A/N: Bonus! A collection of cut smut scenes from part 2 cause I thought it was getting too long lol. Enjoy! I cant get enough of alt emo bad boy Robert either sooooo-
Content: 18+ MDNI, bad boy robert x good girl reader, classmates to friends, friends to lovers, you fell first, he fell harder, innocent reader, alt emo robert, mean teasing robert, robert calling reader princess, no supers or powers au, consent checks, hand job, blow job, safe sex (wrap it up), oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, tongue piercing, munch robertsooooonn, breast sucking, mating press, squirting
Being with Robert meant many firsts. And many, if not all of those firsts being yours.
“R-Robert?” you murmur on his lips.
“M’yeah, princess?” He pulls away from you slightly, thumb brushing your lip.
“…Can I touch you?”
Robert grins. “Of course, baby." He kisses your cheek tenderly. “You don't have to ask.”
“...I mean like—" you sigh. “Down there…”
Robert's cock pulses in his pants, jaw tightening as heat spreads low in his stomach. He resists letting out a whimper.
“O-oh,” he says slowly, voice dropping a little. “I see.” His breath is warm on your lips again when he leans closer. “Is that what you want?” he murmurs.
You nod, fingers clutching his shirt. “Yes.”
The corner of Robert’s mouth curls upward into a smirk that looks almost predatory and leans back a little. “Go on, I won't stop you.”
You reach down to cup him through his pants; he's already hard. You feel a slight pulse as your fingers rub against him. You can't make eye contact with him when he's smirking like he wants to eat you alive. Your breath catches.
“You can take me out, baby," he says with a low grunt.
“O-ok.” You shift closer, helping him push his sweatpants down enough to free him. He's bulging through his boxers. You can't help but stare. You've seen his dick a few times by now but never tried to take initiative and—
“You getting shy on me, princess?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
“W-what? Oh… sorry.” You bite your lip, continuing to stare at his bulge like it's gonna start talking to you and tell you what it wants.
“We can stop if you—"
“I want to do it!” you blurt quickly. “I just…”
Robert leans over, briefly kissing your cheek and along your jawline. “You want me to show you?” He chuckles, amusement threading through his voice.
“Yes please…” you mutter under your voice, making him hum.
“Mmh, so polite.” He removes his dick from his boxers, letting it slap against his abs once. He then takes your soft little hand and places it on him with a hiss. Your fingers curl around him loosely. His cock twitching in your grasp. His hand wraps around yours, tightening your grip. “Like this, baby.” He moves your hand up and down on his length, showing you the pressure and speed he likes.
“Mmf, good.”The praise sends a warm rush through your chest. His eyes shut tight, and you squeeze him. You watch the expressions he makes as your cheeks flush but continue your rhythm.
“Fuck, that's it. S-soft, cute little hands… he trails off, jaw slack. You continue like that for a few moments, the room filling with soft breaths and squelches of your hand sliding up and down on his dick.
“R-Rob…” you speak up.
"M'yeah, baby? Ooh—" You squeeze him experimentally and his hips jerk a little in response.
“Can I do something else to you?”
“Mmh—like what, baby?”
Your hand slows, and he looks over at you, eyes blown out with lust.
“I want to make you feel good,” you say softly. “Like you do for me…”
His hand pulls yours from his cock, making it bob.
Once.
Twice.
Then a slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face as realization dawns. “Oooooh, you want to suck me off? Is that it?” he chuckles.
Your face heats even more. “Don't say it like that!” You stare down at your lap, biting your lip again.
“Fuck, really princess? What, is it my birthday or something?”
Your eyes dart back and forth from his legs to yours.
“Hey,” he tilts your chin up. “Look at me.” He scans you with a sobering expression, holding your chin between his fingers. “You sure this is ok, y/n?”
You nod again. “I want to. I think it would be hot…"
Robert exhales slowly through his nose. Fuck, were you his own personal angel? He pulls you into a firm kiss, deep and hungry. “A-alright, go for it baby.”
You gracefully sink to your knees, looking up at him with a doe-eyed expression.
“Fuck,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair. “I’m already halfway there…” Who knew you could undo him with just one look.
You take his cock in your hand, making him grunt from the contact. The way he was acting, it was like he had never gotten his dick sucked before.
“You gotta tell me if I'm doing it right or not, ok Robert?”
He nods quickly and squints his eyes closed. "Yes, baby, j-just nice and easy; watch your teeth.”
You inch forward, licking the pre spilling from the head of his cock. It was slightly salty but overall tasteless. Your lips wrap around his head, taking him in slowly. Robert lets out a low exhale, resisting the urge to buck up his hips. You lick down the shaft, sucking him slowly in blissful agony.
You remember to start moving your hand a little, rubbing it up and down with small squeezes. Robert is knocking his head back as you take him deeper and deeper with every suck.
“W-whoaa-mmh… your wet, hot little mouth feels so good on me.” He moans. You try going a bit faster, licking and sucking him down harder with hollowed cheeks.
He's going to cream right here, right now, if you don't stop. "Fuuuuck, princess. S-slow down baby, m’gonna lose it—shit—I'm gonna lose it… w-where do you want it?” he moans, gripping the back of your head in an attempt to slow you. It doesn't work. You don't answer; instead, try and push yourself further onto his length.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “You’re such a good girl f’me.”
You love the feeling of him falling apart above you. You love that you're making him feel this way.
“Mmf, love that sweet mouth of yours, baby—fuuuuuck—c-coming!" You feel him spilling his hot seed in your mouth and try to swallow it all. Robert winces as you suck him down.
"Damn, princess…” Robert slumps slightly, panting.
“W-was that ok? ” you say as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.
Robert laughs breathlessly. "C'mere," he beckons you back up on the bed to kiss him deep, tongue swirling around yours. “Y’sure you've never done that before?”
“W-what? No, of course not.”
Robert smiles, kissing you again. His fingers slide to hook the edge of your pants.
“Now it's my turn.”
“R-Robert, wait—" you squirm.
“What, you think I was gonna let you sit there dripping?” He continues, pulling them down till both your pants and panties are around your ankles.
“Y-you don't have to, Rob—I just wanted to—" He kisses you again.
“Shh, I know, baby. I wanna taste you, so relax and spread your legs for me.”
Robert slides down kissing your inner thigh gingerly, his hands pushing you open wider.
"Shit, baby, you're oozing for me.” Robert parts your sticky folds with his thumbs. “Did I make you like this?” He places a wet, open-mouthed kiss on your pussy, making you squirm.
“Nngh—don't make me answer that, Robert… you know the answer.”
He smirks. “Mmm, but I wanna hear it, baby. Please? Who made you this wet?”
You jerk your hips into him as his tongue dances between your folds. "Y-you, Rob…”
“Mmh, good girl. I hope you didn't plan on walking tomorrow.”
“What?! Robert!” You moan as his cheeks hollow out on your clit. Tongue piercing working overtime licking you with ease. Robert eats you out until you're delirious and begging him to stop, hands tangled in his hair pushing him back. Legs useless, thoroughly spent.
➽──────────────❥ ♡
Since the first time the two of you had sex together, it's just constantly been hot and heavy. You're both insatiable and can't get enough of each other.
“Rob?”
“Mmm?”
You squirm on his lap. “I keep thinking about your tongue… on me.”
“On you where, princess?” He hums.
“You know where!” You wriggle again trying to get up, but he wraps his arms around you and kisses you just behind your ear, on that spot that sends shivers down your spine. “I wanna hear you say it.”
You exhale. “Licking me… down there.”
“Try again.”
"Robeeerrrt," you whine, face already scorching.
“You wanna hear what I want to do to you?” Robert turns you in his lap to face him.
“What? Oh, um, sure.”
Robert's hands slide down your waist, squeezing once, twice. His gaze is burning holes in your skull.
“I want to bend you over your nightstand so I get a niiiice view of your pussy.” You gasp. “Then after you come a few times on my tongue, I'll fold you over your bed and fuck you from behind.” You're breathing heavier now, heart hammering in your chest.
“How does that sound, princess?” he asks with another kiss to the shell of your ear.
Your breath catches and you nod speechlessly.
"God, you're cute.” Robert helps you up and carefully removes your pants and underwear in one go, pressing slow, soft kisses up your legs. He briefly stands to place a pillow beneath you and the nightstand, folding you forward with a squeeze to your ass.
“Spread for me, baby, nice and wide.” You do so, straightening your legs and clutching the edge of the nightstand. Robert kneels between your thighs, kissing down them with a smug grin you can't see but you know is there.
“Fuck… I didn't know you prepared a feast for me.” His fingers run along your folds, collecting your slick, making you shiver. “Perfect, princess.” He says before diving in to kiss your pussy. It's hot, open-mouthed, and all-consuming. You can feel the curve of his piercing as it circles your clit.
“R-Rob…” You whimper.
“Mmh, stay just like that, baby. F-fuck- your taste…” He grunts into you, gripping your ass for dear life, with his face stays buried in your cunt. You're doing everything in your power not to cry out. Biting your finger, you let a few squeaks slip through. He switches from sucking to flicking his tongue on your clit, fingers sneaking up to enter your sopping hole.
You gasp when you feel the stretch of his fingers enter you and curl ever so slightly. You moan. He's applying all the right pressure and somehow still keeping a perfectly steady rhythm. Robert is almost completely lost in you. He's humming about your taste, voice dripping with lust. His hips are humping the air, begging for some friction between him and his pants. Wait no, yeah, he's pussy drunk.
His damn piercing caught just right, making your pussy pulse around the metal ball. You don't last much longer and come with a cry, stars exploding from behind your eyes. You're both panting a bit now. Robert pulls apart from your pussy with a kiss to your clit and sighs. “Mmh, good baby?”
“Y-yeah—nngh," you whine.
Robert hugs you closer to him. “Still gonna let me fuck you into your bed?”
You whine again, the thought making your cunt clench. “Y-yes.” You shuffle over to the bed; you can hear Robert shifting behind you and his sweatpants hitting the floor and the tear of the condom wrapper. He presses up against you, rock hard. "Comfy, baby?” he says, fingers delicately tracing over your hips.
“M’yes, R-Rob please…” you whine, sticking your ass out to feel the blunt tip of his cockhead against your ass, making you both groan.
“Okok, hang on, princess.” Robert rubs his cock through your slick twice, three times, soaking his length. He pushes in slowly, making sure you feel every inch stretching you open.
“Oh—R-Rob—" you exhale, gripping the sheets in front of you. He doesn't give you warning; he just immediately picks up his pace to fuck you into your bed. You can feel your legs starting to give out on you with every thrust. He's holding up your hips while slamming into you. “C’mon baby, ass up, you can do it.” You try and regain your footing, inching yourself up on your bed while he continues ramming you from behind.
“Theeeere's my girl.” Your heart drops and pussy clenches around him when he says that. Your orgasm is building quickly. Your knuckles are turning white from your grip on your sheets. “R-Rob! Ngh—I—"
“S-okay baby, let go.”
You come with a cry of his name leaving your lips. Pussy clamping down on Robert's cock as he surged forward one last time. He presses a kiss to your shoulder with a huff. "You're amazing, princess.” You both stay like that for a moment, listening to each other's breaths, reveling in your post-orgasmic haze.
☆⋅•⋅⋅•⋅•⋅∙⋅∘☽༓☾∘⋅∙⋅•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅☆
Robert walks into your room, picking up your guitar in the corner, and starts picking away at a melody. You watch him in silence for a moment before speaking up.
"You play?" You say as Robert sets down the guitar on its stand. He turns to you and smirks. "What can I say? I'm good with my hands." He wiggles two fingers at you, beckoning you forward.
"Robert!" You blush and turn away.
"Come on, baby. I know you love how they feel." He saunters back up to you, kissing you deep and slow. You can't help but melt into him. Your hands explore each other a bit more with each squeeze and grab. Robert pushes you back till you both stumble on your bed laughing. His mouth is back on you in seconds. His hand swipes to the side, and you gasp as he pushes your stuffies off your bed and onto the floor.
"Robert! That's so rude! What the hell!"
"What? I don't want them staring at me while I do you." He wiggles his brow.
"R-Robert!"
His lips are back on you in an instant. The feeling is dizzying. Your lips part as he's licking into your mouth. Almost completely helpless.
"C'mon, princess, play with me." He sighs into your mouth.
"R-Rob…" What little anger you had dissipates, fading away with every kiss and lick of his tongue. Both truly insatiable.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It's another week until you're able to really be with each other again, and you jump into Robert's open arms. “Mmh—miss me, baby?” You're peppering kisses on his cheeks, cooing, practically hanging off of him, and jumping onto his lap.
Robert's hands slide up your waist and up to your chest. “What about my girls?” He cups your breasts with a firm squeeze. “Did they miss me?”
“Wh- R-Robert!”
He leans down, smushing his face between your boobs with a happy sigh. “I think they did.” He weighs them in his hands, then trails his fingers down and up under your shirt to give them a squeeze.
“Can I hold them? It's been so long, baby, please.” You nod and roll your eyes, giving him the go-ahead. Robert hastily pulled up your shirt just so he could stick his head under to get as close as he could to your breasts, fabric stretching tight across you both. “Well hellooo ladies.” Robert says, pressing a kiss to each breast.
“R-Robert! Stop that!” You say with a laugh.
“What's that? You need some love? Lucky I'm here then.” He says, ignoring you.
“You're such a dork-o-oh," you moan as his lips wrap around one nipple, the little metal ball rolling over the sensitive peak. He switches to the other, sucking softly while twisting the other between his fingers.
“Ngh R-Rob—" you whine, writhing in his grasp, and then go rigid.
“Mmh, so soft," he continues, lapping at your breast with a wet sucking pull.
You twist, thighs squeezing together. Robert comes off you with a pop, breath hot on your skin.
“I think I hear someone else crying out to me, ready to be filled.” One hand sliding down to cup your pussy. “Don’t you?”
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
Robert wants you in every way possible. And you want to give yourself to him in any way you feel. Even if that means you need to be a little brave.
"Rob…"
"Hmm?"
"Can you, uh…" You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.
"Can't hear ya baby. What do ya want?" He presses a kiss to your temple.
"Can you put me in a mating press tonight?"
His brows shoot up, and he crosses his arms, whistling low. "Oooh, look at you, princess. Actually doing your research, huh?" Robert leans closer till you feel his breath on yours. "You sure you can handle that baby? That's a pretty intimate position."
"They're all pretty intimate…"
"Is that right? Any other ones you wanna tell me about?"
"Come on, Robert…" you groan. You know how embarrassing this is for me." You pout.
He chuckles, pressing another kiss to your temple. "Ok, no more teasing, for now…
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─
Later on that night he's kissing you eagerly, pushing you down on your bed, and pinning you with his hips. “You ready for this, baby?”
“Yes.” You squirm a bit against his bulge. You both lose your clothes in almost record time. Robert rolls the condom on and lies you on your back gently. He hikes your legs up to your chest with a kiss to your knee and smiles. “Beautiful.” His cock nudges at your entrance, head prodding at your folds. He pushes in with a wet schlorp and a groan. You take a sharp inhale and yelp. “Whoa!” Robert takes a few experimental thrusts, sliding deeper with every push.
“Oh-oh wow, you're so deep. "I—I can feel you—ooh," you babble, head rolling against your pillow. You feel yourself clenching down on him even though you're not trying to. That hazy, salacious look he's giving you is making your stomach twist in knots. "D-don't look at me, Rob—nggh—"
He laughs, then groans, trying to steady his pace. “Where should I look? Your tits?” He pants. “M'girls still doing alright? Maybe they need some attention."
“R-Rob, no, just—mmh, please—" you whimper.
“What do you want, princess?” He bends down a bit to kiss the tip of your nose.
"I—I don't know! I don't know! K-keep going haaah—"
"Roger," he chuckles, thrusting into you with reckless abandon. “F-fuck…” Robert pants. “Listen to her. Is she singing just for me?” He gives an accentuating roll of his hips.
“Robert! Don't talk like that! Be quiet! ” you cry out.
“Pssh, you should be telling her to quiet down then, huh?” Robert's hips snap into yours, your slick forming an off white ring around the base of his cock. "Y-you like this." He pants. "Being completely at my mercy when I fuck you." Robert leans down closer to your ear, voice dropping an octave. “What would your parents say if they could hear you? Hmm?”
You clench hard and gasp. “R-Rob!” His lips are on yours, tongue bullying its way into your mouth, hips still pistoning into you at a rapid pace. There's no time to warn Robert when you gush around him, whining his name against his mouth, fingers grabbing at the sheets desperately as your walls spasm around him.
He delivers deep, harsh thrusts. So full of determination. Charged with something completely different from all the other times he’s fucked you. His groans are rough, breathy, and ragged, chest heaving with effort as he drives into you, fucking you through your orgasm. He doesn't last much longer, thrusting once more as he stills. His grip on your knees loosens as he lays his weight into you. Both grinning at the circumstance.
“So…” Robert starts. “What other positions do you want to try?”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄
Another night Robert is treating you with his tongue after getting a good grade back. (You always got good grades, but he just needed a reason to justify burying his face in your pussy for the nth time this week.)
