i've always been a lurker but i'm finally taking my first foray into fandom via the pitt (and ER) !! this is however, functioning as a multifandom blog, so if you don't want to see the occasional iwtv, booklr, the magnus archives & more reblogged then probably dnf!
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summary: you find yourself in a bit of a predicament when a night out with your girlfriends turns into you matching the voice of your favorite audio erotica creator to his face.
a/n: i originally wrote this fic (series) years ago for another fandom but i decided to rework it for da pitt/robby. the audio erotica website mentioned is quinn <3
wc: 2.1k
contains: a few lines of dirty talk, no smut mentioned.
a single voice shouldn’t be able to stop you in your tracks, especially not in a crowded pittsburgh bar on a thursday night, but somehow, it does. you and your girlfriends had been out for some casual drinks and you’d been overstimulated by the sounds of dozens of voices swirling around you, but none have made you pause like this one. at first, you just thought it was a pleasant voice drifting over to you from somewhere near, but you couldn’t shake how familiar it sounded.
you, almost unconsciously at first, start listening for the voice, slowly tuning out the familiar tones and cadences of your friends. you’ve always been more of an observer when it comes to nights like this, so your friends pay you no mind as you keep to yourself instead of paying attention to whatever work gossip is being spilled. your ears perk up every time you hear it, your eyes scanning the crowded bar, longing for its source.
you’re rewarded for your observant nature when your eyes finally land on a crowded high top table just to your right. you don’t even have to turn much in your chair to get a good view of the man at the head of the table. it had to be him, you just knew it. the table was cramped with bottles and glasses, chairs squished so men and women could all fit. but there’s only one man that voice could belong to. you just knew it was him.
“want in on another round?”
the hand on your wrist startles you, pulling you completely out of your thoughts. your friends' dark eyes search yours as you scramble for a response. you reach for your glass, the last dredges of your vodka cranberry diluted with melted ice. you smile at your friend, “i’d love another, thanks.”
you give her a grateful smile as she squeezes your wrist before turning in the direction of the bar. you take the last sip of your drink, trying to put that voice out of your mind. your stomach tugs with guilt and shame reminding you what you’re actually here for, to catch up with your closest friends. but your eyes quickly fall back to that goddamn high top when a voice from that table exclaims, rather loudly, “oh, come on, robby!”
robby.
robby.
robby michael.
you must be dreaming. you must have fallen asleep on your couch instead of making it to the bar because there was no way robby was just a stones throw away from you right now. before, you had just been caught in the fantasy, of the what-if of it being robby, but it had to be just some other guy named robby, right? a few more moments of eavesdropping makes your stomach twist because the voice is just too spot on.
“ohoh, you’re so going to pay for that, brat.”
you had stumbled across robby a few months ago, he was new on the website and typically you didn’t stray too far from your rotation of voices, but you had made an exception for him. it had been his profile picture that really piqued your interest, it was a close up selfie that cut off right below his eyes.
he had a full, but well trimmed beard and your eyes had immediately darted between all the grey sprinkled in the dark hair, finally landing on the grey patch on his chin. you had always loved a man that was capable of growing a thick, full beard. and his nose. god, his nose. a strong, built nose that sat perfectly on his long face. you were smitten from that picture alone.
and his voice. his voice ruined you for every other guy on the app. his voice was deep and gravely, it definitely came with age, which you certainly had no complaints about. he had a handful of audios regarding age gaps, with him being all sorts of older and domineering figures, which always left you feeling incredibly wet. but even with the obvious tropes he was very clever and creative when it came to his audios.
one of your favorites of his was a short series he did where he played the owner of a used bookstore. his voice was so soft as he had read passages from a book that you couldn’t remember, the sounds of pages turning completely calming your brain. there was a first time audio that you had listened to at least a dozen times at this point, his voice had been so sweet and gentle right in your ear. and the audio that made you squirm the most just thinking about it was a gynecology roleplay he did, you had sighed out dr. robby as you came that night.
“everything feels perfectly normal, miss, but let me add another finger just to be sure.”
and maybe it was a little bit pathetic, cumming to a voice nearly every night that you would never know, so that's why you kept that part of yourself locked away. never talked about it with your friends because it was your dirty little secret. so that’s why this whole situation, is your worst fucking nightmare.
you look over again, stealing a peek of the scene before you. he’s still at the head of the table, nursing a glass of dark liquor while listening to the guy next to him tell a story using mostly his hands. they look to be the oldest ones at the table, robby with his deep crows feet and his friend with his silver curls.
it wasn’t like they were significantly older than the rest of the men and women around them, but some of them were in much flashier clothing. more appropriate for a nightclub than for a casual bar. maybe they were going to a club later, seemingly having much more energy than robby, with his ruddy cheeks and his tired eyes.
shame washes over you, feeling like a voyeur, as you turn away from the group as your friends return from the bar with more drinks. you gladly take yours, more so chewing on the straw to give you something to do as you try to tap back in on the conversation at hand. luckily, it was one of your closer friends rehashing work drama she’d already called you about earlier in the week. it gives you the opportunity to sit back and throw in comments when appropriate and within a few minutes you’re enthralled in the conversation again.
but your eyes can’t help but cut back to that high top table when you hear the sounds of chairs scraping against the bar floor. you watch as the younger girls of the group, dressed in skirts and kitten heels, get up from their seats. you overhear drawn out goodbyes and mentions of “stay together” and “don’t get too fucked up”. but the timber of robby’s voice cuts right through to you. “i’ll walk you guys out, gotta hit the bathroom, anyway.”
he walks behind the girls, making their way past your table towards the front of the bar. “god, robby, already breaking the seal after just one beer?” one of the girls jokes, familiar humor in her voice.
you watch as robby’s face scrunches up in an annoyed huff of breath, “oh, santos, you’ll understand when you’re my age.”
