#robert fischer inception

[look-at-the-soul]

Cia I adore this gif you sent! (Thank you for the inspiration!!) I immediately got the idea but other stories came to my mind first 🤭

Still loving you

Robert Fischer x reader (and it’s also part of my grandma tribute) ♥️✨

Word count: 3,246

Robert waited next to the carrousel, there had been trouble with the system and people had to wait in order to pass with a custom. He just hoped this would be solved quickly because he had a meeting in…

That laugh and that voice only belonged to someone. Turning around he stopped looking at the screen on his phone.

No.

This couldn’t be happening.

¿Y/N?

Robert felt his body froze, his heart rate increased and memories came back and hit him like an avalanche. After all these years.

Flashback:

Y/N felt her knees go weak the moment she saw Rob stepping down his vehicle. Dressed in an immaculate suit with a silky black tie and that effortlessly hairstyle that suited him so well, his face seemed to be made by a Greek God.

It was odd that he asked about her appointment at the salon, perhaps he’d send his driver to pick her up for the gala…

She tried to grab his face to give him a welcome kiss, but Robert stopped her, giving Y/N an emotionless stare. She soon was aware of his cold reaction.

“What’s wrong?”

Robert shifted his weight from one foot to another uncomfortably.

“I’m going to the United States.”

Y/N blinked confused by his statement.

“What? When?”

He wanted to reach out and touch her, but instead he decided to hide his hands inside his pockets. “Tomorrow night, it’s all settled.”

“But.. but I thought you’d be starting on the September course.”

“No, I enrolled in the summer program.”

“Okay, I could cancel my Venice holiday and meet you there then…” Y/N proposed, thinking of some way to make it work.

They had just graduated and she was hoping they’d take the next step in their relationship soon, so moving in while he focused on his master degree in a foreign country sounded promising.

“I could start hunting apartments right away, are you staying in a hotel meanwhile babe?” She smiled again, thinking it could be good he took the lead and moved there first, so he could explore the area and find potential places. “But first I’d need to fly there, do you think your Dad would still let me use his private plane? He had said before anytime, but since you’ll be there…”

“Y/N…” the way he said her name, made her look at him. But she didn’t like what she found in his eyes. “This is why I needed to see you. I’m going away for a couple of years, we’ve to end this. Right here, before I go.”

And she couldn’t hear anything else he said, because her ears were buzzing, she felt like she was underwater and that someone was stealing the air from her lungs.

“But I could fly over and be there, lots of people have a long distance relationship nowadays.”

“Don’t make this more difficult.” He begged, making an effort to keep his emotions at bay.

“You can’t be serious.” Y/N blinked nervously, trying to find for a sign in Robert’s face that this was a bad joke.

She waited a few minutes, eagerly to hear him ask her to come with him, that he was only messing with her, he was always joking.

But when he didn’t back off, she swallowed hard.

“Really? You can’t even tell me a valid reason to break up with me?” Tears would start falling any minute now.

“You know I’m going to start my master degree overseas. It’s for the best.” Robert tried to excuse his sudden decision.

“The best?”

She barely had time to process the sudden news. How long had he been planning this?

Anger took over her, pinching the bridge of her nose, she tried to control her emotions. “You know what? Do whatever the fuck you want Robert! Go and study your goddamn master, I hate you!”

Taking her purse, Y/N rushed, needed to get to her car as fast as she could. She had dreamed Robert would ask her to go with him to the United States, to live together and then, get married. But instead he broke her heart? He was he love of her life, they had plans together for the future, they were good… or at least she thought so, now realizing how selfish he really was.

Tears ran free down her face and she cursed in frustration now realizing how selfish he really was. The son of a bitch, he didn’t care about anyone else but himself.

Y/N never saw the way he broke into a crying mess. Feeling guilt eat him alive for causing her such pain. But he was suffering as much as her or probably even more, she had been his rock, his safe place to hide, he could be real and honest with Y/N. But now, not only she was gone, but that part of him as well.

Robert kept his head down during the entire ride to the charity event his family was hosting, thankfully his driver kept quiet. Images of Y/N giving him a look full of sadness and disappointment for breaking up with her filled his mind, he hoped the image would stop haunting him at some point. He didn’t want that to happen, but he was convinced if he focused solely on his studies, he’d make his father proud.

They were still young, he wanted to prove he was worth of the Fischer company and he needed to work hard to achieve that.

Putting on an emotionless expression, he took a few shaky breaths to mask the fact that he was dealing with a broken heart.

Walking past the directors and board members of the company, he shook some hands, everybody was expecting a lot of things from him, he had a very important place to fill in…

“Darling, over here!” His grandmother’s voice caught his attention among the people. “Where’s Y/N?” She turned her face around, searching for her.

“She isn’t here grandma.”

His maternal grandmother gave him an expectant look.

“Why not? She was so excited yesterday.”

“I just broke up with her.” He explained uncomfortably, his jaw clenching.

His grandmother couldn’t believe his words, Y/N was the most charming girl she had ever met, she had Robert drooling over her, her family was respectable, she was well educated, smart, funny, beautiful, everything anyone would kill to be.

“I need to focus on my maste-”

But his grandma was already shaking her head and giving him a disapproving glance.

“This is the worst decision you’ve ever made. And you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

(End of flashback)

And his grandmother was right, he did regret it every single day. He finished his master and started working for his father’s company, he had made his family’s wealth bigger than he ever imagined.

But none of that really mattered, because he let true love slip away from him that night.

And now she was standing a few steps away from him. And she was still the most beautiful girl in the room.

“Why is that man staring at you?”

Zoe whispered at her friend confused. Was he even blinking?

Y/N frowned and turning her face around, she found the man that broke her heart years ago.

The world stopped spinning for an instant and the air escaped her lungs. She could practically feel her blood running out of her body.

All the memories flashing back at her, as if it was a movie scene. His cold words playing over and over in her mind.

No, time doesn't heal anything. It’s just a way to disguise the pain people say to cover an uncomfortable silence.

And she knew it still hurt like the first day because even after all these years, she still cared about him.

Robert managed to leave his initial shock behind, and he finally started moving towards her.

What should he say? Should he greet her with a kiss on the cheek or keep his distance?

The heaviness in his heart grew as he saw Y/N blinking, looking from side to side as if trying to find a way to avoid him.

“Y/N.” Her name on his lips seemed to burn.

She could feel her friends whispering in shock, they must’ve realized by now who he was because they knew the story.

How are you supposed to react in moments like these? Say it’s lovely to see you! No, because it wasn’t.

Could this be their chance to talk about what happened? He wondered if she had someone in her life. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came up.

“Robert.” She raised her eyebrows, but other than that, he didn’t get much. Except she folded her arms in front of her chest, in a protective reaction. “All right, let’s go.” She stammered to the girls, wanting to go as fast as she could.

“There’s a problem with the car rental, they canceled.” Zoe announced and threw a subtle glance in Robert’s direction, he was still standing there, looking at Y/N.

He noticed Y/N wasn’t wearing a wedding band on her left hand, she was carrying a book in her bag.

“We’ll get an Uber then.” Y/N proposed trying to make her friends start walking.

“It’s extra expensive right now, it’s rush hour.”

“I’ve a driver waiting for me.” Offered Robert. “I could take you anywhere.”

A heavy silence fell upon them, you could hear a pin drop. Zoe and Lisa looked at each other, not fully believing what was happening. Then, they looked at Y/N.

“This isn’t a good idea.” She admitted in a low voice, avoiding his eyes.

“Hey c’omon we won’t be able to make it on time with this traffic.” Lisa pointed out.

Zoe gave Robert a suspicious look.

Whatever was crossing his mind, his ego dropped to the floor, he had been waiting for this moment all his life.

“I think a ride won’t hurt nobody, right?”

Before Y/N could protest, Lisa practically jumped on Robert, not wanting to give Y/N time to react. “I hope you’ve enough space in that vehicle because we overpacked.” And she grabbed him by the arm as if they were long time friends. “I’m Lisa.”

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Y/N grabbed Zoe’s hand for reassurance.

“Take a deep breath honey, this is not the right time to have a breakdown, you’re stronger than this.”

“Why him? Why now? After all this time…” Y/N’s eyes darted again towards Robert, who was walking several steps ahead with Lisa still hanging from his arm.

“I don’t know, but perhaps you were meant to run into each other, it was just a matter of time.” Zoe gave her friend a sympathetic look. “It still affects you.”

Her friend’s statement made Y/N stop walking.

It did. It still hurt her definitely. But it was only because Robert had been the love of life.

That was the truth, plain and simple, over time she of course started dating another man, but as soon as she realized things were about to get serious or that he would take the next step she decided to end the relationship not wanting to get married to the wrong man.

She wasn’t scared of marriage, she hated the idea of waking up one day and feel disappointed of the choices she made, it didn’t make sense probably for most of the people, but she rather choose to be alone.

Of course she never expected to see Robert again, there were a lot of things left unsaid between them. And all of those years apart didn’t prepare her to face him once more.

She remained quiet on their way towards his vehicle, the internal turmoil taking over with each step she took. And there he was holding the door open for her, giving her the sad and traumatized puppy eyes a pet would use after being scolded.

