#that's more than one 'michael' a minute

[thelonelyshore-if]

I'm struggling to start my writing tonight and my fiance told me to set myself a mini goal. He then told me to write at least as many words as the amount of times they say 'Michael' in the movie The Lost Boys.

This is so funny and so relevant to my interests that I can't not do it.

[girlwiththegreenhat]

in spite of everything i have never been more convinced that kitt is completely in love with michael actually. the car, he yearns

[milflewis]

.

[bisexualnamjoonie]

I open tumblr just to see your tags 🙏 it’s a highlight of my day

armys don't scare me. i've been on the internet for fifteen years and i used to be a directioner, jungkook fans wish they were as insane as me 👍🏽

[godzexperiment]

*posts that brain rot only to post more xD* -nix encountering gabriel is quite literally an inner dialogue like "ah yes I can work with fellow victim of Cosmic Horrors, if I am tolerated and just maybe ignore my own issues." (could be bloody, having just done some fatal stabbings *highly moody* and nix is just like unphased by it) -ironically, in contrast encountering michael for nix would be far more terrifying for nix (his internal everything would be like 'neat- this is cool and he seems pretty adjusted... so how about you feel like you're in extreme danger despite that' and nix is just forced to be cagey as shit more than normal by forces out of his control)

[resizura]

the new nayeon album is an Album on spotify but theres only 7 songs plss

[kissingwookiees]

my nap time dream today was a sequel of a previous dream set in a Halloween alternate universe where I’m the niece (???) of michel myers and running for my life with a rotating cast of characters (two of which are YouTuber reactors) in what is seemingly a several story sports bar mall combination that serves Italian food also…?

[rindreamery]

more than friends?

moments that make you reconsider if you’re really just friends with blue lock men. featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku ─ content: can be determined as mostly gn! reader. can count as fluff, but mostly suggestive. mentions of alcohol consumption (aiku), mentions of a dress (kaiser, implied but not stated fem! reader), kaiser is mean

note. haven't made a hc post in a hot minute. situationships hc coming next cus i unfortunately, oddly enough, like situationships LMAOO i also just have too many irl situationship inspo

an almost kiss with itoshi rin.

“rin, can you help me get this?” turning your body to face him, the words die in your throat.

you realize a second too late that he’s standing right behind you, reaching for whatever you asked him to previously— and you almost crash right into his chest. he’s close. so close that you can feel the heat emanating from his skin, despite the blast of the air conditioning above you. that you can practically feel his shallow breaths ghost over your face. 

as he brings his arm down to hand you the book, head tilting down to look at you, you lock eyes. a second passes, or two, before it clicks in his mind what position you’re in. and you both freeze, seemingly frozen in place, and in time. 

rin’s eyes widen, and his breath gets caught in his throat, audibly hitching. but he doesn’t take a step back, nor does he make any move to put some comfortable distance between the two of you. though, to be fair, neither do you— keeping you stuck in whatever weird space the two of you have put yourselves in.  

the first one to break eye contact is you. your eyes flit to his lips, watching as they part to take a breath, before you can even process exactly what you’re doing. you stare a little too long, lingering for a second longer than necessary. before your eyes fly back to his in a panic, only to see that he’s staring at your lips too. 

it feels like you’re blacking out— and maybe, you are. you don’t remember the exact moment when your body started gravitating towards him, or when he started leaning in a little closer too. your bodies seemingly move on their own, listening to your hearts and not your minds, ignoring the blatant alarms going off in your heads. you’re leaning in, just a little, inching slowly and testing for any reaction from him. you can see his adam’s apple bob as he gulps, and you see the exact moment his eyes cloud over, before he’s mirroring you. you think for a second that, maybe, this is really happening. 

his lips are a breath away, and the distance between you is almost nonexistent. you can practically feel his lips on yours— so close, almost there. just a little more and you’ll have a taste. he's closing the gap, your eyes fluttering shut in response, and so does his, in tandem. the rush of excitement you feel is undeniable— the way your nerves fire with sparks under your skin, tingling. 

but then your phone rings.

the shrill sound of your ringtone cuts through the air, snapping the two of you out of your daze. your eyes fly open, and you both jerk back immediately, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. the moment is effectively ruined; the thick, hazy, palpable tension that once surrounded the two of you is now filled with an awkward, uncertain air. 

as you both pull away, neither of you say anything, too flustered to speak. he’s avoiding looking into your eyes, staring at the ground as if he were wishing it would swallow him whole. and, really, you can’t judge. you’re looking everywhere but rin, trying to calm your heart into something that doesn’t feel like arrhythmia. 

there’s an unspoken agreement that hangs in the air— a silent promise that neither of you will bring this up ever again, too afraid to risk your friendship. but, deep down, you know it’s something neither of you can forget.

receiving jewelry from itoshi sae.

gifts from sae were always unexpected and random. 

in his hand is a simple, and undeniably beautiful necklace— something he knows you like. something he's heard you talk about for months, seen on opened tabs on your laptop as he passes by, heard in conversations with friends during your phone calls. it was always something he’d kept in the back of his mind, always an open tab in his phone. even offering to buy it for you before, in passing, which was met with a hard ‘no’ from you. still, he pushes his hand to you, offering the gift now. 

“sae,” you hesitate, words trailing off as you figure out what to say. speechless would be an understatement. feeling grateful, in awe, and mildly embarrassed all at once. you can feel your cheeks heating up, looking at the necklace in his hands as you avoid his watchful eyes. “i already said you didn’t have to buy it for me. i was going to buy it… eventually.”

“want me to put it on you?” your words fly over his head, or maybe, he’s simply ignoring it. 

you press your lips into a line, finally looking into his eyes, as you hold in a shallow sigh of defeat— already coming to terms that, regardless of what you say, nothing would change his mind. so instead you nod, offering him a small and thankful smile, finally accepting the gift. 

“turn around,” he tells you, fingers already working on unclasping the necklace in his hands. you listen, turning around and waiting with baited breath as he moves to stand behind you. he inches closer than necessary, looming behind you in a way that makes you so hyperaware of him. the feeling of his fingers as they brush over your shoulder to loop the necklace around you, his steady breath on the nape of your neck— you feel it all at an elevated level. 

you gasp as the cool metal of the necklace hits your skin, in contrast to the warmth of his fingers as they make work of the clasp. it takes a few seconds, before you feel the clasp fall against your neck, but his fingers stay on your skin. tracing the line of the necklace as it travels to the junction of your shoulder. 

“do you like it?” sae leans down, whispering the words into your ears. you ignore the warmth that sweeps over your body, holding tight onto the necklace between your fingers, admiring the way it looks against your skin. 

“yeah, i do. it’s perfect.” you nod, your voice quiet and weak, unable to focus from the way your head starts to spin at the proximity. you can hear him let out a satisfied hum behind you, leaning back just a little to give you some space. “thank you, really.”

but he doesn’t pull away, and you feel his eyes on your neck as you twiddle with the jewelry in your fingers. 

unreasonable jealousy from michael kaiser.

“does this dress look nice?” pulling out a dress from deep in your closet, you pull it closer to your body before facing kaiser. 

he sits comfortably on your bed, resting on the headrest as he scrolls through his phone, looking bored out of his mind. his eyes are hooded, body slumped, and sighing loudly every five minutes as if urging you to get this over with. though, you suppose in his defense, you’d been doing this for the past two hours. with little to no progress being made. 

never putting his phone down, he glances at you, then the dress, and then back at you. there’s an unamused expression on his face, both brows raising imperceptibly and letting out a derisive laugh, and it makes the smile on your face falter for a second. “why are you trying so hard to impress this guy, anyway?” as hard as he tries to hide the contempt in his voice, trying to mask it with his usual mocking tone, it slips through. “next dress.”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden edge in his voice, an elusive frown forming on your face. "what do you mean?" you ask, suppressing a sigh as your arms fall to your side, the fabric of the dress bunching up as you grip it between your fingers.

you don’t want to put it down yet— refusing to put it next to you on the pile of other pretty, rejected clothes.

kaiser doesn’t immediately answer, but you notice the way his thumb scrolls slower across his phone screen now. his gaze flickers back to you, scrutinizing, and almost annoyed? evident in the way his lips press into a tight line, jaw clenching and unclenching as he sorts through his thoughts. a brief, almost unnoticeable, flicker of frustration crosses his features before he slumps even further, his voice quieter but more pointed. "it’s just a first date. don’t you think it's kind of pathetic? all this effort for some guy you’re not even sure is going to stick around?"

his words sting more than you want them to. 

the dress feels heavier in your hands, like a weight you're not sure you want to carry anymore— and frankly, it ruins any excitement you have for your date. you bite your lip, chewing on the skin. you want to ask him why he even cares, why he's hell bent on making you think that every man is bound to ditch you after the first date, why he can’t seem to be happy for you.  

you hold up the dress, this time with less confidence. "i didn’t know wanting to look good for a date was such a crime." admittedly, your voice is snappy and irritated, almost glaring at him from where you stand. 

“it’s not.” he says, ignoring the heated look in your eyes. “looking good for other men is, though.”

going drinking with oliver aiku.

from being friends with aiku for practically all of your life, you’d think you know better than to say ‘yes’ to his whims. but it seems that time has only weakened your resolve.

“come here.” aiku sits lazily on the couch, an arm slung over the backrest, his legs parting to comfortably make space for you. you watch him in silence from where you sit, raising a brow at him as he throws you that signature smirk of his— before he’s patting the space between his legs, motioning for you to come over. “help me drink?”

“what?” comes your surprised response, mouth dry and voice cracking as you speak. despite your loose state, your back straightens at his words, and you grip the glass in your hands. “what do you mean ‘help… you drink’?”

“pour a shot into my mouth. the one you’re holding in your hand right now.” he motions to it with a nod of his head, voice slightly slurring but way too casual for your liking. as if what he was asking were normal, and totally not crossing some unspoken boundary between friends. “come on, just this once.”

the logical part of your mind screams at you from somewhere in your head, telling you not to do it. but it’s quickly tamped down by his pleading eyes, and the ‘please’ that slips past his lips. you get up and you take your time walking over to the couch, treading with short and slow steps, giving yourself a chance to back down.

but you don’t. 

with an uncertain look on your face, you place a knee between his legs, a hand shooting out to steady yourself as you lean over him. the hand holding the glass is shaking— from nerves, or from being mildly inebriated, or maybe a hefty mix of both— the drink sloshing around as you carry it to him. you feel his hands on your waist, firm and warm, preventing you from tipping over.

finally finding the courage to look into his eyes, you do. they’re so unfocused, yet so focused on you, and it makes you breathe in heavily, as if second guessing the normality of what you’re about to do. sensing your hesitation, his fingers squeeze at your waist. “go on.”

it's reckless and impulsive, but clearly, you aren't in the right state to be making smart decisions. your fingers hook under his chin, his eyes intently honing in on you as you do so, as you bring the glass to his lips. you press it against his lips, watching as they part to make space for the intrusion, before his fingers latch onto your wrist.

he doesn’t break eye contact as he guides you, gaze heavy and imposing, that it almost makes you want to pull away. but you can’t— his hands keep you firmly in place. you’re forced (though, you know a part of you willingly stares) to watch as he guides your hand to tilt the glass, pouring the contents into his mouth. 

aiku’s fingers linger on your skin even when the drink is long gone, and it makes you squirm. you cough, bringing one of your hands to your mouth to form a fist, as you bashfully look away. “all done here now, right?”

a beat passes, before you feel the heat of his hands leave your skin, “yeah.” and you pull away from him.