the teasing lilt of his voice washes over you, your eyes taking long drags over his body as he passes by. he's tall, that's what you first notice. he towers over the girls even in their heels. but he's not imposing, instead he walks behind the small group and gives them a wave as they make it out of the bar and he ducks into the bathrooms tucked into the corner by the front entrance.
the salt and pepper in his hair wasn't surprising, you knew he was older and it showed quite clearly in his profile picture on the site. but seeing all the grey in his well kept beard in person? you had to squeeze your thighs together when he finally came back to his now much less crowded table.
you watch him take his seat at the head again, his shoulders relaxing as he wraps his long fingers around a dewy pint glass. you watch him laugh at something someone says, delighting at the crows feet around his eyes and the way his cheeks flush. but you feel like your stomach is going to fall out of your ass when his eyes cut directly to you. oh shit. he caught you staring.
you feel your eyes widen in embarrassment as he unfortunately holds eye contact with you, before you finally get it together enough to dart your eyes away. you look down at your sugary cocktail, bringing your shaky hand up to the glass. you take a long sip, giving yourself something to do as you try to slow down your erratic heart beat.
you firmly set down your glass, the ice rattling at the bottom, the dredges of your vodka cranberry coloring the pieces a soft pink. the coolness of the glass helps to ground you a little bit. you tell yourself that even though it kind of feels like it, it's absolutely not the end of the world that you were caught staring.
after a few more moments, you force yourself back into the conversation happening around you. you turn your back fully to the man, not allowing yourself to get distracted by him for the rest of the night. but your new position makes you miss the way his eyes shine in delight and his lips curl into a barely there smile. your gaze sends a spark up his spine and even though you don’t allow him another look at your face for the rest of the night, he still shamelessly watches you as you leave the bar with your girlfriends.
the following days are frustrating to say the least and you end up falling into a cycle of remembering being caught by robby, feeling so embarrassed, and then trying to push the whole thing from your mind completely. but, nothing helps. you can’t stop thinking about him. his hands, his beard, his eyes, his voice were all you could think about and it was becoming a major problem.
you were also experiencing another problem, you hadn’t been able to get off since that night. you had banned yourself from listening to any of robby's audios in the following days, but nobody else on the site did it for you anymore, so you were left feeling frustrated and unsatisfied.
but, you end up aimlessly scrolling through the app anyways, just like tonight. multiple new audios were uploaded to the site earlier that morning, but nothing sounded even remotely interesting to you. then you saw it, the slope of his perfect nose in his profile picture. you couldn’t help but feel like he was mocking you by uploading so soon after your blunder. but then your stomach drops when you see the title of his audio, “Meet Cute at the Bar”. oh no. then your eyes skim over the tags he's included, [M4F] [Strangers to Lovers] [Banter] [Slow Burn] [First Time] [Gentle] [Praise] [Curve Appreciation]. but what really gets you is the summary, “I caught you looking from across the bar, mind if I join you?"
you’re pressing play before you can even think about what you’re doing. your ears are initially filled with mindless chatter and the clinking of pint glasses, background noise, before you hear robby's all too familiar voice, “this seat taken?” followed by the sound of him settling into what you assumed was a bar stool. “i know us locking eyes for all of 5 seconds isn’t exactly an invitation for me to come over and bother you, but i guess i’m pressing my luck tonight.”
he follows it up with a laugh, a barely there huff of breath that you've become very familiar with. robby knew how to flirt, which was something that you might have found dickish in other guys, but with robby there was always a sort of bashfulness to it. you scroll down to the comments, reading through the gushing praise that was par for the course for any of the man's audios. when you scroll down to the end, though, you find that the first comment left on the audio was from…robby.
“Made eyes with a gorgeous woman across the bar a few days ago and haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since. Tried to get over it by recording this but, I'm still stuck on her.”
you roll over, your laptop landing askew on your bed as you shove your face in one of your pillows and scream. you were so fucked.
This is the fic from the poll.
contains- pegging, slight praise kink
“Jesus fuck, that’s cold!” Carter exclaimed, jerking away from your fingers. You tsked, swatting lightly at his ass cheek, “You’re the one who said to get on with it!” He laughed, dropping his head as you started to circle his rim again, applying light pressure. His breath came out in a rush as you slid just the tip of one finger in, stopping at the first knuckle to check in. “I’m good. Keep going” his voice was a little tight but he pushed back against you.
You slid deeper, tugging on the rim slightly as you drew it out, before thrusting it back in, twisting slightly, looking for -“ah Jesus fuck, what was that!” Rubbing lightly you answered “We need to expand your vocabulary, babe. And that is your prostate.” He whimpered, dropping his head further, “Do it again!”
Three fingers and one orgasm later, Carter started to whine, begging you to “Fuck me. I’m ready. More, c’mon.” Adjusting the straps around your hips, you made sure they were still tight, and applied a liberal amount of lube to your cock.
Shifting into position behind him, you ran a hand over his hip and reminded him “Deep breath” as you notched the head against his hole and started to push in. Carter’s hands started to scramble against the bed, trying to find something, anything to anchor himself against the overwhelming pressure slowly filling him with each rock of your hips, knocking the breath from his lungs.
“Almost there, baby, just keep breathing for me” you murmured, watching the flush across his back deepen. Your pelvis settled against his ass as the last inch or so sank in and you stopped, letting him adjust. It took a few minutes before he lifted his head, replanting his hands flat against the bed and urged you move, please with barely hidden desperation. Shifting yourself, you slowly withdrew, thrusting back in slightly faster. Getting into a good rhythm, and with Carter’s low moans egging you on, you started angling your hips differently on each thrust, hoping to get him to be loud again.
