“You're not… disgusted by me, right Robert?” His eyes widened slightly as he took your hands.

"Surely you must be joking. You haven't let a silly thought like that wreck you, right?"

You twist your foot in the ground and avoid his eyes.

“Oh honey,” He chuckled darkly, squeezing your hands. “If you only knew how I've been craving you…” Robert lets go of your hands and side steps behind you. 

“If you let me, I'm going to bend you over this counter right now and show you exactly how attracted I am to you.” Robert says low and gruff rubbing his bulge against your backside. 

“Is this something you want?” You gulp and nod, feeling that familiar heat returning.

“Y’gonna let me show you?” You let his hands travel up your thighs till his thumbs slip under your waistband. 

“I'm not gonna stop until you realize what a goddess you are. Understood?” 

“Y-yes…”

He's eating you out in seconds. His hands trying to pry your legs apart further. 

“Robert! I-I didn't shave-” He huffs and pulls you impossibly closer, legs apart even farther still till your knuckles go white gripping the countertop. It doesn't take long until you're falling apart on his tongue. 

“Fuck! Robert!” You're biting down on your sleeve in an attempt to quiet down. 

"This ok baby?" "M'yes!" You muffle into your sleeve.

“Fuck me… you've gotten sweeter. How's that possible?” He dives back in. 

“W-wait wait! S’too much- "

He pauses. "You want me to stop?"

"N-no it's just that-"

"Then hush, I've waited long enough.” He presses a kiss to your clit making you squirm. You let out a soft moan as he flattens his tongue collecting all your sweet juices licking up to suck your clit into his mouth. He groans. He slips his tongue inside letting you soak his tastebuds while he rubs tight circles on your nub.

“Relax baby, sit down on me and I'll take care of you.” He manages to pull two more orgasms out of you with little effort. 

“I've been jerking off in the shower for weeks thinking about you. Y’know that?” He pants. “And I'm just getting started, my beautiful wife.” 

Robert pulls you over to the couch and lays you down. 

“Mind sharing some of that milk with me?” He tugs at your shirt peeling it off you. With a hungry gaze latched onto one nipple while kneading the other. 

“Robert! It's for the baby! And I-I’m sensitive!” You wince and groan. 

“I'm your baby too. It's only fair to share- Mmh.” Your creamy milk spills onto his tongue and he moans into you. 

“How's my latching? Better than the baby I bet, I mean- Shit… I'd be lying if I said I didn't dream about this.” He switches to the other nipple licking and sucking softly.

“R-Rob! Need you, please-” 

Robert pops off of your nipple and sheds his soaked boxers, turns you around so your back is to his front then lines up to your entrance. You don't fight him. He slips into you so easy yet you still seem to grip him so tight. 

“My poor wife was probably so pent up without even realizing. Now you're dripping for me, in more ways than one. Heh, amazing woman.” He turns your head to kiss you deep. his hands cup your ass squeezing possessively.

“Your body's amazing… Brought my kid into the world- I mean fuck me… You're the super hero here- mmh. I love you so much.” 

“I-I love you-” You're panting, overstimulated but loving every second.

“Missed holding this.” He grabs onto the pudge of your stomach making you moan with a roll of his hips. “Y'feel me here?” “Yes!! Robert!” “Careful now,” He covers your mouth with his hand. “I love your sweet voice but you're going to wake the baby. And I'm nowhere near done with you yet.” He's pounding into you relentlessly. Your eyes cross, your brain starts shutting down, it's too much . 

“You're as sexy as the day I met you. Ya know that? As sexy as our wedding day- God please let me give you another one. Let me put another kid in you please-” Robert rambles reaching down to strum your clit. 

“Mmh- I'll give you as many as you want!”

“C-careful honey… I'll hold you to those words.  Fuck…  I feel you- Come on momma give it to me.”

You can't hold back. It's too much. Your mind goes blank and you give into the feeling. “Robert!” “Thats it honey, come all over my cock.” He grunts into your neck finishing soon after. That last cry was definitely too loud. Soon enough you hear your baby crying through the monitor and sigh.

“I got it hun, rest up.” Robert kisses your temple.

Anytime you started to feel self conscious Robert made sure you didn't feel that way for long. He'd tell you over and over, praise after praise. And he'll keep on telling you, even if you don't believe it yet. His love for you shines through every doubt and fear.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

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'.