“Mmh—stop squirming, y/n.” He buries his head further into your pussy, licking up any remaining juices.
“I already came! R-rob!” You try to run from his grip, but he's holding you to him.
“So? Come again. You can do it, baby.”
"R-Roooob," you cry. You're very oversensitive, and every lick and nudge against your clit is electric, making you writhe and flail.
“Mmh, just can't get enough of your taste. F-fuck me…” He keeps going, ignoring your pleas.
“Nngh, please—" You don't have the strength to fight him.
His face buried in your slick, licking every sweet spot, a long stripe up your folds, tongue flicking up and down on your clit. He continues sucking your very sensitive clit and fingering you gently.
He's savoring the taste of you on his tongue, dragging it all over your folds. Your toes curling at the feeling every time his piercing runs over your clit. His fingers are pressing against your G-spot with every stroke, making your pussy flutter. He gives your clit another kiss before his fingers curl right into that spot that has your legs shaking. You're gasping, gripping his hair for any kind of stability.
“R-Rob, whoa—wait, Rob is s’different.”
“Fuck, really? C’mon baby—"
It builds fast, coils tight in your stomach, thighs shaking. "Oh God, Rob—nngh, I'm gonna—" you scream, hips jerking into him, vision blurring white. You shatter, cunt spasming hard around his fingers, spraying out against him almost violently; you're both shocked. You come in fast spurts, completely drenching his face like a broken fire hydrant.
“Omigosh Robert! M’sorry what was that I—"
“That was hot, is what that was.” He laughs, staring at your pussy like it's the seventh wonder of the world.
“A-are you ok? I don't even know how that happened! Ah—"
Roberts mouth is back on you again, lapping greedily at your soaked folds. When he's satisfied with his cleanup job, he reaches for the towel on the nightstand to wipe his face.
“That was your first squirt, baby. How do you feel?”
“Boneless. Dead. Am I dead?”
"No, you're definitely not dead," he chuckles, leaning down to kiss you deep. He studies your utterly fucked-out face and smiles.
“Sooooooo, do you want to go again?”
“What! N-no!"
Robert laughs and holds you close. "Alright, alright, I'm just kidding. Kind of…” He kisses your temple with a soft squeeze to your side. “But just know, I'm gonna work hard till you do that again.”
A/N:Thank you for reading! Hope yall enjoyed. Have a great weekend yall
Got any ideas about Robert dating you - Streamer!reader ?
A/N: Hol on chat, lemme cook-
18+ MDNI
Imagine Robert has been following you on Twitch for a while. He found you one day after work while scrolling through the ‘Just Chatting’ channel. He would have to be blind to think you're not cute. Even then he'd be able to hear how cute you sounded.
Your room is a mess in a way that feels intentional. Your vibe was like a perfect eclectic mix of girly, goth, and punk. Black lace curtain half-tacked to the wall. Pink LED lights. A chipped skull mug. You’ve got eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man and a Hello Kitty hoodie that you drown in.
At first it’s background noise, your stream playing on low volume while he heats up leftovers, the glow of his phone propped up against his mug. But then you laugh at something stupid in chat, scrunching your nose like you’re embarrassed by how loud it came out, and he looks up and smiles, thinking how cute it was. He follows without thinking. MechaFan5318008. Default icon. Very on brand for him.
That's how it started.
The next night, he clicks your stream again. Then the next. Then suddenly it’s been two months, and his routine quietly rearranges itself around when you go live. He soon becomes a regular in your chat, and you'll greet him when he shows up.
“Oh hey, Mech!” you say one evening, eyes flicking to the side of your screen. “you’re early.”
He almost drops his phone.
He doesn’t even remember typing in chat, but there it is. A stupid little hey. Nothing clever. He tells himself not to read into it, but you smile anyway. A real one, like you’re glad he’s there and not just being polite.
Sometimes you ask how his day was. Sometimes you complain about yours—tech issues, weird DMs, your lighting setup betraying you mid-stream. He likes when you get a little ranty, your voice speeding up, and your hands flying up as if chat can feel your frustration through the screen.
It isn't until he sees you at a bar that he decides to introduce himself and buys you a drink.
He panics and almost chickens out of meeting you, but after you turn to face him, he gains some confidence.
You turn, eyes flicking over him, really looking. Something sparks there immediately. Recognition doesn’t hit you, but interest does. You smile, polite but curious.
“I mean,” you say, amused, “I’m not gonna stop you.”
You introduce yourselves; Robert is quick-witted, teasing, but dry and observant, and unexpectedly funny too. You laugh more than you mean to.
You two are smitten immediately. Maybe it’s how easily the banter flows. Maybe it's the way your personalities mesh. Maybe it’s the way he actually listens instead of waiting to talk. Or the fact that you both were already familiar without knowing it yet.
It slips out a few minutes later, almost casually.
“I’m gonna sound insane,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “but… I’m a subscriber. On your stream.”
“No way,” you say, pausing to scan his face. “Shut up. Wait, how long?”
Robert scratches his chin, thinking. “Uhh probably a few months or so.”
You lean forward, intrigued. “What’s your username?”
When he tells you, it clicks. The quiet regular. The dry jokes. The guy who always shows up early. Robert's face flickers with discomfort, thinking he's lost you.
“Oh my god,” you laugh, covering your mouth. “No way.” You punch his shoulder.
He smiles, relieved, a little stunned that this is going well. “Yeah, I never knew you lived in my town.”
"I didn’t know you lived in my town, sir.” You laughed again, easy, bright, lethal. God, your laugh is cute. He hates how easy it is for you to make his dick jump. The attraction hits him hard, sudden and undeniable, and he has to remind himself to keep breathing, to keep it cool.
You take him back home for what is some of the best sex of your life. It's hot, intimate, and all-around fun.
“You drove me crazy all night.” Robert grunts, hitting your G-spot perfectly.
“Robert!”
“C’mon baby, lemme hear you.”
You're definitely covered in marks that you need to hide the next day.
Robert takes you out on a few more dates. He's not letting you go that easy.
You are both very clingy, which works out well. Your personalities complement each other.
You two quickly become a secret couple.
He's over at your place more than he is at his.
He brings Beef with him.
Robert warily brings you to SDN.
Prism is already a fan and loves you, as does Malevola.
Invisigal, Flambae, and Sonar tease Robert the most about you.
Sometimes during your stream, Robert will show up in chat just to make an appearance while sitting five feet away from you. But he's also texting you the filthiest things he wants to do to you at the same time. You cut the stream short so he can show you exactly what he means.
Robert definitely eats you out under your desk on stream (with your permission of course)
You're determined to stonewall through it but then quickly take a break when you come on his face.
He watches the VODs back afterwards and watches your expressions, making notes for next time to try and make you lose it.
He loves it, you love it.
You love him.
A lot of people are shipping you and Mech on your Discord server and Twitter.
Robert comments in chat, wondering whose hoodie you're wearing.
You smirk and look over to him a few feet away and say, ‘my boyfriends,' and chat goes wild.
You ask, ‘Hey chat, do you want to meet my boyfriend?’
Then you call him over to give you a kiss live on stream.
You blow up on Twitter when you mistakenly call Robert by his username, but he doesn't mind.
All things considered, Robert is a great companion and an even better boyfriend.
can you make a sequel to Girl dad!Robert but its Boy dad!Robert and continues from where the first one left off? pls its so cute :)
A/N: Oooh actually had a draft of this so lets finish itttt
heres the first part btw 🫶
Boy dad!Robert who the moment his son is born feels like his heart has split open all over again. He’s almost more excited this time, but at the same time even more terrified. He looks at that tiny scrunched-up face and immediately thinks about his own father. About the things he learned. The things he didn’t. The things he wishes had been different. He holds his son a little tighter because this time he knows exactly how much is at stake.
Boy dad!Robert who solemnly swears to himself in the quiet hospital room while you’re sleeping and the baby is curled against his chest that he will do his absolute best. That his son will grow up kind. That he will respect women. That he will protect people without ever becoming cruel.
Boy dad!Robert who names your son Aster Chase Robertson as a nod to his father and Chase as the two men who he looks up to in his life. He says the name out loud a dozen times the first week just to hear how it sounds.
Boy dad!Robert who melts when your daughter peers into the bassinet and declares, “He’s tiny, daddy.” And Robert just smiles softly and says, “Yeah. For now.”
Boy dad!Robert who has to turn away to wipe a tear when your son declares very seriously, “My job is to protect sissy.”
Boy dad!Robert who kneels down and gently explains, “You protect each other, buddy. That’s how it works.” But Aster just shakes his little head stubbornly. “No. I strong. I protect her.” And somehow your heart both swells and aches at the same time. You both cry about that later on that night. And it's not the hormones this time.
Boy dad!Robert who watches his son copy everything his sister does. Taking orders from her like she’s a five-year-old general.
Boy dad!Robert who teaches his son how to throw a ball but also teaches him how to braid his sister’s hair because “hands should know how to be gentle too.”
Boy dad!Robert who feels a complicated rush of pride and anxiety the first time Aster says, “When I am big, I will be like you.” Robert ruffles his hair but later stares at the ceiling that night thinking, Then I have to get this right.
Boy dad!Robert who still sneaks into his room sometimes just to watch him sleep but finds him missing. When he checks your daughters room they're both fast asleep. One curled dramatically sideways. The other starfished across the bed. He finds out later his daughter had a nightmare and grabbed her brother for comfort. Sobs
Boy dad!Robert who has a son determined to be a protector, a daughter determined to be a hero, and a wife strong enough to anchor them all.
Boy dad!Robert who knows the world can be harsh. Who knows boys can be shaped wrong if no one is careful. But as he watches Aster curl protectively toward his big sister even in sleep, he thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s building something better.
Hi! Could I request Robert comforting a reader who is uncomfortable with her body? Weight and appearance, maybe with her countering with Robert being awkward about his scars. I'm cool with light sexual stuff and everything building up to it, but no actual smut. Just warm fuzzies and comfort and maybe some body worship stuff. Thank you so much!!
A/N: Aw yeah lets gooo. PS: this is written with more curvy ladies in mind btw. Everyone is beautiful and valid and if you think otherwise I'm gonna come over and smooch your brains
Content: female reader, insecure reader, body insecurity, new relationship, fluff, comfort, body praise, body appreciation, reassuring robert, vulnerable robert, loving robert, suggestive, smooches!
WC: 1.2K
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
You’re standing in your room, back half-turned to the mirror, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt like you’re debating something.
Robert leans against the doorway for a second, just watching you. He likes watching you. But he frowns when you glare at your phone and throw on one of Robert's old hoodies.
“Hey, you okay baby?” he asks gently.
"S-sure..." You dart your eyes from side to side, then shrug. Dismissing him too quickly.
He crosses the room and sits beside you on your bed. Not touching yet. Just giving you space. “Hmm, I don't like that answer.”
Your shoulders lift, then fall as you sigh. “Do you ever just… hate how you look?” You stare at the floor, refusing to meet his eyes.
He turns toward you fully now. “Where is this coming from?”
You gesture vaguely at yourself. “I just— I saw a picture of us earlier. From the party. I didn’t realize that’s what I look like when I stand next to you…”
His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”
You pull out your phone and show him. You’re mid-laugh, head tipped back. Your stomach curves under the fabric. Your arms look softer than you remember.
“You’re all sharp edges and broad shoulders and—” You stop yourself, embarrassed. “You look like you belong in oil paintings. I look like I wandered in from the dumb idiot convention...”
There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then Robert’s expression shifts; he's not amused.
“You think I look like I belong in a painting?”
You blink. “That’s the part you’re focusing on?”
“Yes. Because I'm not going to entertain whatever silly thought you just had about yourself.”
You groan softly and hide your face in your hands.
He gently pulls your wrists down. “Hey hey. None of that.”
“Robert…” you pout, inching away from him.
“Come on, don't hide from me.”
He turns to you. He pulls down the hood so his thumb brushes along your cheekbone, tentative.
“Why are you wearing this old thing anyway?” He picks at the sleeve. You instinctively cross your arms over your stomach, swallowing and then sighing.
“I don’t… look like the women you could have," you murmur.
He jolts a little, taken aback. “And what 'kind' of women do you mean?”
You avoid his eyes. “I just… I know I’m not exactly small. Or slender. Or delicate. Or whatever....”
He studies you for a long moment. Really studies you. Not in a cursory way. In a deliberate way that makes heat crawl up your neck.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
You nod, hesitant.
“I like that you’re not small.”
Your breath stutters slightly.
He shifts closer now, hands on your knees.
“I like that when I hold you, I can actually feel you.” His hands settle carefully at your waist, testing. “You’re curvy, soft, and real.”
You stare at him, heart pounding.
“I don’t want delicate,” he continues, voice lower now. “I want you, like this, the way you are.”
His thumbs move slowly, reverently, along your sides—not rushing or grabbing. Just tracing.
“Don't ever think you have to cover up around me, please. You're beautiful. And you're mine. I want to see you," he chuckles. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, “how often I have to stop myself from staring.”
A quiet, disbelieving laugh escapes you. "Don't lie to me, Robert…”
"I'm not.”
“You could have anyone.”
He exhales through his nose. “You say that like I don’t have mirrors.”
That pulls your attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He hesitates. And there's a flicker of self-doubt you don’t see often.
You gently reach out to hold his shoulder. “Robert.”
He doesn’t meet your eyes at first. “You’ve seen my chest and my back.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s not exactly… pretty.”
The scars. You’ve traced them once or twice before, absentmindedly, and felt the way he went still under your touch.
“They’re part of you,” you say softly.
“They’re ugly.”
Your expression sharpens. “No.”
You meet each other's eyes.
You shift onto your knees in front of him, close enough that your thighs brush his. “Don’t you dare.”
He blinks. “Don’t I dare what?”
“Say that about yourself.”
“Tch, you're gonna tell me not to hate on myself when you're doing the same thing?” His fingers twitch at his sides—like he wants to cover himself up but refuses to.
Your brows furrow. You lift your hands to his collar, slowly unbuttoning the top few buttons—not seductive, not rushed. Just intentional.
You push the shirt back from his shoulders, exposing the raised lines across his skin. Your fingers trace one gently.
“These are not ugly, Robert.”
His fingers slide down your sides and hook lightly into the hem of your hoodie.
“Can I?” he asks softly.
You nod.
He lifts it slowly, like he’s unwrapping something fragile. He carefully pulls it over your head, leaving you in your cute graphic t-shirt. His fingers run along your sides, rubbing tenderly.
Slowly, he leans forward to kiss you. It’s tender, caring. He trails kisses down your neck, squeezing at your hips, your thighs getting a little lost in you.
His hands slide upward now, slow and deliberate, along your sides to your ribs. He pauses there, giving you time to pull away.
“You don’t see what I see,” he murmurs.
“I see the way your shirts hug your sides and stomach, the curve of your waist when you stretch, and I love the way your stomach presses against me when you fall asleep on my chest.” His thumb brushes lightly just under the hem of your shirt. “I love that when I squeeze your hips, you actually feel soft and real in my hands."
Your breath trembles.
“I see your thighs,” he continues, voice roughening slightly, “and I think about how they fit around me when I hold you.”
Heat blooms across your skin.
“And when you look at me,” he finishes, “like I’m something worth wanting… I don’t see flaws. I see the woman who chose me.”
“Robert…” You sigh again. “I just… don’t want to feel like the ‘before’ picture.”
He squeezes your hands, looking at you empathetically, shaking his head. “When I look at you, I see the beautiful, kind, amazing woman I fell in love with.” He freezes for half a second, not quite expecting to confess. “…and I mean that.” His ears flush faintly. “I did.”
He kisses you again, slow, careful, and full of yearning, like he's lucky to be yours.
You shift closer, climbing into his lap. His hands steady you automatically, fingers spreading along your hips.
There’s nothing frantic about it. No rush to undress. Just tender loving care. Hands learning. Lips lingering.
“There are plenty of things I’ll let you be wrong about. Your body isn’t one of them.”
A soft laugh escapes you.
He presses another kiss to your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.
“You’re allowed to have bad days,” he says quietly against your skin. “But on those days, you come to me. Understood?”
You nod.
“And I’ll remind you.”
“Of what?”
His hands settle at your waist again, firmer now.
“That I am very, very into you.” His hands slide up your back, firm and warm.
“And I don’t settle. I choose.”
You kiss him again—smiling this time.
