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Pairing: Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Wife!Robinavitch Reader
Warnings: Pregnancy, labor, childbirth, medical setting, contractions.
Summary: Working all the way up until the last day of her third trimester seemed like a good idea at the time. Between swollen ankles, endless bathroom breaks, and being assigned the least strenuous ER tasks possible, you convince yourself that the aches and pains are just part of being pregnant.
A/n - @ firefly-graphics for dividers.
Wc- 2362k
The Pitt Master List
The ER department is more then the normal type of busy.
This time around there isn't a chaotic scene happening that's leading to disaster protocols being heard around the floor, but it's just enough enough that every room on the floor stays full, every screens monitor is going off with a little chime, and every nurse is looking as if they hadn't had a break since the start of the shift.
Now that would also be you, standing in the fray but instead you're being redirected by your husband, and ER Chief Robby. "You sit." He orders as if the words haven't come out of his mouth already. "I've been sitting."You whine.
"I just watched you stand up." Robby says pushing back into the seat."That was to go print some discharge papers." Robbys hands land on his hips, "You looked like you were winded." You roll your eyes up at him. "I AM winded from carryin' your huge offspring!" You whine.
Everyone knows not to mess with you right now. Nearly at the end of your long pregnancy, and it's become abundantly clear that you aren't leaving the ER until you're being carted away on a gurney up to labor and delivery.
"Exactly."Robby says tightly, you roll your eyes again at him dramatically before getting comfortable in the chair again, at nearly the end of your pregnancy your job description has taken a hit. You've gone from ER nurse to making sure that the Ipads stay charged, you've been turned into the designated blanket folder, and the paperwork organizer at the nurses station.
Yet every time you stand, "Honey?"You can hear Robbys voice from across the ER. Every time you walked more then just a few feet away from the nurses station there was Dana or Robby asking you questions"Need anything?"
And then there's the dreaded bathroom trips that have Robby dropping every conversation and running to your side like a lost puppy with large eyes and more questions."Are you okay?"The rest of the staff have just started taking bets on long it going to take Robby before he's grabbing at he back of your chair and dragging you with him all over the ER just to keep an eye on you better.
Dennis laughs everything time he gets a chance to see his worried boss follow behind the much smaller but probably more in charge nurse. "She's pregnant, Dr. Robby." He teases his boss, "She's not made out of glass."
Robby doesn't even bother looking up from the chart in his hand,"She's carryin' my daughter Whitaker."Dennis nods in understanding, "That's fair, boss."
It's around lunchtime when you feel like the compression socks that Robby had bought you aren't doing their job anymore, and that your ankles have just waved the white flag of surrender.
At the start of the shift you had migrated your wedding ring safely off your hand and into your scrub pocket because your fingers had taken yo swelling as a fun activity to start the morning off with.
And you have been going to the bathroom almost on the dot every thirty minutes. Dr. Santos had jokingly suggested that they needed to set up a revolving door for the bathroom. That conversation had been shut down quickly with a pointed look from not only yourself but also Robby in Santos direction.
You hadn't laughed, and that was mostly because there was a pain that had started somewhere at the start of the morning in your lower back, it wasn't unbearable by any means it was just a constant pressure.
The kind that was a deep ache that no matter how you moved with wasn't in a lot of direction you just weren't able to shake. You shifted again your chair, Dennis who was looking at the board glances over at you. "Back?" He asked, you gave him a small nod, "It's been like this all day."
"Are you gonna tell Robby?" He asked, "No." You said far too quickly, "Why?" You shrunk in your chair, "Cause he'll send me home." Dennis nodded, "Yeah that's a good point." And then the young doctor was off to check in a new patient.
Four in the afternoon rolled around, and Robby caught you leaning heavily agasint the medicine room counter. "Are you doing okay, honey?" He asked , you just hummed swinging you hips back and forth, "That's not very convincing." Robby said with raised brows. "My backs just hurtin'."You say, "Still?"
"It's been hurting all morning, and hurts still." Robby gave you a small frown, "You feelin' anything else?" You shrug your shoulders, "Yeah my stomach been doing this tightening thing." Robby's eyes go wide, "Tightening?" You shake your head at him. "Do you mean contractions?" He asks, clearly more stressed then you about this new wave of information coming his way.
"No." He blinks at you, "Then please tell me what you call it." "I don't know…" You wave a little around you vaguely, "Just pregnancy stuff." He stares at you for a moment, "You time them?" He asks you a litter curious. "No they're random."
"How random are we talkin' here honey?" Robby asks, "I don't know, Robby. I'm not really paying attention to them." Just then Dennis walks by with a coffee in his hand, "You haven't been timing them have you?" Dennis now asks you, "No." Dennis slowly looks over at his boss, and Robby slowly looks back, neither of them utter a single word.
The shift has finally come to an end, which just outright feels miraculous. You've changed into a nice pair of leggings that just barely fit over the swell of your feet while Robbys carries everything else out of the ambulance automatic doors. "You don't need to carry my bag, Robby."
"I know."
"That also means you don't need to carry my lunchbox either."
"I also know that." He mutters, not letting go of either item. "I can carry my own water bottle Robby, jesus!" You grumble, "I know but I want to take care of you, now let me." You sigh giving up, "You've hovering a lot right now."
"Hey now, you married me. You know what you were gettin' into long before hand." He teases, "That isn't an excuse and you know it, mister." Robby smiles at you, "Oh it absolutely is, honey."
The start of the drive home is a quiet one, the radio is playing softly in the background some station that you had picked on the way into work this morning, the sunset is painting downtown Pittsburgh in a beautiful light.
You rest one hand on the swell of your stomach rubbing gently and soft circles into the skin. Another wave of pressure some rolling through your lower back, and you can't help but wince at the pain. Robby forever in doctor mode notices the shift immediately. "You okay over there?" He asks from his drivers seat.
"hmm." You hum, "That looked like a no to me." You shake your head, "It's just my back killin' me." Robby's absent minded tapping on the wheel stops, "You said that earlier." "What are you a court reporter?" You tease him playfully.
There's silence from the drivers seat of the car, and then another ache rolls through you. Longer this time and you just try to breath through the pressure, and dull ache. Robby's eyes leave the road for only a second and flicker over to you, "How long has this been doing that for?" He asks concern in each word.
"Doing what?"