© rindreamery, 2025

[angelfishe]

"𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐘"

<< blue lock man x reader >>

Character : isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, kunigami rensuke, otoya eita, karasu tabito, sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, Oliver aiku, Michael kaiser

You are under the influence of anesthesia after your wisdom teeth surgery, you were unable to recognize your boyfriend as well having to deal with you in this state

>> Isagi yoichi

Was worried for you 24/7, would help you walk from the dentist office. Actually finds it adorable that you're unable to recognize him and was confused about who he was.

After some explanation saying he was your boy friend, you immediately went "boyfriend 😯😊" and that reaction was a like punch towards his stomach. Finds you being under anesthesia funny and adorable he cannot stop gushing over you being like this and when someone would try to insult you how pathetic of you being in this state immediately went towards the person and whispered insult in their ears.

>> Rin itoshi

When he was finally allowed to enter the room after the surgery, he was shocked to find you in this state, you are much more clingy and unaware of your situation.

During the drive you wouldn't stop calling him emo as well calling him a pretty emo, and you were literally crying saying you were being kidnapped by an emo, he found it quite annoying but still found you extremely adorable being in this state. You wouldn't stop clinging into him which he found quite annoying but soon warms up into it.

>> Bachira meguru

Immediately went Hi baby with you after the surgery while you there being confused on who he is, after some explanation from the doctor he immediately went up towards you and was like "who am I" like a parent asking their baby who they were.

Spend the rest of the day taking you to your favorite places like the arcade, your favorite cafe and more to jog up your memory and the entire time you were confused and dazed who was this person and soon manage to jog some memory about who he is, he admitted that you being a dazed is fun as well being adorable in this state, he won't stop gushing over you

>> Chigiri Hyoma

When he picks you up, he notices you looking at him for a few minutes non stop, your eyes wouldn't leave him alone and finally you break the awkward eye contest by saying "pretty", this caught him off guard I mean every one agreed with you his by far one of the prettiest boys in this world but your word caught him off guard.

The entire time you would non stop complementing his looks saying how pretty he is, this manages to leave a blush mark on him as well you wouldn't stop playing his hair, you even tried to bite his hair which caused shock on him.

>> Nagi Seishiro

Instantly enter a staring contest with you, you are much more dazed than your usual self as well unable to recognize him. During the entire day you just been dazed as well watching him play his game just staring at his console while you lay your head on his shoulder.

He has to admit it, it's nice you are just enjoying the moment with you and him without bothering anything outside of the world. And during the afternoon you and him decided to have a nap by you laying your head on his chest usually it would be him laying his head on your chest but today is a switch which he enjoys.

>> Reo Mikage

Find you in this state adorable as well spoiled you to rotten. During the car ride you guys pass a large shopping district and he notices you looking at it and he asks the driver to stop and walk out of the limo to take you shopping.

Every time you look around and lay your eyes on something too long he would instantly pull out his card and buy it for you and he won't stop gushing over you on how cute you are, he has this habit of poking your cheeks to gain your dazed attention, imagine after the anesthesia effects wear off and saw your entire room full of shopping bags containing many things flowers, shoes, dresses and other things there's even a brand new bike laying Infront of your door.

>> Kunigami Rensuke

A true gentleman making sure you are taken care of every second, making sure you eat enough as well taking your medicine. You were confused on who he is only saying who are you and when he replied and say "I have a boyfriend 😯" shock learning you have a boyfriend. He secretly enjoys you being in this state finding it quite adorable

Would not allow you to move making sure you have 24/7 bed rest all the time, and would cuddle with you if you ask for it. Even if you would non stop yapping about random things he's just admiring you. as well supporting you towards every action

>> Otoya Eita

The first time when you woke up and met his eyes, you immediately went "who tf did your hair" and he immediately didn't know how to respond towards that comment, the entire time during the car ride it was silent, he's not upset it's just if you speaking the truth and very much don't like his hair he could change it for you.

After the effects wear off and he would ask you if his hair bothers you and you were confused and didn't remember anything during the anesthesia was on you tell the truth saying it doesn't and say it looks good on him. But soon he asks for some cuddles as well you playing with his hair manages to calm his insecurities down.

>> Karasu Tabito

Finds you in this state amusing af, would laugh at your antics during the effects is still on, would still make sure you're not hurt, he enjoys you complementing him 24/7 during the anesthesia, when you woke and confused who he was and decided to kiss your cheek to see your reaction and you immediately went "woah a cute guy kiss me 😯😊"

Would leave kisses around your face to see your reaction, would say how beautiful you are to rile you up as well to make sure to give you love 24/7, by far this is the most adorable thing he ever seen.

>> Sae itoshi

When he decided to pick you up after your wisdom teeth surgery he didn't realize the chaos he signed up for he almost regretted it, when your dazed eyes meet his teal one, you immediately point your finger towards him and say "hey I know you I saw you on my tv" and you were shocked when he told you he is your boyfriend and here to pick you up.

You wouldn't shut up about him saying cool he was on tv as well complementing his looks, you also wouldn't stop wandering around so he has to interlock his arms with you to make sure you wouldn't get lost. How tiring, he was thinking of putting on a leash on you but one thing he likes about this state is that it shows how you admired him as well love him which he absolutely secretly adores.

>> Shidou Ryusei

Would immediately jump around on how adorable you were, as well a chaotic duo with you, usually you would stop him from doing anything chaotic but with you in this state you didn't even stop him, you join in the fun.

Although you guys got a lecture he enjoys it because you were there with him and not the one that gave the lecture, this caused him to fall deeper In love with you as well how adorable you were unaware of him being your boyfriend.

>> Oliver Aiku

Actually found it cute as well flirting with you in this state until.... "You're pretty handsome Ver" .... " WHO TF IS VER". would try to get an answer out of you Of who the hell this Ver person is and you just laugh it off saying the name Ver again. 24/7 panic mode during it, he went towards your social media and search up the name Ver. He tried to push away the thoughts of you seeing another man but he couldn't

After the effects were off, he asked the questions on who is kenji on you and you answered with "oh it's a nick name I give it to you when talking with my friends" turns out he was ver it's just his name oli-ver, and now he feels stupid and when you question him he said it's nothing relief finally.

>> Michael Kaiser

At first find this state kinda annoying and decided to let ness take care of you during this state and now you wouldn't stop cuddling towards ness instead of him, complementing on how cute ness was and you wouldn't stop clinging towards ness and he admits he does feel jealousy when this happens and not to mention the nasty glare he sends Ness. He Was like towards you "IM YOUR BOYFRIEND YOU SHOULD BE CLINGING TOWARDS ME".

He regretted it deeply every time he tried to drag you away from ness you like "I want to be with ness" that gets him even more jealous but after the effects was over he wouldn't stop clinging towards you, clingy 24/7 you were confused on why he is like this and when you ask ness but Michael send a look that saying "do not tell" because you would not let him get the end of it from you, so till this day you were confused on why he is so clingy

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Today, Prime Video announced that it has confirmed that the global, fan-favorite series Good Omens will return for a third and final season. They have confirmed, as follows:

• The third season will comprise of one 90 minute episode starring Michael Sheen and David Tennant who return as the angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley, respectively. • Prime Video is delighted to bring its global customers a gripping conclusion to the ineffable journey between Aziraphale and Crowley. • Production is expected to begin in early 2025 in Scotland and the third season will premiere on Prime Video in more than 240 countries and territories worldwide. • The forthcoming season will bring to life a serendipitous conversation from almost 35 years ago, between the late Sir Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, where they mapped out “what happens next” to the wonderful characters in the world of their internationally best-selling novel. • The first season of Good Omens launched globally as a limited series on Prime Video in May 2019, and became a worldwide hit. This led to the series being renewed for a second season, which premiered in July 2023, and explored storylines that went beyond the original source material to illuminate the ineffable friendship between Aziraphale (Michael Sheen), a fussy angel and rare-book dealer, and the fast-living demon Crowley (David Tennant). • Rob Wilkins of Narrativia, representing Terry Pratchett’s estate, as well as BBC Studios Productions’ head of comedy Josh Cole will executive produce. Good Omens is based on the well-loved novel Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch by Sir Terry Pratchett and Gaiman. The new season is produced by Amazon MGM Studios, BBC Studios Productions, and Narrativia. • While Gaiman has contributed to the writing of the Good Omens series finale, he will not be working on the production.

my musings:

Shouldn't it have been a series of six episodes?

It should have yeah. It should have been 6 episodes so the seasons would make 666, now it's 661.

Is Neil Gaiman involved?

According to the press he will not be working on it as such though he "contributed to the writing", I mean the third season is based on what he and Terry had outlined together and he started to write into the scripts so I guess it couldn't be done without?

Tell me some good news

uuuuh, *racks my brain*

It is not cancelled completely (like OFMD for example :(), so we still might get the cottage?

Since there will be less of it then there will also be less post production and we might get it sooner?

Ta-da. (sorry)

And

[cheralith]

childhood bestfriend!kaiser who specifically always demands his managers to reserve a spot for you at every single one of his games.

you always go to support him, with him insisting he needs you there as some sort of “lucky charm” (he won’t actually admit he thinks those superstitions are bullshit), so imagine his shock when he finds out that your seat is empty on the day of one of the most important games of the season—the game that will decide who gets to compete in the german cup.

it’s ten minutes before the game starts and despite his coach’s pep talk to the team, all kaiser can focus on is your empty seat and the absolute betrayal you’ve bestowed upon him, your supposed “best friend.”

he hasn’t realized it—nor will he admit it if he ever were to come to such an epiphany—stubborn as he is, but the reason as to why he does so well in games that you’re present at is because of the fact it gives him more motivation to win and impress you rather than just solely being dependent on the faces of despair from his opponents. a unique sort of euphoria that he gets whenever he can spot you jumping up and down in your seat with his number #10 jersey on, that your praise belongs to him and him only.

so when he steps out on to the field and sees that your seat is still collecting dust, he seethes silently to himself, gritting his teeth, pissed that he even called you his best friend to begin with. because what sort of friend doesn’t show up to one of the most important games in germany’s football?!

he’s still planning to win, of course. he’s michael kaiser—he’s famous for doing so. and he plans to use all his rage that you’ve caused to do so, just in spite of you.

because he’s michael kaiser, number ten of bastard mündchen. he doesn’t need your help. he never did.

(see, what he doesn’t know is that you’re simply home sick with a cold and that you’re still dressed in his jersey, just also with a sweater and bundles of blankets on top to stay warm, but regardless, you’re still watching and cheering him on from behind the tv screen. you’ve sent him some texts and voicemails telling him so, but none have received a reply back yet and you can only imagine what this drama queen has in store for you once he wins the match.)

