Mousy X Robby Novels & Stories

I shouted, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. The door creaked open anyway. I was ready to scream, ready to tear into whoever had the nerve to ignore the 'closed' sign, until the door swung wide and I saw him. Robby Maddox. He was twenty-four, a former college athlete who looked like he’d been carved out of granite. He had a strong, square jaw and arms that looked built for the sole purpose of holding a woman down and making her beg. He stood at six-foot-three, and his hazel eyes always had this way of looking at me that made me feel like he was undressing me right there in the hallway.

Something about not having a window or a clock will do that to a person. We finally get to an entrance and Robbie stops, putting his hand out to keep us from going around him and running mindlessly to our freedom. “Wait. There’s a patrol out right now. We need to time this right. It won’t be long until your absence is noticed and trust me Mike was blown and ready for you both tonight.” “That is so gross.” I let the stutter roll through me. “He is probably cursed and is firing blanks if he’s having that much s*x and not getting any of the girls pregnant.” I quip trying to see what Robbie sees.

He was a shadow given form. Robbin didn't wait in the hub. She moved into the hallway; her footsteps silent on the plush carpet. She knew this house better than any architect; she knew the creaking floorboard in the gallery and the blind spot in the kitchen’s motion sensors. Robbin didn't need eyes. She had spent a week in this house in total darkness, memorizing every step. Tonight, she wasn't a CEO. She was a little mouse, scurrying through the walls.

Why did I suddenly want to punch the wolf in the face? Well, I could answer that last question. Rob was sitting in the armchair across a small table from me, enjoying two fingers of thirty-year-old Macallan and looking incredibly smug. He seemed to be waiting for something, some cue that he could begin his latest performance. “Rob, really, I need to get back to my girls,” I finally said. “What’s on your mind, and where is this after-party you all but demanded I attend?” “Oh, now, this is the after-party.” He smiled wider.

"Fucking rusty life." On the other hand, it was five o'clock and Robby had just arrived from work, he saw that the house was in order even though he had left it sensibly. He noticed the woman asleep on the sofa. He saw its leg and its tummy covered the pillow. "Wake up." He whispered here. "Ohh sorry! I fell asleep." he switched off the TV and sat down properly. Robby smiled at him when he saw his old Tshirt. "You look pretty with my shirt." Robby said. "But next time wear my shirt with shorts, I have a lot of boxer shorts." he added.

Her mother had to know this—she was just being nice, as usual. Rob wasn’t horrible exactly. He was a small and strange man, not ugly exactly, just... odd. He had this strained, humourless smile and a tendency to trail off into jumbled words before falling silent whenever he spoke for more than a few minutes. Mum said he had social anxiety, so we should be patient with him, even though he clearly mistook her kindness for sexual interest. "Have you seen anyone in Rob's garden?" Mum asked. "His Rhododendron was pulled up."

she asked with a grim face. “And how many times have I told you that my name in R.O.B.E means (Raw-B), not Rob?” the person named Robe replied with the same expression. Saraya shrugged. “Who spells Robby as ROBE? For me, you will be Rob and only Rob,” she said and, showing her tongue, went ahead. “Huh,” Robe huffed and turned his focus toward the books he was registering.

Like we had this secret now, and the air crackled every time our eyes met. Around noon Mom went upstairs for a nap. Step-dad still wasn’t back. The house got quiet again, that dangerous kind of quiet. I was wiping down the counter when Robb came in from the garage. His hands were a little dirty, sleeves pushed up, showing off the tattoos that ran down his forearms. He didn’t say anything at first. Just grabbed a glass of water and stood there drinking it, watching me over the rim. “You’ve been quiet today,” he said finally, setting the glass down.

“Mr. Roberts, I’ve told you that I already have...” “Mr. Mysterious, huh?” Tim interjected, his tone laced with disdain. “After you claimed that Mr. Mysterious is superior to me, I conducted a thorough investigation. In Hadale, there are indeed only two individuals around your age who surpass me in terms of excellence, namely Cristofer, and Justin. Therefore, Estelle, it is clear that Mr. Mysterious can’t be wealthier or more influential than me. Perhaps such a man doesn’t exist at all; he is merely a figment of your imagination.”

He scooped me up in a hug, his body trembling with joy. I couldn't help but touch his abs and say, "You're really different from those ordinary robots. If I had met you for the first time, I probably wouldn't have realized you're a robot." 008's eyes widened with curiosity as he asked, "What do the other robots look like?" "They…" I trailed off, taking a moment to ponder about it. "I haven't really interacted with other robots, but from what I've heard, none of them have independent thinking."