"That." He says pointedly, "I don't know." You shrug, so Robby pushes, "All day?" he asks, you surpisingly give in quickly. "Yeah. My lower backs been aching since this morning."
"You've had back pain?" Robby asks, as if he's waiting for you the catch up. "yes." "All day?" He asks once more clarifying, "And the stomach tightening?" "Still happening I'm afriad." "Since this morning?" He asks with a litter bit more urgency in his voice. "Yeah." You says quickly.
His hands tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. "Honey." You perk up, "What?"
"You been stopping in the bathroom every say I don't know twenty minutes or so?" He asks, "I'm pregnant I alway have to fuckin' pee, Robby."
"But you barely even touched your lunch."
"Robby I was tired." You try to convince him of what you are't sure. "You were shifting every couple of seconds and are still doing it now." You roll your eyes at your husband, "That's becuase my back hurts." You say it like it's a duh answer so clearly understandable.
Robby stops, and looks away, and ahead into the traffic. Then back at you, then back towards traffic. Something perfectly clicking into place. Without another word spoken in the car the blinker comes to life, and the car makes the smoothest u-turn you've ever felt.
Though the motion doesn't have you grabbing at the 'oh-shit' bar overhead instinctively.
“Robby?”
You get nothing, not even as the man presses his foot down on the gas pedal and turns back in the direction of the hospital instead of home. “Robby, why are you turning us around right now?” You ask quietly but with urgency in your voice.
With one hand staying on the steering wheel, the other comes to rest on top of yours before your fingers are intertwined and he squeezes your hand. “Because honey.” He says with a long, almost entirely exhausted sigh.
Before Robby can speak, another wave of pressure.
Another contraction comes, stealing the breath from your lungs. You squeeze Robby’s hand back without giving it much thought. He watches the dashboard clock, then watches as you breathe through it and then finally back towards the road.
“Because you’ve been in active labor all fuckin day long.” He says calmly; you blink at him in surprise. “Huh?”
“Honey, our daughter is coming today.” There’s silence from your side of the car. “No!” You say it adamantly, like you have the sheer force to stop it. “You’ve been having contractions since this morning.”
“They weren’t that bad.”
“They were in your back, honey.”
“I just thought…” Robby cuts in, “They’ve been consistent.”He says seriously. “Here I was thinking she just dropped funny.”
“You’ve barely been able to walk.”
“My feet were just swollen.” You counter
“You went to the staff bathroom about, I’d say, twenty times today.” You look at your husband with raised brows. “You were counting my bathroom breaks.”
“I’ve always counted.” He says simply. You stare at him. “I’m… I’ve been in labor?” Robby nods, “Yeah, honey, one hundred percent.”
“I worked.”
“You did triage for three patients.”
“I did restock for trauma two after that MVC came through.”
“No, you reorganized some blankets while having contractions.”
“I didn’t know!” You say, a little sad, “I know.”
Robby laughs even though he knows he probably shouldn’t. “I know, honey.” Another contraction hits, this time harder; this time it takes the air from your lungs. And your grip on the ‘oh-shit’ bar goes knuckle white. Your breathing takes a hit, and you squeeze your eyes shut tight.
Robby watches you for just two seconds before he reaches over and rubs gentle circles into your shoulder. “That’s it, honey.” he speaks calmly, “Breathe.” You follow his orders.
When the contraction finally eases up, you look at your husband with complete and utter disbelief in your eyes. “I just worked a twelve-hour shift.” He nods, “You sure did, honey.”
‘While in active labor.” Robby hums, “I’m never living this down, am I?” You ask him, and he smiles. “Oh, probably not.” You groan dramatically. “Whitaker is gonna tell everyone.”
Robby shakes his head at you. “He already knew.” Robby tells you, “What?” “He figured it out before I got a chance to.” You stare at your husband, “He didn’t tell me!”
“Whitaker said to me that if I didn’t notice by the end of the shift that he was, in fact, just going to call labor and delivery himself.” You laugh, “Oh my fuckin’ god.” Robby chuckles from his driver’s seat.
“I think half the ER knew.”
“You promise only half?”
“Maybe… all of them.”
You bring one of your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. “I’m so embarrassed.” “Don’t be.” “I just spent the afternoon filing paperwork like it was nothing, all while I was having contractions.” You whine.
“You were insistent that you were ‘just uncomfortable’,” Robby says again, acting like a court reporter. “I was!” You grumble. He laughs this time, ‘You are the most absolutely stubborn woman I’ve ever met in my life.”
Another contraction is building, this one stronger, and you grab his hand. “Okay.” He squeezes back, “Okay?” “Maybe…” You grimace. You take a deep, hard inhale. “Okay… maybe you’re right. I think she’s actually coming.”
Robby’s smile softens around the corners in an instant. “I know.” He kisses your knuckles while pulling back into the ambulance entrance. “I’ve got you,” he promises as you look over at him with tears gathering in your eyes. “I’m scared.” You admit to your husband.
“I know.”
“You’ll stay with me?”
Robby, for a moment, looks genuinely offended by the thought. “The doctors and nurses in labour will have to physically remove me.” That earns a laugh from you, the ER doors slide open, and several of your coworkers look up.
Dennis takes the look on your face and then looks at your husband. Before sigh dramatically, “I told you, boss.” Robby just gives him a pointed look, and then helps you out of the car. “Don’t speak a word of this to anyone.” Dennis smirks, “I’ll save it for after the little one is born.”
You groan between the two men. “This can’t ever leave the group chat.” You say through another wave of pressure, “No.” Dennis agrees automatically. “It won’t, I promise.”
Later that following day, your daughter is born. With a large set of lungs that scream, a full head of hair, and eyes that match her father’s. Yona Elizabeth Robinavitch is born at 8 pounds and 9 oz.
House Of The Dragon: Rhaenyra Targaryen - Where The Sky Keeps Secrets
Pairing: Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen x Female!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, dragon riding, kissing.
Summary: Rhaenyra steals you away for a peaceful ride on Syrax
A/n- @ firefly-graphics for dividers.
Word Count: 1741k
House Of The Dragon Master List
The highest point in the afternoon the sun casts a perfect painted pictures over the cliffs of Dragstone. With molten gold, and the silver glittering of the sea below that looks like coins scattered on top of the water.
That warm salty air that curls around your hair as you wait in the castle yard.