“I’ll go in the back.” Announced Zoe climbing in while the driver took their luggage.

Lisa gave her friend a curious look. “Can I go in the front? I get car-sick.”

That left Y/N sharing the second row of seats with Robert.

Y/N shook her head slightly while she tried to control her heart drumming like crazy, all their memories flashing her back in time to when they were happy, when they first kissed, when they first made love and of course, when he broke her heart.

A heavy and uncomfortable silence filled inside the vehicle.

Y/N tried to focus her gaze in the sighting they were passing through the busy streets, the man in the bicycle, the three women at the café, the elderly couple with their dog, anything but the man sitting next to her that was subtly looking at her and clearing his throat. She could feel his eyes on her, boring into her soul.

“Where am I driving to Sir?” The driver asked, waiting for instructions.

Lisa gave him Y/N address, she had a small loft in the city and they’d be staying there for the book signing event.

A million thoughts crossed Robert’s mind, he wanted to apologize first. But after all those years? Y/N could hardly stand to be in the same car with him clearly. What could he say? How could he even even begin to justify what he did to her back then? There wasn’t a single valid reason for leaving her the way he did.

And for what? To get his father’s approval? To show the old man that he was worth to be his son?

He lost the best damn thing that could ever happen to him. He lost her over nothing.

But now he was willing to give everything for her.

When they arrived, Y/N thanked the driver, took her bags and mumbled a very lowly thanks to Robert through gritted teeth, then she excused to rush to use the ladies room, leaving Robert standing there in the middle not knowing what to do with a million words to say and a sincere apology trapped in his lips.

Zoe approached him quietly, she had known Y/N for over ten years and given her reaction to the odd encounter, despite all, she knew Y/N still cared about him.

“Can I ask you a question before anything else?”

Robert crossed his arms and gave her a nod.

“Are you single?” That was the most important thing to know first.

“Yes.”

Then, onto the next question. “Call me a witch if you want, I don’t know you… but I know her. Do you still have feelings or something? I know it got messy the last time you talked but...”

Robert allowed himself to let his guard down, the one he had built after losing Y/N. He never let another woman into his heart. His bed? Yes. But not his heart.

“I don’t think it matters, she can hardly stand to look at me for two seconds.” He saw the pain was still there in her eyes.

“She’s going to hate me for doing this but if I can help in any way it’s worth the risk…” Zoe assured him. “I’ve a book signing today at four o’clock, this is the address.” Noticing the confusion in Robert’s eyes, she added; “this isn’t my business but I know the two of you’ve an unfinished business.”

Robert stared at the flyer, wondering what was the right thing to do.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

“Oh it’s going to be hard, trust me.” Zoe then took her best friend side. “And if you hurt her again, I’m going to give you hell for ruining it twice.”

As the girls walked inside the apartment, Robert took his time to process everything, and taking his phone, he called his assistant to clear his schedule for the day, his mind couldn’t stop thinking of the series of events that just happened.

***

Robert took a look at his watch impatiently, then stared out the window of his vehicle and his eyes stopped at the women walking down the street. A grandma with what looked like her granddaughter, strolling with their arms linked, their eyes focused in the articles before their eyes and it made him think immediately of Y/N and her grandmother. How many times did he found them just like that, then they’d drive back into her grandmas house for lunch or dinner, the same with his grandmother.

When everything was simpler and happier. When they were together.

“Mr. Fischer, they are done signing the books.” His driver informed him.

Marcus didn’t ask him anything further, and without intention the man pressed him to make a choice. Walk in the book store and try to apologize to Y/N or drive away and leave behind a small possibility to get her back.

All damn day he kept thinking about her and what they had. How different his life would be if only he didn’t let her go that day.

But guilt was eating him alive, for the damage he caused her.

Did he deserve to be happy for once?

A bald man stepped out of the store, holding the door open and then he saw Zoe and Lisa walking out.

But when he saw Y/N hiding her beautiful eyes behind her sunglasses, he soon realized by just one look that he never stopped loving her.

“Y/N!” It was an impulsive move, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Wait…” he pleaded her, the three girls turned around to face him.

She gave him a confused look, not knowing what he was doing there or how he knew. Would the feeling of being incomplete without Robert would ever go away? Her heartbeat went crazy.

Knowing there was a possibility that Y/N could reject him, Robert cleared his throat and hid his hands inside his pockets. “I owe you a sincere apology, Y/N and I know it won’t take away what I did…” two pairs of curious eyes stared back at him. “I’m really sorry.”

Y/N stood there processing his words unsure of what to do or say. A million thoughts crossing her mind.

“If you want, we could talk? Privately.” He struggled to say the words, not because he didn’t mean it, because he was terrified of getting a negative answer. His next words came out as whisper whilst he looked down. “If you agree of course.”

Time slowed as Y/N took a deep breath, pondering on his words. Had she been waiting all her life for this moment? Was this the closure her heart needed?

She opened her mouth to explain him, she already had plans with her friends, but Zoe gave her a disapproving glance, reading her mind.

“I don’t know what will happen next,” Y/N said cautiously, “but I think a chat it’s a good start.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as she said those words, she felt free, relieved even for carrying the burden for so long. Whilst for Robert, this was the small light at the end of the tunnel.

They both knew it would take a lot of time to rebuild a relationship like they did. But at least this was the first step to try to get back the love they once had.

And without a doubt, he still loved Y/N.

Robert Master list

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[darlingsfandom]

Moodboard Masterlist: Cillian Murphy Edition 💋

Updated : 06/12/24

AU Cillian

Young Cillian & An Older Woman

Cowboy Cillian

Coquette younger reader

Christmas with Cillian

Lawyer Cillian

Priest Cillian

College Cillian

Popstar Reader

Cottagecore Cillian

Starstruck Photograpgher

90s Punk Cillian

90's/2000's Cillian

Royal Fantasy

Masquerade

Daddy Dom

Dangerous Woman

Tortured poet

Sugar Daddy Cillian Boards

Orange Edition

Pink Bimbo

Sugar Baby

Characters

Patrica "Saint Kitten"

Married to Kitten

Slumber Party

Being her girlfriend: Sexual

Inside of her house

Dom! kitten

Emma Skillpa

Housewife

Robert Fischer

Call Girl

Inside his house

Thomas Shelby

Being his whore

DILF

Girly Girl

Dr. Johnathan Crane

Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Inside of his house

Horror Film

Dangerous Woman

Criminal

Neil Lewis

Snow storm

Inside his house

Female Director

Jackson Rippner

Inside his house

Housewife

Dangerous Woman

Darren

Inside his house

Runts grungy little sister

Emmett

Stripper

Lenny Miller

Girl Next Door

Mike kiernan

Troubled student

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(16) - Epilogue

I Dreamed We'd Grow Old Together...

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Robert and Y/n's life over the next five years

word count - 2k

warnings - pregnancy, and an insane amount of fluff

a/n - and so it ends! This fic has been very important to me and has given me such a great outlet. I want to thank you all for your continued love and support for this fic! If it hadnt been for you guys I probably wouldnt have had enough confidence to continue it!

Please like/comment/reblog/follow!!!

a/n pt2 - Also seeing as I have fallen in love with this relationship I will be accepting questions and headcanons on their relationship!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

Questions and Headcanons on Robert x y/n - here

And so we came together. It felt like the culmination of a thousand dreams.

We went out on many dates. Robert would plan these luxurious and expensive expressions of affection: dinner at the fanciest restaurants, cinemas bought out for our private viewing experience. But we alternated who planned the dates, so when it came to my turn I went for the simplest. Walks on the beach, picnics in the park. One day I even found a crafting class for us, and I could’ve cried on the spot when I saw his eyes light up at the handmade windmills. Of course, he saw it as a happy coincidence when in reality I enjoyed feeling like I was healing his childhood self, one step at a time.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. We were out on a hike which I had chosen. He had grumbled about the idea of getting up early, but I could see the stress leave his body at the first gulp of forest air. I carried on ahead as he went to tie his shoe but when I turned back I gasped. Robert was down on one knee, holding a beautiful diamond ring.

“Y/n Cobb, I have loved you since that first moment I laid eyes on you, and I think even before that.” I walked closer to him so I could hold his other outstretched hand. Tears were streaming down my face and my smile was holding back an extremely loud yes. “I know how much you believe in dreams and so on. And last night I had a dream that we grew old together. When I woke up I knew it had to be my reality. Y/n Cobb, will you…”

I threw my arms around him.

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” I placed a loud kiss right on his lips.

“You could have at least let me finish!” He teasingly whined.

“Well I could see where you were going!” I argued back but was halted when he kissed me once more. We pulled away long enough so Robert could slide the ring onto my finger.

Safe to say, we did not finish the hike that day as we quickly went home to celebrate.

I had moved in with Robert before so we visited Dad and the kids for lunch the day after to give them the news. Dad had always been weary around Robert, not knowing if he would recognise him. But it was fine as, in my Dad’s words, ‘when Robert is around Y/n, it’s like the world doesn’t exist.’. Dad still couldn’t stop himself pulling Robert aside whilst Philippa was asking me a million questions about the wedding and if she could be a bridesmaid. All he did was roughly grab his hand and pulled him close and merely whispered

“She’s my precious girl. And I have a gun.”

