door for privacy, you lay down next to her. God she’s so small, not that much bigger from when you held her the first time.

You wish you had chosen better. For her and Hunter.

“Remember when I said Daddy was sick?” you asked, brushing Sage’s curls back from her face.

“Mmhm,” she replies, fingers darting out to play with your bracelet.

“Well, Daddy became sick because…because he took medicine he wasn’t supposed to. Um…he lied to get the medicine, and hurt his patients-”

“That’s why he had to go away?” Sage is processing the information, slowly but surely. “Is Daddy a bad person?-”

“Daddy’s not bad…he just made a mistake. He’ll always love you, and I want you to know that. But as your Mommy, it’s my job to protect you-”

“So being around Daddy is unsafe?-”

“Daddy just needs a little bit longer to get better. That’s all.” You clutch Sage into your chest, and she curls the exact same way as she did in your belly.

“I love you Sagie,” you whisper into the crown of her head, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Love you Mama.” The next few weeks are hectic. Between preparing for the custody battle and divorce proceedings to taking care of the kids - it’s just a lot.

At least you have Robby. As the end of the school year approaches, Sage and Hunter’s school is doing a full day field trip in Philadelphia.

“I’m just worried,” you mention, cutting up vegetables for dinner. Despite insisting on cooking, Robby’s letting you cook tonight. It’s kinda nice, watching you with an apron tied right around your hips. “Hunter being in Pre-K and being so far…”

“They’ll be fine. Philly is an hour plane ride away,” Robby comforts, placing a kiss on your back. You nod absentmindedly before diverting your attention back to the vegetables. You look so pretty like this, flittering around his kitchen like it’s your home too.

He tries to restrain himself really, but as you lean over to wash your hands in the sink, all composure goes out the window. The swell of your ass is practically begging for his touch. So he teases, pressing wet hot kisses on your clothed back. The knife in your hand clatters on the sink.

Then, Robby’s face is nestled in between your cheeks. Satin shorts brush against his nose as he breathes you in. A slow exhale escapes you as you clutch the counter tops. When Robby gets like this, you’ve learned it’s best to let him take as much as he needs.

You also want him too - more than you should. In one swift motion, both your shorts and panties are yanked down. At Robby’s place, you wonder why you even wear them. Because things always end this way.

The nuzzling doesn’t stop, Robby’s nose fucking your clit. He takes another whiff - your pussy’s sweeter than usual. Must be ovulating. His tongue then darts out and it just stay, letting your essence pool out of hole and onto his tastebuds.

If Robby had a choice, you would be his last meal. Thighs shake as Robby sucks on your clit, once, then twice, before you cum. Your sensitivity hasn’t weaned since he’s started fucking you, in fact it’s gotten worse.

But still, Robby hasn’t gotten his fill. His sucks continue, over and over again until you’re a babbling mess. Cream engulfs Robby’s beard, and he just can’t stop. After leaving one final kiss on your clit, Robby’s tongue trails all the way down, slurping at your slick folds, until he reaches your hole.

It’s pulsing, basically twitching with need. But when is it not? You practically suck Robby in, entrance gushing around his tongue. Drips of your cum coat your walls, and Robby’s glad to clean you up, slurping obscenely. Dipping in and out, Robby’s long tongue practically fucks you.

So far gone, your hands travel to Robby’s scalp and push his head down even further. He relishes in the feeling of your hands in his scalp. Your gentle head rubs make his cock twitch in his pants, cum staining his boxers.

A low moan of his sends shockwaves into your hole, and that’s the final straw for you. Your body ripples from the pleasure, orgasm making you convulse.

“Gimme your cock please” He gets up immediately at that, gulping down the rest of your essence. You want him to take you here, but this angle will give you back pain he realizes. So, he picks you up right then and there.

“Robby?!” you exclaim, but before a protest can escape you, your ass receives a harsh slap.

“Shush honey, you know I always deliver.”

a/n: @ovaryacted invested in these stocks so I had to deliver! I hope you guys enjoyed :))