Trying and failing to hide your smile when you hear those oh so familiar footsteps approaching you from behind. "Have you been waiting long?" Rhaenyra asks, sounding amused already.
When you turn you find her dressed in a simple dress, her silver hair is braided back so it leaves her face clear. Without the entire of court resting on her shoulder she looks younger, and at the same time freer.
"Only long enough to wonder if you had finally forgotten about me." She shakes her head at your words, "I wouldn't dare forget about you." Rhaenyra reaches out for your hand almost has naturally as the older women breaths.
She's quick to intertwine your fingers together before bringing your hand up and presses a chaste kiss to the tops of your knuckles.
"I've taken an afternoon." She admits to you quietly. "I'm sure the council will be able to survive without me for a few hours yet." You look at her with raised brows, "You know they will complain."
"Don't they always." She says with a roll of her eyes, you giggle and the sounds earns you the rarest of jewels a smile that only belongs to you. "Come." She says softly. She leads you directly into the middle of the yard where Syrax is waiting.
The beautiful golden dragon is resting in the sunlight, like a cat with her enormous wings folded neatly against her sides. Amber of eyes watch as you take your approach with an intelligence behind them before she lets out the quietest of rumbling from her chest.
"Do you still think she's judging me?" You ask Rhaenyra.
"She is." She replies calmly. "I knew it."
Rhaenyra chuckles, "Syrax is just making sure that you're worthy."
"And?" You ask.
"Syrax is still deciding." You gasp dramatically as if you're offended, "And would could she say if I brought her some sheep?" You ask, "You'll have better luck bringing me sweet cakes." Rhaenyra teases. "That might help too."
Syrax watches the two of you for a moment, and then finally lowers herself, allowing for the Queen to mount her, Rhaenyra looks down at you extending a hand towards you. "Are you ready?" She asks.
You grow hesitant and its just enough to have her raises a brow, "I trust you." you say quickly, "I know." Rhaenyra wraps her fingers around yours. They're steady and warm pulling you up effortlessly behind her. Once the both of you are seated and settles you pull your arms around her waist.
"You may want to hold on a little tighter." Rhaenyra teases you. "But I haven't even become close to frightened yet." "You will." Rhaenyra says matter of factly. "And here I thought you were supposed to reassure me."
"I've only ever promised you honesty." You lean into her pressing your forehead agasint the blade of her shoulder. "You're impossible sometimes." "I've been told that once or twice." You feel Syrax shift underneath you, and the movement alone had you tightening your hold on the Queen.
Rhaenyra places one of her hands on your where they rest tightly around her waist. "Do not look down after we've left the ground." You swallow hard, "That doesn't sound great." "You trust me?" "I've already said I do, Rhaenyra."
She laughs, "I know." With nothing else to be said she gives the command, Syrax moves quickly. The first leap is powerful so much that it has breath being stolen from your lungs, and the second leap has you being carried into the open air around you.
As the wind rushes around you. It's both cool and exhilarating. All while Dragonstone become smaller and smaller beneath the clawed feet. You tighten your grip on her waist again without thinking. "I knew it!" Rhaenyra shouts over the roar of the wind. "I hate that you were right!" You shout over the wind.
"You'll enjoy it in just a moment!"
"I enjoy the solid ground beneath my feet." You counter.
Syrax take a sharp turn, and the noise that leaves you is both a shriek and a laugh. The sea comes into view and it stretches beneath you endlessly. With the deep sapphire color only being broken up by the white waves that crash agasint the cliffs, and shore.
You sense the fear gradually starting to ease, the air somehow smell fresher, the clouds seem so close that you could probably touch them, and everything below has become so small.
Towns, villages, ships, and even the entirety of Dragonstone.
You press the bottom of your chin on Rhaenyra shoulder. "Oh!" She tilts her head slightly for you "See I told you." There aren't words to describe it. Beautiful doesn't feel right, impossible seems wrong since you're seeing it all.
Freeing might be the right word for it. "It all just feels like the entire world could disappear within seconds." Rhaenyra voice softens, "That's why I fly whenever possible." As she says Syrax climbs up higher into the sky.
The wind continues to whip around the two of you, and it causes a few of her silver hairs to come loose from her braid until they're brushing agasint your face. Rhaenyra reaches back and squeezes your hand again, "When I was a little girl…" She starts, "I always believed that carried away any worried that I had."
"Do they?" You ask, "Yes they do in fact even if it's just for a little while." You look out and watch the sunlight shimmer across the narrow sea below your feet. "I think that they still do." The silence that engulfs the both of you is comfortable, not the awkward kind, instead it carries a simple peacefulness.
It's that kind of comfortable silence that only comes after you've spent countless conversations together, and then spent those quiet together.
Eventually Syrax comes to the lone coastline, and Rhaenyra leans slightly into the turn, "Look there." She says pointing, and you follow her gesture. Far below you there are dolphins that are surfacing right besides a an old merchant vessel just before they sink beneath the waves and disappear again.
"I don't think I've ever seen that from the shore."
"Probably not, sweet cakes." Her voice warm, and safe. "There are probably many things that you can only see from here. Different perspective and all." You smile into her back, "That sounds oddly like something a queen I know would say."
"Honestly can't help myself sometimes."
"I don't mind." You whisper, Rhaenyra laughs softly. "I was hoping you wouldn't or this would be awkward." The flight on Syrax continues without any sort of urgency, because there wasn't anywhere to be, no petitions, no politics that needed to be played, and no expectations.
Just the wind, Syrax wings, and each other.
When Syrax does finally land its on top of a grassy cliff that overlooks the sea. The dragon folds her wings and settles with a satisfied rumble of her chest. You climb slowly down, and turn around to offer Rhaenyra your hand.
"I do appreciate the gesture." She says, "I know you not need any rescuing."
"No." She says stepping closer to you, "But I do admit I do being cared for so." The breeze tugs agasint the two of you gently. Far below you the waves are crashing agasint the cliff in a soothing way.
Rhaenyra had wandering away from you and towards the cliffs edge. Just barely stopping when it remained safe. You join her at her side, your shoulders brushing. "All the grandeur of the Red Keep…" Rhaenyra mutters, "It will never compare to this."
"The view?" You ask, she turns and looks at you instead of the vast sea. "No." She says plainly. You feel your heart start to stumble around in your chest, "You." Rhaenyra confirms, at the admission you feel your face grow hot, "Well that was just unfair."