Safe to say Robert was healthily shocked.

We got married weeks later as neither of us could wait. I told Robert I didn’t care about a big expensive wedding, but he couldn’t seem to accept that.

I got my wish for a small wedding in the garden of my childhood home, with just my closest friends. But everything else about it was still ridiculously posh. Right down to the flower arch we were married under.

James and Philippa were my brides’girl’ and brides’boy’. My father walked me down the makeshift aisle. Arthur and Eames were there as well as Yusuf and Ariadne. They were all worried about the risk of the inceptors being so close to the mark after the heist.

“There’s no telling what could trigger his memory.”

“Well, y/n spent the most time with him out of all of us and she’s marrying him.”

“We can’t all sleep with him!”

“ENOUGH!”

I then put a rule that there was to be no dream talk at my wedding. My father even gave his own little speech explaining that if anyone ruined my wedding, he would kill them. We all laughed but his continued silence quickly shut us all up.

Robert did not want any family there. And he also didn’t have friends he felt were close enough to warrant an invitation.

One night, whilst planning, I cautiously asked him about inviting his godfather. He tensed up and lowered his eyes. He brushed it off saying it would be too many people. I reluctantly agreed with him whilst looking at the sparsity of his side of the guests.

The wedding was beautiful, and we finished with dancing on the grass well into the early hours of the morning. I got my first dance with my father, a day I thought would never come. Philippa asked Robert to dance, and he graciously accepted, lifting her up onto his feet and they swayed alongside us.

The morning after we were curled up together in bed. My back leaned on his chest as he played with my fingers. The morning sun bleeding into my childhood bedroom.

“Where do you want to live?” His morning voice broke the quiet.

“I thought we were going to move into your house.” I tilted my head to look into his eyes which were trained on a picture of me, my dad and my mum.

“I don’t wanna go back. Being here, in this house, with all the love in it. I just don’t want to go back there.”

“Okay.” I leaned up and planted a soft kiss to his cheek.

“So if you could live in any house, anywhere in the world, where would you live?”

I snuggled myself back into his chest and closed my eyes as I imagined.

“Somewhere in the countryside, with a big sprawling garden that backs onto fields and forests with plenty of walks. The house should be cozy, with a big kitchen with an old fashioned stove that keeps us warm in winter. Wooden tables where I can cook and bake all day long till my hearts content. The house should have big windows so the sunlight can dictate our day. Small bedrooms but big comfy beds, fluffy rugs, open fires. And maybe even an extra room...with a cot.” I met his eyes for the last word.

“Yes.”

“To which bit?”

“To all of it.” We kissed passionately.

A few days later and Robert woke me up and told me we were going on a trip. We bundled into his car and drove for hours until we came to a stop outside a house that seeped with familiarity. I got out, transfixed by what stood before me. It was as real from my mind as if I had created it in my dream. Robert moved to unlock the little gate which led to the front door. He turned to me and held out a set of keys with a little windmill keychain.

“It needs a bit of work and I know I shouldn’t have bought it without showing you—”

“I love it.”

We didn’t need a honeymoon, the two weeks to ourselves spent decorating and filling the house with our love was enough. I drew designs for each room and Robert would do the heavy lifting. I could see how much he enjoyed working with his hands after dismantling his business a week into our relationship. I also was unable to help much as my hand found softly stroked a barely noticeable bump.

We relished in the days of decorating, where trying to paint a single wall would turn into silly games or dancing round to music, intermittent with many kisses and hugs.

Eventually we had built our home out of our house and we relaxed into our sofa, a bottle of red between us. We sealed the night with a kiss and it definitely didn’t end there.

Five Years Later

I stand at the sink washing our dishes from lunch and look out of the window onto our expansive garden. Robert runs about the grass, clad in soft jeans and a ratty knitted jumper. Our three darling children chase around him at varying speeds. Our eldest, Isla, holds her baby sister Aspen’s hand, and Nicholas, the youngest, toddles behind his sisters, excited to be involved.

Arthur runs up from behind and scoops Nicholas up into his arms through the giggling shrieks of the three. He bounces Nicholas up into the air. Isla and Aspen then run over and begin shouting up at their uncle for their turn.

I don’t hear Robert make his way into the house, I just feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist and soft kisses being ladened up and down my neck. I sink back into his body which is warm from the sun. His arms snake down and his hands lay on mine.

“Leave those now. I’ll do them later.” I agree by turning in his arms so we can meet in a proper kiss. His fingers grip my waist and stroke my sides.

Our moment is interrupted by a loud opening of the door. I roll my eyes at the familiar sound and break apart to greet Eames at the door.

“Right! Where are my darling godchildren?”

“I give you a good time to come round, and you insist on coming just before their tea and bath time.”

He laughs and knocks my chin with his knuckle.

“Motherhood suits you.” I bat his hand away and gesture out the door. “Make it quick.”

I turn back to a still laughing Robert who quickly stops once he sees my stern face.

“I’ll ask Eames if he wants to stay for tea with Arthur.” He goes to go back into the garden.

“What you thinking for tea?” I ask his retreating form.

“Chicken and potatoes?”

“Delicious.” He smiles and leaves.

I begin sorting through the mail which still sat on the side. I smiled once I reached a postcard from Dad. He’d taken the kids to Disneyland for a week and sent a picture of them with Goofy. I pinned it up on our cork board.

My peaceful moment is soon interrupted.

“Y/n! Tell Arthur that I’m the favourite uncle!”

“Y/n! Tell Eames that fun does not have to mean dangerous!”

“Mama, mama, Uncle Eames turned me upside down and span me around!”

“See! Dangerous!”

“Honey, where’s the disinfectant? Aspen scraped her knee.”

“Mummy it really hurts!”

“Mama! Uppies! Uppies!”

I picked Nicholas up into my arms and simply giggled, perfectly happy with my life.

It was now night. Arthur and Eames had left after insisting on reading the kids stories which meant they were roped into reading 3 stories per child. Nicholas had gone down first. Then Aspen and even though Isla had loved staying up with mummy and daddy, tiredness had overcome her quickly. So Robert carried her up and tucked her into bed.

We now lay in bed together, curled up. Simply relishing in the silence that was so foreign in our big house.

“Do you wanna know something strange?” He broke the silence. “That day we met, I had a dream about a girl who I fell in love with. I like to think it was you.”

I bit my lip to stop myself uncontrollably grinning.

“And since then, my dreams have been consumed by you and our little family.”

I tried to meet his eyes, but he was locked in thought and I knew I couldn’t interrupt his thoughtfulness.

“The moment I met you I realised that I wanted to create my own family rather than continue working for one that never loved me.”

I hugged him tighter as his voice shook slightly.

“Well, that’s good. Because your family is about to get a little bigger.” I took his hand and drifted it down until it landed on a subtle bump.

“Perfect.” He kissed my hairline as his hand stroked up and down my stomach.

The silence resumed and we both fell deeper into the stillness of the night. But as I drifted off one thought plagued my mind.

Perhaps the idea never actually took hold.

Perhaps it was me and him.

Us together, that changed his life.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Thank you so much for reading!!

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[omnihue]

me when the rainmaker is too close to the goal

[firemenenthusiast]

THE DILF! ROBERT FISCHER FICS DONE FOLKSSSS

just need to be beta’d for a bit and it should be up tomorrow. kinda excited for you guys to read it

hhiiihihihhiihii

[dingdangit]

Title: The King's Gambit

Pairing: Robert Fischer & Ariadne, Robert & the team

Rating: G

Words: 676

Summary: Robert is here to learn dreamsharing. The chess is something else entirely.

Notes: This is meta/headcanon that turned into a narrative fic the more I tinkered with it. I wrote it for my Inception Bingo 2023 card, the category "Outsider Perspective." All you have to do is imagine a whole fic that I wrote in my head that details Robert quitting his Fischer-Morrow life and, through a well-crafted set of circumstances and explanations, joins the dream team. Why? How? *hand wave*

Anyway, here's a totally self-indulgent, slapped-together fic about him having friends.

[that-one-gothic-murder-of-crows]

(Yes this is my post off insta)

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

TOEING THE LINE ─── robert fischer ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “Love him. Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” — ‘Giovanni’s Room’, James Baldwin.

pairing. robert fischer x secretary!reader

summary. being robert’s secretary means doing everything for him. everything.

warnings. swearing, oral sex (m), creampie, p in v, mention of handjob, sex as stress relief, intimacy issues, quickies, crying, fluff, SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 6.8k

a/n. honestly this is just downright filth. robert & reader’s relationship/the way they treat each other is also a little confusing so i apologize LOL

i. 

Being Robert’s secretary means doing everything for him: sending congratulatory gifts to his clients, picking up his drycleaning, answering his emails, and even booking his dentist appointments.

It means doing everything he asks, and everything you think he needs; he trusts your judgment, he said, because you know more about him than anyone in the entire world — even himself. 

It means doing everything for him. Everything.

Robert had heaved a large sigh as he sat down in the backseat of his car; undone his tie; ran a veiny hand through his gelled hair. From that much, you could tell he was stressed. You knew him like the back of your hand, and, after being his secretary for three years, you also knew what relieved him best.

Your lips are wrapped around his cock the moment he gets home. 

