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a little early christmas present from me to you 💝  hope you enjoy the read! and thanks for being so patient with me 😌

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Hiiii!! I have finished the secret dating AU💫

Stealing Kisses in the Autumn Night

Summary: Robbe and Sander have very loving friends. They also have very nosy and overprotective friends. So some things,,,are better kept secret.

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twin flame bruise

by thekardemomme

“It’s just for six months,” Sander soothes, whispering the gentle nothings into the tufts of Robbe’s hair that he can reach. “I’ll be back by Christmas, and you won’t even know I was gone.”

There is no just six months, nor is there not even knowing Sander’s gone. Robbe will be painfully aware for the entire 200 days that Sander is apart from him.

or: Sander goes abroad for six months, and long distance isn’t as easy as it seems.

Words: 10200, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sander Driesen, Robbe IJzermans, Jens Stoffels, Aaron Jacobs (WTFock), Moyo Makadi, Zoë Loockx, Milan Hendrickx, Sander Driesen’s Mother

Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans

Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Breaking Up & Making Up, Heartbreak, Mental Health Issues, Sad with a Happy Ending, Long-Distance Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Season/Series 04, Boys In Love, Heart-to-Heart, True Love

from AO3 works tagged ‘Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans’ https://ift.tt/3FCrxQn via IFTTT

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LINK 🗽🗽🗽

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Link

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hi so first of all OBSESSED WITH THOSE SKETCHES!!! and i would love to hear those headcanons you were talking about <3

Hiiii LIZ🥰 thank youuu 🥺🥺

Here’s one of them for tucking in his shirt! (Which I see you just found skdjdj)

And I’m imagining Robbe staring wistfully out the window with a cigarette in his hand. He’s squinting in the 6am light, a soft hazy glow, his eyes dark without the usual warmth. He takes a drag and lets the smoke blow in delicate wisps in the air. It’s not long before he hears a voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

“That’s gonna end up a bad habit.”

He turns to see Sander with a cup of coffee in his hand and a second one for him. He hands it over and Robbe’s thankful for the warmth in his hands that were chilled to the bone in the cold morning draft. They both haven’t have slept all night, too tired for words, but too awake to stop the thoughts circling their minds. Sander sits beside him, hunched over with his coffee in his hands, his toes touching Robbe’s leg through his socks.

“Caffeine’s an addiction, too,” Robbe replies, his lips rising ever so slightly.

Sander sips his coffee and let’s out an “ahh,”dramatically revelling in the taste.

“Not quite the same,” he says.

Robbe supposes it isn’t. One is meant to keep you alert and awake and one is meant to calm you and keep you at ease. One gives you headaches if you don’t have it one morning and one slowly, ever so slowly, tricks you into thinking it’s giving you life, doing you a favour, but in return it’s actually sucking out all the air from you throat and lungs. He grimaces thinking about a future like that.

“I’ll stop,” he says. “It’s just the one for now,” he flicks the flares of the cigarette butt out the window.

Sander takes another sip quietly and Robbe notices the way his finger grips the cup tighter.

“We could talk. About whatever’s bothering you.”

And maybe it’s time. They’ve been up for hours without energy to utter syllables but their bodies are waking up now, biological clock and all. So, Robbe takes a deep breath and tells him all the things that are bothering him and all the stress piling up between classes and his friends and his family. And he thinks he feels better now, better than whatever the cigarette did and when he tells Sander that, he takes it from his hand and asks him why he even started in the first place. It’s usually Sander that tends to get self-destructive in the mess of his mind.

So Robbe tells him wryly that “everybody’s doing it nowadays, don’t you know?” lips rising ever so slightly, a joke Sander picks up, and that “you’ve smoked a few, too” and “I just wanted to try it” he ends up apologizing and Sander’s immediately shaking his head.

“I was just asking,” he says. “But be careful, yeah?”

And Robbe hears the slight concern in his voice and it’s like he can hear his mind running through the thoughts lightning fast. The thoughts that say that Sander’s fine if anything happened to himself but if anything happened to Robbe? He doesn’t know what he’d do then.

“Yeah,” whispers Robbe as Sander hands him back the cigarette. -

(And then the drawing in the corner with the hands is about them smoking a joint instead, limiting even that, because truth be told, a little weed never killed anyone 😌)

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hii tasfia! i'm just popping into your inbox to tell you that adore your drawings and the domesticity of them 💓😌 and i would love to hear your headcanon about the one tucking in his t-shirt <3

Hiii Emma!! 🥰💕 thank youuuu so much🥺🥺

Okay so,

Sander isn’t much for the simple things. He likes big statements. Everything he does and sees is always something loud and eye-catching: his bleached hair, the art he creates, the art he sees, the grand romantic gestures that sweeps his boyfriend off his feet. But every once in a while he looks at Robbe and he gets caught up in simple. A quiet moment where he does something or says something and it’s like Sander’s floating on air, dreaming on a cloud.

It happens when Robbe is quietly humming while making his morning coffee, when he slips his hand into his without thinking on the streets, when his icy feet slowly melt into the warmth of his under the sheets, when he watches him sleep, his breathing even and steady.

And it happens when he watches him get ready in the mornings.

Robbe’s getting dressed for class, or to meet with Zoë and Milan or Yasmina for brunch. He’s getting his jeans on, pulling up his pants to his waist, getting the belt through the loops. And then he’s wearing a white shirt, shaking out his hair to tame some of the mess it makes. Then he’s meticulously tucking it into his dark jeans and Sander’s mesmerized by the way his fingers move. It’s a simple thing, really, but he finds all the muscles in his back relax as he watches him and he sinks more into the pillow of the bed. He’s feeling a lot of things right now, sleepy and dreamy and and insanely attracted.