"How so?" Rhaenyra asks with a arched brow. "You can't just say things like that to me." "I already have." Rhaenyra looks far too pleased with herself. You shake your head at her. "The princess grows very bold I see."
"I've got plenty of those too." You laugh and before you can think about it you're tucking another loose strand of her hair behind her hair. "You're beautiful." You say without thinking, "So are you sweet cakes."
"I think you might be biased."
She nods, "I most certainly am." She says without hesitation. Rhaenyra leans into your touch with eyes that soften the longer they look at you. "I've spent me entire life deciding for others. Listening to advisors, making judgements on others. Preparing for battles that I did not wish to fight."
Rhaenyra rests her head agasint yours, "But here." She mumbles, her eyes closing. "I can just be yours." The words settle between you. Her words are dramatic, nor are they desperate. They're just true. Your brush agasint her cheek. "And I get to be yours." You say softly, and honestly.
Rhaenyra smiles at you before she's closing the small distance between the two of you.
Your kiss with her is slow and as unhurried as flying in the sky. She tastes faintly of sea air and the sunshine. It carried no urgency beyond the familiarity of it, and the certainty that your two hearts were already chosen for one another.
When the two of you finally pulled away, Syrax let out a low but impatient huff from behind you. You glanced over your shoulder back at her. "I think she's interrupting us." "I think." Rhaenyra replies with a grin tugging at her lips.
"She's reminding us that we still have to fly back home to Dragonstone." You sigh heavily, "Court awaits us." "I'm afraid so." Rhaenyra says softly, you give her hand a squeeze. "Then you let us keep them waiting for a moment longer." you say quietly.
Rhaenyra smile grows large, and impossible fond."I do believe." She whispers before leaning down to steal one last kiss. "That is a most excellent idea, sweet cakes."
As much as I believe in Dennis being raised mormon, I think it would be really interesting to explore him being ex Amish (as unlikely as it is) especially in terms of his first language not being English.
In the breakroom, the Pittlings are fighting over something stupid as per usual and someone remarks “Well, everyone here’s first language is English. Sure, Trinity speaks Tagalog but you learned English first.” and Dennis looks confused and goes “Mine isn’t?”
“Dialects don’t count, fuckleberry. Even if you say Ope and Bubbler that’s still English”
“I know that, thank you very much. That’s not what I mean. I’m saying I literally did not grow up speaking English.”
“Well, what did you speak?”
“Pennsylvania Dutch.”
“Bullshit.” Trinity scoffs, though she knows it’s likely not
“You spoke Amish?!” Victoria asks, and Dennis has to hold back his laughter.
Then, a few weeks later, there’s a kid on Rumspringa who gets hurt who gets hurt and has to come in. But he’s in so much pain that he can’t always keep his English, and none of the people helping him have any idea what he’s saying. Enter Dennis, who immediately clocks what the problem is and speaks to him fluently, which causes at least two people to look at him like he’s got two heads.
“Dude, that was total gibberish. I thought he was, like, high.” Langdon remarks after, and Dennis does that offended look that he did when Trinity said farm benefits, though he quickly corrects his face.
“That’s Pennsylvania Dutch, Frank. If you live in a state that has a large Amish population, it might do you well to learn a few words.”
(nsfw under the cut)
When Robby has him strewn out on the bed, panting and whining as the older drives into him, he loves to tease him, to watch as he loses his english and then any words at all.
“Please, Robby, please, I wanna cum, I’ve been good!” becomes “verdammt, ich kann net— datt! datt, sei gutt! (damnit, i can’t— there! there, please!)” becomes just whimpers and moans.
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Dennis is convinced that the second day of his emergency medicine rotation can't be any worse than his first; then Dr. Robby evicts him from his work station again and, upon standing, Dennis realises that he's bled through onto the soft fabric seat of his chair. Eyes wide with horror, he looks at the little dark stain, then up at Robby, who has definitely seen the stain as well.
"D-Doctor Robby, I-I—" Dennis uselessly stutters. He shoves his hands behind him, hopefully covering the mess on the back of his scrub bottoms. "I will, uh, I will—"
Robby casts a look around the bustling emergency department and loudly announces, "It is hot in here." Then, he peels his blue hoodie from his arms and drapes it across the seat of the chair, covering the stain. When his eyes land on Dennis, he says, "Why are we just standing around, Whitaker? Come with me."
Dennis tenses as Robby clamps his big hands down on his shoulders and wheels him away from the hub. The touching seems to be a regular habit with him, but the close way Robby walks behind him is new. It strikes Dennis that he is using his body to hide his leak. Dennis' insides are cramping, his back feels all sweaty, and—great—now his eyes are stinging too.
Robby takes him outside. Speaking lowly, he asks, "You use the decontamination shower yesterday?"
"No?"
"Didn't think so. It's just a big wet room, basically. Get cleaned up. I'll bring you new scrubs."
Dennis feels himself pale. "Is it that bad?" How long has he been walking around with a big bloody patch on the back of his scrubs, not realising that he's been leaking through his pad?
Robby turns him around so that he can hold his shoulders while looking at him face on. "Hey, it happens. There's menstrual products in the break room first aid cupboard. You want a pad or a tampon?"
Now Dennis feels himself flush. "Pad, please."
Robby nods. "There's period underwear there too. I'll bring you a pair. You okay, Whitaker? Can you keep your head in the game today?"
Against his better judgement, he says, "Yeah." He's focused through the pain of his cramps thus far, but how can he push this conversation about period products with his boss to the back of his mind?
"What about the chair?" He asks suddenly. "I can—I can clean it up later if you put it aside."
Robby smiles at him in a sort of quizzical manner. "I am not letting you clean a chair when there's patients to be seen, Whitaker."
"I meant after!"
"Still," Robby chuckles, "I'm not letting you. There's plenty of spares. And one of the few positives about working in an emergency department is that no one is ever surprised to find blood anywhere." He claps Dennis' shoulder and concludes, "Wash up, and I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Then he's off again, the same way he whirls away from patients and onto the next challenge.
Dennis keeps the door cracked open so he can watch him go. Then, once he is gone, he shuts it, and he strips. The dark brown stain on the back of his scrubs is mortifying, but not nearly as awful as the fact that his boss is actively fetching him a pad.