You were kneeling between his legs, hands curling around the base of his cock and stroking whatever you couldn’t fit - which wasn’t much, your throat having long since been trained to take his length all the way. 

Grunts and groans spilled out of his mouth above you, but you didn’t look at him; you never looked at him - he’d been adamant about that, when you first sucked him off. Robert never told you why, just that your gaze should never reach his; you thought it had something to do with his vulnerability, his parental issues rearing its ugly head in every part of his life, even his sexual one. 

Robert’s hands wrapped around your wispy locks, giving you a makeshift ponytail, and you flicked small licks on his tip before descending back down on him. His grip on your hair tightened, and as you curled your warm tongue along his shaft, he began to bob your head up and down on him, faster, harder, hard enough tears formed in your eyes. 

He was stressed, so he was rough. But you took it in stride: he was your boss, after all, paying you the big bucks for your service, be it actual secretarial duties or requests just a step away from prostitution. 

You gag, once or twice, on account of how brutally the head of his cock is bruising the back of your throat, and Robert slows down; stills like he’s nervous you’ll break, but you continue expertly, focussing on lapping up the beads of precome spilling from his slit. You breathed in and out shakily, ignoring the ache in your jaw. 

His hands then left your hair, instead fumbling for the armrests of the leather chair and squeezing down on them as his back arched and his head threw back: he was close.

When one of your hands left his length and reached down to fondle his balls, Robert let go, a stuttered moan leaving him, and he released his load straight down your throat. You felt it spurt and coat your mouth, wet and thick. The only thing left in the room was your breathing, his high and tinny, yours haggard and desperate for oxygen. 

After a moment, you got up, noting how tight your legs felt while wiping a drop of come from the side of your mouth with your thumb. “Rest up, Mr. Fischer,” you insisted gently, resuming immediate professionalism, “you have a nine-o-clock with the head of Proclus Global tomorrow.”

Between breaths, Robert finally looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, buttoning his dress pants back up. “Saito?” he wondered aloud. 

You nodded silently in response. It was certainly odd to inform Robert about his schedule and meetings like you didn’t just have his hard cock in your mouth, but after three years it became part of the job. You reckon you could ride him and still arrange his doctors appointments by phone. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Fischer.” You addressed him with that title, ‘Mr. Fischer’, to keep a distance. Despite what you often did for him, you still considered yourself just his subordinate; just his secretary. 

You then turned, kitten heels clacking quietly on his hardwood floor, primly and properly leaving his condo with the taste of his salty come still imprinted on your tongue. 

ii. 

By eight am sharp, you’ve returned to his condo. Robert would need a little more than what he got last night, especially since he’d be meeting Saito, like you said. 

You mapped out his habits and what he was like a long, long time ago. He’s got a higher-than-average sex drive, but no time to be in a relationship with anyone — thus, your duties. Blowjobs after a long day and a quickie at least five times a week are a must, and never, ever, kiss him. 

Robert’s… well, a slight sex addict, having to regularly fuck or get pleasured just to keep sane, but intimacy’s got him hiding under the covers like he’s just seen a ghost. You, on the other hand, can’t discern the difference between if you have sex and kiss or just have sex - it's both sex. 

It’s just a thing that needs to be done in the end, and in Robert’s case, it’s like eating or sleeping: he needs it to live, so he gets it and lives. Simple as that. There are no feelings between you two, and it’s been that way for as long as you’ve been his secretary. 

You entered Robert’s condo easily, having a key and all, where you then found him pacing in his large walk-in closet, fiddling with his rings. 

You knocked lightly on the wall to alert him, stepping in when he noticed you and visibly relaxed. “Good morning, Mr. Fischer.” you stated, setting his drycleaning down on one of the velvet settee benches in the middle of the room. 

“Morning,” Robert said absently. Without warning nor another word, he stepped closer to you, hands immediately pressing into your waist. His palms were sweaty, a feverish need radiating off him as he kneaded at you, pressing you against one of the many closet doors. 

He was nervous, no doubt the result of the impending meeting with Saito, which equated a frenzied mood sexually. So, you wasted no time, quickly unbuckling his trousers and unzipping his fly, letting your stockings pool at your ankles, hiking your skirt up to your hips. 

Robert’s hands grasped at your soft thighs, lifting a leg around him as one of your hands slipped down the waistband of his underwear, pulling his cock out. You pumped his length slowly, before spitting into your other hand, pushing your panties to the side and coating your cunt in the slick. You decorated your lips with the wetness, then carefully lined up his thick head with your entrance. 

You bit your lip, wincing as he pushed in; no matter how many times you’d fucked — which was plenty — you always felt that stinging stretch when he first entered you. 

From then on, Robert focussed solely on his own pleasure; on ridding himself of that anxious need, trying to fuck his insecure feelings deep into your cunt prior to seeing Saito. He grunted, a string of breathless curses leaving his mouth with every harsh thrust, just snapping his hips against yours repeatedly and chasing his high. 

Your face was pressed flat against the shoulder of his cashmere suit jacket, and you shut your eyes, letting Robert use you - use your hole, specifically. You’d asked him once why he didn’t just masturbate or use a sextoy, and he told you that nothing beats a hot, wet cunt. 

It didn’t matter to him what the girl looked like or what she cost, as long as her pussy felt good. That’s how he hired you: you’d spent an entire month by his side, and before returning to America from his vacation in Sydney, he confessed he’d never taken a cunt as delicious as yours. He didn’t have time to date, but he did have time for a secretary. 

That was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him, pleading for you to work under him, just so he could feel your plush pussy clenching around his cock once more. You’d never been a secretary before, but he promised you’d be taught, that the pay would be good, and that once he got married you could be whatever you wanted in the company - as long as, while you were still his secretary, you’d fuck him when he asked.

“Fuck,” Robert growled out near your ear, pounding mercilessly into your sopping cunt. Despite the selfishness of this quickie, him paying absolutely no mind to you, you couldn’t help how your mouth went ajar and your hips rutted into his. 

Robert had the best dick you’d ever fucking felt, average length but girthy, stretching you wide open. That first time you’d fucked, the one night stand, he kept telling you how tight your cunt was around his thick cock, and the next time after that, he remarked how you were just as tight as before. He was impressed, it seemed, how after each round of splitting you open with his dick, you always seemed to tighten back up.

You bit your lip, fighting back any moans from leaving your mouth, and focussed on gripping your arms around Robert’s neck. You noted how one of his hands dug into you soft thighs, pulling you toward him and sliding in and out of you desperately, like he’d never fuck again, while his other hand came up to the crown of your head, petting you softly. 

Though your mind was foggy with pleasure, you knew it was an out-of-character gesture: being gentle with you, acknowledging your presence rather than just your cunt. Robert wasn’t a romantic man - you didn’t think he knew how to romance someone, especially since his parents' marriage certainly wasn’t winning any awards for perfection.

So, just doing that had the gears in your mind turning. You’d fucked him for three years straight, and not for a moment did he ever do something like that. 

But then, as you were building toward an orgasm, that familiar pull in your stomach sending heat over your body, begging to go faster, Robert came, jetting his creamy load deep within you — and you forgot all about his odd actions. 

“Feel s’good,” he mumbled, fucking you still. You were unsure whether he meant his high or your cunt, but nonetheless, he came down from his orgasm by shoving his come deeper in your cunt with his length. 

Then, “What - time is it?” he said breathlessly, quickly pulling his softening cock out of your pussy and turning away so as not to face you. 

You blinked rapidly, leaning against the wall and trying to regain your composure, ignoring the grief swelling in your insides at the incompletion of your orgasm. “8– 8:10, sir.” 

Robert hummed in acknowledgment, still not looking at you as he redressed himself. You took in your boss’s form, how quickly his attitude changed from desperate to stone cold after sex; after receiving what he needed, like a fucking transaction, and you suddenly felt shameful: this here was one of the most powerful men in the world, owner of Fischer Morrow, and there you were, his secretary and fucktoy he could replace at any time. 

You weren’t special - you weren’t anything, especially not to him. If - no, when, he meets someone who pleasures him better, you’re out of a job. He said he’d help you when he got married, but you don’t think that’s happening anytime soon… and you know Robert: he’ll get tired of you, like the spoiled little kid he probably was, and will just find some other toy to play with. 

“I’ll be waiting in the lobby, Mr. Fischer.” you informed him numbly after pulling up your panties and stockings, shakily stepping out of the walk-in closet. It wasn’t often you felt like this - this being pathetic and used, because on the surface, this job was perfection. Good pay, good reputation, a boss who fucks you - and fucks you good. 

Sure, you could probably count on one hand how many times he made you come in these past three years, but it still felt nice, even if he never drove you past the edge. But, these days… you started wondering if this was the rest of your life. 

You couldn’t get a boyfriend, no, not without lying to him about what you did for a living, and there was still that uncertainty in the stability of this job. Robert had deep parental and intimacy issues - as stated by his therapist, in which, after eight weeks of seeing him Robert left in a fitful, teary, suffocating rage - and, beneath his cold exterior, was a hotpot of bubbling emotions he never deigned to reveal until he was seconds away from blowing up. 