And when he pulls you closer, you relax your shoulders and forget to suck in your stomach. You just melt into him and let him hold you like something precious and solid and wanted. And just then, you let yourself believe him.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
A/N: Thank you for requesting and reading! Hope this was alright. If you want something a little more spicy and kinda in the same vein then check out Cravings pt 2! Have a great day! 🫶
Other writing/drabbles will probably be 2k and under (unless I get carried away lol)
I will put disclaimers or trigger warnings in the title if needed
Please be patient when requesting, even though I do not have a life it may take me a while, I'll finish them as soon as I can ✨
Also please try and be as specific as you can so I can try and write what you want
Any NSFW requests I will only write what I feel comfortable doing (ie anything youve read in previous fics). There will be no rape, non-consent, underage, assault, homophobia, characters with mental disorders or potentially harmful triggering subjects. You must be 18+, minors can not request NSFW works
But yeah send me your sins and I will do my best ;) and I love fluff, and my boy deserves all the hugs and kisses and cuddles :D
Other writing/drabbles will probably be 2k and under (unless I get carried away lol)
I will put disclaimers or trigger warnings in the title if needed
Please be patient when requesting, even though I do not have a life it may take me a while, I'll finish them as soon as I can ✨
Also please try and be as specific as you can so I can try and write what you want
Any NSFW requests I will only write what I feel comfortable doing (ie anything youve read in previous fics). There will be no rape, non-consent, underage, assault, homophobia, characters with mental disorders or potentially harmful triggering subjects. You must be 18+, minors can not request NSFW works
But yeah send me your sins and I will do my best ;) and I love fluff, and my boy deserves all the hugs and kisses and cuddles :D
A/N: Tumblr is dumb and made me upload this in 2 parts. So you can read the first part here. Thanks again @buggiebeetleart for this art. Enjoy yall
Content: 18+ MDNI, bad boy robert x good girl reader, classmates to friends, friends to lovers, you fell first, he fell harder, innocent reader, alt emo robert, slight stoner robert, mean teasing robert, robert calling reader princess, no supers or powers au, just high school, and high shenanigans, minor angst, first kiss (yours), corruption, smoking devils lettuce :p, kinda a crack fic at parts, eating weed brownies, getting drunk, robert doing your makeup drunk, virginity loss (yours), consent checks, safe sex (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, m-m-m-munch robertson ftw, surprise piercing, no not there ya freaks, robert comes untouched, sneaking around behind parents backs, been waiting to use this gif hehe
You lead Robert up to your room. Warm-colored fairy lights are pinned along the walls in loose, uneven lines, some of them drooping slightly like you put them up without caring too much. Your bed sits against the far wall, piled with too many pillows and an old quilt that’s clearly been washed a hundred times. A couple of plushies are tucked near the headboard.
There’s a desk by the window, cluttered but intentional—half-burned candles, notebooks filled with messy handwriting, and a chipped mug holding pens and eyeliner pencils. A small stack of books leans dangerously to one side, spines cracked from rereading. Your guitar rests in the corner, strings slightly out of tune, like it gets picked up often but never quite put away properly.
“Your room is almost as cute as you," he says with a kiss to your temple.
You're staring up at him with a doe-eyed expression, a bit shy.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he says, eyes dark, voice wrecked, “I forget every good intention I’ve ever had.”
His thumb brushes your lip again, almost reverent, then drags it down your chin like he can’t help himself.
“Say the word,” he murmurs. “Or tell me to stop. Because I’m running out of middle ground here.”
You don’t answer right away—just lean in, close enough that your lips brush his once, barely there.
His breath catches.
“Yeah,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “That’s what I thought.” He reaches down to the hem of his hoodie, pulling apart from you for a moment so he can yank it over his head with his shirt. His lips are back on yours in an instant. Your hands explore his bare chest but stop.
“I wanna do this, Robert.” You stare up at him with big, pleading eyes. “Okay?”
“Fuck… okay.”
Your hands tentatively brush down his chest and down his sides and waist. He's scarred all over. Literally wearing his trauma on his body.
He kisses you quickly once he sees your worried expression.
“I'm okay; it was from the accident years ago.”
You pout still, saddened at the sight. His fingers stop yours, and he lines both of your hands up.
“Your hands are so much smaller than mine," he says with a small breathless laugh.
He looks at you with a slight grin. “You wanna take your clothes off, or should I?”
“I got it.” You reach for the hem of your sweater, trying to pull it and your shirt off like Robert did, but it's not nearly as cool and practiced.
“Cute.” He chuckles at your heart-patterned bra.
“Are you going to call everything I do cute?” you pout for no particular reason.
He shrugs with a grin. “Most likely.”
Your sweatpants are next, thrown onto the floor on top of your sweater. Robert takes a step closer, thumb brushing the side of your panties.
“Very cute.” Kissing you quick before you can complain. His fingers inching down to feel your moist panties.
“T-take them off," you whine.
“As you wish, princess," he smirks into your mouth. He takes his time peeling your wet, sodden panties from you. His fingers steadily slide back down to your slit. Rubbing at the cobwebs of slick that formed between your folds. His jaw drops and breath stutters. “Holy shit, you're soaked.”
“Sorry…” Your nails dig into his shoulders.
“Don't be.” He carefully pushes you onto your bed, shifting down so he's eye level with your cunt.
“R-robert? W-what are you doing?”
“Going down on you. S’that ok?” He sucks his bottom lip into his watering mouth, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
“W-what? Uhhhh-”
He rolls his eyes. “I want to lick your pussy, y/n.”
You draw back a bit, an almost horrified look in your eye.
“Y-you what? Down there?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, I think it's hot.”
Your brows furrow, confused and still slightly nervous. “Really?”
“Hell yeah. At least let me try; if you don't like it, we can stop, kay?” He says with a kiss to your knees.
“O-okay…”
Robert gradually parts your legs, inching closer with a kiss every time.
“O-ohh!”
Roberts's tongue licks you all the way up your slit as he parts your folds with his thumbs. But it felt weird. Why was his tongue shaped like that?
He pulls back on the hood of your clit before giving it a quick lick. The sensation immediately makes you jerk back.
“W-whoa! U-uhmm—w-what was that?”
He chuckled, peering up at you with a deliciously evil grin.
“What? The feeling or this?” Robert sticks out his tongue, and you see it. The metal ball was sticking out of his tongue. “You really didn't notice?” He smirks.
“No, um, uh—" you stutter, your brain trying to catch up with the situation.
“That's ok, right?” He circles your inner thigh with his thumb.
"Whoa, um, yeah sure, wow.”
He chuckles, placing a quick kiss on your clit, making you squeak.
“Heh, I bet you've never even touched yourself before, right?”
“I-I h-have!” Your hands fist the sheets.
Robert quirks a brow and grins. “Really?”
“Mmhm…” You turn your head so you don't have to look at him.
"M'kay, you wanna show me what you like then?”
“W-what?” Your face heats more. “I don't know… just do whatever you were gonna do!” You slap your hands over your face in embarrassment.
“Uh uh, none of that now.” Robert grabs your arms, forcing them apart so you look at him.
“R-roberrrrrt.” You whine, closing your legs.
“What's wrong? This too much for ya?”
“No, well, I'm just feeling… exposed, vulnerable.”
“Do you want to stop?” He peers up.
“No…” you pull at your fingers nervously.
Robert takes your hands in your lap, squeezing them. “Do you trust me, princess?”
You look at him then and melt. How could his eyes look so earnest but… lustful? You gulp. “Yeah, of course.”
“Then I need to prep you. Did you like what I was doing?”
“Y-yeah, it just felt weird.”
“Good weird or bad weird?” he probes.
“...G-good.”
“Great,” he smiles. ”You want me to try again?”
You nod, clearly embarrassed.
“Words, princess.”
“Yes, Robert.”
Robert kisses your inner thigh again. His tongue flattens against your folds, licking up to wrap his lips around your clit.
“Mh-ah!” you whimper.
You're trying to place this feeling. Bliss. Euphoria. Pleasure.
“T-this feels nothing like being high or drunk.”
“Y-yeah.” Robert grunts. “It's better.” Robert groans, clearly enjoying this as much as you, and continues eating.
He licks and slurps at your juices, letting that little silver ball slide around your clit, making your legs twitch. Your eyes are closed tight, jaw slack.
“You ok, cutie?” He chuckles.
“Y-yeahh nghh—I feel weird.”
“Yeah? Gonna come for me?”
You feel hot and tingly all over. You're definitely sensitive then when he started. Your heart is racing, and you can't breathe.
“Come on, baby, you can do it.” His cheeks hollow out as he sucks your clit, making you gasp. His lip piercing digging into you. It's too much. A hot wave of pleasure washes over you, making you see white.
“Robert! ” you cry as you throw your head back. Your brain is mush. He laps his tongue over your folds to clean you up, sucking at your remaining essence. You're boneless.
“Good job, princess.” Robert licks his lips.
“W-was that—
“Your first orgasm? Yeah, was delicious.”
“S-so should we…”
“Hmm, I should probably stretch you out first.”
“S-stretch?”
Robert holds up two fingers like a gun.
“It's gonna feel weird, then good, ok?”
"Oh, ok.”
Robert kissed your inner thigh again. “I'll go slow, baby.” You nod.
Robert kisses your clit again, making you whimper. He laps at your folds a few times before licking his tongue into your entrance.
“Nggh—Ah!"
"Sorry, princess.” He spits to lube up his fingers.
“Robert! Gross!”
He smirks. “You don't want these going in dry, baby, trust me.” Positioning them at your entrance, he looks up at you with carnal need.
“Gonna put them in now, ok?”
“Okay…”
His spit-covered fingers mix with your slick push slowly into you. You wince at the foreign sensation, squirming a little.
“Still ok?”
"Y-yeah, it burns a little though.”
“That'll go away.”
He keeps pushing his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, moving closer to lap at your clit again.
"Nnnh—"
You bite your bottom lip, trying to stop the whiny, breathy moans from escaping.
“None of that, c'mon," Robert says, trying to bury himself deeper into your pussy.
“Robert! Y-you can't breathe!”
“Mhh-Good.” He slurs. “Pull my hair if you need to.” He's stroking deeper into you, then an experimental curl, then another once he finds that spongy part riiiight there.
“Whoa!” The motion sends a chill throughout your whole body; your hands fly to his head, legs squeezing him. Fingers tangling in his messy locks, giving a little tug.
He groans into you. Hot breath searing into you. Gasping like he's parched. Like he can't get enough of your taste.
“Harder, princess," he huffs. Long, lecherous slurps fill the room as he pistons his fingers into you, curling just so, making your legs shake. The combination is enough to make you lose it.
“Roberrrrt.”
"That's it. You're doing so well taking my fingers, princess. So responsive.” He peers up at you; he looks drunk again.
"D-don't look at me like that…”
“Should I look at her?” He gives your pussy a wet, open-mouthed kiss.
“W-what? R-Rob-”
Your hips start involuntarily bucking into his face, moans picking up in intensity.
“Rob! W-wait right there!”
His fingers curl hard into you, grip tightening on his hair.
“Let go, sweet thing, I've got you." He keeps a rough rhythm inside while sucking and flicking at your clit. You come again explosively with a moan; you're worried about popping Robert's head like a balloon between your thighs. You ride out your high and then collapse down onto your bed, catching your breath.
“W-whoa… what the hell, Robert?” you wince as his fingers slip out.
He chuckles and leans over to kiss you.
“I-is it always like that? ” you pant.
"Sometimes, yeah.”
“Has anyone called your tongue a sedative before?”
“Never.” He laughs. "I'll take that as a compliment.”
He gives you a minute to come down, kissing your cheek gently.
“Do you want to keep going? It's ok if—"
“I want to go all the way, Robert.” You turn to face him. His eyes are still blown out with lust.
You gasp when you come to the realization. "You haven't come yet, Robert!"
Robert shakes his head, kissing you deep. “I think you underestimated how much I enjoyed eating you out.” He stands up, revealing the large wet spot on the front of his sweatpants.
“You—oh…" you blink, unable to tear your eyes away from his bulging erection begging to be freed.
Robert grabs his bag by the door and pulls out a condom.
“You're sure? It's not too late to back out, y/n.”
You nod. “I want to, Robert.” Your body's buzzing; your core is on fire. You feel revitalized but serene.
He smiles at you before pulling down his pants; his boxers come down next, his dick slapping against his stomach, making you gape. It's longer than you thought. The head is dark pink, almost red and angry, and there's a vein running up the underside. He's thicker at the base and has a bit of a bush, and his balls look soft, wrinkly.
He smirks, giving it one pump as he looks at you ogling him.
“You know my dick needs to go inside you, right, sweet girl?”
“Yes Robert! I know that! I just didn't expect…” you gulp.
He grins smugly, crossing his arms. “What? You can say it.”
“Don't get a big head about it…” you roll your eyes.
He looks down. “It's a pretty average-sized head.” He chuckles.
You blush. “Shut up Robert!”
“Overwhelmed, princess?”
You murmur something under your breath.
“Hmm?” He steps closer and sits next to you on the bed.
Sighing, you try again. “...How is it going to fit?”
He kisses your cheek. "It'll fit, sweet girl. We’re gonna take it nice and easy.” He reaches over to cup your cheek, pulling you to him. He kisses you deep, tongue licking over your bottom lip. You let him into your mouth and let your tongue tangle with his. The piercing is very distracting, and you taste a bit of yourself on him. This kiss is intoxicating and dizzying; you can't focus enough to keep up the fight of your tongues together. You pull away with a pant, hands gripping his shoulders.
“Can I get inside you now, princess?”
“Yes, I’m ready."
“Lay down for me.”
You do as Robert pushes off the bed to put on the condom. He climbs back on, kissing you again.
“Spread your legs, pretty.” You do. He lines up to your entrance. “You're really sure this is what you want?
“Yeah.”
He pushes in slowly, groaning when his head is fully enveloped.
“Fuuuck, squeezing me so tight, princess.”
“M’sorry…”
He kisses you fiercely, pressing into you more and more. You feel him stretching you open inch by inch. The burn is back, but it's bigger, and there's so much pressure you feel that he's somehow all the way up in your lungs. How exactly does anatomy work again? Fuck it, who cares?
Robert pulls back slightly, wiping a tear from your eye with the pad of his thumb. “Hey, you're ok. Need to stop?” he stills.
“N-no, keep going.” You wince.
“I know it's a lot, baby. You're doing great.” He keeps his rhythm steady, chest almost heaving.
"You're just so big…"
Robert laughs, then groans when you clamp down onto him further. “Fuck… I think you're going to ruin me instead.”
He picks up his pace a little, opting for deeper, longer strokes.
Then you feel it.
He buries himself to the hilt. All in.
“There, see.” Robert pants. “It fits perfectly.”
“Robert…” you slap your hands over your face.
He sucks and licks at your neck, inching down to that spot where your neck and collarbone meet.
"R-Rob…" you mewl. Voice high and breathless.
"God, you're cute," he laughs. “Don't hold back; I wanna hear every sound you make.” One hand grips your waist while the other slides up to cup your breast. He fondles your tit gently, rubbing at your neglected nipple. Then he hunches a little to suck the other in his mouth.
You whimper. Then a full-on moan. His piercing circling over your nipple, slow, sensual. Every stroke into you makes you lose your breath.
"R-Rob… please—" you squirm, your back arching off the bed.
“Y’ok, princess?” he says, popping off your nipple.
“S’too much!” you pant, head tossing and turning on your pillow.
Robert reaches down to thumb your clit, and you cry out.
“Hang on, baby.” He kisses your neck, thrusting into you with hard, rough strokes. “M’almost there with you.” Robert continues circling your clit and slides down to take your tit in his mouth again.
“Mh-ah!”
“Come for me, y/n.”
Just like that you're gushing beneath him, like he spoke the magic words. Eyes fluttering beneath your lids. You swear your ears pop. Your cunt fluttering around Robert's dick makes him come with a low curse, then collapse on top of you.
You both stay silent. Only the sound of you both catching your breath.
“S’it always like that?” you pant.
"No," he grins, planting a kiss on your chest, pulling out. You both wince for a second.
"Where are your towels?”
“Mhh, on the bathroom shelf. Can't miss em…”
Robert retrieves a few towels and proceeds to help clean you up.
“Y’ok princess?”
“Yeah…” You're sprawled on your bed, eyes half open with a dopey grin on your face.
He smirks. "It's cute how fucked out you look right now.” Robert kisses your temple.
“I think you broke me, Robert…” you whine.
He laughs. “Nah, princess. You just know what it's like.” Robert slides his boxers back on and climbs back into bed with you. “Is this ok?”
“Mmmhmm.” you smile and nod, barely able to form any more words or thoughts.
“Is it bedtime?” he asks.
“Mmhmm.” You turn over to look at him smiling at you, and your heart skips a beat.
"You're something else.”
You suddenly pull him close. Your face is buried in his chest, smelling the sweat on his skin. "Don't leave. Stay with me tonight.”
“Tch, you're funny if you thought I'd ever leave your side.” He kisses the top of your head and snuggles into you. You fall asleep like that. Spent, treasured, comfortable.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
Your relationship with Robert grew from there.
The next day you go with Robert to the mall to pick out some new clothes. You almost run out of Spencer's when he takes you to the back of the store.
“It's not funny, Robert!!”
“You should have seen the look on your face!”
“Robert!!” you huff, turning on your heels.
You both pig out on Taco Bell and chug down some Baja Blasts.
It's evening when you get back to your place. Robert is packed up and ready to go. You don't want him to, but your parents will be back soon. You're on the back porch with him as he's lighting up a cigarette.
“So… does this mean we’re together now?” You ask nervously, tapping your fingers on the railing.
Robert huffs out a cloud of smoke, tapping it twice with his finger to get rid of the ash, and sighs. “I don't think you can handle being with me, princess.”
You furrow your brows. “But I want to.”
“You only think you want to.” He takes another drag, longer this time. “People don't want me. You'll realize that all too soon.”