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

you are in love.

ft; itoshi rin, michael kaiser

synopsis: the small action that suddenly make them realize that it’s not just a temporary feeling of romantic fondness, it’s ever-lasting love.

a/n: title named after the taylor swift 1989 song!!! it’s genuinely such a cute song and i love it so much🥹💕 also, all of them are already dating reader in this one, it’s just that they all think that it’s just some temporary relationship that’ll last like 6 months before it’s off…until the events of this shortfic.

———

itoshi rin realizes that he is in love when he stays in bed for extra time with you when you had slept over.

his schedule is always meticulously planned out every second of the day to perfect and hone his skills for soccer; meditate, stretch, open the window for some fresh air, etc,…and the only things on his mind when he does so are his brother and soccer. his parents aren’t aware that rin isn’t on good terms with his brother (well, one sidedly, but rin doesn’t know that), so they only believe that rin is extremely ambitious.

but after a particularly long study session with you on saturday night, you beg rin to let you stay over. he declined at first, although after your offering of taking him out to ochazuke and also the fact that you were his girlfriend, he accepted in defeat.

rin still has his nightly routine, so he leaves you in his bedroom alone. bad decision, because the moment he leaves, you’re climbing into his bed and pulling the covers over your head. within 15 minutes, you’re out cold. rin comes back 10 minutes later, and to his surprise, he’s not irritated in the least when he sees you and snuggled up on his bed. instead he feels…strangely happy?

after brushing his teeth and changing into his pajamas, he decides to not push you off of the bed and instead climb into with you.

the next morning, rin wakes up at his regular time of 6:58. usually, after lying in bed for 2 more minutes to become more awake, rin would get out of bed at 7:00. but that’s not the case this time; your arms are wrapped around him tightly and clinging onto him like a lifeline. rin’s eyes linger on you—your messy bed head, the drool at the corner of your lips, and the incoherent mumbling.

and rin laughs.

it’s not loud or extremely attention grabbing, but it’s perfect. clear and expressive, and his laugh is purer than any melody and more beautiful than any symphony. it’s quiet, and only rin heard himself. he stops quickly as he brings up his shirt to the corner of your mouth to wipe the drool off like his brother did when rin was smaller, a tiny smile on rin’s lips the entire time.

and when rin checks his watch, it’s 7:01. but he doesn’t panic, instead, he wraps his arms around you as you had done with him and lied with you just a bit longer, until you would wake up.

rin has never been a particularly religious person, but at this moment, when you’re objectively at your lowest, with messy hair and previously drooling and sleep talking and clinging to your boyfriend like a koala, rin wonders what he’s done to be so blessed, and he thinks about all of those things he’s heard about heaven. heaven is paradise, a place of peace, love, and joy.

so wouldn’t that make you heaven then?

(when you finally wake up and rin checks his watch, it’s already 9:28. you’re shocked to see rin not at all mad at you for making him sleep in until so late.)

———

michael kaiser realizes that he is in love when he doesn’t slap you away when you touch his neck.

kaiser has never had good experiences whenever someone’s hands were on his neck. this had especially stemmed from his childhood, when his father’s hands would be on his neck daily and pressing down so harshly that kaiser couldn’t even breathe. and then it was the paparazzi, who were sometimes so intrusive that they would touch him just for content. it’s still a commonly mentioned scandal in the soccer community of kaiser nearly beating up a paparazzi who had touched his tattoo without consent and just for the sake of it.

even with you, his own childhood best friend and girlfriend, the only pillar stabilizing him in this dreadful life, kaiser still felt nauseous and unable to breathe if your fingertips would even accidentally graze his neck. you would always apologize profusely afterwards, so the nausea wasn’t nearly as bad with you as it was with anyone else.

even during intercourse, kaiser doesn’t put his hands on your neck. he knows that you’re fine with it and you don’t care, but if he ever does, kaiser knows that his actions will only make him more like his father.

and one night, after a long day for the both of you—practice for kaiser, college for you—you’re both sitting in the living room of your shared apartment, lights off, tv on, and watching titanic (“i did not cry when we watched it last time!” got a laugh out of kaiser, he literally got a recording of you starting to bawl during jack’s death), your hand is interlocked with kaiser’s leaning on his body while watching.

you’re gently tracing the crown tattoo on his hand, bringing it up to your lips and kissing it. kaiser feels the tip of his ears burn, although he was used to the feeling. you do these sorts of small little gestures all the time; although these days, kaiser can’t help but notice you constantly linger your eyes on his tattoo on his neck. he can tell that you want to touch it—but you’re too hesitant.

and kaiser wants to test out something.

slowly, kaiser takes his hand away from your mouth—albeit keeping your fingers laced together—and brings your hand up to his neck, though not touching skin quite yet.

your eyebrows shoot up before your eyes soften in worry. “mihya, you don’t have to if you don’t like it. i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

now, on the field, kaiser is the emperor. he rules. when he wants something, he gets it. if he wants a goal, he’ll score it, one way or another. and right now, he wants to see if he’s still scared of you touching his neck. if he is, then oh well. if he’s not, then that confirms it for him.

with kaiser’s determined nod of approval, you gently graze his tattoo before placing your hand fully on the side of his neck, thumb gently moving back and forth on the blue petals of his rose tattoo.

and then kaiser’s kissing you, his lips cold but his face and hands warm.

because this time, there was no nausea. there was no tears. there was no air shortage.

this time, there was only love.

(funny, because the moment he kissed you was also the moment that the iconic ‘titanic pose’ was on screen and jack and rose had also kissed right after. you swore that it was fate, and although kaiser outwardly disagreed, inwardly, he was just as much of a firm believer that it was fate as you were.)

———

sorry this one was lowkey kinda short…i crammed this in in like 50 ish minutes lmao

but anyways i find it so funny how it’s canonically confirmed that sae doesn’t even realize that him and rin are beefing…their interactions in the u20 make so much more sense now. and i know that it’s never been mentioned, but the itoshi parents gotta at least know SOMETHING about their (one sided) beef, right? i mean, if one of your kids is literally gritting his teeth and clenching his fists if he even hears something about your other kid, then you gotta at least know that SOMETHING is going on.

also did you know that kaiser’s red eyeliner is actually a tattoo (kaneshiro confirmed it in an interview)

NOT PROOFREAD BTW

[mercvry-glow]

a girls guide to shopping

parings. michael robinavitch x bratty!reader

summary. a shopping trip goes sideways after a teenager clocks your shit at a panty sale. thankfully your hot doctor boyfriend knows what's best.

warnings. age gap (robby early 50s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader gets punched, and passes out, hospital setting, robby is a little stressed and sassy but so is reader, pretty light overall, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I love them your honor! sorry for not posting for a few days while i figured out these stories/dynamics. always feel free to request dynamics like these, I love them more than anything else! as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 1900+

Coming into the ER while you were supposed to be shopping was a total fucking downer. Once, the mall had been a magical place—a glittery,  pretzel scented wonderland where you could lose hours drifting between candle shops and designer racks, sipping iced lattes and swatching lip gloss on the back of your hand like a civilized woman.

Now? Now it was the place where you got decked in the face by some teenage gremlin in low-rise jeans over a pair of lace panties.

And because you were a grown adult, you couldn’t even swing back.

Tragic.

You didn't even remember hitting the floor. Just the sharp, burning pop in your nose, the stars behind your eyes, and then—darkness. The paramedics told you you were out cold for maybe ninety seconds, but it was long enough to wake up under fluorescent lights, head pounding and crop top slightly askew.

“We got a female, LOC for approx one minute,” one of the EMTs was saying now as they wheeled your stretcher through the ER. “Vitals stable, GCS fifteen, alert and oriented, just... uh... kinda pissed.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” you muttered, clutching the melting bag of ice someone had tossed at your face like it could fix your whole life.

“Can you tell us your name again?” asked the other paramedic—young, blonde, and way too chipper for your taste.

“Yeah. It’s ‘I want a lawyer.’”

He snorted. “Okay, feisty’s good. You remember what happened?”

“I got my shit rocked by a seventeen-year-old with acrylics and rage issues over a five-dollar thong. And I swear to God, if I have to get my nose redone, someone’s getting sued. Possibly everyone!”

The paramedic just chuckled again and turned to the nurse approaching the stretcher. “We got a real diva on our hands.”

“Do not diminish me,” you snapped, even as you adjusted your messy bun and adjusted your once cute, now bloodied, jacket. “I am a victim of retail violence.”

The nurse—a tan-skinned, shorter woman with dark hair, and a clearly unbothered attitude—just gave you a once-over. “Put her in Bay 3. Maybe Dr. Robby can talk her down.”

You blinked. “Wait. Did you just say Robby?”

The paramedic raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

Oh, you knew him.

You dated him.

Michael Robinovitch: broody, brilliant, perpetually annoyed trauma doc. Your boyfriend. Also, the last person on earth you wanted to see you laid out in a hospital bed with smeared lip gloss and a possible concussion.

You shot upright slightly—then immediately winced and laid back down.

“Please don’t tell him it’s me,” you whispered like it was a state secret. “Lie. Say I died. Switch my name with someone else’s. Say I’m contagious.”

The nurse smirked. “Yeah, he’s gonna love this.”

That was the moment you knew you were screwed.

The curtains around North-3 weren't soundproof, but you were trying to pretend they werer. You laid there with an ice pack balanced across your nose and a mild headache blooming behind your eyes. The ER smelled like bleach and overworked nurses, and you were pretty sure one of your press-on nails had popped off in the ambulance.

The nurse—Princess, according to her badge—was updating something on the computer, tapping the keys like she’d done this a thousand times. She had a chill vibe, low braid, cute scrubs. Honestly, you respected her.

“So, just to confirm,” she said without looking up, “you fainted in Victoria’s Secret?”

You sighed. “Technically, I passed out next to a panty display. Slightly more dignified.”

Princess grinned. “Right.”

“I had a head injury,” you added defensively. “And that girl came flying at me like I personally wronged her.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get trampled.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you said, deadpan. “I didn’t get to buy my stuff either.”

Princess chuckled. “I’ll put that in your chart.”

You slumped back onto the gurney, closing your eyes. This was officially the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to you. Which was saying something, considering you once accidentally sexted your building manager.

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled your attention to the hallway.

“Where is she?” came a familiar voice. Calm, but rushed. Less annoyed than… worried.

Your stomach dipped.

Princess didn’t even glance over. “There it is.”

You opened your eyes, sitting up slowly. “He’s here?”

“Yup.”

“Do you know if he’s like—mad?”

Princess finally looked up at you. “He looked… like he needed to know you were okay.”

You bit your lip. “Ugh. That’s worse.”

The curtain pulled open gently—no dramatic whip, no scolding.

There he was.

Dr. Michael Robby Robinovitch. Brown hair slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it on the way down, stethoscope hanging around his neck, scrubs just a little rumpled. His eyes landed on you immediately, softening the second he saw your face.

“You fainted over a pair of underwear?”