What you got was far far better- Carter crying out, his elbows buckling as he practically collapsed on the bed, chanting there, right there, don’t stop over and over as you pounded into his prostate. Noticing the increase in both pitch and quantity of his cry’s, you pushed in, grinding against him instead. With a pathetic sounding sob, Carter stiffened, spilling hot all over the bed beneath him. Easing out of him, you removed the dildo from the strap, tossing it to the side to deal with later. Loosening the straps, you coaxed Carter into rolling over, out of the wet spot and into your arms.
“You were so good for me baby. My good, sweet boy.” You felt him shudder against you at the praise, the increase in heat as his sex flush turned into a blush, and rubbed your hands up and down his back to soothe him. Not bad for his first time.
Robby’s t-shirt has ridden up where he lays, and you cannot for the life of you tear your eyes away. Soft tummy, trail of hair from bellybutton down into his sweats.
He’s been self-conscious about it since the two of you started sleeping together (you assume he was probably self-conscious beforehand too), and you still haven’t figured out how to prove to him that he shouldn’t be. Handsome and hot, muscled or soft, you love his body. Everything about it.
Giant hands, a few tiny, light scars over his knuckles, a longer one curving along his palm. His long legs, the way he groans when he stands and you hear the crack of his bad knee. The dip of his back that he complains about when he sleeps the wrong way or lifts something too heavy. The curve of his neck, the jut of his chin, the wrinkles around his eyes from a life spent laughing.
Everything. Everything.
And, that includes his stomach.
Fingers dancing from his sternum down down down, you giggle at Robby’s tiny, “mm?” of interest, then snort when your hand stops at his waistband, and that same noise lilts downward, “mm…”
Then, you raise his hopes again when you start scooting down on the bed, pushing his shirt up to kiss and nip down his ribcage, and you hear the flap of pages, the flop of the book he’d been reading now tossed on the bed next to him.
You stop when you’ve reached your target, nuzzle into that thatch of hair you love so much and smile at the way it makes one of his legs kick. Always so ticklish.
“Whaaatcha doin’ down there?” he questions, and you are gifted the sight of Robby’s face reddening more and more the longer you look at him.
Batting your eyes, smiling a little mischievously, you tell him, “cuddlin’,” which truly is exactly what you’re doing.
“There’s a perfectly good chest up here, you know,” he tries, aiming to get you away from the part of him he avoids looking at, but you’re not having it.
“Yeah, but it’s even comfier down here.”
Robby sighs, brown eyes heavy on you as he starts to get tangled in his own insecurities.
“I’m not teasing,” you tell him before he gets pulled too deep. “I mean, I am—” while rubbing your cheek against him in a very feline manner, “—but not to make you feel bad. Just want you to know how much I love you.”
It never ceases to amaze you how, even when you think all of his blood is already in his cheeks, he somehow manages to blush more.
“Stop,” he drawls out the syllable until it’s more of a whine (‘staaahp’) while laughing, picks his book back up and uses it to hide his face.
“I’m being serious,” you insist, punctuating it with a bite.
Robby grunts but doesn’t make any further protests, just moves a hand to rest on your head, strokes your hair, releases a laborious breath.
“What even brought this on? What made you want to…”
“Your shirt came up some,” you grin. “I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”
“Guess I’m gonna have to start buying bigger shirts then,” but he’s only half joking.
You push yourself up immediately, clamber on top of him and push his book aside to grab his face with both hands.
“Swear to god, if you do that, I will cut all of them until they look like those crop tops from the eighties.”
“Okay, okay,” Robby chuckles in disbelief, “Jesus Christ, didn’t know you had so many feelings about this.”
Relaxing some and smiling, he leans forward for a soft kiss, a content, rumbling hum vibrating against your lips before he murmurs, “I used to wear those, by the way—back when I was maybe sixteen.”
“And, do you have pictures, by any chance?”
Robby belly laughs at that, lets his head rest back on his pillows as he wraps huge arms around you and tugs you to his chest.
“You’re such a fucking freak,” he says much, much too fondly. “I love you so much.”
You bask in it for a moment, will never get tired of hearing him say it because God, you love him, too. You love Robby so much, it’s stupid. He makes you stupid.
Maybe if people updated more we wouldn't turn to ai
You’re a pathetic, impatient loser. Fanfic writers owe you nothing, and their writing is their own, not yours to do with as you choose, you entitled brat.
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med student!robby begging to stick it in just a little. you're on top, rocking right into the bulge in his shorts as the two of you kiss with spit-soaked lips. he's flushed and shaking and clutching your waist, quiet whines seeping from his throat.
"just the tip, i swear," robby promises, a few pieces of hair falling into his face as he looks at you. he feels dizzy when you grin at him a little, tugging the man closer so your lips graze against his the next time you speak.
"that's what you said last time." your reminder makes his eyes rolls and throw himself backwards against your couch. his masks the little bit of desperation with palming your thighs. "remember? and i said yes, and then we fucked for, like, an hour in avery's bathroom…"
robby's lips curl, warming at the memory.
"'course i remember. had to lick the cum off your legs in the car after so you wouldn't leak on my seats."
the sound of your chuckle ricochets through robby's entire body, flipping a switch only you can reach. one that has his lips dragging back across your skin, plush and swollen as they slide along your neck.
he doesn't have to suckle the skin long for your already-weak barriers to fall, and you're hanging over him on your knees, panties pulled to the side as his tip nudges right against your slit.
robby lingers long kisses into your chin, filling his lungs with the hot air you puff out every time he slips past your entrance and pulls out before he forgets not go any further.
so i’ll calmly wait to have your love again || michael robinavitch
Summary: You bump into your ex in the middle of the pain killer aisle on the worst week of your life.
Pairing: Michael Robinavitch x fem!reader
Warnings/themes: Robby being self sabotaging, mentions of a break up, age gap relationship, insecurities, mentions of having a period, hurt/comfort, angst, lovers to exes to maybe lovers again? , here i go writing Robby again even tho i am not good at that at all
p.s: if I see you reposting, stealing, feeding my FICS into AI or some other fuck shit, don’t. 👀🫵🏽
It was only day two of your cycle and you were going through the worst, on top of everything else.