You gasp, reaching out to clutch his arm. “That's not true, Robert. I want you.”
Robert stubs out his cigarette and turns to you. You're pouting, brow furrowed in that cute way it gets when you're trying to look angry.
You exhale. “Hmf, well, you already ‘corrupted’ me. I don't see the big deal…” You cross your arms.
Robert steps closer and tilts up your chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. “Looks like I'm a bad influence then, huh?” He says before he kisses you. And you melt, throwing your arms around his neck. He tastes like smoke, which minorly distracts you from his tongue pushing its way into your mouth. You wrestle your tongue with his till you hear the sound of your parents pulling up the driveway.
Robert pulls away from you reluctantly. Resting his forehead on yours. “Guess that's my cue, huh?”
“Yeah…” you sigh.
Robert tosses his bag over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“See you tomorrow, princess.” He sneaks out the back gate to his car parked down the street.
This was truly the best weekend you've ever had.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄
.•*•.•*•.•*•.
The week had proved more difficult than you thought. Since you had to go straight home after school, you and Robert had to make time throughout the day to see each other. Robert even woke up early to see you before class started. You ate together during lunch, held hands in the hall, and walked each other to class, sharing a quick kiss before departing.
.•*•.•*•.•*•.
You both found it very hard to keep your hands off each other. The week after your grounding, you made out in Robert's car after school every day.
Then you started inviting him over so you could ‘tutor him.' Your parents didn't suspect a thing. You've tutored others before, so why would this be any different?
Robert does like to push the envelope, though. Lately your ‘study sessions’ have been going later and later.
✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
You're sitting there at the edge of your bed reading your textbook. Well, trying to, Robert's head is buried between your thighs trying to draw out your sweetest moans.
“Nngh, Robert, I'm—"
“S'ok baby.” Robert licks his lips. “Keep reading.”
“I c-cant—" His pierced tongue swirling around your clit makes you dazed and dopey. You white-knuckle the textbook as your pleasure climbs higher and higher.
“Mmh—keep going, you can do it.” He smirks, kitten licking your clit.
“‘The s-strength of a covalent bond depe-n-nds on the dissstance between nuclei nghh- and the distribu-ution-n of electron densit-ty—R-robert—’”
“Hmmm, you're thinking too hard.” Robert pushes your legs further apart while pressing two fingers into you.
“Nnnagh—whoa—" Your head is thrown back as he curls his fingers inside. Pussy clenching around him.
“Your body is so honest for me, princess.”
“Sh-shut up, Rober-rt," you puff.
“You have the cutest little moans too. Fuck, you're gonna make me lose it, y/n. Driving me wild.”
You peek over the textbook and watch his fingers go in and out, in and out, as his thumb rubs on your clit. It's too much.
“Holyshitrobertcoming!” You mewl and whine as you cum on his fingers. You're cumming so hard you seize up and drop the textbook on his head with a thud.
He licks you through it despite that, then bites your inner thigh, making you yelp.
“Hey! Robert!!”
“You dropped a textbook on my head!”
“You made me read it!”
“Worth it. Was pretty cute watching you trying to read it without stuttering.”
“Jerk!” you cross your arms with a huff.
“You wanna go again? No games this time?”
"R-Rob… we can't—"
“Get caught? I know.” He sits up, lingering kisses around your stomach. “I just can't get enough of you.” He kisses up your sides. “Never felt like this before, y'know.” He looks up at you with a warm, wholehearted expression.
"Yeah, ok, let's just be quick.”
He shakes his head, getting up to cup your cheek.
“I want to take my time with you.” He kisses you leisurely, lovingly; you feel it all over, igniting your senses.
“Y-you're gonna get me addicted to you.” You sigh into him.
He pulls back a bit and smirks. “Aren't you already?”
“N-no!” You turn your face away. “Shut up, Robert…”
He turns your face back, planting a small kiss on your nose. “You'll get addicted to nicotine before me.”
“You should stop," you pout.
“Yeah… I should. You can help me with that, right?”
“S-sure.”
He kisses you again. “I think I'll get addicted to you first.”
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
You and Robert continued messing around for weeks.
Robert is glued onto you. Face buried in your boobs (his second favorite place to be), arms wrapped around you like a koala, legs tangled shamelessly with yours.
You giggle, ruffling his already messy, fluffed-up hair.
“What?” he says muffled, refusing to take his face out from between your boobs.
“You're very clingy when you want to be.”
He squeezes you tighter in response, if that’s even possible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re literally attached to me.”
“Was I not hugged enough as a child?” He pauses. “Wait, don't answer that… I already know the answer.”
Your fingers slow in his hair. “Robert…”
He sighs dramatically but lifts his head enough to meet your eyes properly. His arms don’t loosen.
“I like being close to you,” he says, softer now.
Your chest tightens a little at that.
“You act like that’s some big confession,” you murmur.
“For me? It kinda is.” His thumb traces a lazy line along your side, absentmindedly. “I don’t… do this. Not like this.”
After a moment, the corner of his mouth quirks again.
“But also,” he adds, nudging closer, “I love your boobs.”
You roll your eyes, laughing. “You’re such a creep and a weirdo.”
“Whoaa nice reference, princess. I'm rubbing off on you.”
You catch his smirk and immediately push his face back into your boobs.
“Don't even continue that thought, Robert!”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄
You're slightly uneasy as the weeks go on. What started as playful flirting and him taking your virginity has blurred into something deeper. You long for a bit more from Robert but refrain in fear of sounding needy. It’s not that he’s distant—he isn’t. If anything, he’s attentive in ways that make your chest ache. You tell yourself you’re fine with it. You’re both young. You’re just enjoying each other. Late-night ‘study sessions,' tangled sheets, stolen kisses in quiet hallways. The way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Still, sometimes when he leaves, you sit on your bed and wonder—what are we?
You want more.
And you’re almost certain he does too.
It isn’t until one night you’re on Robert’s lap, making out with him, that everything finally shifts.
His hands are warm at your waist, your fingers in his hair, and the kiss is messy and breathless and a little desperate. Like both of you are trying to say something without words.
He pulls back suddenly, dazed, panting, forehead resting against yours.
“Do yoooou wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks, voice wrecked, eyes glazed as they drop to your kiss-swollen lips.
For a second, you just blink at him.
“What—really?” you beam, breathless in a different way now.
“Yeah. Of course.” His thumb brushes your cheek, gentler than he was a moment ago. “I really like you.” He brushes some hair behind your ear, eyes darting around your face, unable to focus.
Your eyes light up so fast it almost hurts. You nod, a little too eagerly. “Yeah. I really like you too…”
Relief floods his expression, and he smiles wide. “It's settled then.” He says with a kiss to your cheek. “We should celebrate.”
You giggle, still riding the high of it. “By doing what?”
He grins, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes as his mouth trails down the side of your neck.
“I think you know what,” he murmurs. “You opened the floodgates. Now I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“M-my parents are downstairs, Robert!” you whisper, half-laughing, half-panicked.
“So?” he whispers back against your skin. “I can be quiet.” His hands wander, teasing, and you gasp softly despite yourself.
“Can you?” he adds, smug.
“Nghh—n-not if you tease me like t-that…”
“Ok, let's just be quick then.” Robert frantically pulls at your clothes.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
You start to miss him whenever he leaves your place. Even though you'll see each other the next day, the wait seems unbearable, and Robert agrees. So you make a plan.
You warily sneak him into your room a few times over the week during the night. Around the back, your dad keeps a ladder propped up against the wall where he was painting but forgot to put it back. It was the perfect height to hop over to your balcony in the middle of the night. You feel like real-life Romeo and Juliet. He climbs back into bed with you with a sigh, holding you close to him. You just sleep better with him next to you. He does like to take advantage of the situation, though. A grind here, a grope there. His hands sliding down to pull your thighs apart.
"R-Robert, what are y-you—"
"Shhh, it’s ok princess, you had a long day. Lemme help you relax.”
All protests die on your tongue as his fingers slip under your panties and through your wet folds. He puts hickies on your neck, marking you up, with one hand on your mouth to quiet you. He could come just from grinding up against you like this. It's so dirty, so wrong, so risqué. You love it. You love the way he makes you feel.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
You wake in the middle of the night one weekend, the cold, damp, sticky fabric of your panties clinging to you while you slept, growing more uncomfortable with every passing second.
“R-robert…” you whimper and squirm.
Robert stirs. “Hmm?” He hums, barely awake. “You okay, baby?”
“N-need you," you moan breathlessly.
“Yeah? Needy princess?” His cock hardens immediately.
“P-please…” You are grinding on him for any kind of relief.
“Alright, I got you.” Robert huffs, pulling your pjs and peeling your panties down just so.
“Knees up, baby.” He pulls out his cock, pressing it to your ass, then slides between your drenched sticky folds, making you mewl and squirm.
“This what you want, pretty? Fuck, so wet for me.” He groans, rubbing his dick through your wet folds.
“Mmh, yes Rob.”
“Tch, dirty girl can't even sleep without being fucked goodnight first?” The tip of his dick catches your clit, and you gasp.
"Ngghm, R-rob—you can't!”
“Not gonna put it in. Just lemme feel you.” His hands slide up to grope at your tits. He hums appreciatively, grinding into you so lazy but desperately. He continues his pace for what seems like forever. His hand covering your mouth to hide your cute moans. His hot, rugged breath in your ear as he rubs against you.
“Shit… y/n I’m gonna lose it- y-you close?
“Y-yes, Robert—faster!" you squeak.
“Come f’me.” He groans, nibbling at your earlobe. And you do, grinding back into him with a few spasms as he spills his seed between your folds and into your panties in a hot, sticky mess.
.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.
The day does come when your parents find out you're dating. They’d suspected something for weeks. The way you light up when your phone pings with a message from him at dinner, your lingering hugs at the door, the sudden interest in him studying at your house for hours.
When you finally sit them down and say it out loud—Robert and I are together—your mom presses her lips thin. Your dad leans back in his chair with a huff.
They exchange a look. The kind that says we knew it and we don’t like it all at once.
They’re polite when Robert comes over next. Too polite. The kind of politeness that’s sharp around the edges.
“What are your plans after graduation?” your mom asks him one night over dinner.
“Work. School,” Robert replies evenly. “Mechanics. I’ve already applied.”
“And this is… long-term?” your dad presses.
Robert doesn’t even flinch. He reaches under the table and squeezes your hand.
“Yeah,” he says simply. “It is.”
Later, in your room, you apologize for them.
Robert could give two shits. He's not going to change to fit some ‘perfect image’ your parents have for dating their daughter.
They think it's just a phase. You'll break up eventually. But Robert takes you to prom in a navy suit that fits him just a little too well. You wear a long dark purple gown; it's stunning, elegant, and dramatic all at once. When he sees you descend the stairs, he actually forgets how to speak for a second.
“You look…” he starts, then just shakes his head. “Fuck...”
You dance like idiots. Take blurry photos. He spins you in the parking lot under dim streetlights, kissing you breathless, and fucks you in the back of his car.
You both get accepted to college; you both end up rooming together in a dorm—which is, objectively, a terrible idea… The room is small. You argue about laundry. About whose turn it is to do dishes. About his socks on the floor. The neighboring dorms haaate you.
He only smokes occasionally now. He tries to stop for you, for himself. He actually studies harder. Talks about internships and certifications. Talks about maybe opening his own shop one day. You grow together, helping each other study, squeezing in some cheap date nights that consist of a single Yankee Candle and two packets of ramen. Holding each other through failures and small victories alike.
You don’t exactly see kids in your future. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
But one night, walking past a dumpster on the way back to the dorms, you see a very small, scruffy chihuahua tied to one of the legs. Robert crouches down immediately, letting it chew on his fingers. “We need to help him.”
.•*•.•*•.•*•.
Years from that first uneasy, undefined stage, you’re sitting on the hood of his beat-up car in a quiet parking lot, campus lights glowing behind you.
He’s staring at you the same way he did the first night in your room after your first time together—like you’re something he can’t quite believe he gets to keep.
“Something about you,” he says slowly, “makes me want to be the best version of myself.”
You look at him with a warm smile. His half black-brown hair is having trouble fading from the years of black box dye abuse, the dark circles starting to form under his eyes from long nights at the shop, the bit of stubble dusting his chin, and the piercing still shining on his lip. He looks happy, tired, and carefree.
“You already are,” you tell him softly.
He shakes his head, kissing your temple. “Not yet.”
He reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together.
“But I’m getting there.”
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
A/N: Thanks again @buggiebeetleart for the inspo. Hope yall had a good Valentines and treated yoself a lil. Have a great week!
A/N: Forgive me for being late! I had a busy week yall and wanted to out this up earlier. Anyway, Have yall seen this art here? Thank you @buggiebeetleart for almost singlehandedly inspiring this fic <3 thanks king. Check out their stuff. Also releasing this in two parts cause Tumblr is dumb and says its too long? Hope yall enjoy 🫰 Part 2 here
Content: 18+ MDNI, bad boy robert x good girl reader, classmates to friends, friends to lovers, you fell first, he fell harder, innocent reader, inexperienced reader, alt emo robert, slight stoner robert, mean teasing robert, robert calling reader princess, no supers or powers au, just high school, and high shenanigans, minor angst, first kiss (yours), lots o swearing, corruption, smoking devils lettuce :p, kinda a crack fic at parts, eating weed brownies, getting drunk, robert doing your makeup drunk, virginity loss (yours), consent checks, safe sex (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, surprise piercing, no not there ya freaks, robert comes untouched, been waiting to use this gif hehe
Your parents are gone for the weekend, and for once, you refuse to be a goody-two-shoes. You’re exhausted by the continuous pressure, the constant reminders about grades and college, and your potential. Exhausted by the way your parents talk at you instead of to you, by how they somehow manage to expect perfection while barely noticing you at all. This weekend, you decide, is your weekend. No schedules. No expectations.
You want to have fun.
And you know exactly who might help with that.
.•*•.•*•.•*•.
At lunch, instead of heading to the cafeteria, you slip outside and circle behind the school, down the cracked pavement and past the humming half-broken AC unit, until you reach the dumpsters. The smell is awful, like rotten trash and skunk, but you ignore it. Standing there behind them, you find none other than Robert Robertson.
You and Robert have barely exchanged more than a handful of sentences over the years. He transferred halfway through your first year—quiet, closed-off, mysterious.
Teachers didn’t trust him. Other students whispered. You weren’t sure whether he meant to look like trouble or not, but somehow he always did.
And trouble is exactly what you’re looking for.
He’s leaning against the brick wall, blunt embers glowing faintly as he exhales. When you clear your throat, he looks up, clearly not expecting you.
“Hey, Robert.”
He squints at you, confused, then lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Uh… hey, y/n. What do you want?”
You shift your weight, scuffing your shoe against the ground. Suddenly this seemed like a better idea in your head. “You, uh… smoke, right?”
He blinks, then snorts. “Uh, yeah.” He takes another drag and crosses his arms. “What, you gonna tell the teacher? I’m pretty sure they already know—"
“No—no,” you rush out. Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you blurt, “Robert, I want one weed.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then his composure cracks. He turns away, coughing out a laugh, dragging a hand over his face like he’s trying—and failing—not to smile. When he looks back at you, his grin is wide and disbelieving.
“You wanna smoke pot?”
You nod, fast and earnest.
“Really,” he says slowly, eyes flicking you up and down. “Miss straight A’s, always on time, teacher’s pet y/n wants weed?”
You nod again, cheeks burning.
“Tch,” he scoffs. “One puff would knock you on your ass. Go back to class.”
He turns away, clearly done with the conversation—but panic spikes in your chest. You reach out and grab his shoulder before you can stop yourself.
“Please, Robert,” you say. “My parents are gone this weekend. I have the house to myself. No supervision. We could… do whatever we want.”
He glances back at you, studying your face, like he’s trying to figure out whether this is a joke. “Hmm,” he says. “I dunno…”
Frustration bubbles over. Before he can react, you snatch the joint from his fingers and take a deep inhale.
You instantly regret it.
You cough violently, chest burning, eyes watering as you double over.
“Whoa—whoa, hey,” Robert says, startled, stepping closer. “Easy there, greenie.”
“I c-can handle it, Robert.” You wheeze stubbornly.
“Yeah,” he mutters, patting your back. “Sure you can.”
After a moment, he sighs, like he’s already made up his mind. “Alright. I’ll meet you at your place.”
Your head snaps up. “Wait—really?”
“Yeah,” he says. “We’ll make brownies, okay?”
“Brownies?” you echo. “But I thought—”
“Pot brownies, y/n.” he says flatly, rolling his eyes.
“Oh.”
He pulls out a Sharpie and takes your arm. Rolling up your sleeve, he scribbles his number onto your forearm. Then, he stubs out the joint against the wall and pockets it.
“Try not to get expelled before the weekend, greenie," he says, already walking away.
You gape at him, then stare at your defiled forearm. His writing is surprisingly legible.
You quickly grab your phone and punch the number into your phone.
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
It's evening, and you finally pull out your phone to text Robert.