Your smile dropped. “Excuse me, I was attacked over a pair of underwear.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but he didn’t laugh. He stepped inside quietly, pulling the curtain mostly shut behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low.

“I mean, my face hurts and my dignity’s practically, but otherwise? Sure.”

He moved closer, reaching out carefully to lift the ice pack away. “Let me see.”

You let him, even though the swelling around your nose made you feel anything but cute. He studied you for a second, then met your eyes.

“Doesn’t look broken. We’ll scan just to be safe.”

You tried to joke. “If I need a nose job, I’m getting a cute one.”

His mouth twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand gently on your knee.

“I got paged when they brought you in,” he said quietly. “Didn’t know it was you until I heard the report and someone described you as all ‘crop top’ and ‘attitude.’”

You laughed, even though your head throbbed a little when you did. “Hell yeah.”

“I was worried,” he admitted, thumb brushing lightly over your knee. “You don’t just faint. That’s not you.”

“I didn’t mean to be dramatic,” you said softly. “I just… kind of blinked and hit the floor.”

“You don’t have to explain. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

You exhaled, letting yourself relax for the first time since the mall.

He looked at you again, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”

You smirked. “You really can’t, look what I get up too.” 

Robby didn’t move right away. His hand rested on your knee, thumb tracing quiet, reassuring circles through the thin hospital blanket. You shifted slightly, trying not to wince at the dull ache spreading from the bridge of your nose up into your forehead.

“Do I look terrible?” you asked, your voice lower now.

He glanced up from your chart, his soft brown eyes sweeping across your face—not with judgment, but with quiet focus. “You look like someone who took a hit and handled it.”

“So... still cute?” you teased lightly.

Michael’s lips curved, just barely. “Always.”

You smiled, then sighed. “This might be the most embarrassing day of my life.”

“Worse than the time you locked yourself out of the house in your underwear?”

“Low blow Mikey, low blow… and that was different. That was private shame. This is public, in my baby tee, with paramedics and nosy mall goers.”

He hummed softly, stepping back just as Princess peeked back in through the curtain, a clipboard in hand.

“Radiology’s ready,” she said with a kind smile. “You want a wheelchair or are you feeling steady?”

You started to sit up. “I’m fine. I can walk.”

Michael gave you a look—calm but pointed. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it.”

“I know,” he said, already offering a hand. “But let me anyway.”

You hesitated, then reached for him. His hand was warm and steady, and the way he hovered—not overbearing, just present—made you feel safe, even if your pride was still limping along behind you.

The walk down the hallway was quiet. The CT tech moved efficiently, guiding you through the scan with minimal small talk, and before you knew it, you were back in your bay, settling onto the stretcher again with a little more care than before.

Robby was waiting, flipping through a printout from radiology.

“Well?” you asked.

He glanced at you. “No fracture. No concussion. You’re just bruised, a little rattled too, but otherwise okay.”

You exhaled. “Good.”

He softened as he looked at you again, that quiet relief flickering behind his usual calm. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Yet another nurse returned just then, handing over a water bottle and a stack of discharge instructions. “You’re free to go. Ice for the swelling, rest tonight, and take it easy for a couple days.”

Michael took the papers from your hands before you could even skim them. “I’ll go over these with her.”

You gave him a look but didn’t argue. It was kind of nice, having him take over. Quietly protective. Familiar.

They gave you a small smile. “Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

You nodded. “No more shopping trips. Lesson learned.”

Michael helped you off the bed with a gentleness that didn’t surprise you. As you reached for your bag, you felt his hand at the small of your back, guiding you without a word toward the exit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, glancing up at him as the first doors opened.

He looked down at you, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “Always.”

As the next set automatic doors hissed, the cool mid-day air brushed against your skin. The hospital parking lot glowed in the flickering daylight, and for the first time all day, things felt quiet. Still.

Michael walked beside you, not rushing, just staying close. You didn’t say much—didn’t really need to.

At your rideshare pickup spot, since you clearly hadn’t taken your car here. You stopped and turned toward him. He still had the discharge paperwork tucked under one arm, the other hand resting casually on the small of your back.

“You sure you’re okay to go?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “Yeah. A little sore. A lot tired. But I’ll be fine, hopefully.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, not quite convinced.

“You passed out,” he said gently. “That’s not nothing.”

“I know.”

“If anything feels off tonight—headache that gets worse, nausea, anything weird—call me.”

You nodded again, a little slower this time. “I will.”

He studied you for another beat, then stepped forward, brushing a stray piece of hair from your cheek. His hand lingered there, warm against your skin.

“I mean it,” he said. “Even if it’s just a gut feeling. Call me.”

You smiled softly. “Okay.”

Then, without any rush, he leaned in and kissed you—just a quick, careful kiss to your forehead, right above the bruise forming at your hairline. Tender and light. Like punctuation at the end of a sentence that didn’t need words.

“Rest,” he murmured. “I’ll check in later.”

You watched him for a second before stepping back toward the car that had just pulled up.

And even though your face still ached and your head felt like cotton, you suddenly felt a little better than you had all day.

mercvry-glow 2025

[asxgard]

A Lesson in Firsts | alternate ending

Resident!Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x resident!f!reader

Alternate ending of A Lesson in Vulnerability, but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: A positive pregnancy test flips your life on its head. You try to take it one step at a time.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: Expect some things inspired by this Robby and Reader! I can’t stop thinking about the possibilities lol

sorry she took awhile, she turned into something else while I was writing lol the ideas kept coming (gender was a coin toss, so don’t be upset with me)

Enjoy this monster💜she was so fun to write

Word Count: 8.2k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: afab!reader, established relationship, foul language, unplanned pregnancy, medical inaccuracies, ANGST, y’all disappointing your parents, fluff, SMUT (MINORS DNI), pregnancy sex/unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), p in v, pet name (sweetheart), hospital mentions, violence at said hospital/combative patient, it’s the 90s, vague birth descriptions, I’ve never been pregnant so forgive any errors

not beta read

It was reassuring to have Michael by your side, holding you steady in his tiny bathroom as you both waited to see what your future may hold. After puking at the hospital and realizing how late you were, the next course of action was logically this: taking a pregnancy test in Michael Robinavitch’s apartment.

You were thankful he was there, but worries ate at your mind. While he had promised to stick by your side regardless of the results, you wondered how much you could believe him. That didn’t even begin to touch your worries about your residency, and to an extent, his as well. You hoped your life didn’t have to change — you hoped you could figure out your relationship with Michael on your own terms, not by something now out of your control.

“Are you ready?” He asked gently beside you.

You were not, but you nodded regardless.

You both stared down at the tests, two little pink lines on each staring back at you. All three showed positive.

You were pregnant. You nearly threw up again.

“Are you sure it’s mine?” Was out of his mouth before he could think about it.

“Do you want to keep it?” Was out of yours before you could process the question.

You both stared at each other for a long time as you silently digested his question. How on earth could he think it was someone else’s? Sure, you weren’t in an official relationship, you were in…well, you weren’t certain what you were to each other. He cared about you. You cared about him. But other than whispered words, you felt like you had no leg to stand on with whatever this was or was going to be.

“You think I’d tell you I thought I was pregnant if I didn’t know it was yours?” You whispered, irritation building. “I’ve only been sleeping with you.”

His dark brown eyes watched you like he was still thinking — and your brain was running a mile a minute. You found annoyance was the first emotion you had begun to process, wondering if his doubt was simple shock or something more. The second thing you digested was your fear for the glaring unknown future you now had to face. The third thing was sheer panic, making your knees shake.

You moved out of his tiny bathroom, the walls slowly starting to cave in on you. Would he really stay with you? Help you? Face this with you? Your chest felt tight and you had the urge to cry.

“Hey, hey,” Michael followed you, putting his hands on your arms. “We’re in this together, yeah?”

“You thought—fuck.” Tears came, blurring your vision, forcing you to blink rapidly and turn away from him.

He let out a long sigh, “I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting—”

Even through your teary gaze, you found his eyes. He blinked quickly, but you caught the emotion setting in, tears building. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried, and while you could not feel him crying, a few drops of tears landed on your shoulder. You gripped him tighter.

“I’m so sorry.” You breathed out against his shoulder, trying not to hyperventilate.

Michael stilled in your arms, moving his arms from around your middle and looking at you in the eyes. His brows were drawn together, tear tracks on his cheeks. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, no. I could’ve—we might’ve—I—”

He shushed you, bringing you back into his chest.

“I don’t want to ruin your life.” You whispered. “I guess I could—”

“What? No. No. I’m not going anywhere.” He swallowed, bringing a hand to your head and holding you close. “I’m more worried I ruined your life. Your residency.”

You exhaled, all the air leaving your lungs as you thought about it. You would likely be able to finish your second year before needing to take any time, but who knew about your third year. Maybe they would let you continue without much hassle. But childcare—the money to raise a child.

You held each other for a long time, worries bleeding together, but he never let you go. Not once.

When you finally moved, your tears had dried, but the weight in your chest had not dissipated. He moved silently behind you, both of you settling in his kitchen, leaning against the countertop while he started some hot water.

You knew you both were going to have to have a deeper conversation about this — you were going to have to come up with a plan. Despite how devastated you were at the results, both of you seemed to be on the same page about keeping it. A baby.

Your baby.

—

The first OBGYN appointment came with a flood of nerves, uncertainties crashing together. Michael had been unfocused throughout your night shift together, but both of you had decided several nights before to keep your relationship as private as possible. You both taking that part step-by-step, wading through the water of your new circumstances with small, careful movements.

After the nurse took urine and blood, you ensured that your OB didn’t do any work at Big Charity — not wanting to get the two lines of your life crossed. You were relieved to find she did not.

She was cheery when she entered, subtly taking in your energies and bringing a sense of calm. No judgement crossed her face, but she did ask about your residency after reading your file.

“Well we’ll start with a pelvic exam, and then make sure there’s proper placement in the uterus with ultrasound. Then we’ll go over your medical history, alright?” Dr. Lyons said, moving to grab the machine and get the gel.

You only nodded silently at her, still having a hard time processing it all. Michael squeezed your hand, bringing you out of your head.

“Are you a resident, as well?” Dr. Lyons asked casually, squirting some gel onto your stomach.

Michael cleared his throat, “Yeah, year three.”

“Very nice, what specialty?”

“Emergency department,” He said, small smile forming. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was proud of it. “It’s how we met.”

She got the transducer ready with a hum, “That can be very stressful.” She eyed you only briefly.

“I can cope.” You told her, but after a moment, you felt like you were more trying to convince yourself. Stress and pregnancy? Bad mix.

Her smile returned, “Just keep an eye on her blood pressure, yeah?”

Michael nodded, eyes going to the screen once she started. She was unable to see much detail, and so she switched you over to a transvaginal ultrasound. It was grainy, but the unmistakable form of a fetus took center stage.

“Measuring at about 3.1cm,” Dr. Lyons said. “About seven weeks, I’d say, based on your last menstrual period.”

Michael’s grip got tighter and you looked away from the screen to peek at his face. You found tears in his eyes, and he looked like he was trying not to cry. You rubbed your thumb over his fingers.