In short: Robert was the most moody, unpredictable person you’d ever met, and working under him was like balancing on a tightrope. Because he never said what irritated him, always emotionlessly telling you to stop if he preferred you didn’t do something, you could never tell what was actually pushing all the wrong buttons. 

Before waiting in his condo’s front lobby like you said, you ducked into one of his many bathrooms and wiped the warm come dripping down your leg, flushing as you saw the ruined state of your panties and stockings: his white load had smeared all over the fabric, and, while you could get most of it off your dark stockings, it stayed on your underwear. 

You had to wear his come on your panties for the entire day, and in a way, it felt like Robert owned you. 

That’s why… you had decided to quit. You wrote your two weeks three months ago and have been holding onto it ever since — because you didn’t know how to tell him you wanted to quit, especially since your heart didn’t want to. 

Your head knew you were meant for more than secretarial duties and a quick fuck, but your heart ached for the lonely being that was Robert Fischer. That young CEO whose grievous relationship with his father was aired out in the newspaper, the man who went through succeeding the company as well as any young person could: fumbling, being crushed by the weight of his late father’s suffocating legacy, and the boy who didn’t know why he could never get his fathers love or approval. 

The heart wants what it wants, but the head knows best. You resolved to hand him your resignation by the end of the day, listening to your head, and got ready to leave this part of your life behind; to leave Robert Fischer behind. 

iii.

“What's this?” Robert asked in his office without looking up at you, gaze still trained on the papers he was signing. You had entered his office to deliver his mail and ask questions about various appointments - when best to schedule that lunch with his godfather, that kind of stuff. 

And… to hand him your 2-weeks. 

“It’s my 2-weeks, Mr. Fischer.” 

“…What?” Robert set his weighted fountain pen down, looking up in disbelief.

“I’m resigning, sir.” You said gingerly, gaze trailing away from his own, ignoring how his expression went from neutral to crestfallen.

“I pay you well enough, I’m sure?” He said, sounding frantic and not doing the best job of hiding it with the shaky smile on his face. 

“It’s not - about the pay. I’m just… I’m ready to do other things.” 

There it was: you didn’t want to wait until he got tired of you and kicked you to the curb. This job was fucking comfortable, and that unnerved you. Working diligently, fucking him diligently, saving up money your younger self would’ve never thought could ever come your way - it was comfortable and you were used to it, but you just… couldn’t take it anymore. 

You weren’t going anywhere like this. Not with Robert, not with your life, not with yourself. When you first took this job, you wanted to help him. Call it naive pity, but you thought the terribly mournful Robert Fischer could be fixed by getting fucked. God, your younger self had been out of her mind. 

So, here you were, three years later and resigning from one of the wealthiest men in the world, heart begging you not to, head wanting to leave immediately. 

Robert sighed, but nodded slightly. “Okay. Okay. I’ll send you your wages as soon as possible, and I can write a recommendation for your next—“

“There’s no need, Mr. Fischer,” you protested quietly. “My duties here weren’t exactly… just secretarial.”

Robert blanched, but agreed quietly. As you were about to leave, he spoke up. “Are you… free tonight?”

You tilted your head slightly, processing the topic change. “I have no plans for the evening, if that’s what you’re asking. I can come over after work—“

“No— no, not…” Robert grimaced, pressing two fingers between his eyes. “Proclus Global’s holding a charity gala. Tonight. Come with me; it’ll be your last event as my secretary.”

Your face warmed at your previous assumption he just wanted to fuck. “…Certainly, Mr. Fischer. There’s no need to ask, I’m obligated to agree.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to ruin any plans you have.” Robert’s lips pressed into a thin white line at your words. “If it - you don’t—“ He sighed, unable to say what he wanted properly, “You don’t have to say yes to everything I ask of you.”

“Work takes precedent, sir. You’re my boss - it’s only natural I follow orders.”

Then: “If that’s all,” you said, before promptly exiting his office, turning away and ignoring how crestfallen he looked. 

It was normal for you to accompany him to various events, seeing as he was single, and you were his hot, young secretary — and it was an expected duty of yours after the first time you went with him. 

You couldn’t figure out why his behavior had suddenly changed, why he’d become considerate— but perhaps it was because you were quitting. Although Robert’s emotional state was generally unpredictable, you supposed the professional part of him wanted to send you off nicely; have these last two weeks of yours not be soured. 

Anyway, it seemed inviting Robert to the gala was what Saito was here for - and, presumably, to add some pressure onto Robert, since their companies were rivals. Robert was always… bothered, you could say, prior to seeing Saito. 

The man made it a habit, consciously or unconsciously, to set Robert off, either by not-so-innocently referencing the late Maurice Fischer in their conversations, or by down right comparing Robert to him. It certainly wasn’t motivated by a personal grudge, no, Saito just wanted to see Fischer Morrow suffer, and for Proclus Global to rise. It was business politics, something you couldn’t - and didn’t want to - wrap your head around. 

The only thing you had in mind now was if you’d dressed up well enough: you had a small collection of gowns that you’d gathered over the years attending events with Robert, but every time, he gave you his card and told you to pick out something nice. You guessed that he was the kind of man who preferred to always show up in something new, something better — and that translated to whoever was perched on his arm.

That, being you, who’d bought a black satin and lace dress with a slit on the left thigh. You knew what Robert usually wore to these occasions, so you dressed accordingly - and it was an accurate foretelling, to say the least. When you’d entered Robert’s condo, he was standing in the lobby, strapping a Tudor onto his left wrist. He was head to toe in black satin, just as you were, hair neatly coiffed against his forehead. 

Your heels clacked loudly on the lobby tile, and he noticed your presence. “Black satin,” he scanned you up and down, “good.”

“Of course, Mr. Fischer.” You said politely, taking his arm when he lifted it up. The two of you headed to the car, and you didn’t miss how Robert opened the door for you first, like you really were his date for that night. 

His behavior throughout that entire day had been downright weird, and even more so now, because if you really pressed Robert, he’d tell you you were just a piece of eye candy for his clients to ogle over, so they’d lower their guards; get distracted and forget to pry him for information regarding the company. 

When you got to the event — which was taking place in a grand banquet hall in one of the many buildings Saito and his wife owned — a flock of people amassed, all greeting Robert and not-so-subtly alluding for him to head over to their table and discuss business matters. 

There were also various clients and colleagues of Robert’s who’d come over to catch up with the young CEO, and many of them commented, as usual, about the plus-one by his side. 

“And who’s this beautiful young lady?” One of the older men asked, raking his gaze all over you. It was clear as day: all of the men there were undressing you with their eyes. 

You didn’t shy away, however, instead smiling thinly. “I’m Mr. Fischer’s secretary,” you told the group, tilting your head slightly and baring your canines. They could stare at you all they liked, but you weren’t interested in letting them know much more about you than your position. 

It didn’t matter, anyway - finding out you were just his secretary made them see you differently. In whispered tones, they’d tell Robert they’d give anything to see you squirming beneath them, and he’d laugh a hollow laugh that didn’t reach his eyes and certainly didn’t come from the heart. To keep up appearances, buttering up his clients and letting them believe he was an easygoing guy, Robert would agree good-naturedly, but not without looking abashed, like he was too professional to actually ever breach that line. 

Like his hand hadn’t disappeared from your arm, trailing across your backside and groping the soft fat of your ass, digging into you. Like you hadn’t stroked his cock in the car, gently pumping him with your spit-slicked hand.  

You then broke away from Robert and the large group of businessmen to chase after a waiter who was holding a tray of champagne. In doing so you found out that Saito’s wife was, really, the main host of this charity ball when she, and several other women and wives of said business men, crowded around you, not unlike their husbands did to Robert. 

You greeted them kindly, blandly replying to their invasive questions: no, I’m just Mr. Fischer’s secretary, no, he is not accepting marriage proposals, sure, I can set up a meeting between you and one of our energy advisors if you give Fischer Morrow a call tomorrow. 

You let them talk circles over themselves, silently nodding, for Robert always reminded you to speak as little as possible. It would do no good for them to assume you and Robert were together —  they’d tear you apart. 

When the conversation drew its focus away from you entirely, you skittered away to find the waiter from earlier. An hour or two had passed since you’d arrived at the gala, and you indulged, letting yourself down a couple more glasses of that addictive drink. You were just about to grab one more, when you conveniently reunited with your boss and date for the night. 

Robert looked peeved, perhaps something to do with how boisterously Saito was laughing across the hall, and in a moment of quick thinking, you pulled him closer to you. “Mr. Fischer,” you whispered, voice tranquil, “if all has been accomplished for the night, I suggest we take our leave.”

He looked up at you, oddly, like he was seeing you for the first time. “Yes,” he agreed quietly, “yes… you’re quite right.” 

Without any goodbyes, the two of you swiftly hooked arms once more, and exited the building. The cool night air bristled around you, nipping at your skin, and Robert’s hands dropped from your arm, instead slipping into your own and keeping you close to him. 

At the car, he opened the door for you again, helping you in gently, before sliding in on the opposite side. When you turned to face him, he absently brushed something out of your hair with his long, nimble fingers. “Dust,” he said simply, peering deep into your eyes. 

You stared back at him, but your thoughts were elsewhere. He’d never toed the line like this before; 

he’d never looked you in the eyes so much, held your hand, plucked something out of your hair or pet you or held you so close — out of the context of sex —  that you could smell his cologne. He had never been so compassionate, so romantic, like this relationship of yours was organic and authentic, not transactional and emotionless. 