Your hair wasn’t cooperating, your skin felt an odd and very specific sort of ickiness, and nothing you wore felt comfortable. On top of that, your hot water bottle needed replacing, and your pain killers were hidden somewhere that you couldn’t even remember no matter how much you tore the place apart.
You essentially looked and felt like a walking tragedy, dragging your feet while perusing the aisles of the store for something that would bring you some modicum of comfort.
Everything felt too bright, too loud, too…much of everything.
Hell, you even stepped foot outside in sweatpants and a hoodie that had definitely seen better days, and was definitely far too big on you, but it was the one you had.
There’s a feeling you can’t shake while perusing the painkiller section, as if you had had eyes on you for a while. It didn’t feel weird, or wrong, but there was a certain weight of a knowing feeling that was confirmed as soon as you turned around to make your way to the check out counter.
If you weren’t so tired, you might’ve bothered to pretend you hadn’t just seen the ghost of a love once lived.
His hair is a little longer, faux hawk grown out awkwardly as if he hasn’t had the time to get a proper hair cut. His beard, more grown out and patchy in the place you always used to kiss. The tired lines and shadows around his brown eyes only thinly veiled the surprise in them when he looks at you.
Robby looked like he hadn’t slept thoroughly in weeks. But of course you’d know that, you had lived together for a year after all.
In his shopping basket: tagliatelle pasta from the brand he always got because you liked it, a jar of the off brand tomato sauce you definitely didn’t like, a brick of the espresso you both used to drink together, and some other bare essentials.
He looked….over it all. You could see it in his sad eyes, conflicting emotions thinly veiled by his slow blinks.
And god damn it, the way he smiled at you in the way that made your stomach flip. The way his hand moved made you feel like the ground should open you up and swallow you.
It had been a year since the break up.
You were forced to choose between your relationship and your career. Robby wanted you to choose yourself - he easily had at least almost two decades on you, prattling on about some nonsense of not wanting to steal your youth. And the way you cried made him hurt in a way that he hadn’t known for a long time, wanting to be with him through whatever life had left to give him.
You hated it, the way that there was no way to be fair about any of it. Not with the way your hearts broke because nothing about his schedule let you live a life that wasn’t constantly tearing you apart.
It’s not like you weren’t friends, but neither of you hadn’t spoken since you had moved out of his place.
“Hey..” Your voice is awkward and small, nothing like the first time you had met him at that bar, walking up to him full of tipsy swagger.
Robby doesn’t say anything, but his eyes said it all as he scans you over. You had to be real, because only you would buy the hot water pack with the cute design on it and those god awful sour licorice candies he hated. There used to be a drawer in his kitchen filled with all the snacks you’d have to bribe him to try with a kiss. Cutely designed things that made his house feel like home that he never had the heart to take down.
You were present in his home long after you’d gone. A forgotten bottle of perfume on his dresser. Your pictures on the fridge. A post-it note with your rushed half cursive half print handwriting reminding him his coffee tumbler was by the keys on the counter. Books about places you wanted to travel to together with tabs in between the pages.
Robby had given you every right to leave him, and you did. But he couldn’t let you go.
“You look…” He shifts the weight on his feet, trying to decide if he should stay or go, “good.”
“Yeah um..i-it’s good to see you too. How are you?”
“I’ve been good..” He clears his throat, “Better.”
There’s a kind of silence that expresses all the hurt left unsaid, and the bridges yet crossed.
If you admitted how seeing him now made you feel, what would even happen anyway? That’s not how the world always worked.
“ ‘sit that time?” He asked, nodding to your basket, and you only nod.
“Yeah, I can’t find that painkiller you got me last time? I can’t remember what the name of it is but it was something with an ‘n’ ?”
“Naproxen sodium.” He finishes for you helpfully, carefully stepping into your space to help you search the highest shelf. “Looks like they’re all out. I have some at ou-my place, if you want to come over and have something to eat?”
The words are out of his mouth before either of you realize, your heads turning in disbelief.
Robby uses his free hand to rub his neck nervously, lips tightening in a thin line. The way you’re looking at him, scared and undecided, makes him feel foolish. As if he over stepped a line that he had annoyingly established against himself.
The silence between you two floats in such a fragile way, Robby doesn’t know if he’s ready to bare the heartbreak all over again. Despite not knowing what he wanted out of this beyond this moment, he knew he couldn’t miss the serendipity life had planned for you.
You’re looking at him as if you’re trying to convince both of you that missing each other wasn’t supposed to happen.
But fuck, if it wasn’t hard to make good on boundaries where Robby was concerned.
This felt like the first time he officially asked you out, except on a much weirder scale.
There’s a warmth that washes over Robby’s face when he sees you smile shakily, trying to keep yourself from crying as you nod.
You’re far too exhausted from the pain to argue with him about paying for both of your things, so the only thing you do is stare as he pays, and he dares to take your hand in his big, warm one as he leads you back to the place you both used to call home.
–
It’s a special kind of nostalgia how home can still feel and smell like home, no matter how long you’ve been away.
You were curled up on Robby’s expensive leather couch, on the L-shaped corner you loved so much, under one of the heavy blankets with the kitschy lion design that his neighbour Maria gifted him one time for recommending a vet friend of his to take a look at her sick dog.
It was the couch that had seen i’s fair share of period cramps and Robby holding you when he used to be able to soothe your pain away.
The show he put on serves as a welcomed background noise while he makes the both of you something to eat. He insisted on you eating a banana before dinner, to at least have something in your stomach before taking the medicine he promised you and long enough to hold off until food was served.
The conversation during dinner is easy enough, with the show serving as more than welcomed distraction for the silences in between.