You send him your address and wait. Besides a list of ingredients to pick up, he ignored you for the rest of the week. No read receipts. No dry one-word replies. Nothing. Every time your phone buzzes, your heart jumps—only to sink when it’s a group chat, a reminder about an assignment, or your mom asking if you’ve started studying for finals yet. By Thursday night, you’re half-convinced he isn’t coming. That maybe he only agreed because you were coughing your lungs out behind the dumpsters and he felt bad. Or worse—that he thought it was funny to get your hopes up. You almost text him.
Still on for tomorrow? Did I scare you off? Please don’t ghost me. I already embarrassed myself enough.
You delete every one.
Friday drags along. You pack your backpack slowly at the end of the day, watching Robert from across the room. He doesn’t look at you once. Not when you leave. Not when you hesitate in the doorway like an idiot.
At home, the silence hits harder than usual. Deafening. Your parents left this morning for their work trip. You look down at your clothes and decide they're too lame to be seen by Robert. You change outfits twice, then a third time, before settling on something casual that doesn’t look like you tried this hard. You don't have edgy dark clothes like him, so you settled on
At four forty-five, you’re pacing.
At four fifty, you check your phone again. Still nothing. You’re seconds away from convincing yourself you imagined the whole thing when headlights sweep across the front window.
Your stomach flips.
Robert pulls up to your house at five sharp. By the time the doorbell rings, you’re already halfway down the hallway, nerves buzzing under your skin. You swing the door open a little too fast.
“H–hey, Robert.”
He looks you over once, then past you, eyes widening as he takes in the house. A low whistle slips out. “Damn. I didn’t know you were rich rich.”
You cringe. “It’s not—I mean—” You step aside to let him in. “Come on.”
He strolls in like he belongs there, kicking off his shoes without being asked. “This place is nice,” he says, impressed despite himself.
“The kitchen’s this way,” you say, leading him down the hall and into the open space.
The moment he sees the island, he stops.
Spread across the marble countertop is an excessive collection of pots and pans—every size you could find, lined up like you’re preparing for a cooking show marathon.
“Oh,” Robert says, biting his lip.
“What?” you ask defensively. “I wasn’t sure how many we’d need. Sorry…”
He tries—fails—not to laugh. “Wow. Okay.” He snickers, shaking his head. “You’re… kind of adorable.”
Your face heats up as he digs into his backpack. “Y/n,” he says, pulling something small out and setting it on the counter, “this is the ‘pot’ we’re using.”
You stare at it. “Oh. I—”
“Did you do any research before inviting me over?” he asks, not unkindly.
“I didn’t want to get in trouble,” you mumble.
He raises an eyebrow. “You know you can clear your browsing history, right?”
“I felt bad doing it...”
He laughs under his breath. “You’re really cute.” Then, gentler, “Trust me. You’ll feel a lot better in about an hour or so.”
He slides two of the pots toward you. “Put these away. Unless you’re trying to make enough brownies to feed the entire twelfth grade.”
You grab them quickly. “Okay, okay. Brownies do always taste good.”
“You’re gonna love these then.” He nods toward the pantry. “You got all the ingredients I texted you, right?”
“Yeah,” you say, a little too fast. “I got everything.”
Robert gives you a look that says he absolutely does not believe you, then reaches past you to check the fridge anyway. “Relax,” he mutters. “I’m just making sure you didn’t forget something obvious. Like eggs. Or butter. Or the part where brownies need sugar.”
“I’m not that hopeless,” you protest, sliding the extra pots back into a cabinet. “Just… new to this.”
“Clearly,” he says, but there’s no bite to it—just amusement. He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over a chair like he’s done this a hundred times. “Okay. Ground rules.”
You freeze. “Rules?”
“Yeah,” he says, counting on his fingers. “One: you listen to me. Two: if you feel weird, you say something. Three: No pretending you’re fine to impress me.”
“I’m not trying to impress you,” you lie.
He snorts. “Sure.”
There’s an awkward beat as you both hover near the island, unsure where to stand or what to do with your hands. You finally grab the brownie mix, holding it up like a peace offering. “So… you’re in charge, I guess?”
“Unfortunately,” he says. “Which means you’re my assistant.”
“Oh, wow. Honored.”
“Don’t get cocky,” he smirks. “Assistants get the boring jobs.”
He sets you to simple tasks—measuring, stirring, handing things over when he asks—while he takes care of the rest with easy self-assurance. You watch him more than you probably should: the way he rolls his sleeves up, how focused he looks, how different he seems outside of school. Less guarded. Almost relaxed. Comfortable even.
“So,” he says casually, not looking at you. “Parents really gone the whole weekend, huh?”
“Yeah,” you answer. “Conference. Out of state.”
“Huh.” He glances over. “How does it feel? You okay with that?”
You pause, spoon hovering over the bowl. “I thought I would be… excited. I guess I am. Mostly I just don’t want to think about school for two days.”
Robert nods, like he understands more than he lets on.
When the batter’s finally done, he nudges the bowl toward you. “Alright. Moment of truth.”
You hesitate. “This isn’t… too much, is it?”
He meets your eyes, suddenly serious. “No. And if it were, I wouldn’t let you do it. Okay?”
You swallow, then nod. “Okay.”
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄
You’re both sprawled on opposite ends of the couch while the brownies bake, the house filled with the warm, sugary smell drifting in from the kitchen. The TV hums quietly in the background, playing Seinfeld or something.
Robert clears his throat and glances sideways at you. “So,” he says slowly, “you going through some kind of weird hormonal thing or…?”
“What?” You turn to him, incredulous. “No.”
He squints, unconvinced. “Then shouldn’t you be studying or some shit?”
You scoff. “Why? Is there some pop quiz I don’t know about?” You think, suddenly panicked.
Robert pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing like this conversation has been circling in his head for a while. “I’m just saying—it’s weird. Ms. Goody Two-Shoes suddenly wants to smoke weed, make pot brownies, and hang out with me behind her parents' backs.” He glances at you again. “Or are you finally hitting your rebellious phase? Eighteen’s kind of late, by the way, y/n.”
You sit up a little straighter. “What’s wrong with wanting to go a little wild when your parents are out of town?” you say defensively. “You’d probably do the same thing, right?”
Robert lets out a short snicker. “Yeah. If my parents weren’t dead.”
His words hang heavy in the air for a moment.
“Oh—” Your stomach drops. “Robert, I—I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs, eyes fixed on the floor. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
The casualness of it makes your chest ache. You fidget with the sleeve of your sweater. “I just… my parents don’t really seem to care what I do as long as I keep my grades up,” you admit. “Sometimes it feels like that’s all I’m good for.”
“Tale as old as time,” Robert mutters. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette, then pauses—glancing at you—before tucking it away again. “Listen,” he says, softer now. “I’m the one with the big, tragic daddy issues. Your parents are still around. They’re just… neglectful and overbearing.”
You huff a small, bitter laugh. “How is that any better?”
He considers it for a moment, then exhales. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Guess it’s not. I think we’re both just messed up in our own special ways.”
The tension eases a little after that, the silence turning less sharp. Your eyes drift to his profile, then to the scars peeking out from under his collar.
“What about your ear?” You ask suddenly, not realizing how abrupt it sounds until the words are already out.
Robert doesn’t flinch. He reaches up, brushing his fingers along the edge of it. “Accident. "Years ago,” he says simply. “That’s how I ended up with all of these.”
He lifts his shirt just enough for you to see the pale lines tracing across his skin—old scars, faded but unmistakable.
You look away quickly, not wanting to stare, your voice quieter when you speak again. “That must’ve been… a lot.”
“Yeah,” he says. Then, after a pause, “It was.”
The kitchen timer goes off, cutting through the quiet with insistent repeating beeps.
Robert lets out a short breath and pushes himself up from the couch. “Well,” he says, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking something off, “are ya ready, princess?”
“Do not call me that.” You glare as intimidatingly as you can manage.
He grins, already halfway to the kitchen. “Too late. It’s locked in now.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You follow him, the warmth from the oven hitting you as soon as he opens it. The smell is stronger up close—rich and chocolatey but very weedy, almost dizzyingly so. Robert leans down to pick them up.
“Alright,” he says. “Moment of truth.”
He pulls the pan out and sets it on the stovetop, steam curling up into the air. The brownies look… normal. Suspiciously normal.
“That’s it?” you ask. “They just look like brownies. Besides the smell…”
“That’s the goal,” he says dryly. “They don't start dancing until you take a bite."
You hover nearby, arms folded, rocking slightly on your heels. “Har har, so now what?”
“Now,” he says, taking off the oven mitts, “we wait. They gotta cool. And then—” He pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “—you don’t eat half the pan just because they taste good.”
“I would never.”
You perch on one of the stools at the island, watching him move around your kitchen like he belongs there—comfortable, unhurried. He leans back against the counter across from you, folding his arms.
“What?” He grins.
You smile faintly. “You’re weirdly responsible for someone who sells weed behind dumpsters.”
“Hey,” he says, mock-offended. “I don't 'sell,' and yes, I happen to be quite responsible.”
The brownies cool in silence, broken only by the hum of the fridge and the distant laugh track from the TV you kept on for background noise. At some point, you realize you’re calmer than you’ve felt in weeks. Mellower.
Robert finally straightens. “Okay. I think we’re good.”
He cuts a small square and slides it onto a napkin, then pauses, holding it between you. “Last chance to bail.”
You look at the brownie. Then at him. “I don’t want to bail.”
He studies your face for a moment, searching for something, then nods. “Alright.”
You take the brownie from his hand, your fingers brushing briefly against his. It’s a small thing, but oddly enough it sends a weird little spark up your arm.
You take a bite.
“Oh,” you say. “Oh wow.”
He smirks. “Right?”
It was very chocolatey and mildly… grassy? Yeah, I guess that's the word for it.
Robert watches you for a second longer than necessary before looking away. “See?” he says lightly. “Not such a terrible way to start the weekend.”
You nod, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah,” you say. “I think I needed this.”
He glances back at you, expression softer now. “Me too.”
“Soooo,” you say, wiping your fingers on the napkin, “when will I start to lose it?”
Robert huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re not gonna ‘lose it.’ You may start seeing God or confessing your darkest secrets in about 30 minutes to an hour.”
You squint at him. “That sounds suspiciously specific.”
He lightly nudges your shoulder. “I’ve been around people who thought that was gonna happen,” he says. “Trust me. Mostly you’re just gonna feel… different. Slower. Probably giggly. Maybe a little floaty. You'll be fine as long as you don’t do the classic rookie mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Eating another one because you think it ‘didn’t work,’” he says, pointedly sliding the pan farther away. “And then twenty minutes later you’re questioning the nature of reality.”
You grin. “Wow. You really are responsible.”
“Don’t spread that around,” he says dryly. “I’ve got a reputation.”
You both finish your brownies and go back to the couch.
“So,” you say casually, like your heart isn’t thudding a little faster, “if you don’t live with your parents…”
“I’ve lived with a family friend. Chase,” Robert finishes. “For years now.”
“Yeah?” you ask. “Is he cool?”
He snorts. "Cool" is one word for it. He’s… loud. Likes terrible action movies. Thinks microwaving coffee is a sin.”
You smile. “So basically like a dad.”
“Yeah,” he admits, after a beat. “Basically.”
“That’s… nice,” you say. “I mean. That you have someone.”
Robert shrugs, but it’s looser than before. “Yeah. I got lucky. He didn’t have to take me in. Just sort of did after my parents passed. Knew them well."
You nod, turning that over in your head. “My parents are around all the time,” you say quietly. “And somehow it still feels like they’re not.”
“Yeah? How so?" he prods.
“Well,” you say, picking at the edge of the napkin, eyes on your hands, “they’re very… present. Just not really there, if that makes sense. As long as I do what I’m supposed to—grades, manners, plans—they don’t ask much else.”
Robert hums. “So you’re low-maintenance.”
“More like quietly managed,” you say. You glance at him, half-smiling. “I’ve always been the ‘good kid.’”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he says. “Being good all the time sounds exhausting, though.”
You let out a small laugh, relieved at how easily it lands. “It is,” you agree. Then, lighter, nudging his knee with yours, "Hence the brownies.”
“Hence the brownies,” he echoes, mock-solemn.
You glance down at your feet, then back up at him. “So you’ve… done this a lot?”
He shrugs. “Enough to know what not to do. Unless I really wanna get fucked up.”
Another pause settles in, but it’s not awkward. Just thoughtful.
“You know,” you add, fiddling with the edge of the napkin, “you’re not at all like people say you are.”
Robert huffs. “Let me guess. ‘Bad news.’ ‘Trouble.’ ‘Future headline.’”
“Something like that,” you admit. “But you’re actually just… normal. And kind of nice.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Careful. That’s how rumors start. Need I remind you of my reputation?”
➽──────────────❥ ꩜
It's about 30 minutes later when you start to feel a tingle.
“…Okay,” you say. “I think my arms feel weird.”
Robert glances over. “Weird how?”
“Like,” you wiggle your fingers, “they’re attached. But also not.”
He snorts. “Yep. That tracks.”
Your mouth curves into a smile you don’t quite recognize—looser, softer. “Is it normal to feel kind of… happy for no reason?”
“Also tracks,” he says, quieter this time.
“I feel like the couch is hugging me.”
“That’s the couch’s job,” Robert says, following you but keeping a careful distance. “It takes its work seriously, I'm sure.”
You laugh—really laugh—and it surprises you how good it feels.
Robert watches you, expression unreadable. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say easily. “I’m… really okay.”
“Good.” He sits down beside you, not too close, but close enough that you notice the warmth of him. He breaks into a grin. “Welcome.”
You blink. “To…?”
“To the party,” he says. “You’re right on schedule.”
You laugh—too loud, too sudden—and immediately clamp a hand over your mouth. “Oh my god, why was that so funny?”
Robert chuckles, relaxing further into the couch. “It just is.”
You lean back, head tipping against the cushions. The ceiling feels farther away than it should be. Not scary. Just… different.
“If it ever stops being okay, you tell me. Alright?”
You nod, suddenly earnest. “I will.”
It’s about 5 minutes later when you pout and look over to him, visibly struggling. “Robeeerrrrt.”
“Yes?”
“I think my arms decided they like being glued to the couch. They won't listen to me… I don't think they like me anymore.”
Robert kneels in front of you. “Hey now, hey now, you're alright. Your arms are just very relaxed, okay?” He lifts one up over his head. “See? Everything's fine," he says softly. “Still yours. They’re just… on vacation.”
You stare at your arm, then at him, brow furrowed in deep concentration. “Rude of them not to invite me.” You squint at him, eyes suddenly very serious. “Do you think… if I apologize to them, they’ll come back?”
“Possibly,” he says solemnly. “But it has to be a sincere apology. Arms can tell.”
You nod, swallowing hard, then look down at yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to your limbs. “I didn’t mean to overuse you. Thank you for your service.”
Robert presses his lips together, shoulders shaking. “Wow. That was beautiful.”
“I need to piss.”
“Do you need help getting up?” he sighs.
“...Maybe.”
“Alright.” Robert takes your hands carefully, grounding, solid. “On three. One—”
“Wait,” you interrupt, eyes wide. “What if the floor is… different now?”
He pauses, then snorts. “It’s the same floor. I promise. Still floors like a champ.”
“…Okay. ”You nod, bracing like this is a trust fall. “Three.”
He helps you up slowly. The room sways just a little, like it’s breathing. Robert’s grip tightens—not rough, just steady—until you’re on your feet.
“Whoa,” you murmur. “I’m tall.”
“You’ve always been tall.”
“Have I? Cool.”
“Easy now,” he says, steering you gently toward the bathroom. He doesn’t rush you. Letting you set the pace. “Yell at me if ya need help, ok?”
“Okaaaaaay.”
Robert makes his way back over to your couch and scrolls through TikTok. A while later he realizes you're not back and gets up.
“Hey y/n… You didn't fall in, did yo-” Robert catches you mid-bite into another brownie. “Y/n…”
“Yeah?” You giggle.
“Did you remember what I said about not eating any more brownies so you don't start freaking out and—"
“I was hungry… and I feel fine now, so another won't hurt, right?”
"Well, this is going to be fun...”
"Let's order pizza!!” You giggle. The giggle turns into a chuckle, then a laugh, then a full-on cackle.
“Fine with me, as long as you're paying.”
“Yay!”
➽──────────────❥ ⋆˚࿔
When the second batch hits, it really hits.
You're looking at your phone squinting at the screen. You can't make out any of the letters. You're just staring at your texts waiting for them to make sense. Then your heart drops.
“Robert!! I forgot how to read!!”
“What?”
“I can't read or write!” Your face falls. “Oh god, is this permanent? Do I have to relearn how to read and write? I'm gonna have to go back to primary and be the only 18-year-old with a bunch of 5-year-olds! Oh noooo!” You start to sob.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Robert takes your face between his hands. “It's ok. You're ok. This is just temporary. You'll be back to your smart prodigy ways soon.”
You gaze up at him with a sad pout.
“How about we watch a show, ok? Put on some music or something?”
“ABBA!!”
“Yeah, of course…”
“I looooove karaoke!”
☆⋅•⋅⋅•⋅•⋅∙⋅∘☽༓☾∘⋅∙⋅•⋅•⋅⋅•⋅☆
After about 20 minutes of karaoke, you collapse back onto the couch.