The car ride back to his condo was quiet. His hand did not find yours again, not even to hungrily snake up your thigh and under your skirt — Robert was frozen, staring out the window and nowhere at all meeting your gaze. 

Finally, when you got back to his place, you trailed after him — he trusted you to do what he asked and to do what you thought he needed, and that look of vexation he’d had before leaving only meant one thing to you: he was bothered, and a bothered boss does not mean good business. 

When you’d both entered his bedroom, Robert stopped, and turned to face you. His hands found yours, tenderly slipping his fingers into your own and pulling you close to him, and you backtracked. 

“Mr. Fischer?” You murmured, feeling how his rough skin brushed against you. “What are you… doing?” you questioned, your mind filled to the brim with the same question: what was Robert feeling right now? About you? For you?

He called your name out softly, like it was the only word he knew, shining blue eyes examining you intensely and flicking down to your lips every so often. “Don’t quit. I - I… need you.” 

Your brows knitted - so it was about your resignation. “Mr. Fischer, you don’t need me, you… you need sex, you need someone to - to fuck you—“ You protested, wrenching yourself away from his grip.

“No! No. I don’t need you like that. I need you, not - not your fucking cunt, I - can’t live without you.” Robert’s hands pulled you back to him, holding you close like you’d crumble into ash if he didn’t. 

Then, he kissed you, soft lips benevolently pressing into your own, long and deep like he was trying to melt into your touch. He was slow and chaste but there was a hint of desperation in his saliva, like he wanted to consume you, and you him. 

You pulled back, alarmed, your chests rising and falling in sync. Robert had kissed you; he had crossed the line he vehemently set, the line he commanded be kept in place. You blinked, mouth opening and closing, unable to form words. 

“Robert,” You said at last. Robert, not Mr. Fischer. Not Mr. Fischer, not now, not with how quickly his face had fallen from feverish to devastated. “you don’t think you love me, do you?”

Robert’s brows furrowed. “Think?” He repeated incredulously. “Do I think I love you— god, I… I do love you. I don’t think I love you, I know I’m in love with you.”

You looked at him dolefully, willing your heart not to beat out of your chest. “But why? I am certain you can’t answer that, Robert, because you don’t love me, you are - are merely feeling abandoned—“

“I love you because you know more about me than anyone in the entire world—“

“That is my job, Robert—“

“No, it’s not, and you fucking know it. You did more than I’ve ever asked of you: you know me, Robert, not Mr. Fischer, CEO of Fischer Morrow. You know me.” His finger dug into his chest, enunciating each point, and you couldn’t help the way his words swayed you - consciously or not. 

In your silence, Robert continued. “And - and, I adore the way you think, how you laugh and how you see the world, how - how you understand people, people who’ve never had someone take the time to ever fucking do that. How you care. So - so… stay. Stay by my side.”

In the kiss, you two had found yourselves perched on his bed, and he looked at you, lips bitten between his teeth nervously. “Please,” he murmured, hand coming up to your cheek and meekly tracing shapes on your skin.

“…I can’t do this. Not with you. Robert, you - you don’t fuck a woman you say you love then pretend you didn’t.” You replied, shying away from his touch like he’d burnt you. 

“I - I didn’t want to push that on you, not when - when we were…” he trailed off, hands leaving you and instead scrubbing his grimacing face. 

“What, when I was your personal prostitute?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he said weakly, but didn’t protest. “I just… I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was just another part of the job.”

“Is it not?” You questioned, watching his expression change and flit through several emotions. “You’re telling me you love me, and you’re asking me to keep being your secretary. Robert, is this not just part of my job?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he pleaded. “It - you, can be more than that. You are the woman I worship and adore and - and will listen to, no matter what. So don’t leave.”

The words “me behind” did not come out of his mouth, but you felt it, like he etched it on your heart. Your eyes searched his own for even a semblance of fallacy — but it was so terribly real, truthful, that you felt a lump in the back of your throat form. 

You pressed your forehead to his own, trying to digest this information: the reveal of his feelings… and the remembrance of your own. 

His idealistic talk, his professions of love, his raw, long-suffering pleading made you remember the deep seated, stirring warmth in your heart that you’d beat to death all those years ago. 

You remembered the fondness you’d felt for a melancholy man back in Sydney, the man with the demure demeanor, the charming words; the man who you spent a month with, the man who took you on sweet dates, who wormed his way into your life like he belonged there; the man who fucked you slowly and graciously and cherishingly; the man who, at the end, had to go back to America, to the life he never talked about; the man who you wanted to explore a forever relationship with, but had offered you a job instead. 

“You love me?” you asked, vulnerability apparent in your tone. 

“More than anything in the entire world.”

“Then kiss me.” 

And Robert did, his hands sliding down your back to your waist, bringing you closed to him. This kiss was passionate, but patient and sheepish like you’d never kissed one another before. It was a sweet dance, all tongue and no teeth; curling around each other tenderly, desperately, like there was never going to be enough time in the world to express how you felt about each other, because you felt so infinitely. 

Your fingers carded through his hair, tugging lightly on his feather-soft locks, and his movements grew eager, gripping your thighs and pulling you onto his lap. “I’ve never wanted anything so badly as I did you,” he mumbled against your neck, pressing hungry kisses on the delicate skin. 

“I dreamed of this, in Sydney,” you told him, slipping off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt and dress pants, “I dreamed of forever together.”

He shrugged off the many articles of clothing, then began unzipping the back of your dress without looking, “I dream of us and forever without an end: you are my ever-present thought.” 

You paused your movements, looking at him squarely - though not without allowing your dress to fall off your shoulders - and pulling him into another kiss. “How could I ever have been content with just fucking you,” you murmured, more to yourself than him, “when these are the things you say to me?”

Finally, the two of you were reverently tossing and turning on the bed, completely naked and completely feverish, not just in lust, but in dizzying adoration and love for the other. Then, he was on top of you, holding himself up by the arms. His leg slotted between your thighs, your soaking wetness practically dripping onto him, and he could’ve fallen apart right then and there if not for your arm digging into his left bicep kept him grounded in reality.

His hard cock rested against your thigh, and after a moment longer of watching eachother intently, memorizing each and every feature you both had, he spread your legs wide and pressed his fat tip plush against your clit, introducing himself slowly. 

“Is this okay?” Robert asked, biting his lip and reveling in how good you took him, even if it was just the head. 

You looked at him blearily, barely registering his question, mind already losing itself to the pleasure he was inflicting on your cunt; how, the slower he was with you, the easier it was to completely succumb. 

“Yes, fuck,” you ground out, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking him in, his groans growing louder as he pushed the rest of his length in. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you blurted simultaneously to his various noises of pleasure, your fingernails digging deep crescent moon shapes into his back. 

“Best cunt I ever fucking had,” he grunted, hands gripping the sheets beside your head for dear life. He stilled for a few moments, letting you get used to his whole length in you — yes, when he’d fucked you all those times before, he was so desperate to come he hadn’t bottomed out his entire length in you, which… had already filled you to the brim. 

“M’gonna,” he shuddered, feeling your walls bear down on him suddenly, “gonna move now.” 

You nodded breathlessly, arching into his touch as he set a steady pace. He would drive into you slowly, teasingly, almost torturously, before suddenly pulling out, then thrusting into you regularly for a few moments, and finally starting all over again. It would’ve made you mad, if not for how sweetly he was handling you: his hand stroking your forehead shyly, gaze flitting over you like you were the only thing left in the entire world. 

Robert leaned down to your bare tits, brushing his wet tongue over your nipples, which had grown sensitive and erect. At his touch, you let out a small squeak, “Oh, Robert,” you keened, rutting your hips up into his own on instinct.

You could feel him smile against your skin, and then, he slipped one of your nipples into his warm mouth, suckling loudly and making you tremble. His tongue devouring your tits, his hips snapping into you, his hands caressing you gently; fuck, you realized, it was all too much, but still just enough. 

The way Robert fucked you was absolute perfection, the way he ravished and pleasured your body was heavenly; divine. Sweet moans left your mouth as Robert’s pace grew more frenzied, your sticky cunt making a sick squelching noise whenever he pulled out. You were like a fucking suction; even your pussy knew how delicious Robert’s veiny cock was, and held onto him desperately. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Robert sighed, pressing his face into the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent. “Your are the only one for me— fuck— its you, and only you.”

Though your thoughts were growing foggier, only focussing on feeling pleasure, you still had it in you to beam at his words, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him into a close embrace.

“Faster, please, god, I adore you,” you said after letting go, a string of words barely coherent. Still, you thought that even if you’d not said anything at all, Robert would have understood, for he began sliding his cock in and out of you rapidly. His hands found themselves at your hips, and he began pushing you up into him as he slammed down into your cunt. 

His thrusts drew breathy moans from your lips, and you could tell how swiftly it affected him, knowing his cock made you shudder and whine like that, writhing beneath him, because he commanded gently for you to: “Look at me,” he said, and you obliged, taking in those sweet, wet blue eyes, lashes fluttering as he blinked. He wanted to look at you, and he wanted you to look at him. 