–
Somehow, Robby is relieved you haven’t run away from him yet.
Sitting next to you while watching another show about some 19th century New York City tycoon, he thinks it’s a little sad that it’s been this long since he’s had anyone over.
There’d been a lot of sleepless nights for him. The kind where he’d forget that he had pushed you away from something you’d never been afraid of. Where he’d wake up expecting to find you there, and being met with the coldness of the reality that living without was like living without air. A forever that was too long without you.
You’re cocooned into your favorite corner of the couch again, trying not to care that you were at your ex’s fiancee’s house and he was taking care of you as if nothing had happened.
You adjust the way you’re sitting, mostly ignoring how you can feel Robby’s eyes on you when you tuck your feet just below his thigh to keep them warm.
Fuck, he felt like he wanted to explode.
Robby tries to ignore the way his heart is about to jump through his throat when he dares to put a hand on your foot, giving it a small squeeze before resting on your ankle, rubbing small circles there with his thumb.
“I uh…” He coughs, feeling his eyes and throat sting with the weight of all the things he should’ve said to you a long time ago, “I missed doing this with you. I miss you.”
“Robby, that’s-” Your heart sank. How were you even supposed to respond to that?
Robby sighs, his other hand rubbing his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. He tosses the remote aside, letting it clatter on the coffee table before looking at you.
“Please, let me just say this.” You sigh defeatedly, nodding at him to go on, “I was an insecure ass. I was so afraid of what I could give you, what I have left to give you. I was an asshole and assumed what you wanted. Put words in your mouth that weren’t even true. And I regret that every day since I pushed you out. I’m so fucking sorry for all of it.”
“Robby, I don’t even…” This hurt so much fucking worse than the cramping, “We were together for four years. I chose you every single day. You don’t think I don’t know my own mind?”
“I know.”
“You broke my fucking heart, Robby.”
“I know.”
Fuck, when he looked like this - like a sad puppy that just wanted to be held, it made your heart squeeze. You hated how he beat himself up when it came to his personal life so much. Hated how he felt like he couldn’t trust himself to feel safe enough to want things that were good for him.
“You didn’t take any of my stuff down.” You continue after a while, not knowing what else to say. Did he want you to accept his apology? To say you were moving back in tomorrow?
Robby busies his hands with your ankles, massaging them softly and noticing how cold they were.
“Just never got around to it.” He adds, “I wasn’t really home a lot, only came back to sleep, if I could even do that. The nightmares started a little after you, I..”
Something between a sniffle and a sigh escapes you, and you remove your legs from his lap so you can get off the couch. Fuck, you wanted to hug him and hold him and will away all the hurt he still carried, but you needed that from him, with the way he broke your heart into pieces.
“C-can we go to bed please?” You asked, almost embarrassed of the idea of missing him at all. “It’s late and I don’t feel like calling a cab.”
“S-sure, yeah, alright.”
It’s almost comical, watching a 6’2” man scramble after you after turning everything off. You didn’t even wait for him while walking to the bedroom you used to share, nor when you slowly crawled under the blue sheets that smelled so much like him and felt like a home that had been aching for you.
Robby walks into the bedroom, something conflicting washing over his face.
“Let me get you the heated blanket, I should still have it.”
“Can you get my socks? The fluffy ones?”
Robby hums, disappearing for a moment before coming back with the things and helping you settle into bed. His hands shake a little, as if he was touching you to make sure you wouldn’t disappear.
“Come to bed, Robby.”
“Y-”
“Please? We can deal with everything else tomorrow.”
For the first time that night, Robby hears the way your voice cracks, like when you’re about to cry, and it galvanizes him to tuck himself into bed next to you.
A shaky breath leaves him when you turn around, curling into him and tucking your face into his shoulder. The tears slowly fall from his eyes when he feels you shake, and he scoops you into his arms, trying to will away all the hurt he ever caused you.
“Robby?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“I loved you. I still do, so much.”
Robby hugs you tighter to him, placing a soft kiss to the side of your head, breathing you in like you were a balm for his aching. The heated blanket between you, slowly healing all the hurt that sat like a soggy spot in the mattress.
There was definitely a conversation to be had, but for now? You’d let each other indulge in the idea that not only had you both crossed a physical bridge, but one of the many emotional ones.
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i feel like this has been done so well by so many people already that i cannot possibly add anything worthwhile but. what the hey. the people ask and they shall receive. i will throw my hat into the ring!!
also just a quick note that i made reader adopted to keep her physical features ambiguous
Your legs were bent nearly behind your ears when you heard Jack knocking and calling your name at the door of your apartment.
Robby was so deep inside you, scrambling both nerves and thoughts and any fucking sense you had that it took you too long to register who it was. You lost precious seconds of potential crisis management to the relentless stroke of his cock inside you, your walls clenching tighter and tighter around him as you were being dangled off the steep cliff of bliss until—
“Fuck—Fuck! Stop—“ You tried to push against him, but it was no use, the man might as well have been a fucking boulder.
Robby only pushed deeper, making it impossible for you to continue your squirming, “Just don’t answer it.”
“He has a key—“
Finally, his hips halted and you watched, stricken, as the pleasure in his eyes slowly drained and was replaced with steady horror as you both heard the jangle of keys outside the door.
He cursed under his breath as he nearly leaped off and out of you—the sudden absence of him leaving you with a feeling of hollowness.
"Get in the closet." You hissed, hopping around as you tried desperately to pull on a pair of pants. You heard the clatter of keys against hardwood and Jack's soft cursing and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the universe for granting you more time.
"You want me to get in the closet?" Robby hissed back as he tried to collect his clothing, strewn haphazardly around the apartment from when you had been frantically making out and ripping each other's clothes off, "Have you seen my shirt?"