“Hey…why aren't you as high as me?”
“I took a lower dose so I could keep an eye on you. Figured I have to babysit the greenie. Good thing I did.”
“So wait, you're not having fun?” You start to tear up.
"Nonono—" Robert holds up his hands. “Hang on there, princess. I'm having a great time. I just have enough sense not to completely mess this up for you.”
“You're so sweet Robert. You wanna take care of me??” You start to tear up again and sniff.
“Don't get used to it.” He pats your back.
Ding dong~
“Ah! Robert! Is that my parents!? They're gonna see me like this and see what a horrible daughter I've been and disown meeee nooohohoo—"
“I just think it's just the pizza man, y/n.”
“Pizza? You sniff. “Whoa… I love pizza. How did you know I love pizza, Robert? Did the weed give you some magical mind-reading powers?”
“Lucky guess.”
“This is the best day ever!”
Robert walks to the entryway to retrieve the pizza and brings it back to you in the living room.
“Thank god. I think I was about to die of starvation.”
“You already had half a pan of brownies.”
“DIED OF STARVATION, ROBERT!” You hold up your finger before letting your arm flop to your side.
"Well, just take it easy, okay?”
You immediately grab two slices and try to airplane them into your mouth.
“Mmmmm. Thishh ishh the moshht fun I've had in a while, Rohberht," you slur, mouth full of pizza.
“That's great y/n. Please chew with your mouth closed and sit down before you choke.”
“Psssh, ok, Dad."
“Don't call me that. I'm only saying that because I don't want to call an ambulance.”
You chew and swallow, sighing happily. “I think I want to eat pizza every day for the rest of my life. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner!”
“If you do that, you're going to blow up like a balloon.” Robert says, grabbing a slice before looking over to you with tears forming in your eyes. “Shit…”
“A-are you calling me fat!?”
“No, y/n—I just meant… Just eat the damn pizza, ok?”
“You don't have to swear at me!”
“Please...”
*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*
Robert stays patient as he helps you ride out the high, mostly focused on keeping you relaxed and upright on the couch.
“I think the weed unlocked my third eye,” you announce.
“Yeah,” he says dryly. “I can tell.”
You sink back into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling like it might answer something important.
“Robert?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for not freaking out when I said my arms hated me.”
He snorts. “That barely cracks my top ten weirdest things I’ve heard.”
“Well,” you murmur, satisfied, “thank you for not letting me die.”
“Anytime.”
There’s a pause. Then, softer—almost like you’re testing the words.
“…You’re really nice.”
He blinks, caught off guard. “Me?”
“Mhm.” You nod, serious as anything. “You’re like… a safety manual. But hot.”
He laughs despite himself, shaking his head. “That might be the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”
Silence settles again—comfortable this time. The music hums low in the background. You glance at him, eyes heavy.
“Hey, Robert?”
“Mm?”
“I’m really glad you came over.”
Something in his expression softens. “Happy to help, greenie. It’s been a blast.”
You yawn, long and unguarded, then roll onto your side to face him. “It’s late,” you say. “You wanna stay the night?”
He arches a brow. “You sure you want a boy staying over? No parents. No supervision.”
You smile, slow and sleepy. “The guest room’s upstairs. Across the hall from mine. ”You sit up, then wobble slightly. “I’ll show you.”
Before he can protest, you take his hand.
He freezes for half a second—then lets you lead him. Your grip is warm, a little unsteady, but sure. He follows close, ready to catch you if you stumble, but you make it up the stairs just fine, giggling at nothing in particular.
You stop in front of the guest room and push the door open with a flourish. “Ta-daaa.”
He peers inside, then looks back at you. “Five stars.”
“Complimentary blankets,” you say. You yawn again, rubbing at your eyes.
“Get some sleep,” he says gently. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
You nod, already swaying with exhaustion. “Okay.”
As you turn to head back to your room, you pause and glance over your shoulder.
“Hey, Robert?”
“Yeah?”
“…Don’t disappear in the morning.”
He meets your gaze, serious now. “I won’t.”
That seems to be enough. You smile, satisfied, and shuffle off down the hall.
Robert stands there for a moment longer than necessary, your warmth still lingering in his hand, then quietly closes the guest room door behind him.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄
Sunlight spills through the kitchen windows in pale stripes; your head still feels a little floaty and your mouth dry, but you're fine besides that. You pad around barefoot, hair a mess, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that definitely isn’t meant to be pajamas.
The sound of footsteps drags behind you down the hall.
Robert appears in the doorway, squinting like the sun offended him. His hair’s flattened on one side, hoodie wrinkled, eyes still half-asleep.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” you say brightly, punctuating it with a yawn.
He groans and rubs his eyes. “How are you so awake and annoying in the mornings?”
You grin. “It’s like eleven-thirty. That’s barely morning, and I slept in!”
“Whatever,” he mutters, dragging himself to a chair and dropping into it. “Good for you. Can I have some breakfast, please?”
“Oooh, he does have manners.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fuck you.”
You gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “Robert! How dare you!”
“You started it.”
“Did not! Meanie…” You stick your tongue out at him, leaning against the counter.
“Careful,” he says dryly. “That almost hurt my feelings.”
“Shut up…”
“Better,” he smirks. “Keep hanging with me and you’ll learn some better insults.”
You laugh, real and easy, and turn back to the fridge. “We’ve got eggs. Toast. Cereal. Leftover pizza if you’re brave.”
“Pizza,” he says immediately. “Breakfast of champions.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
You slide two plates onto the counter and reheat the slices, the kitchen filling with the familiar smell. For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s not awkward—just quiet in a way that feels earned.
He watches you from the table. “You good?” he asks, softer now.
You nod. “Yeah. My arms like me again.”
“Excellent. Big win.”
“And my head’s quiet,” you add, after a beat.
He nods like he understands more than he lets on. “Told you you’d be okay.”
You hand him a plate. Your fingers brush, just barely. Neither of you comments on it.
You sit across from him, swinging your legs under the chair. “Thanks for staying.”
“Yeah, thanks for inviting me. He says, taking a bite of pizza. “You feelin alright today?”
“My mouth is really dry.”
“Yeah, that'll happen, gotta drink lots.” Robert walks to your fridge, pulling out two blue Gatorades and handing one to you. “This should help.”
“Did you get this for me? That's so sweet, Robert.”
“Alright, no need to get all sappy on me. Drink up.”
You twist the cap and take a long sip, the cold sugar hitting and filling all your senses.
"Oh wow,” you say. “This is doing the work.”
“Told you,” Robert says, already halfway through his own bottle. “Hydration is key to surviving bad decisions.”
“Rude,” you mumble, but you’re smiling.
He watches you for a second, then adds, more carefully, “You didn’t do anything stupid. Just… enthusiastic.”
“I sang ABBA with you for like twenty minutes.”
“At me,” he corrects. “With eye contact.”
You groan and bury your face in your hands.
.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.
“So,” you say, rocking your chair back slightly. “What now?”
He shrugs. “I was thinking I’d head out in a bit. Let you enjoy your weekend.”
Something about that makes your stomach dip—not panic, just… reluctance.
“Oh,” you say lightly. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
His eyes flick up to yours, searching.
“Unless,” he adds, slower, “you don’t want me to.”
You still in your chair. “I mean… you could stay a little longer. If you want.”
A beat.
He grins. “Sure, why not.”
You smile, small but genuine. “Okay.”
The tension eases again. He reaches for another slice of pizza, then pauses. “You remember most of last night?”
“Enough,” you say. “Mostly that you didn’t laugh at me. Just with me.”
He snorts. "Debatable
“Still,” you say. “Thanks. For taking care of me.”
He shrugs, uncomfortable with praise. “Someone had to.”
“Well,” you say, standing and grabbing the plates, “if you’re staying… you’re helping me clean.”
He groans. “Cruel and unusual.”
You bump his shoulder as you pass. He bumps you back, gentler than necessary.
✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯
Later, you convince him to come with you to the corner store. You throw on sneakers and a hoodie, and you walk out the front door without telling anyone where you’re going. It feels illegal.
You buy junk food you were never allowed to have—sour candy, chips, and ice cream sandwiches. Robert grabs a soda and steals half your candy on the way back, claiming it’s “tax.”
Back home, you sit on the roof outside your bedroom window, legs dangling, sharing snacks and watching the clouds drift by. You talk about nothing important—teachers you hate, music you secretly love, and how weird it is that everyone expects you to have your whole life planned already.
As the sun starts to set, you put on a dumb movie—something you’ve both seen a hundred times. You quote the bad lines. He throws popcorn at you when you get them wrong.
By evening, you’re curled up on opposite ends of the couch, tired in the best way. Your foot bumps his leg. You rub your hands together nervously.
“There was something else I was hoping to do this weekend, Robert…”
He glances over. “Yeah? What's that?
You swallow. "I, uh, want to lose my virginity.”
He blinks. “Whoa, not what I was expecting.” Robert runs a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. “As much as I'd love to get lucky, I don't think you can handle that right now, y/n.”
“What? Why? You've slept with people before, right Robert?”
“Uh, yeah, but—"
“What's the difference between those girls and me? Experience versus a hymen?”
“Oh shit, ok. You're serious?”
“I've been thinking about it for a while now,” you say, quieter.
“Why don't you take another while to think about it, then come back to me?" he replies gently.
“My parents are going to be home tomorrow night!”
“I don't think you should rush this…”
You frown. “Did you?”
“Yeah,” he admits. “But I was stupid and wanted to for the hell of it. I didn't want to waste the opportunity.”
“See? I don't want to waste this opportunity now.”
"Don't be dumb like me, y/n. Make it special.”
You hug a pillow to your chest, and your voice cracks. “It's not like anyone else wants me…”
His expression changes instantly. “Hey, you might think that now. But someone will, and you'll be glad you waited.”
You sigh. “Why are you so considerate? And right…”
A beat passes. Then another.
“I thought you would be—"
“An inconsiderate asshole? Yeah, that's what everyone else thinks apparently.” He sighs.
“As much as I would like to get my dick wet. I don't want to take advantage of you. You deserve better than to be rushed, ok?”
“Pssh, coming from the guy who wears more makeup than me.”
“What? Hey, I wouldn't push it if I were you, princess. You might actually get what you ask for.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Tch, is 'Princess' too good for a nickname that reflects a rich nerd like you living here in this castle of a house?"
“I didn't ask for this, ok! My parents didn't have much when they came here and lucked into a good job so they could pay bills and provide for me, so shut up!”
Robert takes a step back, surprised. “Damn,” he says. “Didn’t think you had a backbone on you. Guess I was wrong.” He steps closer again, meeting your eyes. There’s no teasing now.
“I don’t even have a condom,” he adds, lifting a brow.
“My parents probably do,” you say quickly, pointing upstairs. “In their bathroom.”
That’s when he shakes his head and gently places both hands on your shoulders, grounding you.
“No,” he says firmly but calmly. “We’re not doing anything tonight.”
You pout, tilting your head up at him, laying on the sad expression like a weapon.
“Can you at least kiss me then?”
He hesitates—just for a second. Long enough that your heart stutters. Then he sighs and shakes his head, ruffling your hair instead.
“Nah,” he says softly. “Not the time. Not the place.”
You deflate a little. “…Oh.”
“But,” he adds quickly, "doesn't mean I wouldn't want to.” He winks, making your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Fair,” he says. Then, quieter, “I meant what I said though.
“Well, that was mortifying… thanks for talking some sense into me, I guess…”
“Tch," he says, nudging you. “That’s kind of my thing, remember? Hot safety manual.” He smirks.
“Ughhhh.” You throw your head in your hands. “That’s it, I'm going to bed.”
“Kay, can I spend the night again? Friend o' buddy o' pal of mine?”
You glare at him and push his shoulders. “Asshole...”
“Whoa, nice one, princess. I actually felt the conviction that time.”
“Do whatever you want. Goodnight.” You storm off.
“Night.”
•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Sunday morning is quieter.
You pad into the kitchen in socks, still half-asleep, and nearly jump when you see Robert already there.
He’s leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee, hoodie on, and hair still a little messy. He looks comfortable. Like he belongs here, which is a thought that makes your stomach flip. Which you hate when you think back to last night.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough but warm.
“…Morning,” you reply, cautious. “You didn’t leave.”
He snorts softly. “You didn’t actually tell me to go.”
“Yeah, must’ve forgotten...”
You grab a glass and fill it with water, chugging it like you’re making up for the entire weekend. The quiet stretches into a careful silence.
After a moment, he clears his throat.
“Hey. About last night.”
You tense, then force yourself to meet his eyes. “Yeah?”
“I didn’t mean to push your buttons like that,” he says. “The nickname thing. Or the teasing. I forget sometimes that not everyone’s wired like me.”
You shrug, staring down at the table. “I kinda snapped.”
“Yeah,” he says gently. “But you had a reason to.”
You sit at the table, tracing the rim of your glass. “I’m not mad,” you admit. “I was just… embarrassed.”
“I know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
A beat.
“I guess I’m glad nothing happened last night," you murmur.
“Really?”
You smirk, trying to lighten it. “Didn’t you say you wanted to kiss me last night, after all?”
He rolls his eyes with a grin. “You are very cute, princess.” He rests his hand briefly on the top of your head. “Don’t let that go to your head though.”
You wrinkle your nose. “Didn’t you call me your friend last night too?”
“Tch, are you going to make a big deal out of it?”
“Aw, Robert.” Before you can stop yourself, you step forward and hug him—tight, impulsive.
He stiffens for half a second, then exhales. “You’re not what I thought you’d be,” he says. “Prudish little geek, I mean.”
You snort into his hoodie. “You too.”
There’s a pause—noticeable now—as he looks down at you still clinging to him.
“…You can let go now, greenie.”
You blink, mortified, and step back immediately. “Sorry.”
You hover there, twisting your foot against the floor.
“They’ll be back tonight,” you say quietly.
“Yeah,” he replies. “I figured I’d clear out before then. Need help cleaning up or anything?”
“Nah, it'll give me something to do.”
He finishes his coffee, sets the mug in the sink, and grabs his jacket and bag.
“Had fun this weekend, princess.”
You groan. “Guess I'm stuck with that nickname now, huh?”
“It's cute, suits you, and I never said I was going to stop.” He winks.
That eases something in your chest you hadn’t quite named yet.
He smirks. “Text me.”
“Y-yeah, I will.”
He turns and closes the door behind him. The house is quiet again, but you feel lighter and calmer than you expected. Not lonely, but at ease.
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ⟡ ݁₊ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
That weekend brings you two closer than you expect. Things don't really go back to 'normal.' You've unlocked another side of yourself. A part that maybe was always there but never showed up until it had a reason to come out.
You find yourself texting Robert constantly. You're hanging out around school together more too. People stare and give you looks. You don't care. Robert is a good guy; he's just misunderstood.
Over the next few weeks you have a lot of late-night calls. You should be studying, but you don't really care to. It doesn't affect your grades.
One night, just after ten, your phone lights up again.
You hesitate—texting would be safer in case your parents heard—but you answer anyway.
“Hey,” you say, voice low as you curl onto your bed and turn your face into the pillow.
“Took you long enough,” Robert replies. You can hear the smile in his voice. “What, you actually studying?”
“Shut up. I was only thinking about studying.”
“Whoa,” he laughs softly. “Only thinking about it? You really have an edge to you now, princess.”
You snort softly. “Where are you calling me from? I hear traffic.”
“Bus stop. Missed my ride.” A pause, then, quieter, “Didn’t really feel like going home yet.”
“So what’s the emergency? You never call this late unless you’re bored or lonely.”
“Can’t it be both? Just needed some company.”
“…Yeah,” you say after a beat. “I guess.”
There’s a stretch of comfortable silence, punctuated by the sound of him shifting, the wind brushing past his mic, and the low rush of cars passing behind him.
"Isn't it past your bedtime, princess? You should be asleep or something.”
“You called me.”
“You didn't have to answer.”
“If I didn't, you would've gotten all moody and pouty at school tomorrow.”
“Would not.”
“You so would have.”
“Whatever…” he mutters. You smile.
“See? Pouty.”
He huffs a laugh. “You’re annoying.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“So,” you say, filling the space, “you gonna tell me why you actually didn’t want to go home?”
He exhales slowly. “Just… loud there. Wanted to get away for a bit.”
Your grip tightens on the phone. “You can stay on with me.”
“…You sure?”
“Yeah,” you say, without hesitation. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He laughs softly. “I think the only place you're going is the sleepy junction.”
“I can stay up!”
“Surrrre ya can.”
You move the phone away, stifling a yawn. But you can hear Roberts laugh on the line.
“Was that a yawn, princess?”
“No… shut up!” you yawn again, your body betraying you.
“I can see my bus up ahead; we can hang up.”
“No, I'll wait till you get home.”
“Alright.”
You hum sleepily. “Tell me something.”
“Somethiiiiing?” he repeats.
“Story,” you mumble. “You’re good at those.”
He scoffs. “Am I?”
“Yeah,” you say, eyes already heavy. “You talk, and it’s… calm.”
“…Okay,” he says, voice lower now, steadier. “I’ll tell you about this place I used to go when I was a kid.” You shift on your pillow.