“Let me get the doppler, hear that heart activity.” She gave you a few tissues and allowed you to scoot back up the exam table.

The sound of your baby’s heart filled the room, racing like a speeding train at 119bpm. It filled your heart up with warmth and tears leaked from your eyes.

After your exam, Dr. Lyons gave you some more information, went over her concerns with your stress levels and a few prenatals she wanted you to take. You assured her that your residency would not interfere and she sent you on your way — scheduling for another appointment in four weeks.

In the quiet of his car, Michael grabbed your hand. “We’re having a baby. We’re really having a fuckin’ baby.”

You chuckled, wiping a tear from your cheek. “We’re going to be parents.”

—

“A shotgun wedding is awfully cliche.” You said one afternoon on Michael’s couch, channel surfing. “My mom would be so disappointed.”

Michael walked into his living room with a sandwich, ham and cheese by the look of it. Your stomach grumbled, eyes trying to focus on the television as he took a seat beside you.

“I live to be a disappointment.” He said with a shrug and a smirk, biting into his sandwich.

You huffed a laugh, “Seriously though. I think we should put that thought to rest for now.”

“Oh, don’t wanna marry me now, huh?” His tone was light.

You hummed, your hormones flaring within you, suddenly souring your mood. “I don’t want you to marry me just because I’m having your baby.”

He looked over at you in surprise at your shift in mood. “Are you alright?”

You huffed, turning your eyes away from him. “What are we really even doing, Michael? We have no plan, no fucking money, loans up the ass…what? You gonna stay with me because you knocked me up?”

“What the hell has gotten into you? I thought we decided to try this out?” He placed the plate down onto the coffee table to give you his full attention.

“What the hell has gotten into me?” You scoffed, barely looking at him. “I’m trying to be realistic here.”

“It feels like you’re doubting everything I’ve been telling you.”

“Most of what you told me was in your bathroom, before we found out. You said you’d try and I still feel like we barely know each other.”

“I think I’ve made it obvious how I felt.” He said, tone low, eyes burning the side of your face.

“Oh, did you? I must’ve lost the memo.” Now you were just being mean, but you couldn’t help it. Doubts had been eating away at your mind, and you had been terrible about voicing them. A crippling flaw, it seemed.

“I don’t care about you just because you’re fucking pregnant with my baby. Jesus Christ.” He stood quickly, running a hand through his hair.

The tears came unexpectedly; you blinked once, barely registering his words and his tone, and then there they were, blurring your vision.

He stalked back into the kitchen, footfalls heavy, shoulders rigid. You watched him go.

Part of you wanted to sink into the couch and be swallowed whole. The other part of you wanted to rise to follow him. You felt stuck between both — fear and anger equally eating you alive. You moved to flee instead, avoiding both altogether.

Despite your blurry vision, you found your bag filled with extra clothes next to your purse.

He was on you in an instant, “No, no, no.” His tone was still hard, annoyance coming off him in waves. “We’re gonna sit down and talk about this like adults.”

Your eyes did not move from your hand and his on the strap of your bag, tears freefalling. One hit the top of his hand and he let out a long sigh. With his other hand, he tipped your head up so you would look at him instead of the floor.

“Come on, talk to me.” He said softly, the frustration on his face giving way to concern. “Where did this come from?”

You struggled to find your voice, though when you did, there was really no explanation. “I—” You broke down, a sob coming from your lips as you tried to look away from him again.

He brought you into a hug, bag dropping back to the floor, forgotten about. He kissed your hairline and shushed you.

It was too much. Neither of you had even told anyone yet, or discussed much more than vague details of your plan. It was still early, you both had said after your first appointment, we have time. It felt so foolish now, dancing around your problems like neither of you had learned anything in that bathroom a week ago. Like hiding your feelings was still a suitable option.

“I—I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to take that out on you.”

He hummed against your hairline, “Thank you for your apology. Just breathe for me.”

You followed his advice, taking a deep breath in and then releasing it. It did little to solve the tension in your shoulders.

When you looked at him, he brushed your tears away with his thumbs. “Do you wanna sit and talk about it?”

You nodded silently and you moved back to the couch. You sat quietly for a few minutes, fiddling with your fingers.

“I’m just having my doubts, you know?” You let out a shaky breath. “Like this is still so new and I don’t know. There’s still things to figure out. I don’t want to rush this between us, but I don’t know—it’s just another uncertainty and it’s making me so anxious.”

He processed your words with pursed lips, watching you with those pretty brown eyes of his. He fully turned toward you and grabbed your hands in his.

“This won’t be easy, but I want to be by your side. I want to be in your life. I care about you and I have long before we found out.” He took a breath. “I don’t want to rush our relationship either, but I want you here. I want you to let me in.”

You met his eyes, “I want you to let me in, too.”

He smiled, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

—

The pizza place was not the intention for your first official date together, but you took one step into the place Michael had chosen and nearly thrown up. The meats cooking seemed to strike straight to your stomach, and the nausea was immediate. He had worriedly ushered you out of the nice restaurant, rubbing your back while you leaned over, hands on your knees trying to breathe.

No vomit came, thankfully, that would have been so embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out. “That place was lovely, I swear.”

He did not take it to heart, hand not moving from your back. “Don’t sweat it.”

Hunger grumbled in your stomach, and a few store fronts down was a little pizza spot. The smell of cheese and yeast was actually a welcomed one when you stepped inside. You both looked a little overdressed for it, but you sat down after ordering a few slices without being fazed.

“Are you looking forward to your fourth year?” You asked, sipping your clear soda — Michael insisting, even after you assured him your stomach had settled.

“I am,” He nodded, “Is it weird I still feel wildly underprepared?”

You shook your head, “You? You’re the best person we’ve got in there aside from Dr. Long.”

He blushed heavily, shaking his head. “No way.”

“You should consider going for that chief resident position.” You told him with a grin, winking, “I love a man in power.”

He sputtered a laugh, “Ulterior motives? I’ll consider it.”

“You should, though, seriously. You’d be very good at it.”

“Thank you.” He said, “Are you going to tell your PD soon?”

You frowned, thinking about the program director in question. It was the logical next step regarding your residency. “I was thinking about next week? I’ll try to tell Long then too. I’m just nervous, I didn’t really look over the benefits with this sort of thing when I started.” You chuckled lightly. “Didn’t really think it would affect me.”

He smiled sheepishly, sipping his soda, “Happy accidents.”

You grinned at him, “I’d cheers to that.”

So you did, laughing and enjoying his company over greasy pizza.

When you returned to his apartment, heat had settled low in your belly. You had been spending much of your free time at his place, leaving more and more of your clothes behind — even doing a shared load of laundry.

His quick kiss once you had gotten inside had turned into something much deeper, hands roaming and clothes falling to the floor. The date you had gone on had made you feel worlds better about this whole thing working out. It was a small step, but it lifted the weight from your shoulders.

Michael had you against the wall, one hand beside your head and the other gripping your hip. You deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth and gripping his hair in both hands. His hand on your hip slipped to where you wanted him most, ghosting over your clit before settling by your slick entrance.

“You’re so wet. Fuck.”

You whined against his lips, trying to desperately pull him closer.

It wasn’t long before you were on his bed, wrapping your legs around him, kisses sloppy and his lips searing the skin of your throat. You rocked your hips up, eager for more friction and he groaned. He fumbled off you, reaching towards his nightstand.

You blinked curiously at him, pulling him back to you. “We don’t need that.”

“What?” He asked against your lips.

You giggled, moving your hips up again to feel him. “I’m already pregnant, Mike. Let me feel you.”

He moaned at your words, making you smirk. He was lost in your kiss when you moved your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance. His breath hitched before pushing in slowly.

“Jesus Christ.” He exhaled once he was fully sheathed, eyes screwed shut like he was trying to focus.

It felt like all your nerves were on fire, so much more sensitive to the feel of him, each drag of his hips. His pelvic bone and patch of hair brushing up against your clit. You whined, simultaneously already over stimulated and needing so much more.

He tried not to be too rough with you, while also trying to consider your pleasure above his. He adjusted his movements until you were responding, clinging to him, one hand gripping his back desperately, the other between your legs.

“Mike, holy shit. Michael.” You moaned against his shoulder, the band in your lower belly growing more taut by the second.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your jaw, “Let me feel you cum, come on, sweetheart.”

The tension in your belly snapped with a moan, and your pussy gripped him impossibly tight.

“I’m gonna—” He hissed.

“Please. Please. Please.” You begged, arching your back.

The warm feeling that filled you was different, but you found it felt so good. His hips stuttered, moan swallowed by your mouth, and you tightened your legs around him.

Ragged breathing filled his bedroom, and his forehead rested against yours. He peppered a few kisses to your cheeks, making you grin. He rolled off of you with a groan low in his throat when he slipped out of you, both of you unmoving for another minute.

“Well that’s a first I can get used to.”

He laughed.

—

The first people you told were your PD and the chief attending, both men, and despite the disappointment clear on Dr. Long’s face, it went over well. Dr. Long assured you that he would work with the schedule to ensure you would be able to take your leave once you gave birth — six paid weeks. Anything additional would need to be vacation time, plus a slight risk to your residency. Thankfully it all lined up enough that you would be able to start your third year without a hitch, seven weeks after your due date.

You did not mention Michael to them, but you had both discussed that he would attempt to take a few days to a week around your due date to stay with you. You knew they would likely pick up on the overlap.

The first people Michael told were his parents, who had gone quiet on the other line as he paced his kitchen. You stood still leaning against the dining table, watching it unfold.

His mother’s voice rang out like a bell on the other side, “Oh, honey, did you forget to tell us you were engaged?”

He physically deflated, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “No, mom. We’re not engaged.”

The other line was quiet for a few beats, then it was his dad, “Son, how the hell could you be so reckless? First, choosing to be a damn emergency room doctor, and now what? Got some broad knocked up?”

Michael’s jaw tensed and you looked away, guilt filling your gut.

“Don’t call her that.” His tone was hard, the serious edge to it making you look back at him.

“...some golddigger…whore…does she even know you’re not a real doctor yet? Ha!” His father was ranting in the background.

“She’s a resident, too.” Michael snapped back. “You don’t have to be proud of my decisions, but this is happening. I’m having a baby, that’s a fact. You don’t even need to stay in my life, but she is going to be, so deal with it.”

“Michael, honey, you don’t mean that—”

“No, I do. You don’t get to shittalk her, I won’t tolerate it.” His voice cracked, “I wanted you to be a part of it, but it’s clear you don’t want to be.”

“Michael—”

“If you’re going to be this fucking stupid, fine. Don’t come crying to us when—”

Michael hung up, the weight of it crushing him, tears coming. You moved quickly, taking him into your arms before his knees could buckle. He held onto you like you were a lifeline, sobs wracking his body. You were silent, rubbing circles onto his back, knowing no words would be enough.

You felt an anger brewing in your stomach over how his father had spoken to him, but he had revealed a few weeks prior that his parents had wanted him to be a surgeon. Michael said it took awhile before he got the nerve to tell his father he had chosen the ED over trauma surgery. Now you knew why.