"We don't have time for this," You whispered and placed your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until you were at the closet. You opened the door and unceremoniously shoved him inside it, not waiting for his response before closing the door in his face.
At that same moment, your apartment door opened.
When you started at PTMC as a surgery intern and Jack introduced you to Robby, the infatuation had been almost instant on your end. There was nothing you loved more than a tall, bearded man who could be a little mean. Whenever the ER called down for a surgery resident, you practically jumped at the opportunity, bouncing up and down on your heels as the elevator slowly ticked down, down, down to the Pitt. It had been an effort to finally get him in your bed, more effort than you had probably ever put in for a sexual partner. But it was worth every second.
It was immediately obvious to Robby that you had a chip on your shoulder from being raised in your brother’s shadow, but he was oblivious to your yearnings for an agonizingly long time.
Because your parents had adopted you when Jack was well into high school, he affectionately referred to you as their mid life crisis. Jack adored you, but he was your brother. And so he pushed and teased and mocked your whole life.
So while it was nice that Robby was your type, it was more thrilling to know just how much it would get under Jack's skin to know that Robby was fucking you. Because regardless of your differences, Jack had always been protective of you and you knew he would lose his fucking mind if he knew. And Robby knew it too.
And so, even though part of you wanted Jack to find out, to grant yourself the satisfaction of knowing you had pissed off the unflappable Jack Abbot, most of you was a little nervous to find out what he would do if he found out.
You were running to the front door when Jack walked in, looking at you with confusion as he took in your appearance. Clothes crooked, hair mussed, mascara smudged under your eyelids, face glowing and sticky with exertion.
Slowly a smile stretched across his face, "Are you—Is someone here?"
"No," You said quickly, too quickly, "Just me. What're you doing here?" You hugged your arms around yourself subconsciously.
Jack continued to eye you curiously and held out the Stanley cup in his hand. Your Stanley. "You left this in the Pitt."
You took it reluctantly, "You could've left it at my locker."
"Yeah, I could've, but I wanted to see you. Feel like I haven't seen you in weeks—"
"Well, I'm busy, so. You should've called first." You snapped.
Jack was unbothered though, "Who's here?"
"No one you know. Now could you please get out?"
Jack gave a short laugh, "Right. No one I know. You don't have a social life outside the hospital. You want me to believe you're sleeping with someone I don't know?"
Before you could argue, your eyes caught on a black scrub top to your left, poking out from under the console table in your entryway. You remembered now how you had whined desperately with Robby's body pinning you to the wall until he had pulled it up and over his head.
And Jack followed your gaze, smile only growing when he saw it too, "That's a black scrub top." His eyes went back to yours, "Who are you fucking in the Pitt?"
He was moving towards the shirt and you stepped in front of him, "Jack—"
"Is it Shen?" He was stronger than you, so it wasn't much of a fight for him to push you to the side, "Or… It's not the Whitaker kid, is it?" He made a face as he bent to pick up the scrub top—
When his hand closed around it and he started to straighten to standing, there was a clatter as a badge, forgotten beneath the heap of a shirt, fell back to the floor, face up.
You watched, frozen, as his eyes took in his best friend's smiling face looking up at him from the piece of plastic. You thought from the look on his face, he was probably processing denial for about twenty seconds before he moved to the next stage of grief: anger.
He clenched his jaw as he looked back up to you, Robby's shirt still clutched in his hand. You watched the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and whispered, voice soft as death, "Where is he?"
- guy at work "Yes, and -" ing the bit me and my coworker were doing where we pretended to be owners of a fantasy medieval tavern not minimum wage retail staff
- at the gay club when Die Young by Kesha came on and two hundred people, all dancing and drinking separately, jumped up and down to make the "- beat of the drums *STOMP STOMP*" as loud as possible
- person who watched me stomp round the beach singing a made up song about breakfast foods to name a cat after and suggested more breakfast foods that would be good cat names
- guy who started a dance off with everyone across the road while waiting for the lights to change
- very tiny girl at the pharmacy interviewing everyone in the queue and every single one of us in turn sat down and answered this toddler's questions like we were on Letterman
i was in the second hand bookshop in my town the other week, it's in an old tudor building with lots of tight corridors and twists and turns. i was waiting to go up the final set of steps to the top floor as a guy was walking down them. once he got to the bottom, he had a stack of books and picked up one called 'i hate men' and went 'look!' and held it up to me 😭 it was in such a wholesome way like... 'look at this book !! such a silly title i love it !!' not at all toxic masculine energy, very 'guy trying to learn' vibes lol
Hello I hope you're having a good day and I love your writing. Please may I request agegap transmac!reader x Robby and/or jack hurt comfort please? Maybe reader is suffering from a migraine or another such ailment 🙏🙏 thank you I love you
hiiii i am a horrenoudly slow writer and this also got away from me a little but !!
i've never had a migraine (touch wood!) so changed this to period comfort - i hope that's okay !! it's just robby taking care of you & having a bath with you bc it's his favourite way to wind down after work :3
wc: 2.1k (like i said - it got away from me lol. this was meant to be like 1k tops)
warnings: transmasc!reader, binder mention, non-sexual (mostly, you do say robby's hot lol) nudity, period pain mention (tried to keep it as neutral sounding as possible as not to be dysphoria inducing)
anyway here's robby comforting transmasc!reader with period cramps !!
Robby gets home to you curled up asleep on the sofa, TV on low, heating pad slowly slipping off of your stomach. He knows what this means, so accustomed to your habits by now that he could write a book about them.
"Hey, sweetheart," he squats down next to you, speaking gently, shaking your shoulder, "c'mon, your back's gonna hurt from sleeping out here."
You stir, groaning, the heating pad slipping off onto the ground. "Hmm, what time is it?"
"It's nine, I got home a little late." As Robby speaks, you sit up, stretching your arms up, arching your back a little against the pain at the bottom of your spine. "You want me to carry you to bed?"