Dennis can't wait until this day is over. Surely tomorrow—his third day in the Pitt—can't be as bad as the first two, right?
in the midst of capitalism, fanfiction and archive of our own are always unconditionally and endlessly free. love, joy and passion, shared among human beings, are always unconditionally and endlessly free
Warnings: Pregnancy, labor, childbirth, NICU mention, emotional scenes involving birth.
Summary: Jack Abbot has survived countless nights in the ER, but nothing prepares him for the phone call he receives during a quiet night shift.
A/n - @ firefly-graphics for dividers
WC- 2100k
The Pitt Master List
The ER has been strangely dull (quiet)
For once that chaos that surrounded PTMC had settled into a weird uneasy stillness. There had only three patients in the past few hours that had come rolling through the triage, and ER doors.
A stupid young college boy who had tried and failed to climb out of his bedroom window to sneak off to a party. He ended up just barely missing the porch. The kid had a minor concussion, and some cuts and bruises.
A MVC that had on the surface look far worse then it actually ended up for both drivers, and an elderly women who life alert pedant had gone off after she slipped while getting out bed.
Jack was leaning up agasint the nurses station, with a single shit coffee cooling next to him when he glanced towards the clock on the wall.
2:58 AM
Something just felt wrong. Jack couldn't explain the deep rooted feeling in his chest that wouldn't go away. Like there was about to be shit storm coming his way. In his pocket he felt his phone ring, pulling it out to see your face on his screen.
Jack felt his stomach drop, because you only ever called him when something was important. He answered immediately. "Hey sweetheart." He said into the phone and he was met with silence.
Then
"Jack…" Your voice wobbled, and he could hear the tears behind his name. Not sniffling from some stupid tiktok you had just watched, but full on sobbing into the phone.
Jack felt his pulse spike under his wrist. "What's happened?" He asked quickly. "My…" You stutter letting out a shaky breath. "Jack my water broke."
In an instant everything around the new upcoming dad disappeared. The beeping of monitors, the conversations between nurses, and patients families, even the bright floursent lights. All the man could hear was your crying on the other line.
"No…" You whispers into the phone, probably talking down to your belly. "You weren't supposed to come yet." Jack closed his eyes, phone stilled pressed tightly agasint his ear. For just a half of a second he breathed forcing himself to become the most calm and stable person in the room.
"Honey." He said calmly into the phone. You didn't answer right away, "I really need you to listen to me." Another sob came ringing through the phone. "Can you do that for me?" He asked, "…Yeah I think I can." He nodded and then remembered that you weren't there in front of him, "Good."
His voice continued to stay calm, and gentle. "Breath with me." He heard you trying, "In for four baby." He said, and counted with you. "One… two… three… and four. Now hold for four."
Another count, "And now out for four." He said hearing your breath continue to be shaky. Again Jack repeated his words. "In for four again, honey."
By the fourth breath in your sobs had gone soft just enough for you to finally answer him. "That's my girl."
"Jack I'm scared."
"I know honey."
Jack was now at his locker, grabbing his keys from the bottom of his bag. "But you're not going to do this alone." He promised, already walking towards the ER doors. "I really need you to stay exactly where you are."
"But I've already packed my bags."
"I know you did honey." Jack said into the phone, having known that you probably freaked out and packed the bags before calling him. "They are by the door." You say, "I know honey." Jack hears a small sob break through the phone once more.
"You aren't mad are you?" You ask, voice shake. Jack actually laughed at the thought that he would ever be mad at you for this. "Honey, the only thing that I'm feeling close to right now is that our son hasn't the greatest timing."
There's a watery laugh that escape from you. Jack breathes out feeling a small amount of stress falling off his shoulders. Jack ends up dragging another phone out of another pocket, clicking on the only profile he knew would be up at this late hour of morning.
It rings once.
Then twice.
Then, "Abbot?" Robby was like Jack had excepted wide awake, "I need a favor brother."
"What's wrong?" Robby asked, Jack could hear the concern in his oldest friends voice. "My wife's in labor." Jack said quickly. There was a few seconds of silence on the other lines, "Holy shit." "I'm leaving." Jack added, "I've got your shift." Robby said, and the sound of Robby moving could heard in the background. "I figured you would just wanted to let you know." Robby hummed, and sounded distant now. "I'll tell Baran you're out." Jack smiled into the phone.
"I owe you brother, thanks."
"No…" Robby replied softly, "Now go get your wife, and go meet your son, brother." Jack just hung up after that before he could hear the way the emotions were crawling up through Robbys throat.
With that out of the way, the drive home that normally took less then half an hour Jack had managed to cut to just fourteen minutes.
Jack barely remembers the traffic lights, or the stops signs. When he pulls into the driveway he sees you. Standing inside the doorway exactly where you must had been when you called him just awhile ago. Bags by your side at your feet, with one of your most comfortable pillows tucked your arm, and a steady stream of tears rolling down your puffy cheeks. The second you see him get out of the car the tears come once again.
"Oh, baby." He mumbles as he reaches out for you. He wraps his arms around you carefully not wanting to cause any more unnecessary harm. "I've got you now." He whispers to you, at that moment another wave of contractions rolls through your body. You are quick to bury your head into the crook of his neck, "I hate this, Jack." You mumble into this neck. "I know." He says sympathetically, "It hurts." You whine, Jack kisses your forehead.
"I know it hurts, but think with every contraction we are one step closer to meeting our son." You nod slowly, and with that together the two of your make your way back to the car. Another set of bags are already loaded into the back of the car. Jack might have had a gut feeling, or maybe he was over prepared. Neither of you will ever know, the drive back to the hospital is a much slower one.
One of his hands stays on the steering wheel, the other one never leaves yours.
"You gotta breath with me, honey."
You take a breath in together counting again. "Four." held, and then let our again.
Again
Again
And again
until Jack can see the glow of the hospital lights as they finally come into view.
An entire shift has passed since Jack got the phone call that your water had broken.
It's somewhere at the twelve hour mark when the conversation decides to rear it's head. You're lay on the bed absolutely exhausted, Jack sits next to you. His hand wrapped up in your. Watching as the sweat clings to your brows, neck, and chest. "You know." You whisper into the finally empty delivery room. "We never actually talks about a middle name." Jack glances at you.
