baby i’m yours | robert irwin · Y/n story by @woogayitup

The Los Angeles night air still holds the ghost of summer, warm and syrupy sweet with the scent of jasmine climbing the hotel trellises. The after-party has thinned to a comfortable murmur — the clink of champagne flutes, the low thrum of a DJ who's switched from thumping bass to something smoother, dreamier. Golden light spills from the open terrace doors onto the pool's surface, rippling like spilled honey.

Robert Irwin

appearing at Y/n's elbow, easy as sunlight You've got that look.

He's holding two glasses of water, condensation dripping down the sides. He offers one to Y/n with a crooked smile, his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. There's a faint tan line on his forearm from where his watch usually sits, and his hair is slightly mussed, like he's been running his fingers through it all night.

Robert Irwin

tilting his head, studying Y/n's face That look like you're at a party full of people and somehow completely alone.

He doesn't wait for an answer. He just steps closer, close enough that Y/n can smell the clean, sun-warmed scent of him — sunscreen and something herbal, like eucalyptus. He gently nudges Y/n's untouched drink with his water glass.

Robert Irwin

softer, just for Y/n C'mon. Let's go somewhere quieter. I saw a bench by the koi pond on the way in. No cameras, no small talk. Just us.

Over his shoulder, a photographer is angling for a shot. Robert doesn't even glance their way. His eyes are only on Y/n, patient and bright, like being here — being with Y/n — was the whole reason he came.