You shake your head, "No, I'll walk. Could you grab me some ibuprofen, though?"
"Of course." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple before standing up, joints creaking a little they way they always do.
You reach down for the heating pad, wrapping up the cord, then stand up, stretching again. Moving from your spot on the sofa seems to have reminded your body that it should be in pain, and you can feel the dull, stabbing ache in your pelvic area starting again with no heat or painkillers to push it away. Sighing, you shuffle out of the living room and flop down onto the bed, rolling over to your back, legs dangling over the side of the mattress.
"That's probably not great for your back either." You hear from the doorway. When you lift your head up, you see Robby, leaning against the frame, a plate with a couple of slices of toast and two little tablets in one hand, a glass in the other.
"Cramps aren't great for my back." You mumble, but you shuffle upwards obediently until you're half sat up. He slides onto the bed next to you and hands you the plate.
"Don't take the tablets until you've eaten a little." He tells you, and you roll your eyes, and then start eating. Once you finish, he hands you the glass and you take the ibuprofen with a sip.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Robby asks, putting the plate and the glass on the nightstand and turning over to look at you. "Back rub? Bath?"
Giggling, you shake your head, "Both would be nice, but shouldn't I be taking care of you? You just worked 14 hours."
"I'm fine, taking care of you makes me feel better." You smile softly at this and lean forward, pressing your head against his shoulder and taking one of his hands in your own, drawing circles on his palm and playing with his fingers.
"We could take a bath together?" You suggest, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He kisses you on the forehead and starts sliding off of the bed.
"Nooooo-" you flop forwards into the spot where Robby was sat, "come back!"
"Someone has to run the bath!" His voice echoes off the bathroom tile.
Groaning, you haul yourself up. As soon as you put your feet on the floor, Robby appears at the door to the bathroom, hoodie sleeves rolled up. "Sit down! It'll take ten minutes!"
"Come here then." He grins at your pouting face as you stretch your arms out. This earns you a look, one eyebrow raised, Robby seeing if you'll give up, but you don't, so he acquiesces and walks forwards towards you. You smile happily at him, kicking your feet off the side of the bed, until he lunges forward suddenly, wrapping his arms around you and pushing you down.
"Robby!" You giggle as he lays on top of you. He's basically smothering you, but you can feel him shaking against you, laughing as you push at him ineffectually.
"I'm making sure you don't move." His breath tickles your neck when he speaks, making you giggle even more. The feeling of him is actually kind of nice on top of you, like a weighted blanket on your aching thighs and back. You bring your arms up around his neck and pull him closer against you, burying into the base of his throat. As soon as he stops laughing, you take your chance, wrapping your legs around his and somehow summoning the force to roll the both of you over, landing on top of him, sitting back.
"Ahah!" Triumphant, you pin his arms up next to his head. His face is so open, so happy. Every day he sees the worst day of his patients' lives, tries to guide them through life-changing events, has such an impact, and you get to have him after all that. You get to be his respite, his oasis in the desert. It's nothing but a blessing to you, to be his distraction, let him take care of you, solve your problems, fix you, the way he can't always do with his patients.
So you do let him. Sure, you put up a fight, play fussy, moan at him, whatever. But you always give in, allow him the luxury of a patient who he knows he can make better. You try and take care of Robby too, and occasionally he'll let you cook for him or do his laundry, but you see the relief in him physically when you let him be in charge. His shoulders drop, brow unfurrows, hands stop shaking. He even manages to sleep at a normal time, a feat for any doctor.
You watch Robby for a second, his softened expression, cheesy grin, the way he looks at you like you hung the moon. He surges upwards, easily pushing your hands off of his wrists and bringing one to your back to steady you as he kisses you. His other hand finds your face and you feel yourself melting against him, sighing into his mouth.
"Mhm, okay-" he pulls away from you, "Let's go get in the bath, huh?"
As soon as you climb off of him, his arms are under your legs, lifting you up bridal-style and carrying you to the bathroom. You smile and snuggle into his chest, and then hop down once Robby's feet hit tile.
The bath water is just low enough that you can both get in comfortably and move about without it overflowing. Robby reaches down into the cupboard under the sink for the epsom salt, and pours a little in, moving his hands around in the water to help them dissolve. He dries his hands off on a towel and then turns back to you.
"You want me to help you get undressed?" He asks, and you nod, lifting your arms up. He pulls your t-shirt up and over your head, folding it and placing it on the counter, and then pulls down the shorts you're wearing, holding your hand as you step out of them.
"Okay if I take your binder off? We can switch it out for your swim one if you want."
"It's okay, I'll be good once I'm in the bath." He nods and you lift your arms again, letting him wiggle the sturdy fabric up and over your head, careful over your shoulders so you don't get stuck. You step out of your underwear and then get into the bath, feeling the tension seeping out of your bones as you sink into the hot water, sitting in the middle, legs pulled up to your chest, watching as Robby undresses himself.
He takes his hoodie off first, carrying it back into your room to hang on the back of the door. When he comes back in, his scrub top is already off and he's pulling his undershirt off by its scruff. You watch the flex of his arms as they reach back and then drop your eyes to his stomach, following the shirt up as it reveals his happy trail, his soft belly, the hair on his chest. When you reach his face, you find he's already looking at you, head tilted, eyebrows quirked.
"What, can't I ogle my hot doctor boyfriend now?" You ask, leaning forward on the side of the tub.
He shrugs, raises his hands, "I didn't say anything."
You roll your eyes as he pulls down his trousers and boxers, stepping out of them, placing them on the counter with the rest of your clothes and finally stepping up into the bath. The water ebbs around your bodies as he sits down and you lean back against him immediately, resting your head in the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around your stomach and you feel his contented sigh on the back of your neck as he slides down a little, finally letting himself rest after the long day.