“I’m looking,” you responded, barely able to speak. 

“Good,” he said breathily, “I wanna know what you look like when you come.” Then, his cock began pounding into you, not cautiously and delicately, like he had been earlier, but insatiably, unable to think of much else but making the woman he loves orgasm. You could count on one hand how many times Robert made you come, but it seemed that’d be the only thing he’d be thinking about for the foreseeable future: devoting his time to making the odds even. 

His words made your insides twist, the knot in your abdomen growing larger; it turned you on much more than you thought it would, for the notion of him coming in you because he wanted to, because he wanted to fill you with his seed and mark you as his, not just because he wanted to release and didn’t have time to clean it up elsewhere. Suddenly, you found yourself knowing the difference between sex with kissing, and just sex.

You hadn’t realized how close you were, steadily building toward an orgasm when your brain has turned off thinking and let you melt completely into the ecstacy, and only really comprehended it when Robert mumbled, “Jesus, you’re so wet, taking me so well,” and his praise sent you off the deep end.

Honestly, you couldn’t describe how it felt. You could, however, do so in comparison to your previous orgasms with Robert. Usually, it would feel good, but like it ended too fast. You’d conveniently orgasm when Robert came in you, and he’d drive out his high in your cunt, then pull out immediately. If you’d had your way, you’d keep him thrusting until you couldn’t take it anymore, wanting to drag out your blissful orgasm as long as possible.

That’s what happened here. The heat that encompassed your body was unfamiliar, but damn well fucking delectable, making your body buck up uncontrollably into his cock. You were high on the pleasure, drunk on his length, and he knew this, still gliding in and out of you. Your climax was like entering a deep pool: it took you over completely, and was a little hard to come out of. 

“S’good,” Robert mumbled, not unlike he did earlier that day, but you knew it was different. “Your face look s’fucking gorgeous,” he commented, mind growing fuzzy as he saw your expression change throughout your high. 

Your hands found themselves back in his hair, and you tugged him slightly so you could whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Robert,” you spoke warmly, though still panting, “for loving me. For letting me love you.”

You swore you saw light tears well in his eyes, but you couldn’t be sure, because he cocked his head back, neck clenching and his mouth falling open as he released his cream deep into your cunt, flush against your cervix. He let out a low moan as he climaxed, thrusts still coming but considerably slower. It felt like he’d been coming forever when his arms gave out and he finally went limp, falling down beside you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” is what he said first, peering up at you and brushing an eyelash off your cheek. “I’d have loved you no matter what you did.”

Now you felt the waterworks coming. How was it, that through such a strained relationship and broken examples of intimacy, did Robert know how to be so sweet? Or was that just him, just how his thoughts came to him; was it just his instinct and nature that made him so darling?

Weakly, you slip your arms under his, combining the two of you in a sweaty embrace. The room smelt like come and sex, the lights impossibly bright and beaming down on the two of you uncomfortably, but you could deal with it— and everything, so long as you were with Robert. 

“If only I knew sooner how cheesy you were, Mr. Fischer.”

“Well, you’ll have the rest of your life to keep finding out… Mrs. Fischer.”

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Sleepless Nights

Thomas Shelby x Pregnant Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas cares for his wife.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings:

soft Thomas!, kissing, soft talk, lovely husband things.

Thomas prowls the grand corridors of Arrow House with a mixture of determination and unease. The mansion is a labyrinth of opulence, each corner dripping with the wealth he’s fought tooth and nail to secure. Yet, tonight, none of that matters. His mind is solely focused on one thing—finding his pregnant wife.

The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomas’s polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.

As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomas’s eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.

Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. She’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. She’s wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.

“Love,” Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. “Y’alright there?” His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. “Tommy,” she replies, a small smile curving her lips. “Just needed a moment. The baby’s been restless tonight.”

Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. It’s a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “Worried me, y’know.”

She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.”

Thomas’s eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. “Y’should rest more, love. Don’t want you overexertin’ y’self.” His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.

She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much to do. So much to prepare for.”

Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle everythin’. You just focus on our little one, yeah?”

He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Tommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.”

Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."

He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."

He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."

She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.

His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’ve got to know,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, “I’d do anything for you. Anythin’ to keep you safe.” His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.

Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.

His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.

Thomas’s worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different – the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.

The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house – warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.

A soft chuckle escaped Thomas’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.

She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.

He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"

She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."

Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle."

He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Don’t try to be too strong on your own."

She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."

They both stood there looking at each other.

"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."

He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. I’ve got a meeting later, but I’ll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."

She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "I’d like that."

Author’s Notes:

Credit for the smol sparkle divider: CafeKitsune

[sl-newsie]

Um… yeah

[look-at-the-soul]

Trick or treat 👻

Robert Fischer x reader (blurb)

Summary: Robert meets the cutest little bad b*tch witch

“Okay what do we say when they open the door?” You looked down at the small witch holding your hand.

“Good evening, trick or treat?” Your daughter answered in a singy-song tone.

“Now go and knock on that door.” You encouraged her.

Piper, your yorkie flanquead by her side wearing a pumpkin harness with matching leash.

“Oh! Grab your cauldron.” You stammered nervous, this was her first time trick or treat in the city after moving out from your parents house and Alix had been excited since the beginning of October for this moment.

After a one night stand with the wrong person, you got the biggest blessing of your life, and your parents were over the moon with their only granddaughter, they were already considering moving closer just to see you and her more often.

As she was about to knock again you decided to try on another apartment, perhaps no one was inside.

“How can I help you?” A male voice asked from behind.

Turning around your jaw almost dropped to the ground at the man in front of you; he was wearing an immaculate blue suit wit hug a purple tie. A briefcase hanging from his hand.

“Good evening! I’m Alix… trick or treat?” Your daughter announced ceremoniously.

The man took in from her, to the tiny dog wagging her tail in excitement and then to you, ever so slowly until his blue eyes met yours.

“Sorry we don’t wanna disturb you.” You added, moving the hair back from your face.

“Not at all,” he smiled and then looking at your daughter he asked; “are you a good witch?”

“I’m a bad bitch.” Alix answered at the top of her lungs.

He laughed really loud while you shook your head embarrassed.

“Alix…”

“I want to be a bad bitch!” She repeated.

Once he stopped laughing, he wiped the corner of his eyes, he opened the door to his apartment. “Want to come inside? I think I’ve something.” But then he realized of one small detail. “I’m Robert by the way.” He extended his hand towards you.

“Y/N the bad witch’s mom… sorry about that.” You blushed.

“Don’t worry I got it,” he laughed again, your daughter entered the apartment before you had time to react. “After you.”

“Do you’ve chocolate?” Alix asked him, struggling with her hat.

“Alix.” You warned her but Robert seemed to be smitten by her.

“As a matter of fact I do.”

“What’s a matter?”

Mentally you groaned.

“It’s hmm when you’re sure.” Then he looked at your left hand, holding the yorkie up. “How’s the candy hunting going?”

“This is the first door we knock. We don’t know anyone here, still unpacking things, we live two floors up.”

“I don’t know anyone to be honest.” Robert admitted from the pantry.

“You don’t have to, really.”

“I know I’ve chocolate somewhere…” he trialed off. “So what brought you here?”

“My work I got a great offer at a firm and it was best for my daughter and me.” You pointed out empathizing it was just the two of you.

“Lawyer interesting,” he nodded. “Do you like it here Alix?”

“Yesh!” She twirled making her skirt float.

“So you could get me out of trouble then?” He opened a couple of cabinets.

“Depends of what kind of trouble you get in.”

Robert gave you a double look with a smirk.

“What?” You asked shyly suddenly.

“You sounded just like her, she gets it from her mama.” Robert replied taking off the jacket of his suit and folding the sleeves of his shirt. A moment later he shouted excited. “Here!”

Alix stormed towards the pantry before you could stop her, following her you were shocked to see it was the size of three kitchens like yours.

“Look mommy!” She emerged with a box wrapped in a fancy bow, you knew the brand, those were bloody expensive.

“We can’t accept that.”

Robert gave you a confused look while your daughter frowned.

“Of course you can.” He nodded and looked at the little witch struggling with the box. “There’s white chocolate, burnt caramel, dark truffles…”

“Robert.”

“Mommy pwweeease.”

“How can you have the heart to say no to that face?” He pushed with a huge grin.

“Fine, but you only get one.”

“Can we go now? I want more candies!”

Robert was biting his lower lip as he pondered into the idea that got in his mind.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful but I was thinking why don’t you continue the trick or treat route in the building then come back here, there’ll be a hot dinner waiting with a glass of wine if you want of course.” He offered.

Your eyes sparkled. “Do you’ve Rosé?”

“Whatever you want.” He rested one of hands on his hips, a rebel curl messed onto his forehead.

“I’ll bring tiramisu as dessert.”

“Right then, don’t let her get a sugar comma.” He winked. “See you in a bit bad witch.”