You brought him to the couch, kissing his face and running your nails along his scalp. He curled up, resting his head in your lap, while you ran fingers through his hair. You knew he should not have to bear the weight of their disappointment, especially since he was such a good man.

Flicking on a random baseball game, you didn’t let your fingers stray from his hair.

His anger seemed quick to follow his sadness, moving to sit up, face scrunched together.

“They don’t even know you! How could he even—he has a lot of nerve—”

“Hey, hey,” you placed a careful hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to take what he said to heart. I appreciate you standing up for me, that meant a lot.”

His eyes softened when they met yours, “You don’t deserve that.”

You nodded in agreement.

Later that night, your parents took it a bit easier, though their voices were still thick with disappointment.

“What about your residency?” Your mom asked, “How could you be so foolish? You worked so hard for this!”

“I know, I already figured it out. I’ll still start my third year on time.”

“Baby’s aren’t easy, and if you go back to work full time? What about childcare?”

It was unnerving how silent your father had been.

“There’s a daycare at the hospital, we’ve been thinking about that.”

Your mother sighed, “Well we can’t stop you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You really did not, but you didn’t dare say that.

—

Michael’s mother warmed up roughly a month later, right around your appointment to find out the gender. She had explained that his father would come around, but hadn’t yet, but she expressed wanting to meet you. They lived all the way in California, so them coming to meet you (or you going to meet them) seemed more placating than realistic. Still, you agreed, voicing over the phone you would love to meet her.

Michael anxiously tapped on the steering wheel the entire way to your OB.

“Do you wanna bet on it?” You asked, trying to pull your own anxious mind from running wild.

“Bet on what?”

“The gender.” You said with a smile, looking over at him.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at you before looking back at the road. “What’re the stakes?”

You contemplated with a hum, “I could really go for ice cream.”

He laughed, “Ice cream?”

Shrugging, you added, “Or a beignet.”

“Not quite as high stakes as I was thinking.”

“And what were you thinking?”

“You should move in with me.”

You choked on your saliva, coughing, “Excuse me?”

It had not been long enough to consider that, even if your relationship was going well. It had only been official for a month.

“Not right now!” He said, swallowing thickly. “My lease is up in three months. Might be smart to consider a two-bedroom, you know, even if you don’t move in.”

“Oh.” You looked at the road ahead of you. “That might be too high a stakes.”

“You’re right, that was stupid.”

“No!” You objected. “No, it’s a smart thing to consider. It would be easier once they’re here to live together. But are we ready for that kind of commitment?”

“Sorry to inform you, but we’re going to have a baby together. Surprise!” His lighter tone was back, as was the smirk. “I think just about everything else is much lower stakes than that.”

“I would like to seriously consider that.” You told him quietly. “Just not over a bet.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry to spring that on you. I’ve just been thinking about it.”

You grabbed his right hand and squeezed. “I really just don’t want to fuck this up over spontaneous decisions. I’ll think about it.”

He nodded, “So higher stakes than a sweet treat, but lower than moving in together? Hm, oh! What about that craft beer festival I was telling you about?”

You barked out a laugh, “I’m not going to a craft beer festival. I can’t even drink!”

He smirked, “You’ll be a perfect DD, then! Plus, they’ll have those fancy craft sodas and music I know you like.”

“Fine!” You huffed out, trying to hide a grin. “If I win, then you’re taking me to the next stupid rom-com that comes out.”

“Pfft, I love a rom-com. Think bigger!”

You thought for a moment, “I want to go to the next Comic-Con fully dressed up as whoever I want.” While you had no strong feelings about the con either way, you knew Michael did.

He groaned, “Dressed up, too? At least you’d be able to enjoy yourself at mine!”

“What? I’m sure there’d be a panel on that comic you like so much.”

His tongue moved over his lip, his eyes narrowed at the road.

“So, do we got a deal?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“Fine. I’ll even let you pick first.”

“Oh, what a gentleman.” You laughed. “A boy.”

“You sound confident.” He noted, turning into the parking lot.

“Call it mother’s intuition.”

The smile that came over his face made your heart stutter, sweet and soft.

“Alright, if it’s a girl then we’re going to the craft beer fest. A boy and we go to comic con.”

“Dressed up.” You added, smirking. “Oh! I also want a beignet right now, too.”

He laughed, “Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

You even shook on it.

You waited anxiously for Dr. Lyons to confirm the gender, your gaze holding steady with Michael’s. You held his hand while he rubbed circles on your knuckle with his thumb.

“A girl!” She said, turning the screen to face you both, pointing to your baby.

Your head whipped over to look at the grainy image, disbelief settling in — more so upset at the fact that you lost rather than the gender itself. It was fleeting, however, and a cozy, warm feeling replaced it.

“A girl.” You echoed, smile forming.

Michael moved from the stool he was sitting on to kiss your forehead, whispering a subtle, “I win.”

You shooed him away. “Sore winner.” You whispered back.

Dr. Lyons left a few minutes later, leaving a few prints on the counter for you and Michael to take home.

You stared at the photos, pointing to a few features you noticed. Little feet and nose. You began to wonder what she might look like — who she might take after more, or if she would be a perfect mix. Your heart swelled.

“I’ll go buy tickets this weekend.” Michael told you, a triumphant grin stretching across his face.

You scoffed, moving off the exam table to put your pants back on.

He wrapped you up in his arms, twirling you around, “We’re having a baby girl!”

You laughed, holding him tight, echoing him. When he set you back on the ground, he kissed you tenderly and your eyes grew teary.

“I may be a sore winner, but let’s go get you that beignet.”

—

Michael first told you he loved you while you were making dinner one night. It had been your first night off together in nearly a week, and you were thankful to be in his company again, craving his touch and his voice. You moved to place something in the oven and stood back up to find his eyes already on you.

He had a goofy smile on his face, making your cheeks warm. So many feelings were swirling in your stomach — and something you felt was dangerously close to love. It had been enough time to call it that, surely, but part of you worried it was mostly your hormones talking.

Until he voiced it first.

“I’m in love with you.”

Several beats of silence echoed in his kitchen as you stared at him. Emotion constricted your throat, and you blinked away the coming tears.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

He kissed you deeply, one hand holding your head while the other moved to the small of your back.

“Say it again.”

You giggled against his lips, “I’m in love you, Michael Robinavitch.”

He kissed along your jaw, “Again.”

So you told him, again and again, in every way you could until dinner was ready. He made sure you knew how much he loved you later that night.

—

At twenty-three weeks, you had a much more noticeable bump, though your scrubs hid it well. You had announced it to your co-residents weeks ago, to a weird mix of congratulations and odd looks. Your relationship with Michael was still primarily private, and you barely talked about your boyfriend while in the hospital so your pregnancy was very out of left field to all of them (which, it had been to you as well).

Michael had grown increasingly protective after you started your second trimester, moving to take the more combative patients or shoulder the more stressful cases. Part of you appreciated him, but the other part was finding it increasingly frustrating.

Dr. Long already had you parked in triage for a majority of your shift, and you definitely did not need Michael treating you with kid gloves, too. Your senior resident gave you a bit more leeway, but you could see Dr. Rivera was picking what to give you just as carefully.

After a possible DV victim had come into your care, you assessed her injuries and found she was not critical. Her husband hovered while you asked questions, answering most of them for her, which set your teeth on edge. You brought her into the back, placing her in East 3, and put her on the list to get a head CT. You moved to inform a senior attending of what you suspected, and he noted it and sent you to find the social worker.

Not long after you had, you also noted to try to talk to her while she was alone, but then an ambulance rolled in, stealing your attention. Michael was the first one to get to the patient, assessing quickly.

The patient struggled against the soft restraints, making Michael keep stepping in front of you. You were never going to learn this way.

You pushed past him, checking the man’s vitals and pupils. Likely an overdose, by the look of it, but you still wanted to run urine and blood. The man was also talking in riddles, so psych might be a good call to make, too.

Grabbing hold of Michael’s wrist after the patient was settled, you pulled him into the hallway, moving towards the staff lounge.

“I’m never going to learn if you keep preventing me from every mildly combative or stressful case that wheels in.” You told him sternly in a hushed voice.

He blinked his eyes at you, before his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not trying—”

“No, you are.” You said. “I appreciate the concern, trust me. But I’ll never be a good doctor if I only see the easy stuff.”

He rolled his tongue over his front teeth, “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I know, Robby,” you said, exasperated. “Dr. Long is already benching me from a lot going on back here.”

“He’s not benching you. You’re an asset in triage.”

You wanted to scream.

A code sounded, interrupting any thought you might have had, both of you turning and running into Central 1. You figured the conversation would be shelved for another time.

The woman was older, but had gone into asystole, and despite all the best efforts of yourself and those around you, her time of death was called a half hour after that. It had left you sweaty and in need of a cold drink, so you departed to do just that.

You had no idea what had come over you when you heard shouting back in East 3, but you beelined for it. A wide eyed Maya, a nurse, exited and was calling for security. You stepped behind the curtain to see the husband arguing with another man while the woman was sobbing, begging them to stop.

“Hey! Hey!” You shouted, moving between them. Your first mistake.

Your second? Getting in range to be hit — the man’s elbow coming back and hitting you in the nose as he moved to punch the husband. You tripped backwards, turning just in time to catch yourself with your hands. You quickly noted that you had not landed on your stomach, but your nose was bleeding, dripping blood onto the tile.

Security was in the room in the next second, moving the curtain and revealing you on the floor to the hallway. You felt Michael’s eyes almost immediately. Fuck.

He was next to you within moments, hands on you while you tried to move to stand, your name on his lips. “Are you okay? Fuck!”

“Peachy,” you replied, your hand absentmindedly moving to your belly.

“She got in the way! I wasn’t trying to hit her!”

“That’s enough!” Security moved the man out of the room.

You had never seen Michael so angry, and it rattled through you, his murderous gaze following the man until he disappeared at the end of the hall. You silently followed him into an empty room across the hall and he pulled the curtain shut.

Michael assessed you silently, still clearly fuming, but you were glad he had not moved to attack the man who had accidentally hit you. His hands were gentle, moving along your cheeks to your nose until you winced.

“I’m ordering you a head CT and an ultrasound.” He said, wiping a bit of the blood from your face.

“That’s not necessary, just give me a few minutes.”

“The fuck it’s not necessary, you’re pregnant with my child. Are you kidding me?” His gentle tone had disappeared.

You blinked owlishly at him, stunned by his anger now directed at you.

“What were you thinking? Why didn’t you get security?”

“Maya was already getting them, I wanted to see what was going on.” You said, already feeling stupid.

He let out a long, annoyed sigh, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m going to go order those tests and get you some ice.”

You frowned as he disappeared, bringing your fingers to lightly touch your face. You moved your hand back to your belly and rubbed circles onto your skin. You had been reckless, you realized, and if you had done anything to threaten—you felt sick.

“You’re next for CT, I’m gonna do the ultrasound now. Probably smart to call your OB, so she can check you, too.” Michael said, coming back into the room with an ice pack in hand, voice switching to how he sounded with a patient.