You can still feel the cramping but the heat of the water dulls it a lot, so you find yourself zoning out as it soothes your aches and pains.
"Hey," you hear Robby whisper after a couple of minutes, nudging you a little with his shoulder.
"Hmm?"
"Can I give you that back rub now? You know it'll help." The end of his sentence is sing-songed, eliciting another giggle from you.
"Okay, fine. But only five minutes, I like just laying against you."
As you scoot forward a little, you feel Robby's hands leaving your stomach, instead coming around to the bottom of your back. He finds the two pressure points on either side with ease, and digs his thumbs in, earning an instant groan from you as he works at the knots there.
"That good?"
"You know it." You sigh, letting him keep massaging your back. Okay, maybe it is nice to have a boyfriend who wants to take care of you. Maybe you do partly let him for your own enjoyment.
Eventually, the knots are all worked out and you collapse back against Robby, boneless now as the water cools. You sit there with him a little longer, chatting banally about a couple silly cases of his, and the shows you guys have been watching, what you think will happen in the next episodes. After that, it's time to get out.
Robby gets out first, the water swaying around you again as he stands up, wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabs another towel for you, the fluffiest one you have, basically a sheet with how big it is, and holds it out for you. You step out and into his arms, and he swaddles you in it, wrapping your arms up like a straight jacket, making you laugh.
"How am I supposed to do anything like this?" You giggle. The towel is tucked into itself around your shoulders, so all you can do is stand there as Robby bustles around you, getting out your face wash, moisturiser, toothbrush.
"You're not supposed to do anything." He tells you, grabbing your arms and walking you up to the sink. You let him wash your face for you, apply your moisturiser, and put the toothpaste on your brush, but when he makes to brush your teeth for you, you back up.
"Okay, I love you, but I'm not a baby. Unwrap me, let me brush my own teeth."
He laughs but follows your instructions, undoing the towel from around your shoulders and re-tightening it under your arms. You take the toothbrush and do your teeth as Robby walks out, moving around the bedroom. He comes back in to hand you a new pair of underwear, and you pull them on after sticking a fresh pad in them.
When you're done, you leave the bathroom. The main lights are off in your room, replaced by the soft glow of your bedside lamps and the TV ready to play the show you were just discussing. There's a plain oversized t-shirt of Robby's on the bed, along with a pair of plaid boxers and you put them on before drying your hair quickly with the towel you just took off. Robby himself is already tucked into bed, wearing an old college tee, and you slide in next to him, curling up on his chest and feeling his arm wrap around you.
Content, he sighs when you lay down and presses play on the remote, starting the episode. You're still a little crampy, it's usually this bad despite the bath and the painkillers, but the comfort of being in bed with Robby, watching your show, has you falling asleep within ten minutes.
Robby looks down at you, eyes closed against his chest, damp hair wetting his t-shirt a little, and smiles to himself. He pauses the TV so you don't miss anything, and switches off the lamps, before settling in to sleep himself, letting your slow breathing lull him into calm.
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probably gonna sound a little silly but i was writing and realised that i end up going back through the pitt episodes whilst writing a lot to describe character's facial expressions (autism?)... so i thought 'why don't i just edit together scene packs for all the main characters so i can write about them easier?'
anyway, if i make these (i've already done robby & abbot ep1 and i'm in the middle of dana ep1) would anyone want me to share them? i'd probably end up paying for mega or dropbox to share them but idm doing that if i know they're going to help other writers and/or editors.
my character list for it is 13 characters atm (med students, residents, robby, abbot, shen, collins, mateo) but i'd be open to doing a couple others after (perlah & princess... garcia maybe...walsh...)
jack abbot goes to the movies alone. he used to go with his wife -- they liked vintage film nights; elegant period dramas; maybe even a cartoon on occasion. they rarely went to superhero movies or action films, not his vibe after he came home. and after she passes away, he keeps up the tradition. couple of times a month, he grabs his keys and heads over, chooses the movie based on whatever's about to start by the time he gets there. picks up his late wife's favourite candy and a bucket of popcorn and sits at the back.
eventually, he notices a familiar face. reader seems to hit all the retro nights, always seems to be alone, too. kind of a camaraderie develops, they recognize each other but never speak, just a nod and a thumbs up after if the movie was good; thumbs down and a grimace if it wasn't. one night, she gets there late, the lights are dimming, and she's balancing the popcorn and a soda and can't find her way to the seat. the previews start, and jack, feeling a rush of bravery, waves and offers the seat next to him.
and so starts a new tradition!
Um!!!! This is so fucking precious??
—
I think eventually you make a comment about his candy, saying it’s your favorite. It makes Jack’s heart twinge with a little bit of pain, but he finds himself smiling, too. Maybe you’re a bit younger, a good bit younger, so you’re there on retro nights because you used to watch these movies with your family. It gives you a sense of peace and nostalgia when you’re having a bad day and reminds you of happy, simpler times.
One night, after Jack has secured your number, he reminds you that Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back is playing tomorrow. You’re definitely gonna be there, you promise. It’s one of your favorite movies. When Princess Leia and Han Solo have their first kiss, Jack feels a weight on his shoulder, a warmth on his bicep, and fingertips scratching gently against the skin of his forearm. He can’t help himself but grin like a teenage boy in the movies with his very first date. His head tilts to press his cheekbone against the crown of your head for the rest of the movie.
After the movie is over, he walks you to your car, just like he’s done every night since he first offered the theater seat next to him. That black leather jacket looks so good on him, and you can’t help but grab him by the collar and pull him closer. Jack drops his head the rest of the way, kissing you hard until your back is pressed against your car door.
When he finally pulls away, you’re staring at him with stars in your eyes and a sly grin. “I’ve got Return of the Jedi back at my house. Tired yet?” You tease.
Jack just chuckles, squeezes your hips, and brushes his nose against yours. “Not even a little.”