"You're thinkin' about that right now?" He asks, brows twisted up and raised high on his head. "I'm trying to distract myself from this pain, Jack." You say like it's common knowledge. "That's fair honey." He mumbles you give a tired, but happy smile. "We've had literally nine months to think about this." Jack laughs, "Yeah I know."
"And somehow all we've got is a first name."
"Oliver is a pretty good first name." You hum, "Yeah Oliver is perfect." you say with a sweet smile. "Oliver Michael." Jack offers, you look at him and he's staring down at your intertwined hands. "Michael?" You say softly, "Yeah." There's the smallest of smiles that pulls at his lips. "After Robby?" You claify.
Jack just nods, holding back some of the emotions he can feeling bubbling up in his chest, and throat. "I mean the mans been my best friend for most of my life. He's really been there for me through everything." Jack voices goes soft. "And he's gonna be here for Oliver too."
You feel your eyes start to water, "You think he'll like it?" You ask, and Jack laughs. "I think that the old bastard will try and pretend that he hates it." You smile, "Then he'll cry." Jack nods. You're both laughing when all the sudden your laugh turns into a groan. Yet another contraction starting. Jack is quick to drop the subject and resign all his attention back on you. "Okay, lets forget Robby, and forget the names, just breath." Jack mumbles.
It's another six hours later with a final push, a single cry and then suddenly he's there.
Oliver Michael Abbot.
He's a mostly healthy baby boy, weighing in at seven pounds a head full of Jacks red hair, tiny fingers, and toes.
Letting out the most furious cries that filled the delivery room immediately. Jack had finally let himself cry and that was before the nurses put baby Oliver on your chest. "Oh…" he let out his voice cracking. "Hi buddy." he spoke softly. Tiny fingers wrapping around just one of Jacks.
You assuming it's there when Jack had gone from in love, to completely wrapped around Olivers finger. Hopelessly in love with not only just you but now this new life laying contently against your chest.
Oliver does manage to get the VIP stay in the NICU for the first few days of his new life, mostly because he had needed just a little extra help with learning how to eat, but now he's taken the bottle right away, and his breathing is staying strong not that Jack had any fear especially when Oliver had been a yeller the second he entered the world.
Every single updates brings better news. Every day Oliver is brought one step closer to making it home. The entire ER, day and night shift are determined to adopt him before he's even discharged. Flowers fill the room you're staying in, cards from the day and night shift. Even departments heads from different floors come by to just simply congratulate you.
Lena is the first to show up with enough food that it could probably feed a small army. Dana is never far behind, carrying with her a small, green stuffed dinosaur that she had insisted every little boy needed.
Finally after just a few days have passed Robby wanders into the NICU carrying a bouguet the knocks the rest of the other flowers out of the park. He's quiet when he steps to Olivers bassinet. "You made a pretty good looking kid, brother." Jack smiles and rolls his eyes. "Yeah he's prefect." Robby looks over at his oldest, and best friend. "So… what'd you guys land on?"
Jack takes a quick glance at you, and you nod. "We'd like you to met Oliver Michael Abbot." Robby frowns maybe out of sheer shock. "Michael?" He asks quietly, as Oliver wraps a hand around one of his fingers. Jack smiles knowingly at him. "Man you've been my best friend, and saved my ass more time then I have fingers to count on." Robby just blinks rapidly. "You've been my family for years." Jacks words are met with silence.
And before Jack knows it Robby's eyes are filling with tears. "You idiot." Robby laughs through the tears. "You really named your kid after me?" He asks. Jack pulls him into a tight hug before Robby can protest. "You've more then earned it brother." Robby finally melts into the hug,
"I love you man."
"I love you too brother."
From across the room Lena smiles at you, and Dana hands you yet another tissue. "I told you that he'd cry."
"I didn't."
"Oh come on big guy you absolutely did." Dana says from the other side of the room. Oliver lets out at that moment the tiniest of squeaks from his bassinet. All of you are quick to look his way, and it makes Jack laugh. "Looks like we're all already wrapped around Olivers finger." The five of you can't even agrue with that statment, because they all know that it's true.
Oliver is about to be the most spoiled baby boy in the entire ER.
He’s staring at Trinity’s front door trying to work up the courage to knock. He wasn’t trying to come here. He was going to wonder until he could figure out where to stay for the rest of the night. He looks at his watch. It’s a little past 4am. It’s too late to go to any of the shelters. Actually, since staying with Robby he’s got a lot little money saved up. He could have gotten a cheap motel, but that money was supposed to be sent back home.
He knocks hurriedly before his brain tells him to walk away. After a few minutes he does it again but louder. Nothing. He shouldn’t have come here. Maybe he’ll go hang out at the 24 hour cafe that’s across from the hospital. Yeah he’ll do that.
As soon as he turns to leave the door swings open. “Who in the everliving fu-“ she’s yelling, her eyes barely open like she just woke up. Of course she just woke up, idiot. It’s 4am. “Huckleberry?” Her eyes go wide, full of worry.
She grabs the strap of his backpack on his shoulder and snatches him inside. So hard and fast that he trips on the door ledge. His hands find her shoulders to steady himself.
“Oh my god Huckleberry!” She looks him up and down, taking in his shivering figure. “What the fuck is going on? Are you okay?”
He takes a second to take in her apartment. It’s warm and familiar. Her comforter is pulled onto the sofa, like she was sleeping in the living room. There’s take out scattered all over the table and… and the tv is playing Grey’s Anatomy.
He’s crying all over again. He pulls her hard into a tight hug. She makes a “oof” sound, hands up unsure at first. Then she slowly wraps her arms around him, rubbing his back softly. “Den? Are you okay?” She repeats. She pulls away from the hug and hold him steady by the shoulders, looking him up and down again. “Did something happen? Did Dr. Robby hurt you?” No hesitation, straight to it. He missed her bluntness.
“No, he didn’t hurt me.” He says honestly. He thinks the crying is finally going to stop. Exhaustion is hitting hard. He feels like his legs are going to give out from under himself. She looks down at his legs and back up at his face with an eyebrow raised. “Robby didn’t hurt me. I-“ he hesitates. “I hurt myself”
There. He’s admitted it to someone. Other than Robby, who he admitted it to unwillingly. She looks confused but she doesn’t push, right now. He knows her, and he knows she will push soon. She’s holding him with such kindness.