****

A/N I just had to write this really quick! 🥰🤭 make sure to look at the link 👇🏻 thank you for reading! xx

Video inspiration: bad bitch 🤭😂🤣

Master list

Blurbs

Tag list @lyarr24 @ttzamara @gretelshelby @camilahpg03 @acillianproblem @chishiyasan @allyly @fastfan @thomashelbyswife @lespendy @onlydeadcells @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @cloudofdisney @heidimoreton @esposadomd @stevie75 @raincoffeeandfandoms @elenavampire21 @mrkdvidal1989 @thenattitude @adaydreamaway08 @darleneslane @sloanexx @shaddixlife @forbidden-forest-witch @forgottenpeakywriter @shelbydelrey @ange-thoughts @babaohhhriley @kmc1989 @allie131313 @everythingelseisextra @nela-cutie

[darlingsfandom]

Robert Fischers Call Girl 🩷

“I wanted to believe in love, it's hard

Glitter that I cry like falling stars

Take what's in my chest and leave your mark

You just wanna wear my rhinestone heart”

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(10)

You knew?

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n is left alone to be confronted with her greatest fear.

word count - 1.7k

warnings - attempted SA, attempted r*pe, offensive language, tears, major angst.

a/n - this is a very important and angsty chapter.

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

“You’re in a dream, honey.”

Once the words had been whispered there was no way I could take them back. Each syllable had put a target on our backs and as I saw the realisation alight in Robert’s eyes, we simultaneously felt constricting gazes begin to penetrate the three of us.

I took deep breaths, refusing the desire to turn around to meet their eyes. My hand had remained on the back of Roberts neck. It had started as a sign of comfort but as my nails gripped tighter it became a warning. ‘Don’t look at them. Look at me.’.

“Darling,” My dads voice broke through my façade and pierced a vein which released all new gushes of anxiety. “Go. Take some off our tail. Give us two minutes.” I understood my fathers request and it’s logic was sound but still I could not move. My feet were planted next to Robert’s and that’s where I needed to be. I feared for his safety more than mine. I had been under attack more times than years I’ve lived. But he had no experience of combat and his danger could mean a one way ticket down to limbo. I stroked my fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck. This gesture was caught in my dads steely gaze and his demeanour became stern. “Now!” Upon daring to look up at him I found no room for argument.

I reluctantly left the warmth of his body to stand. I fixed my dress as if it would right everything else. I swiftly turned on my heel to leave the bar. The purposefulness of my walk was bound to attract others, as I had left my subtlety in favour for a bright red danger sign. My heels clicked down the hallway and I picked up on several presences beginning to manoeuvre in my general direction. None explicitly heading my way except one pair of footsteps which I could feel breathing on the back of my heels.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Arthur’s pov*

I walked beside Ariadne ready to assemble the team for the next layer. My eyes darted around on the watch for behaviour that would cause suspicion or warrant action. I also looked for Y/n.

We had reached the elevator and were waiting for it to arrive. But when I looked to my left I spotted Y/n. She was walking towards us in a manner of confidence. She didn’t blend in. She stood out. All eyes flocked to her unusual presence as she strutted down the hallway with an apparent presupposed destination.

The mark had been made aware of the dream; the projections were alert. This was not the time for anyone to be walking alone. Even Saito was with Eames. I had Ariadne. Cobb swore he’d stick with Y/n. So why did she leave? Unless she didn’t of her own volition.

I assessed her situation, analysing every eye that was solely fixed upon her. She was heading into the bathroom which seemed an unusual move. The soles of her feet picked up quicker and it seemed adrenaline spiked her blood to speed her forward in a speed out of the norm. Her body seemed desperate to remove itself from an unknown threat. I couldn’t discern the logic of any of her actions until she turned the corner to open the door.

My fist clenched but before I could move I was dragged into the now waiting elevator by a bustle of people wanting in. I loudly cursed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

The heavy door pushed back against my bones, but I was forceful and nearly threw my whole body against it. I practically collapsed inside the room, stumbling in my heels which burned. My breathing quickened and I had to grip the edge of a sink to ground myself once again. There was no time. There was no time. But Dad needed time. Robert needed time. I could give them time.

My heart jumped through my bones as the familiar creak of the door sounded once again. I refused to meet his gaze in an admittance of surrender. His steps got louder until he’d gripped my arm to throw me around to face him. He slammed his pelvis into my own making my back crash into the sinks edge. I cried out feeling the burn through my muscles. My legs begged to give out but they only managed to slide around on the tiles as he gripped my other arm.

“Who do we have here, ey?” His words poured out of his mouth like slime. A build-up of saliva decorated his teeth like tinsel and formed fangs when he separated his gums. I winced in disgust as he leaned down closer to my body. He found purchase in my neck and inhaled deeply. My arms struggled fruitlessly knowing no amount of strength would ever be enough for me now. A tear dripped down my cheek over my expressionless face. It was the only way I knew.

“Not a talker.” He spat out both literally and figuratively. “Don’t matter.” He pulled me up using my elbows as handles. As limp as a ragdoll meant it was easy for him to throw me against one of the closed toilet doors. “I have a much better use for that mouth of yours.” His grin consumed his entire face.

At the throw my head thwacked back with the reverberated force and for a moment I prayed that I would not have to be awake for what was to come. But the darkness never came, and it never would. There was no way out.

I felt his grimy fingers grip my shoulders in a pushing motion. Staging my limp frame in a kneeling position. My eyes burned with tears through their tight close. He used his fingers to stretch out my cheeks, taunting me of what was about to happen. My skin ached at the movement. His thumb entered my mouth and danced across my rows of teeth. I gagged at the intrusion. “Now, now. No biting.” I resigned myself with one last influx of tears until my ducts had dried fully.

The sound of a ripping door startled the man and he barely had chance to look for the intruders before he was punched square in the eyes. He toppled down next to me and I flinched away before any of him could touch me anymore. My tears blurred my saviour but I pushed them away and I managed to catch a glimpse of Robert standing over me with a hand reached out. I fearfully took his hand and my shaking seemed to stop once we were linked. He helped me up and checked me over. He was careful with his hand placements fearing a reaction to any sudden movement. My body unconcsciously leaning towards his in search of comfort was all the confirmation he needed to wrap me up in his arms. My head relaxed onto his chest but my arms remained tightly held to my chest looking as if rigor mortis had set in. He tucked his chin on the top of my head and delivered a light kiss. No words were spoke about it. He stroked through my locks and the consistent feeling slowed my racing heart.

Through all of this, my dad was searching my attacker for weapons.

“Your daughter was just – what the fuck was that?” Robert shouted through his breathy confusion. But his arms never left my frail frame.

Without looking up from the body, my father answered. “Projections usually react to attack whatever subject is put in front of them,” He gestured up to myself and Robert looked at me and his gaze held pure anger. “Projections are actually one of the weakest parts of the dream and can only focus on one threat at a time…”

“You knew?” I whispered, raising my head from Roberts embrace. “You fucking knew.” Rage began to build up in my veins and I separated so I could stalk towards his uncaring stance.

He still would not look me in the eyes. “Did you know?” I shoved his shoulder. “Look at me. Did you fucking know?” I used both hands to childishly bang on his back in a tantrum. “LOOK AT ME!”

He spun around to meet me. He raised so he towered over me. I shrunk in this unfamiliar gaze. “Yes.” My lip shook when the tears fought to climb out once more. I’d never cried more in this short amount of time than in my whole life.

“All this time?”

His gaze seemed to soften before his next phrase. “Every single one.”

I tightened my eyes to will myself to fight on. Once they reopened, they had steeled. “And you still ordered me to go.” I scoffed at his unapologetic confidence in the face of this confession.

“You knew what projections do. And yet you still sent me away.” The lump in my throat meant the words didn’t come out easily but I fought on. “No actually.” I searched through his face which screamed of guilt. “You hoped it would happen. Well, projections can only focus on one thing at a time. Right?” He couldn’t give me a confirmation but worse, he couldn’t deny. He passed by my body which I could no longer will to move. My eyes held nothing, and the only sign of life were my quick shallow breaths and the final tear that fell.

“Mr Fischer,” Robert’s eyes remained fixed on my back even as Cobb spoke at him. He was confused by the conversation which had just transpired between father and daughter but he was sure of his deep desire to comfort the girl. I felt his eyes on me but I couldn’t let him see me like this. He didn’t deserve to be sucked into the crazy knots which were my life. I could hear my dad speak, asking Robert for a number. But nothing registered. As if they were merely acting out on a screen which I had a viewing for.

I sucked back and planted a faux smile over my dried tear tracks. I spun back around the armour of character concealing any open wounds.

“I guess we should start with room 528 and room 491.” My confidence seeped through and left my body.

Robert’s brows furrowed at my sudden demeanour change. But they more so held concern and disbelief at the appearance of contentment I was portraying.

We left the bathroom, led by my father. I felt a hand ghost against my lower back. I almost succumbed to the show of genuine comfort. But it only confirmed the worries in my heart. I stilled myself to force the decision I didn’t want to make.

After this, I will never see Robert Fischer again.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Omgggg Cobb always knew??? What did you guys think of the new chapter??

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[cilly-murphy]

CILLIAN MURPHY as ROBERT FISCHER INCEPTION (2010) dir. Christopher Nolan

[forsythelizabeth]

cillian murphy as robert fischer in inception (2010)

[viesanterieures]

love the fact that chris nolan gave the inception script to cillian murphy and told him that he could choose any role and cillian was like "lemme play that spoiled little cunty son of the millionaire 😩"