“There was this old quarry just outside town I'd bike to,” he continues. “Everyone else thought it was creepy. Chain-link fence, rusted signs, the whole ‘do not enter’ thing. I thought it was cool, so obviously I went in.” You smile faintly.
“Late summer nights, still warm even after the sun went down. I’d sneak in with a flashlight that barely worked. The water was this dark blue, almost black. Looked bottomless, but it wasn’t. Just deep enough to make you think about it. I’d sit on the rocks and throw pebbles in, counting how long it took to hear the splash.” He continued. “I liked that part best,” he admits quietly. “Just a cool abandoned spot to get away and forget about everything else going on.” He smiles to himself. “The stars were crazy out there,” he adds. “Way brighter than in town. You could lie back and feel like the sky was pressing down on you instead of the other way around.”
“Anyway,” he murmurs, softer now, “I always slept better after those nights. Like my head finally shut up.”
Silence stretches. He hears the soft in and out of your breathing.
Y/n?” he asks gently.
No answer.
He chuckles to himself. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Knew you couldn't stay up. Night, princess.”
You don’t hear him hang up when he gets home. You’re already asleep, phone still warm in your hand, his voice lingering like a dream you won’t remember, but the calm stays.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
It isn’t until nearly a month later that your parents leave again—another last-minute work trip, another too-quiet house. You wait until their car is barely out of the driveway before texting Robert.
He shows up around dinner, right on schedule, knocking twice before letting himself in.
“Hello?” he calls, already kicking his shoes off. “Anyone home? The party has arrived.”
You lean over the banister. “Weirdo.” You jog down the stairs, trying not to look too eager as you greet him. “Hey, Robert.”
“Hey,” he says, eyes flicking over you like he’s taking stock. “So what’s the plan this weekend, princess? I don't have any LSD on me, so don't even ask.”
You roll your eyes. “I don't even know what that means, but I know it's not good."
You rub your hands on the side of your pants, suddenly shy. “I dunno, I guess we could just relax, maybe."
“Ambitious,” he deadpans. Then his grin turns mischievous. “Question though, do you know where your parents keep the booze?”
Your brows knit together. “Uh… yeah.”
“Lead the way.”
You guide him into the dining room, where the liquor cabinet sits against the wall, all polished wood and glass doors. You open it, revealing neatly lined bottles that look way too expensive to be touched.
Robert whistles low. “Damn. It's like a whole liquor store in here.”
He reaches in and lifts a heavy bottle of bourbon, turning it in his hands. “Ahh. Here’s the good stuff.”
You wrinkle your nose. “That looks dark and gross.”
“That’s how you know it’s good,” he says cheerfully. “Come on, live a little.”
You hesitate. “We’re… not gonna get, like, wasted, right?”
“We could, if you want.” He grabs two glasses from the cabinet, pouring just a little into each. The smell hits you first—sharp and smoky.
You take a cautious sip and immediately cough. “Oh my god! Why would anyone drink that on purpose?!”
Robert laughs, full and loud. “Yeah, okay, it is pretty intense. " He takes a sip like it’s nothing. “Chase it with something.”
“Chase it? Like… run?”
He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a soda, dumping half of it into your glass. “There, try it now.”
You do. It's still bad. Just… tolerable now.
“There you go,” he says. “See? You’re learning.”
You roll your eyes but feel a little proud anyway.
“Does any of this taste any better?”
Robert scans the cabinet before grabbing a bottle with a clear liquid in it. “Probably rum; it doesn't even taste like anything. Perfect for a baby like you.”
“I am not a baby, Robert.” You shove the glass toward him. “Pour the damn drink.”
“Alright, alright—easy—”
The second he hands it back, you down the whole thing in a few gulps.
He stares at you. “…You are absolutely gonna throw up later.”
You laugh, a little too hard, as he flicks your forehead. “It'll be fiiiiine.”
Your head is already spinning, the room tilting pleasantly at the edges.
➽──────────────❥ ꩜
You and Robert end up sprawled on the living room floor, metalcore music playing from his phone, the bass vibrating through the carpet.
“This feels weird,” you murmur. “Like… different from the weed.”
“Good weird, or…?" he asks.
“Yeah,” you say slowly, staring at the ceiling. “Floaty. Warm. Kinda… buzzy.”
Robert rolls onto his side to face you, propping his head up on his hand. He studies you for a second, eyes a little unfocused but sharp in that way he gets when he’s thinking.
“You should let me do your makeup.”
You blink and turn toward him. “What? Really?” You laugh softly.
“Don't ya trust me?”
"I'd trust you more if you didn't have a few drinks and, y'know, didn't put pointy black pencils near my eyes.”
“Ouch.” He clutches his chest dramatically. “That hurts. I’m an artist.”
"I'm not using your stuff; that's probably unsanitary.”
He shrugs. “Fine with me."
He pushes himself up and gestures toward the hallway. “Your bathroom. I’ve seen the stash. You’ve got better products than I do.”
“Those are my moms.”
“She won't mind if we borrow a few, yeah? I mean, we already messed up the liquor cabinet a bit.”
You sit up, the room tilting just a little. “Okay,” you say, surprising yourself. “Only because I'm feeling really good and floaty. But if I look like an insane clown, that’s on you.”
He grins wider. “Deal.”
*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*:◇:*:◆:*
In the bathroom, he perches on the counter while you sit on the closed toilet lid. The light feels too bright. He’s gentle, though—careful fingers, slow movements, like he’s more sober than he lets on.
“Close your eyes,” he says.
You do, trusting him more than you probably should. His hand on your chin gives you butterflies and chills for some reason. You feel his thumb sweep across your lids, lightly smudging the cream eyeliner.
“You’re very serious about this,” you mumble.
“Yeah,” he replies quietly. “Kinda have to be. Now stay still.”
You peek at him. He’s focused, brows drawn together as he swipes lipstick across your lower lip. You don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you like this before—like you’re something worth taking time over.
When he finally pulls back, he nods once. “Okay. Look.”
You turn toward the mirror.
Your eyes are smudges like Roberts with the dark black eyeliner. Your lips are dark purple with one of your mom's lipsticks he found in a makeup bag.
You don’t look older per se. Just… different. Darker. More confident somehow.
“Oh,” you breathe. “Wow.” You meet his eyes in the mirror. “I kind of like it.”
“Good,” he says softly. “Because you should.” He puts his face next to yours. “Now you almost look as good as me. Almost.”
“Hey!” you protest, pushing at his shoulder.
He leans back just enough that you lose your balance—and suddenly you’re tipping forward, a startled yelp slipping out as you fall against him.
He catches you instinctively.
One arm braces behind him on the counter; the other comes up to steady your waist. You end up halfway between his knees, palms pressed to his chest, your face way too close to his.
For a second, neither of you moves.
The music from the other room hums faintly through the doorway.
“Well,” Robert murmurs, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips—slow, deliberate.
Your heart is hammering. “You did that on purpose.”
“Did I?” His mouth quirks. “Maybe you’re just clumsy when you’re buzzed.”
“I wouldn't have fallen if you didn't move away, moron.”
His thumb is still at your waist, warm through the fabric of your shirt. You become acutely aware of every point where you’re touching—your knees against his thighs, your hands curled in the front of his hoodie.
After a moment, he exhales and gently guides you back upright, hands lingering just a second too long before he lets go.
“C’mon,” he says, voice rougher than before. “I’m hungry.”
You grin, stepping past him toward the door.
•• ━━━━━ ••✦•• ━━━━━ ••
Robert parks you on the couch and hands you a glass like he’s on nurse duty.
“Drink,” he orders.
You squint at it. “You’re very bossy for someone who just almost caused my untimely death via counter fall.”
“Uh-huh. Drink anyway.”
You roll your eyes and grab your phone. “Okay, what do you want? Don’t say ‘everything.’”
“Everything,” he says immediately.
“Robert.”
“I’m kidding. Mostly.” He leans over the back of the couch to look at the screen. “Lo mein. Dumplings. Something fried. And whatever that thing is you like with the spicy sauce.”
“General Tso’s?”
“That one. Yeah.”
You place the order, tongue poking out in concentration. He watches you do it like it’s fascinating, chin resting on his forearms.
“What?” you ask, catching him staring.
“Nothing,” he says. “You’re just… different tonight.”
“Different how?” you ask lightly, though your stomach flips.
“Must be the makeup or the alcohol. Hmm, probably the makeup.”
“Pssh, whatever.”
The delivery estimate pops up—forty minutes.
“Ugh,” you groan. “I’m starving.”
“Good,” he says. “Gives us time.”
“For what?”
He flops down beside you on the couch.
“Whatever,” he says. “Music. A dumb game. You explaining why you thought chugging rum was a good idea.”
You laugh, leaning back until your shoulder presses into his arm. “I was proving a point.”
“And what point was that?”
“That I’m brave.”
He hums. "Dumb, actually. Reckless.”
“Adventurous.”
“Stubborn.”
He looks down at you, eyeliner smudged just a bit from earlier, mouth tilted in that half-smile that makes your chest feel weird.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
The doorbell finally rings later, and you both lunge for the door at the same time, colliding in a mess of limbs and laughter.
“Hey—watch it,” Robert laughs, steadying you by the elbows as you wobble.
“You ran into me,” you protest, pointing accusingly.
“Sure I did, princess.” He nudges you aside with his hip. “Sit. I’ve got it.”
Robert grabs the food, tosses some cash at the delivery guy, and kicks the door shut with his foot.
“Smells insane,” he says, dropping the bags on the coffee table.
He pulls everything out—containers thumping onto the table, steam curling up into the air. You sit up immediately, drawn in.
“Oh my god,” you whisper. “I might cry.”
“Please don’t,” he says. “I don’t have the emotional bandwidth for drunk tears tonight.”
You grab a fork. He hands you chopsticks instead.
“Why do you do this to me?”
“Character building.” He smirks and steals a dumpling before you can react. “Also, tax.”
“Thief!” You lunge for his lo mein, stealing a bite in retaliation.
He freezes. Slowly looks at you. “Did you just take my noodles?”
“It's called karma, idiot.”
You eat in companionable chaos, trading bites, arguing over which dish is better, and occasionally bumping shoulders. At some point you realize you’re leaning into him again, head tipped just slightly toward his shoulder.
He notices.
“You comfy?” he asks quietly.
“Mhm,” you say. “Unless you want me to move.”
He shrugs, casual but not really. “Nah. You’re fine.”
₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊
By the time you’re both full and a little quieter, the buzz has softened into something sleepy and slow.
You’re still leaning against Robert. At some point, your head has found his shoulder properly, cheek pressed into the worn fabric of his hoodie. He smells like smoke, Chinese, and a bit of Axe or whatever he was wearing.
You try not to think too hard about it.
“You’re gonna fall asleep like that,” he murmurs.
“Maybe,” you say, voice muffled. “S’that a bad thing?”
The TV glows in front of you, some stupid late-night show that came on when you turned on the TV. His arm is stretched along the back of the couch, close enough that if you shifted even an inch, you’d be tucked under it. You’re painfully aware of that inch.
“You tired?” he asks after a moment.
“Yeah,” you admit. “Kinda.”
“Alcohol’ll do that.” He tilts his head slightly, glancing down at you. “You good, though?”
You nod. “Yeah. Just… comfy.”
“If your parents came back early, would they freak out if they saw us like this?”
“Uh yeah, probably. I don't know if they'd notice you first or my goth raccoon makeup.”
“Hey now, you look like an even more Gothic, drunk Amy Lee.”
“I don't even know who that is, Robert.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ugh. You’re hopeless. I played the band for you earlier.” He pushes himself up off the couch. “You know what—no. I’m playing them again. This is important.”
Before you can protest, Evanescence is blasting from his phone.
“Remember??” he demands.
“Oooh, yeah,” you snicker at his sudden animated seriousness. “Do you need me to grab you a microphone, Robert?”
“If it’ll help you understand the sheer awesomeness of this,” he says solemnly, “then yes.”
You grab your hairbrush from the bathroom and hand it to him with a dramatic flourish. He takes it like it’s sacred and absolutely commits—belting the chorus with wild intensity.
You’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts, watching him throw his whole soul into it. He points the “mic” at you halfway through.
“Your turn.”
“I don't even know the song!”
“So? Fake it! Coward!”
He steps closer anyway, still singing, eyes locked on yours now, a grin tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly what he’s doing. When the song finally ends, he bows exaggeratedly.
“Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be here all night.”
You clap slowly. “Truly life-changing.”
He drops onto the couch again, breathless and laughing.
“Drunk Robert is fun.”
“You do high karaoke; I do drunk karaoke.”
You scoff, but your smile gives you away. “Whatever. You’re drunk and dramatic.”
His gaze flicks down to your lips, then back up again like he’s catching himself.
Eventually, he clears his throat and stands. “Okay. Before I embarrass myself more or pass out on your couch, bedtime. Still feeling alright?”
“I feel great.”
“You're not gonna puke at 3 am?”
“Probably not.”
“If you do, keep your phone nearby or call me. I'll come hold back your hair.”
“You really are sweet, Robert.”
“Now I'm gonna puke.”
You both grab water and walk up the stairs and down the hallway, the house quiet again, soft footsteps on the floor.
“Goodnight, princess," he says at his door, hand on the knob.
You smile up at him. “Good night, rockstar.”
He pauses, then reaches out, gently nudging a smudge of eyeliner beneath your eye with his thumb. The touch is light. Lingering.
“Looks good on you,” he says softly.
Then he pulls his hand back and ducks into the guest room and shuts the door.
You stand there for a second longer than necessary, heart thumping loud, before finally heading to your own room—smiling to yourself the whole way.
➽──────────────❥ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
Its a miracle you don't throw up in the middle of the night. You're very groggy when you wake up. Your head is fuzzy, there's a dull ache and heaviness too. Your mouth tastes like lo mein and poor decisions.
You groan and roll onto your back, squinting at the ceiling.
“Never drinking again,” you mutter to absolutely no one.
Your phone buzzes on your nightstand like it heard you lie.
Robert: u alive or should I start planning a tasteful memorial?
You: rude
but yes unfortunately
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Robert: tragic
come downstairs when u can. I found ibuprofen, and I'm being a real hero about it
You sit up slowly, immediately regretting the confidence of that movement. The room tilts. You pause. Breathe.
“Okay,” you whisper. “We’re fine.”
You shuffle into an oversized hoodie, tug your hair into something resembling a ponytail, and head downstairs.
Robert is leaning against the counter in yesterday’s clothes, sleeves pushed up, hair messy. He’s holding a mug in one hand and a phone in the other. He looks up when he hears you.
"Ok, now I agree. Now you look like a wet goth raccoon.”
“Shut up, Robert. I was too tired to take it off last night.” You squint at him. “You’re very loud for someone who also drank.”
“Hydration is key,” he says.
You shuffle over to the counter and lean your hip against it, blinking slowly like your body is still booting up. You smell the lingering smoke on his sweater. Must have had an early smoke break. He nudges a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water toward you.
“Take two,” he says. “Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“Yet.” He winks.
You watch him crack eggs into a bowl, moving with surprising competence for someone who was screaming Evanescence into a hairbrush less than twelve hours ago. You end up beside him, toasting bread, stealing bits of shredded cheese when he’s not looking.
You eat at the counter, legs swinging, shoulders brushing when he reaches for hot sauce. The food tastes better than it should somehow.
“So,” Robert says, twisting slightly in his chair. “What do you wanna do today?”
“Well. We could go out. Walk around, get fresh air, and pretend we’re functional.”
“Hmmmm, orrrr,” he adds, “we could stay in. Music. Maybe a dumb movie. Let you recover.”
“Yeah sure, I don't have the energy to go out anyway.”
.•*•.•*•.•*•.•*•.
You two spend the day wasting away on the couch, eating snacks, watching dumb movies, and arguing over what to watch.
You end up compromising in the worst way possible—letting the algorithm decide. It picks something horribly mid. You both groan in unison.
“Great,” you mutter. “Two hours of our lives we’re never getting back.”
“Speak for yourself,” Robert says, sprawling across the couch. “I thrive on bad media.”
You steal the blanket while he’s distracted, tugging it toward you until he makes an offended noise.
“Hey.”
“Finders keepers.”
“I bought those snacks.”
“You ate my dumplings last night.”
“We shared those dumplings last night.”
Halfway through the movie, you’re both picking it apart like professional critics.
“That line made no sense,” you say.
“That was the point.”
“No, it wasn’t. They just didn’t know how to write women.”
He snorts. “Okay, yeah, sure.
At some point, your legs end up comfortably draped over his lap. He complains once, half-heartedly, then absentmindedly starts tapping your ankle in time with the background music. You pretend not to notice how nice it feels.
After the movie, you end up in deep conversation.
“You know me better than most people now y’know?.” Robert takes a sip of his pop.
“Yeah,” you say carefully. “I guess I do.”
He hums, rolling the can between his palms. “It’s weird. I don’t usually… let that happen.”
“Why not?”
He shrugs. “Easier to keep things surface-level. Less mess.”
Your eyes lock. His gaze lingers, thoughtful.
“If ya keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna do something I’ll regret," he exhales.