Her usual cold, hard demeanor is filled with worry. He realizes now that he whole heartedly trusts her. He knows that her childhood was also tough, though she never talks about it. He feels like she would never judge him. He loves her, he thinks. Like a sister. Why did he ever leave?
“Come on, you’re freezing” she ushers him to the sofa. Wrapping him in the comforter and heads to the kitchen. The comforter smells like her. The apartment is old and stuffy just like he remembers. He feels at home.
Trinity comes back with a warm mug and places it in his freezing hands. He tastes it. It’s chamomile tea. “Tell me what’s going on. I swear if Dr. Robby hurt you I’ll slash the tires on his bike. I’ll smash it into tiny little pieces with a sledgehammer.” She’s definitely not joking.
“I promise you Trin. He didn’t.” He tells her but she doesn’t look convinced. He’s going to tell her. Maybe just a little bit. Just enough so she understands it’s him, not Robby.
He sighs before he starts. “Okay so my childhood was…” how should he put it? “Rough. I guess. I mean it wasn’t horrible, but not good. I think. I don’t think it- I mean there are people who probably had worse off. I think-” He stops when she raises an eyebrow at him.
He’s rambling. “Sorry.” He mumbles. Slightly embarrassed to be talking about this. “My parents are really religious, and it’s really affected me throughout my adulthood.” She listens and doesn’t interrupt. Her stare is so intense, he has to break eye contact. He looks at the tv without really watching it and continues.
“I have issues with my relationship with religion. I don’t know how to explain it.” He does know how to explain but he doesn’t want to get into that part right now. He’s not ready for to talk about that. “I do things, punishments I did when I was a child, still. When I feel like I deserve them. I don’t know how to stop. It’s like I need to do them. When we were talking tonight, Robby started asking questions. Questions I wasn’t ready to answer. Not to him.” He finally looks at her. She staring at his knees. Again, why did he put himself in shorts. It’s like he was asking for this whole night to happen. To her credit, she doesn’t ask. She seems to understand he’s not ready to talk about that part yet.
“Why him?” She asks. He’s furrows his eyebrows in confusion. So she clarifies. “You said “not to him.” Why specifically him?”
He takes a deep breath. “I have this admiration for Robby. Yes he’s my attending, my teacher, but it feels too strong. I worry this admiration is greater than my faith. Which is crazy because I don’t even know if I believe in my faith anymore.”
“Oh Huckleberry.” She puts a hand on his knee. Just like Robby did, but she’s got a small smile of her face unlike Robby’s worried one. He doesn’t flinch this time. “I think you have a crush, dude. Not this “admiration” that’s he’s better than God or whatever.” She says it so matter of fact. Like it could be nothing else.
“Im not gay Trin.” He says defensively. It even sounds wrong coming out of his mouth. He’s not gay. He can’t be. It took a lot to not be gay. His stomach turns at the thought.
“Okay so maybe you’re bi. Doesn’t really matter. You’ve seen the girls that used to come in and out of here. You know I wouldn’t judge.” She’s right. Not about him being gay, or bi, or whatever. But on the fact that she would never judge. Shes totally wrong on the fact that he could have crush on Robby. That part of him was forced away a long time ago, and he’s never coming back.
“It’s not a crush.” He defends himself again. She holds her hands up in surrender.
“Okay okay Huck, whatever you say.” She pulls the comforter over both of them and starts to lay back on the couch. She looks at him again. “You’re welcome here anytime Huckleberry. No questions asked. Stay here as long as you want.” She’s doesn’t say it but he knows she missed him. Just like he missed her. She pulls his legs into her lap and focuses on the tv. Just like that their sad little moment is over. Maybe he was overreacting at Robby’s. Maybe he shouldn’t have left. No. He did the right thing by leaving.
“Im not big on therapy.” She says after a moment. His eyes were starting to fall shut, but he looks at her. “But I think if anyone ever needed therapy, it’s you.” she says honestly. He can’t help the laugh that tumbles from his mouth. She hits him on the shoulder. “Im serious Den. You have like, I don’t know, textbook childhood ptsd. When you open that page in the textbook it’s a picture of your face.” They’re both laughing now. It feels like it used to, before he got confused staying with Robby. He’s so glad he came back.
He shouldn’t sleep, he’s got a shift in- he checks his watch. Wow it’s almost 5am. He needs to be at the hospital soon, he can’t help as his eyes fall shut and he falls into a restless sleep.
Around an hour later Trinity hears a knock at the door. Not again. She slowly and quietly moves Dennis’ legs off her and goes to the door.
“What now?!” She whisper-yells as she opens the door. “Oh. Umm. Dr. Robby. Hi?” She looks at where Dennis is still lying on the sofa, asleep. Then back at Dr. Robby. He pokes his head inside, relieved to see Dennis here, safe.
“Sorry to bother you Santos. I just wanted to make sure he was somewhere safe.” Trinity nods her head but doesn’t say anything. “I assume he told you why left the house?”
She shrugs and rubs the back of her neck nervously “uhh, a little” she doesn’t really want spill Dennis’ secrets if Dr. Robby doesn’t know why. He nods softly. He genuinely seems worried about Dennis. She feels for him.
“Okay Santos. Im glad he’s here. I was just really worried about him. I still am.” He holds his hand out to give her something. She reaches for it and it’s a set of keys. “He left these when he left. I figured he might need them. I’ll go now. Please let him know he’s welcome back at the house any time. He thinks he was intruding but I really did like having him there. I’ll try to call him later.”
She gives Dr. Robby a small smile. Dennis has a way of unknowingly worming his way into people hearts. First hers when she found him in that abandoned wing. Now it seems like he’s done the same to Dr. Robby.
Dr. Robby turns to leave, but stops, and turns back for a quick second. “Ill put in sick leave for both of you. Don’t worry about your shift today. I’ll find coverage. He needs to rest.” And just like that, he’s walking back to his truck.
“Thank you Dr. Robby” she says a beat too late but she knows by the slight turn of his head he heard her.
(Thank you all for your comments, likes, and repost on pt 1!)
I Can Be The Cat, Baby, You Can Be The Mouse // Explicit // 8,815 words
Jack: the faucet is leaking in the spare bathroom, Whitaker is helping me fix
Robby is grateful for approximately two seconds before a picture comes through that makes Robby choke on the beer he’s nursing at the bar down the street from his motel.
In it, Whitaker is on his hands and knees, shining a flashlight under the sink, looking up into its bowels while Jack is leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, smirking into the mirror with his phone.