“I’m sorry.” It was barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t thinking. I—I—”

“Hey,” he was in front of you now, touching you tenderly, gently, like you would break. “Relax. Take a deep breath.”

You did so, trying to calm your racing heart by breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“I just—you and Long are keeping me from some really good cases. I didn’t want to have to sit another one out…I thought I could handle it.”

His frown was still on his lips, but he grabbed your hand and kissed along your knuckles. “You scared the shit out of me. You were just—you were on the ground and you were bleeding. Nothing else mattered, I thought—fuck. I don’t mean to be overprotective. At the end of the day, this is still the ED and things are just going to happen, but you really have to think about the situations you’re putting yourself in. I’ll back off a bit if you promise me one thing.”

You nodded, grabbing his fingers.

“Just promise me you’ll be more mindful. You’ll get security first, ask questions second. You’ll get me, or Long or Rivera, or whoever’s on if you sense something going south.”

“I promise.” And you meant it.

He nodded, kissing your forehead — not even caring to cut back the PDA, like you both had agreed to within the walls of the hospital. You were thankful he had, assured by the gestures of affection.

The doppler sounded with a steady, normal heart rate which calmed every nerve you had. A long breath left you and relief was clear on Michael’s face.

The ultrasound revealed normal movement, your baby thankfully finding their time to shine, kicking against your womb much to Michael’s amusement. He moved the transducer to touch your belly to feel for himself, and a large grin lit up his features.

It was the first time he had been able to feel her, your baby girl. He left his hand on your belly for a long time, and you put one of your hands overtop of his.

His brown eyes met yours, “She’s moving.”

You returned his smile, “She’s saying hi to her daddy.”

He nearly cried.

—

Your first apartment had come with a decent amount of stress. Your roommate had been upset when you explained you would not be renewing your lease with her, but ultimately understood. It was unfortunate that since your lease had finished first, you had to crowd Michael’s apartment with the random odds and ends from your old apartment until his lease was up the following month.

You were thankful to find something in your price range, and even more grateful to find something nice. It was a simple two-bedroom place, with enough room to breathe in, and would suit both of your needs until your residency was over.

Michael insisted on moving most of it, with the help of one of the resident’s you knew from the hospital, who was sworn to secrecy before he even came over. Michael told you he considered him to be a friend. He put you on supervising duty, dictating where each piece of furniture should go. After all the furniture was in the apartment, all that was really left to do was furnish the baby’s room.

You wanted this place to be your home, and so there was a bit of weight on your shoulders to fill it. Make it cozy, make it yours.

The furniture for the baby’s room was a bit complicated. Your style clashing with Michael’s more simplistic one. You couldn’t help it! It was your first baby, of course you want to go a little overboard with the design.

You both eventually settled on lighter woods and pastels, not necessarily having the budget for frivolous. You did go a bit overboard on clothes, but hey, pick your battles.

Folding some of her clothes sitting cross-legged on the floor, Michael was trying to put together the crib behind you. It was a fairly simple sight, watching him screw together several pieces, but it still got you all hot and bothered.

“How about Jasmine?”

Michael made a small noise, indicating a simple no. “Patricia?”

You responded as he had. “Susan?”

“Marie?”

You thought about that one, before shaking your head. “Eleanor?”

He considered it. “Ellie’s cute. I like that one.”

You smiled in victory, moving some of her clean clothes into the hand-me-down dresser.

“Eleanor Robinavitch.” You said, testing it on your tongue.

“Eleanor Robinavitch.” Michael echoed, placing his tools down to give you a kiss.

—

Your due date came too quickly. You had thoroughly been enjoying Michael’s company, just the two of you, but by your thirty-eighth week, you would have done anything to get the baby out of you. Though, true to how she had been conceived, it came as a bit of a surprise.

Michael’s shift had not yet finished, though it was close enough that you did not want to call him at the hospital. You only had to wait two hours. Besides, statistically speaking, first-time pregnancies usually had a longer laboring period as opposed to subsequent labors.

The contractions were brutal. More than you had been expecting. Those breathing exercises you learned in those classes did very little to help with the pain, but it did help you get through them.

By the time Michael stepped through the front door, you were leaning over the coffee table, finding the position to be the most helpful. He was by your side in an instant.

“Why didn’t you call?”

“Figured…I could wait…still about seven minutes apart.” You breathed out, the pain in your abdomen beginning to ease again, allowing you to take a big breath.

He kissed your forehead, “I’ll start getting everything to the car. Your bag still in the closet?”

You nodded, leaning back onto the couch and relaxing, hand on your belly.

Michael moved quickly, grabbing his bag, your bag and your baby’s bag and putting them into his car. His anxious energy made you want to stand, moving around the kitchen and bedroom like a tornado. You tried to close your eyes and rest, knowing it was not going to be much longer.

Nearly a half hour later, contractions at nearly six minutes apart but in short bursts, you wandered into the bathroom. You were overly thankful since as soon as you stepped foot onto the bathroom, your water broke. You stared down at the puddle you had made in shock, before glancing at yourself in the mirror.

This is really happening. You were about to have a baby.

After putting a towel down over top of it, you let yourself sit on the toilet. You called Michael to get you some new pants, with a sheepish smile.

“My water broke.” You explained.

He only glanced down at the towel and was off to do as you had asked.

It was not long after that that your contractions moved down to five minutes apart, lasting one minute for nearly an hour. For as level headed as Michael was around the ED, he was eager to get you to the hospital. During the drive, he had you breathe with him, in and out, even when the pain made you want to throttle him.

“Can we seahorse next time? Fuck.” You complained, leaning back in the passenger seat, gripping the door handle tighter.

“Had I the parts, absolutely.”

“I’m still blaming you.” You said through clenched teeth.

You could tell he tried not to laugh, but you were glad he wasn’t taking it to heart.

“What did we cheers to on our first date? Happy accidents?”

You did your best not to curse at him.

After eight long, excruciating hours, you were ready to push. Despite how much you had wanted to throttle him, Michael really was a trooper — he breathed with you, helped you walk around when a nurse suggested it would help, and held you upright while you leaned on him. All things considered, he was a perfect birthing partner, if not a little anxious.

He had read every book about pregnancy, wandered up to L&D at Big Charity to ask random questions, and brushed up on all the latest studies. You knew he knew what was going on and he still asked stupid questions despite it.

If you weren’t in the throes of labor, you might have laughed.

After getting your go ahead, Dr. Lyons let Michael “help”, mostly just to catch the baby. She was on your chest the next second, crying her little lungs out, which you found quite relieving.

Your eyes were blurry when they met Michael’s gaze, looking down at your daughter and whispering to her. Michael kissed your forehead.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He told you, and you could tell he was being earnest.

“I did just push out a baby.”

He smirked back at you, before glancing down at your daughter. He brushed a gentle finger against her cheek, smiling with an expression you had not seen before — but it was something you were experiencing, too.

When she was cleaned, you could tell some obvious features were all you, but you could pinpoint several of Michael’s features. And her eyes? In both shape and color, they were all Michael.

—

In the months that followed Eleanor’s birth, there were still so many things to still figure out. You dreaded returning to work and being away from her, but you also wanted to complete your residency more than anything.

Michael was an excellent father. Handling night feedings, while also trying to take care of you in the first few weeks, and also working. He was compartmentalizing well, but you could see it weighing on him.

You tried to pick up the slack, but postpartum was no joke. Your hormones returning to normal and the sleepless nights really took most of the wind out of your sails most days. You were grateful when Michael would get off shift to give you just a tiny break before you each went to bed, but the dynamic shifted when you returned to work.

The daycare at the hospital was truly a dream come true, with a reduced rate and easy access that made you less anxious whenever you were working. As it stood, the plan was to stay at Big Charity until your residency was done, Michael hoping for an attending position after his fourth year was completed.

You both had vaguely discussed moving out of Louisiana eventually. Perhaps closer to your parents, or to his, or somewhere different entirely. Pennsylvania or New York, perhaps. It was too far into the future to be able to focus on it.

In a rare day off for each of you, Michael convinced you to head to the park, have a picnic and enjoy the weather. Eleanor was more engaged, and was making her biggest effort to crawl. She could sit up on her own without much assistance, and your heart constricted whenever she hit a milestone. She was growing up much too fast for your liking.

The breeze felt nice on your skin, sitting on a picnic blanket under the shade of a tree. Eleanor was talking nonsense to Michael, bringing one of her toys to her mouth.

In her babbling, she said something awfully close to dada, which made your eyes go right to Michael, who was beaming.

“Was that—”

“She does not get to say dada first,” You said in a huff, but your tone was light.

He laughed, “Can you say that again, Ellie? Dada, come on, da-da.”

It warmed your heart, even if you were a bit jealous.

Lunch was simple sandwiches, and some baby food Eleanor had been more and more interested in lately. After, Eleanor settled down for a much needed nap, and you enjoyed the quiet with Michael.

“I’ve really enjoyed this last year and a half with you — it’s been some of the best moments of life.” He grabbed your hand, stealing your attention from your sleeping baby. “It has been such a privilege to raise Ellie with you, and I really could not imagine life without either of you. You mean so much to me, I love you so much.”

Your face warmed, a fuzzy feeling in your chest. “I love you, too. So much. You’re a wonderful father to Ellie, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Your heart halted when he moved from beside you to rest on one knee.

“I know we’ve been doing things a bit backwards, but you said shotgun weddings were cliche. So would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

There was a ring box in his hand, but you did not even look at it before throwing yourself into his arms, “Yes, oh my god. Yes.”

You kissed him, holding him to your body. You knew you would not have picked any other path, knowing this was the one for you.

Michael Robinavitch was the one for you, wholly, undoubtedly, unconditionally.

[ continuation ]

All Dr. Robby Content: @cherriready @kittenhawkk @seeyalaterinnovator

Did I pick Dr. John Carter’s mother’s name? Yes, yes I did.

I feel like I could’ve kept going, but I ended up liking the stopping point. Might take these characters forward into the Pitt timeline!

[traumaone]

Immature

pairing: Michael Robinavitch x Senior Resident!Reader

wordcount: 1.8k

warnings: angst, reader is purposefully petty, mentions of robby being an asshole, age gap, mentions of injury (care pile up, car crash), mentions of death

synopsis: Robby loses his temper on you, and you're not quick to forgive, then tragedy strikes, and Robby's not answering his phone

note: some of you may notice that I took down the smut drabble I posted yesterday, I wasn't happy with it, so I took it down, but please accept this in its place. there will be a part two!!

!! not proofread so apologies for any mistakes !!

I’m your attending, and you’re my resident. Act like it.

Robby had spoken those words over a week ago.

It had been in the middle of a close to mass casualty event, a blood soaked emergency room crowded with victims from one of the worst car pile ups you’d ever seen.

You had never performed an emergency c-section before, especially not on someone who had been actively bleeding out. It would’ve taken too long to call an attending in for help, so OB walked you through it over the phone, Garcia assisted, and both the mother and the baby had made it through (relatively) safe and sound. It had been a victory, a save worthy of celebration in the form of too many cocktails, until Robby found out.