You turn to face him fully. “Why do you care so much about messing me up?”
“Because…” he sighs. “I don't want you to feel like I do. A real fucked-up kid with problems. I don't want to add onto any of your shit you've got goin on.”
“I think that you make me feel like my shit is smaller than it actually is.”
"Well, that's something, I guess.”
You sit up and slide a bit closer. “I feel like you're the only one who really gets me.”
He grins, a small but genuine one. “I know for a fact you're the only one who really sees me.”
His eyes flick to yours once. Twice. Like he’s trying not to stare—and failing.
Robert is really hot. In that rough, punk-emo way that looks accidental but definitely isn’t. The eyeliner smudged into his tired eyes, and the scarred ear and his lip ring sparkled and caught the light when he turned. You catch yourself staring at it for too long, imagining—unhelpfully—what it might feel like against your mouth.
You wanted to find out now.
You swallow.
“I haven’t changed my mind, y’know…” Your hands curl on your lap.
His gaze sharpens. “Yeah?” He inches a little closer, close enough that you can smell the smoke still clinging to his sweater that's still unpleasant, but you've grown used to. “About what?”
“About… doing it.” Your voice wobbles, but you don’t look away. “With you.”
He exhales a quiet laugh. “You sound like a teenager.”
“Shut up,” you snap, heat rushing to your face. “I just feel comfortable with you, is all… I trust you.”
Before you can say anything else, his hand comes up—warm, steady—cupping your cheek. You freeze, breath hitching. His thumb brushes along your jaw, then slower, softer, tracing the edge of your bottom lip.
“As long as you actually thought about it,” he says, low. His thumb lingers. “You know how easily I could ruin you?”
Your heart thunders.
You shouldn’t say it.
You say it anyway.
“What if I want you to?”
He laughs—but it’s short, breathless, and not teasing at all. “You should be careful what you wish for.”
Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth, back and forth, like you can’t decide where to land. The space between you feels heavy, titillating.
“Kiss me,” you say. It comes out softer than you meant. Almost a plea.
There's a moment of hesitation, just long enough for you to feel it.
Then he does.
It’s not gentle. But not rushed either. His hand slides into your hair as his mouth meets yours, firm and sure, like he’s been holding himself back for weeks and finally stopped trying. You gasp into the kiss; his piercing digs into your lip, your fingers curling into his shirt; he makes a quiet sound against your lips like he’s been waiting for that exact reaction.
When he pulls back, it’s only an inch. His forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing a little harder than before.
Your lips tingle. Your heart feels like it’s trying to climb out of your chest.
"You're really cute, y/n. And it's damn near driving me insane.”
You laugh, a little breathless. “Not bad for a first kiss.”
His head snaps back. “Oh shit—really? Fuck…”
“Uh, yeah… I liked it," you blush.
“You really never…?” His voice drops, incredulous.
“No, I spent all my time with a book in my face instead of a boy in my face.”
He lets out a low laugh. “That's easily fixable.”
He swears softly and kisses you again, deeper this time. Not careful. His mouth moves against yours like he’s trying to make a point and forgetting what it was halfway through. You feel it in the way he leans into you, like gravity’s finally winning.
Your hands slide up his chest, grabbing the drawstrings on his sweater. Robert's demeanor suddenly changes. He makes a low sound—barely restrained—and his other hand finds your waist, fingers digging in. Robert's done holding back. He has a new goal now. He wants to be the one to show you all you've missed out on.
You kiss him back, a bit bolder now, and he groans, actually groans, pulling you closer without thinking. His forehead drops to yours again.
“I have a few condoms in my bag.” He blurts out.
You blink. “You do?”
“If—” He stops himself, searching your face. His thumb brushes your lip again, slower now. “If you really want this. I’d like to show you. Properly. If you’ll let me.”
Content: Robert x reader, established relationship, fluff, snowed in, Robert being the bestest sweetest bf, oblivious reader, reader is canadian btw, Chase almost ruins the proposal oops lol, heartfelt proposal, Robert is my husband yall
Vancouver is nothing but white this morning, trees bowing under the weight of fresh snowfall, the road completely swallowed. Silent snowfall obstructing your view of the rest of the world.
You and Robert had planned this trip months ago, back when January was just a word on a calendar and not the relentless rush it became. Work deadlines. Family obligations. The exhausting choreography of the holidays. You’d both been running on empty by the time Christmas finally passed, and a cozy winter getaway had felt like the perfect antidote. A cabin. A fireplace. No schedules. No expectations.
What you didn’t know—what Robert had been carrying quietly in his chest for weeks—was that this trip had never been just a vacation.
While you were visiting your parents over the holidays, catching up late into the night and falling back into old routines, Robert had asked your dad if he could “borrow him for a minute.” His hands had shaken the entire time. He’d rehearsed the words in his head a hundred times and still stumbled over them when it mattered.
Your parents had been ecstatic.
They hugged him. Both of them. Your mom cried. Your dad patted him on the shoulder and told him he’d already been family for a long time. Robert had driven away that night with his heart pounding, terrified and impossibly happy all at once.
You woke up this morning to a cabin drenched in cold.
You groan softly and burrow deeper under the blankets, only to find Robert already awake beside you, watching you with that familiar, fond half-smile. The wind howls outside, rattling the windows.
“If you’d checked the weather,” you mumble, voice thick with sleep, “you wouldn’t have missed the storm that was forecast for today.”
Robert had checked. Multiple times. He just needed an excuse—any excuse—to keep you inside, to slow time down, to make sure nothing could interrupt what he had planned.
“Sorry, dear,” he says lightly, brushing his thumb along your arm. “We’ve been on the go all week. Think of it as a sign to take it easy. A rest day.”
You pout, dramatic and sleepy, and scoot closer to him, tucking yourself against his chest. He wraps an arm around you without thinking, instinctive as breathing. You shiver slightly, and he feels it.
“We’ll be fine,” he murmurs. “We’ve got food. Blankets. I’ll get the fireplace going, okay?”
You hesitate, then nod. “Alright…”
He presses a kiss to your temple, lingering just a second longer than usual. His heart is racing. His palms are a little sweaty. Outside, the snow keeps falling, thick and relentless, sealing the two of you inside this quiet, perfect moment.
Yeah.
Today was the day.
Robert got a fire going and started boiling a pot of water for coffee and hot chocolate. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“What do we have?”
“By the looks of it, eggs, bacon sausages and orange juice. A totally normal balanced breakfast.”
Robert is in a navy blue robe and slippers tending to the bacon and sausage sizzling on the stove. You can't help but smile and watch him for a minute.
You grin and finally peel yourself out from the cocoon of blankets, padding across the wooden floor in socked feet. The cabin is slowly warming now, the fireplace crackling softly, flames licking at the logs.
“I thought you would be right at home here with the snow and everything.”
“Robert, just because I grew up in Canada doesn't mean I'm immune to the cold. The snow just kind of makes me nostalgic though. When times were simpler.”
You step closer, resting your chin briefly against his shoulder while he flips the bacon. The smell fills the cabin—savory, rich, comforting.
“Hard to believe we almost didn’t take this trip,” you say. “I was this close to cancelling.”
“I know,” he replies. His voice drops, thoughtful. “I’m really glad we didn’t.”
Life had really gotten in the way during the holidays. It got so busy you almost didn't want to take time for yourselves, just Robert pushed you and you're glad he did.
There’s something in his tone that makes you look up at him. He meets your eyes for a second too long, something nervous and bright flickering there before he looks away again, focusing a little too hard on the stove.
Breakfast comes together slowly. He plates the eggs and sausages with more care than usual, pours orange juice into mismatched mugs, sets them on the small table in front of the fireplace.
“Here you go, milady”
“The cook serves the meal too? Five-star service,” you tease, nudging his arm with yours.
“Next thing you'll know I'll be asking for tips.”
You laugh as he sits beside you.
“Lucky for you I only accept payment in kisses.”
You lean over, pressing a long tender kiss to his lips. Robert sighs. Every kiss feels like your first, making butterflies dance in his stomach.
“Thank you, my love.”
Outside, the storm keeps going, snow ticking softly against the windows. Inside, there’s nothing but warmth and the low crackle of the fire. You eat your breakfast in comforting silence, the roaring fire mesmerizing you both.
“This is nice,” you say finally. “Like… really nice.”
Robert hums in agreement, eyes fixed on the flames.
“You ever think about how weird it is,” he says slowly, “how life just keeps pushing forward? Like if you don’t grab these moments, they just… pass?”
You glance at him, studying his profile. “That got philosophical fast.”
“Sorry,” he says, smiling faintly. “Must be the eggs.”
You laugh, but there’s sincerity underneath. You reach for his hand and he freezes for half a second before lacing his fingers with yours, grip warm and soothing.
“I like this version of us,” He says softly. “No rushing, stress or noise. Just us… here.”
He swallows. You feel it through the closeness. “Yeah,” you murmur. “Me too.”
The fire pops, sending sparks up the chimney. Robert shifts, his free hand drifts to his robe pocket—rests there—then pulls away.
You notice.
“Everything okay?” you ask gently.
He exhales and smiles. “Yeah. Everything’s perfect.” He stands.
“Coffee or hot chocolate?” he asks.
You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hot chocolate. It feels like that kind of day.”
“Coming right up.”
You and Robert already made cookies earlier and tossed them in the oven. He’d put music on, songs from years ago you hadn’t thought about in forever, the ones that lived dormant somewhere in your head until the first few notes brought them rushing back.
You’d frozen halfway through stirring when one came on.
“I didn’t even know you remembered me telling you this was my favorite,” you’d said, genuinely surprised.
“I made a playlist afterward so I wouldn’t forget,” he’d replied casually, like it was nothing. “And they’re your favorites, so… they must be important to you.”
“Oh, Robert.” you’d said softly, smiling at him. Your breath caught, warmth blooming behind your ribs.
Now, hours later, the cookies are cooling on the counter, the cabin dim except for the fire and the soft glow of a lamp. You’re curled up together on the couch, tucked into his side, legs tangled beneath a blanket that Robert keeps making sure is tucked in.
Robert’s phone buzzes.
“Aw, honey,” he says, lifting it slightly. “Look at these pictures Chase sent of Beef.”
You immediately sit up a little, reaching for the phone. “Awww,” you coo, swiping through the photos. Beef sprawled on Chase’s couch. Beef wrapped in a blanket. Beef very clearly being overindulged. “Our little Beefy boy… we should’ve taken him with us.” You pout, leaning back into Robert’s chest.
“I’m sure he’s having the time of his life,” Robert says, rubbing your arm. “Chase spoils him more than we do.”
The phone buzzes again.
Chase: Did you do it yet?
You tilt your head, confused. “Robert… what is he talking about?”
He snatches the phone a little too fast, cheeks immediately flushing. “Shit,” he laughs, nervous and forced. “He’s just—he’s being gross. Asking if we’ve had sex yet.”
You grimace. “Ew. Dick.”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Sorry, honey.”
Smooth, Robertson.
The phone lights up again as he turns it face-down, and you don’t see the messages—but he does.
Chase: Pussy
Robert: Shut the hell up
Y/n just saw that, you almost blew it
I’m nervous enough as it is
I’m doing it tonight. Just take the picture. I’ll text you after
Robert groans under his breath and tosses the phone onto the armchair.
“So,” he says a beat too brightly, standing up. “Cookies are probably done. You want some more hot chocolate?”
You glance toward the kitchen, then back at him. “Yeah. Sure.”
He nods, already moving, shoulders tense as he pours water into the kettle again. When his back is to you, he lets out a long, steadying breath.
He has to do this soon.
Before he loses his nerve.
The ring box was heavy and burning a hole in his pocket. Robert looks calm, steady even, but his palms are damp and his heart won’t slow down no matter how many times he tells himself to breathe.
“Y/n,” he says casually, “put on your fluffy socks. If you don’t, you’re gonna complain you’re cold in ten minutes.”
You scoff without looking up. “Hmmpf. You’re not the boss of me, Robertson.”
“No,” he agrees, standing. “But I do know you. And I will say I told you so.”
He crosses the room and starts lighting a few candles, one by one, their soft glow joining the firelight.
You squint at him. “Don’t you think we have enough fire from the fireplace, Robert?”
“Hm?” He glances back at you, feigning innocence. “I guess. I just thought it’d smell nice.” He gestures vaguely. “Look how pretty they look.”
You smile, amused. “Very romantic, Robertson. Consider me thoroughly buttered up.”
He sits back down beside you and leans in, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.
“I know your off switch,” he murmurs.
Before you can reply, his lips find that spot just behind your ear—the one that always gets you. Your breath stutters, a soft, involuntary sound slipping out of you.
“Robert,” you warn weakly, already melting.
He shifts you gently so you’re sitting in front of him, his hands settling at your shoulders. His thumbs work into the tight tendons there, slow and practiced, like he’s been doing this his whole life.
“Mmmh… you’re amazing,” you murmur, relaxing fully into his touch.
Your guard drops. Your body goes loose and warm against him.
Now, he thinks. Do it now.
He leans in, lips brushing your skin again, voice low and intimate.
“Would you marry me, baby?”
You snort, half-laughing. “Of course, Robert. What kind of silly question is that?”
“No really, I'm asking you right now.”
“W-what?” You freeze, eyes darting back and forth scanning for any lies.
“Y/n,” he turns to you. “You make my days easier and my nights worth losing sleep over. I can't even imagine life without you now. Every day I spend with you is already the best day I've ever had, except for that time when you almost lost Beef because you forgot to latch the gate and cried for an hour straight.”
A shaky laugh slips out of you both. “And even then—even then—I remember thinking, yeah. This. This is the person I want to figure things out with.”
Your chest tightens and breath catches. Your hands curl into the fabric of his robe without you realizing.
“It was only a few months of us going out when I realized I wanted every version of you. The tired one. The anxious one. The one who overthinks and the one who forgets to eat until I remind you. The one who gets nostalgic when it snows and the one who pretends she’s fine when she’s not.”
His hand comes up to cup your cheek, warm and reassuring.
“I want the easy days, yeah,” he says, eyes shining. “But I want the hard ones too. The boring ones. The quiet, messy, unfinished ones. Mornings where we barely talk. Nights where we fall asleep on the couch with the TV still on.”
Your eyes burn. You shake your head slightly, like you’re trying to wake up.
“I know I joke,” he continues, voice softer now, losing that casual edge. “I know I act like nothing ever really scares me. But the truth is… the idea of not having you? That terrifies me.” He takes a breath. “I used to think love was supposed to feel perfect. But we’re not perfect, and I don't want us to be.”
He swallows, voice dropping lower, steadier somehow.
“I want to be the person you come home to. I want to be your constant when everything else feels loud. I want to choose you—every day—for the rest of my life.”
Your vision blurs. You blink hard, but it doesn’t help.
“Robert…” you whisper, barely trusting your voice.
He lets out a breathy laugh, half-nervous, half-relieved, and finally—finally—reaches into his pocket. The small box looks impossibly real in his hand.
“You’re my home,” he says simply. “I don’t need perfect days,” he says, voice breaking just a little now. “I just need you in them. I want to wake up next to you when we’re old and grumpy. I want to argue over dumb things and make up in the kitchen at midnight. I want kids with your laugh and my stubborn streak. I want to see you teach them how to be kind, how to be brave. I want family dinners that get too loud and bedtime stories I pretend not to enjoy as much as I do. I want to keep choosing you until it’s not even a choice anymore.”
He opens the box letting the firelight catch the ring, sending your heart into near cardiac arrest.
“Would you marry me?”
For a second, you can’t speak.
You stare at the ring, at his hands, at his face, like if you look long enough something will prove this isn’t real.
“Yes,” you breathe.
Robert reaches and wipes the tears threatening to fall from you.
“Yes, Robert.” you say again, stronger this time, voice breaking as the word finally lands. “Yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”
The relief on his face is immediate and overwhelming. He laughs—a real, disbelieving sound—and his shoulders sag like he’s been holding that breath for months. His eyes glisten then and his hands shake as he slides the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly, like it was always meant to be there. When he looks up at you again, his expression is open and undone and so full of love it almost hurts.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
You barely have time to lean in before he kisses you, gentle, tender. Then deeper, surer, like the promise he just made has settled into his bones. You kiss him back with everything you have, fingers threading into his hair, laughing quietly through tears.
His hand slides from yours to your waist, thumb brushing the bare skin there like he’s relearning you. Like he has time now. All the time in the world. You feel it in the way he kisses you—unrushed, certain, warm with promise.
You sigh into his mouth. You're both wrecked.
His fingers trace the line of your spine, slow and deliberate, and you shiver—not from the cold this time. The fire crackles behind you, heat blooming at your back while his presence pulls you forward, closer, until there’s barely space left between you.
“I love you,” he says. Not as a declaration. As a truth. “I can't wait to call you my wife.”
Robert takes a teary eyed proposal photo and sends it to Chase. He replies with a picture of Beef holding a scroll between his teeth that says 'Congratulations Mom and Dad'.
A/N: Marry that man! Hope yall are staying warm if ya live in a cold snowy climate like I do. Storms weren't too bad here. Just stayed home with a blanket, hot choccy and Animal Crossing lol. Have a good week!