//
Robby is not enjoying his sabbatical as much as he thought he would. Jack and Dennis find a way to rectify that.
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im a big supporter of using the noah/shawn age gap for rabbot and to me that means jack is starting undergrad when robby starts med school and that's when they become friends but they don't date until jack comes with robby to louisiana to do med school while robby does his residency at the hospital in new orleans because i do believe young jack was an adoring little frat boy following this mentally ill lanky dork he fell in love with like a lost puppy
"WHA WHA WHA I'm not gonna watch s3 of 'The Pitt' if it's gonna focus on Robby again. WHA WHA WHA it's not the Robby show".
Well, in fact, it is. Let me elaborate ...
The show literally tells us in the first 1:15 min of season 1 that Robby's the main character by using a very simple dramatic device.
We see Robby on his way to the PTMC, while Robert Bradley's Blackwater Surprise's "Baby" plays in the background. First as the scene's soundtrack, then through Robby's headphones. The music stops when he takes them off as he arrives at the Pitt.
We're literally in his head. We see what he sees. We hear what he hears. You really can't get any closer to a main character than that.
House Of The Dragon: Daemon Targaryen - Ashes And Ink
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Angst, Emotional Vulnerability, Fear of abandonment, hurt/comfort, love confessions, unspoken feelings, crying/tears, canon-typical emotional trauma.
Summary: Daemon goes looking for you and instead finds a letter he was never supposed to read. Faced with a new truth Daemon must face the fear of being loved, and possibly losing it
A/n- @ Fireflygraphics for the dividers. ñuha joarsa - My beloved & Avy jorrāelan - I love you
Word Count: 1.026k
House Of The Dragon Master List
Daemon had never been a man who respected the closed doors around him. Instead he wanders into your chambers in search of nothing…
That's not true, he's searching for you, or perhaps the dagger he had sworn he had left behind, and his fingers get caught on a folded up piece of parchment that is tucked behind an unfinished embroidery hoop.
Daemons name isn't one it, in fact there isn't a single thing written on the front of the folded up parchment. He knows deep down that he should put it back, but the curiosity in him almost always wins in these types of situations.
The ink is faded from where a lonesome tear drop must have once fallen.
If I ever find the courage to tell him…
The first line is enough to have stolen the breath out of his lungs, It isn't a political document, it isn't even a correspondence from a lord or a queen. It's a confession.
Daemon can tell straight away that it's your hand-writing. You write about the firs time you had seen him laugh in court, and not in that cruel way where he wears a smirk before the court goers. Instead you write of the genuine laugh that he lets slip when he sees Caraxes get scared off by a flock of seagulls.
You end up admitting so plainly how you've fallen in love with every single version of Daemon even when everyone else around you only sees one version of him.
To you Daemon is the man who quietly covers him sleeping children after large feasts. The prince that pretends to not care, when deep down he's lingering outside of the rooms of those he cares for the most. You write of every single argument that you had survived together.
Every scar.
Every almost moment that didn't happen.
Then there are words that make Daemons chest ache is a way it hasn't not since he was a young child motherless.
He believes that everyone will leave him eventually.
I wish that he knew that I would always choose him in every lifetime that the gods could invent.
Daemons grips tightens on the parchment paper, and the next lines that you've written down cause him to shake.
Perhaps it is better if Daemon never finds out.
If he did love me back, the realm would surely use it agasint him in any manor they see fit.
If he did not love me back… well then the thought might just kill me.
Daemon rereads those three lines over and over again. The man could face dragons without a single tremble of him hands, kills kings, fight in endless wars, come face to face with death itself. But the thought of you carrying all of his by yourself while still standing by himself every single day made a part deep inside of him splinter into two.
The door opens behind him, and your frozen in your spot. Your eyes drop from to the letter in his hand, and Daemon watches as the color drains from your face quickly. Leaving you pale and looking terrified. "Daemon…" There isn't an ounce of anger in your voice, it's only sheer horror that he had found something that he nor anyone else was supposed to find.
"I wasn't meant to…" Daemons says.
You nod, "I know." You say it so softly, that for a moment Daemon is completely stunned by your reaction.
Silence swallows the room, you take a hesitant step forward, as though you are waiting for Daemon to strike out like a hurt animal in the woods. "I never intended for anyone to read it." You mutter softly. His voice is so quiet, and soft that neither of you except it at first. "You thought that I would reject you." His voice filled with hurt. You can't bare to look at him, so you look away, towards the fire burning.
"I just thought…" You say and then swallow hard around the emotions bubbling up through your throat. "I just thought that you deserved someone who was easier to love."
Daemon nearly laughs, not because the thought of you thinking you aren't worthy enough for him, but because it's the most absurd thing the man has ever heard you say. Daemon is quick to crosses the room in just three long strides. "You foolish, beautiful, wonderful thing." Your brows furrow together.
Before you are even able to come up with something else to say, Daemon is cupping your face in his war etched hands. "I've spent my entire life thinking, believing people only loved the thought of me." Daemon's thumb brushes underneath your eyes as a tear escapes down your cheek bone. "You've seen the worst of me."
Daemon sweeps away another tear."And yet you chose to stay here with me." At the sound of Daemons words hitting your ears, the tears are flowing freely now. "I'll always chose to stay." Daemon rests his forehead agasint yours, the crumpled letters to forgotten on the table.
"You really should have given this to me." Daemon says softly.
"I was afraid, Daemon." You mutter.
He hums, "That's okay, so was I."
Daemons admissions is barely above a whisper, "You know that I've never feared going into battle." He smiles sadly down at you, "But you, ñuha joarsa." He says searching your eyes, "You have always possessed the thing that could completely ruin me." You reach out for his hand, "And yet?" You mutter softly. "And yet." he murmurs back to you.
Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "I would rather risk my heart in your soft hands than spend another day pretending that I already do not belong to you, Avy jorrāelan." With that the letter is never sent, it's never sealed after that either. Years later, it remains tucked away in a safe space. Made out of a wooden box that lays beneath your shared bed.
Not there as a reminder of the words that almost were left unsaid, but has the reminder of the night that you and Daemon finally had the courage to speak the words out loud.
I was today years old when I learned that when you type “otp: true” in AO3 search results it filters out fics with additional ships, leaving only the fics where your otp is the main ship
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