He’d given you the grace of scolding you away from prying ears, but that hadn’t lessened the burn. 

Robby had been too harsh, way too harsh.

You lacked discipline, didn’t respect the chain of command, didn’t respect him. When it came down to it, you were too much of a cowboy, too flexible with the rules of medicine. You were ‘too much like Abbot in the worst ways’.

Tears had threatened to spill, burning and insistent, but you’d blinked them back. 

You had avoided his eyes when you’d told him that you had saved more patients today than any other doctor, that you had been the one to pick up the slack when others had faltered, that he had no right to pick and choose when he thought you were qualified enough to handle things on your own.

You had successfully avoided him for the rest of your shift.

Day One

Meet me out front before your shift. Please.

The message comes through just as you leave your apartment building. 

You scare the living daylights out of a flock of pigeons with how hard you slam your door.

You don’t respond to his messages, but you do wait outside the doors to the ED, ten minutes early to your shift, pacing back and forth like a mad woman.

Robby walks up five minutes later, headphones in and sunglasses on. Usually that sight would make your heart flutter, but in this moment, it infuriates you.

“Do you need something, Dr. Robinavitch?” You keep your voice clip, painfully professional.

He flinches, but tucks his sunglasses into the front of his hoodie. “I owe you an apology.”

“Yes, you do.”

Robby sighs. “Tensions were high, I was struggling to keep it together, and I took it out on you. It was completely unfair, and I’m sorry.”

It’s completely genuine, almost heartbreakingly sincere. Somehow, you still don’t completely forgive him.

“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it.” Not really. “I guess I’ll see you inside.”

You brush past him before he can get another word in.

Robby follows you through the ER, hot on your heels, but you don’t turn around. You ignore the strange look from Lupe, let the door almost smack him in the face on the way through, skip past your usual morning debrief with Dana and head right towards the nearest patient.

You should forgive him, you know you should. It’s not reasonable to stay so angry about something that had been spoken in the middle of a crisis, but you were fed up. Robby never questioned Langdon or Whitaker as much as he questioned you and Samira. 

You were beyond capable, better than most that had come through this program. Abbot had known that the moment he’d met you, and you thought Robby knew, but maybe he didn’t. He deserved to be ignored, shown the error of his ways, at least for the rest of your shift.

Maybe it’s cruel, but you’re feeling cruel today.

Day Three

He walks through the door with two coffee’s. One completely black, his order, and one with two creams and two sugars, your order.

“Abbot told me you came in early this morning, figured you didn’t have time for a coffee.” It’s a casual lie, an excuse to talk. You never drink coffee before noon.

“Thank you, Dr. Robinavitch.” You don’t take the cup from his hand, don’t even look him in the eye.

Once again, it’s cruel. But you’re still feeling hurt, inadequate. 

Robby pushed his way between you and your desk, nudging your chair back just far enough to step between your knees.

“What can I do to earn your forgiveness?” His eyes are unbelievably warm, and it’s almost enough to make you crack.

“You’re forgiven.” You shrug, reaching around him to grab your coffee. “I’m just working on my ‘respect problem’ you had so much to say about.”

“Buttercup, I-”

“It’s Doctor,” You interrupt, pushing up from your chair till the two of you are almost nose to nose. “or my first name, or nothing. Respect goes both ways”

Robby doesn’t back down, and neither do you. It’s tense, probably awkward for many of the nearby bystanders, but it’s the closest he’s been to you in days. He smells incredible, spices, leather, and the slightest hint of antiseptic . He always smells good, but something about being upset with him seems to elevate it.

“Pull it together, you two.” Dana calls out, a phone pinned between her ear and shoulder. “Incoming trauma, two minutes out.”

“On it.” Robby responds, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Buttercup’s leading.”

You all but stomp towards the ambulance bay, annoyance weighing down your shoulders.

“Am I actually leading this, or are you going to take over the minute the patient comes through?”

“Oh, this is all you.” Robby hands are harsh as they tie the back of your gown. “I’m not even gloving up.”

“Let's see how long that lasts.”

Robby, surprisingly, stays true to his word. He hovers by the door, hands behind his back, and doesn't question your decisions. You stabilize the patient in record time, handing them off to the nurses with a strange sense of satisfaction boiling in your stomach.

You turn towards Robby, a cocky smirk on your lips as you tear off your gloves. “See how incredible I am when I’m not being pestered by questions?”

Robby laughs, rough and deep. 

“Believe me,” He whispers under his breath, his eyes locked on you as you practically strut out of the trauma room. “I’m well aware of how incredible you are.”

Day Five

“I’m covering Parker on the night shift for the next couple days.”

Robby pauses. “And who’s going to be covering you?”

“You have Langdon, Collins, Mckay, and Mohan, not to mention King, Santos, Javadi, and Whitaker. You don’t need me here.”

“Sure, but I want you here.”

You frown. “No you don’t. I’m not being nice to you this week.”

“No, you’re not,” Robby agrees. “But that doesn’t mean I want you gone.”

“I appreciate that,” You do, really. “But I want to be gone for a little bit.”

“If Abbot were here he’d be telling us to talk out our problems.”

You laugh. “Then let’s be glad he’s not.”

Day Seven

Two days later, you’re somehow back where you started, covered in blood, surrounded by patients in need of treatment, but Robby’s not there, unreachable, actually, and it’s driving you insane.

Abbot tells you a transport crashed through a nearby cafe, decimated the entire building and grievously injured around thirty people. You ask the name of the cafe out of pure curiosity, and Abbot says The Filter. It’s ridiculously overpriced for drinks that aren’t even that good, but it’s Robby’s favorite.

Every sunday night since you met him, Robby has sat in one of the window seats of that cafe, drinking a cup of expensive tea, and decompressing before heading home. And tonight is sunday night, Robby  just handed his patients over to Abbot, and bid you both goodbye before heading for the same cafe that had just been taken out by a transport, and he’s not answering his phone.

You’ve been unbelievably immature all week, taken out your frustrations on him, and now he might be gone. He might’ve died thinking you hated him.

Medical work is done through deep breaths and the threat of tears. You check every patient's face for too long, hoping not to recognise his features beneath the blood and debrief. He doesn’t come through the ambulance bay, and he doesn’t call.

Once all the patients are stable, Abbot sends you out for air and you don’t fight him. You shed your gown and gloves, slipping your sweater back on, and wander through the maze of gurneys till the fresh air hits your face.

Your throat is so tight you can hardly breath, and still, the screen of your phone is blank. No missed calls, no texts, not even an email.

You can hear the sound of feet scuffing on pavement, but you don’t look up. It’s probably a paramedic returning to their rig, a nurse coming out for a smoke break, a-

“Did you guys get everything handled, or do you still need help in there?”

It’s Robby’s voice, rough, and warm, and so familiar it makes you want to cry, and you do.

“You’re…” Your voice breaks. He’s in front of you, standing tall and completely intact, his brows furrowed in concern and confusion when he catches sight of the tears streaming down your face.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

You can only respond in sobs, your chest aching as the tears you’d been forcing back all night finally come free. Robby pulls you against him, his face buried in your hair as he whispers quiet hushes. You cling to him, press your head to his chest and cry even harder when you hear the steady beat of his heart.

“I thought you were dead.” Your words come out in a hoarse whisper, muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

“Why would I be dead?”

“The transport crashed through the cafe you go to every Sunday, and you weren’t answering your phone.” You choke back another sob, desperate to get your words out. “I thought you were going to die thinking I was mad at you.”

“Oh… Oh, I'm so sorry.” He holds you tighter, running a hand through your hair in an attempt to calm you, but it only makes you worse.

“You have nothing to apologise for, I was being ridiculous.” You pull away, wiping your nose on your sleeve.

“That’s not ridiculous, I would’ve gone down the same road.” Robby keeps his hands on your shoulders, reluctant to let go of you.

You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes, but you blink them away. “I’m sorry.”

Robby smiles, far too fondly for how you’re guessing you look right now. “I know.”

You stare at each other in a few seconds of comfortable silence before speaking again. “Everything’s mostly handled inside, we just have to get our shit together and prepare for the rest of the night.”

“I’ll come inside and help.” 

“You don’t need to.” You try to argue, but it’s half-hearted.

“I know,” Robby nods, his hand lifting to wipe a few stray tears from your cheek. “But I want to.”

[itoshhi]

𝜗𝜚 michael kaiser | brother’s rival

❕smut mdni, bf!kaiser + bro!isagi, hard sex.

life is sometimes hard when you're stuck between two men. especially when one of them is your only brother isagi who has been by your side and supporting you since you were little, and the other is your lover, michael kaiser, the love of your life and also your brother's arch rival.

oh yeah, it had been a long time since you started dating kaiser, but he and your brother isagi still couldn't get along. god... your brother isagi's first reaction when he found out about your relationship... as if it wasn't enough to drive you crazy when you remembered the early days, they're still like kids even now. to be honest, kaiser didn't care about your brother at first, but as time went by, your brother's rivalry got to him and now they were like enemies. on the field, at home, by your side... fucking rivals.

your brother isagi had come to where you and michael were living because he was going to attend a few events this semester, and of course you had invited him. he had been staying at your house, in the guest room, for about 4 days. and i swear you are so confused how they haven't strangled each other in 4 days, i don't think you should even leave the house for the market...

but anyway, let's leave these dilemmas aside. after all, the person who is making you cry under him right now is none other than your one and only boyfriend michael kaiser, right?

"mphh- mich- ah!" he growls softly as you try to moan his name and he settles in deeper. he opens your legs and goes faster and harder. he is always a man full of love, affection and attention towards you. he is the same in bed but he puts your pleasure first. "damn it..."

he watches your body bounce slightly with each of his thrusts. you can't even moan his name as his big hands tighten on your thighs. "you're so loud, schatz."

"you don't want your one and only brother to hear how i fucks you, do you?" damn liar, michael kaiser. he wanted it so bad, wanted to tell his rival how hard he fucked his sister... "is it too much?" he said as he leaned forward and brushed back the hair that was stuck to your forehead with his tattooed hand. "can't you handle me, hase?"

damn he's so, so, so egotistical. so sarcastic. he knows how to fuck you and he won't hesitate to prove it while telling you. his thrusts deepened with each passing second, his gaze falling on your tight pussy, where he couldn't believe how much you could take his cock. he sent his piercing gaze to where you were connected and almost bared his teeth, revealing that damn grin of his. "you feel so good, huh?"

he continued his hard thrusts into your sensitive spot as he leaned in a little more and planted a soft kiss on your temple —such a sweet gesture, despite the fact that he was fucking you. he straightened up and said, “c’mon hase, gimme your voice.” “m-micha! mmh! please, i-im gonna cum!”

“gonna cum?” he growled with that deep voice in his throat and almost laughed. “c’mon then, show your schatz what you can do best.”

if isagi knew that his own enemy was fucking his sister so hard and merciless, he would definitely go crazy. oh- wait a minute…

➤ mein schatz’s brother

YOU SON OF A BITCH

typing…

© itoshhi 2025 {do not copy, translate, steal, modify without permission.}