And it’s when Robbe grabs his wallet, putting it into his back pocket, and turns around with a startled smile that Sander lets out a small snort.

“What?” asks Robbe.

“Nothing. Just really like you in that shirt,” he says.

“Hmmm,” hums Robbe as he puts his black sweatshirt over it. “It’s yours,” he says.

“Stealing everything of mine, huh? First my heart and now my shirts.”

“You’ve stolen mine, too,” retorts Robbe.

“I’ve never stolen your shirts,” Sander gives him a pointed look. He watches him check the battery percentage on his phone and take it off his charger as he pockets it. He walks over to him, shaking his head with a smile as he leans down the bed to kiss him softly.

“My heart, idiot,” Robbe laughs, a sound that gets captured in Sander’s mouth. He licks the melody off his lips, tastes the minty toothpaste he’d used to brush his teeth this morning, runs a hand through his hair, knowing he’ll have to fix the mess again.

“Come back soon,” he whispers.

“Always,” Robbe whispers back into a kiss on his cheek.

Sander isn’t for the simple things, but with Robbe around, he’s learning to like them.

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BRUH ok so im watching suits for the first time and I cant help thinking about Sobbe working together in a firm like that and participating in mock trials against each other!! the literal suits, the glares, the tension, the banter!! Or Sander could be mentoring Robbe and sending him on useless tasks just to rile him up

ASHJHS, as a law student this is right up my street 😭😭 haven’t watched suits but i can imagine the tension and drama. and ughh robbe in a shirt that’s rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the collar, yelling across his desk at sander out of frustration, while sander smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying the show 🔥🔥🔥 i love this idea. sander the up-and-coming attorney who is really fierce in court and known for his creative and unconventional ways, and robbe the trainee who is fresh out of uni, softer at heart, and suffering from a saving people’s complex that sander at first finds incredibly naïve. caught up in the adrenaline rush, sander sees it all as a game, and he’s winning. but then he’s assigned to help robbe with some pro bono cases. they stay late in the office ordering pizza and doodling on whiteboards and getting to know each other, and sander is falling, falling, falling because robbe ijzermans is damn cute, and smart, and a good person. sander realises he wants to be good for robbe. 

maybe one friday at an after-work event, they end up drunk and in bed together. sander driesen is on the moon, but of course angst happens, since you can’t date your colleague at the firm, robbe acts like it meant nothing, sander is too proud to admit his feelings and pines from afar, and actually, someone else is trying to steal robbe’s attention. which sander hates. he can’t help being jealous. robbe is very confused by his mood swings and calls him out on it, until sander presses him up against a wall and almost, almost kisses him. he doesn’t. robbe does, though. 

they start having an affair, and they sneak around and make out in empty corridors and spend long, breathless, sticky nights at sander’s flat 💗 and sander is falling even harder. he’s sure he won’t survive it if robbe left.

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x

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chapter 4 - interlude

“Just wondering if I can do anything right? Or if you’re going to keep punishing me forever?”

His dad studied him, face unreadable and then sighed again, eyes dropping back to his plate. “We’ll talk about this more later.”

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Hi, first let me tell you that I read all your fics and I absolutely loved all of them. I have no idea if you are tacking requests but I thought of something where Sander and Robbe take part of a school exchange trip.

I don’t know if you know much about Belgium but as it’s a country with several official languages, it’s a very common thing for Belgian highschools to organise « exchange » trips between schools from Wallonia (french part) and Flanders (Dutch part) of Belgium.

So Typically you would go with your class for a 2 day trip in the city of the other school and a few months later they would come to your city. Each student is paired with a « buddy » from the other school and you will stay at their place. During the day there is some classes and cultural visits and at night parties of course.

So I just got the idea of Robbe being paired with Sander. The way Sander noticed Robbe straight away as he got off the bus. Sander being all turned on by Robbe’s accent. Robbe sleeping in Sander’s room etc etc …

No worries if you are not tacking requests or if you feel not inspired by it.

Hiii anon!! Omg you’ve read all of them?? 🥺🥺 and liked them?? 🥺🥺🥺I’m gonna cry thank you!! 😭😭🥰💕💕

I haven’t really taken requests (except the dialogue prompts back when I was doing them) cuz I normally just get inspired by a concept someone mentions or if I’d get inspired by something I’ll write it lol but rn I’m more of in a drawing headspace than writing haha

Idk much about the exchange trip in Belgium tho cuz I’m not from Belgium so maybe if you or someone could elaborate more about how to get there and what kind of activities you guys do in the classes and cultural visits and also the vibes then maybe I can try writing something short for you that’s so cuteeee 🥺💕

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can your write about Sobbe reflecting about how different it is, the two times they were out on a beach with their friends. First time, in S3, it was all about longing to be with each other while feeling alone and having girlfriends and this time, last scene of S5, they are together and deliriously happy

Sander really tries to watch it quietly, not letting his stupidly in love, loud thoughts meet his lips just yet.

Robbe is busy, very concentrated while trying to put some clothes back on - Sander’s clothes, of course - while still too wet to be worrying about clothes. He should dry himself a little bit, the best he can while still at a beach, Sander would happily help him dry his hair, push it behind his ear. After that he should dry his legs that are still soaking wet, Sander would help him with that too but they could easily get carried away so he should probably keep his hands to himself. Then, when he would probably end up with a soaking wet towel that he should worry about putting the clothes back on. But Sander won’t make any comments about the weird order of things, he’ll just watch from where he’s standing, two or three steps behind his boyfriend.

Robbe is cold, like always, and they both know he loves wearing Sander’s clothes any time he has any opportunity. Sander was okay, back to his normal body temperature after a few minutes playing football with the boys before going to the actual party, so he only needed his jeans and boots back on - and that was enough of a hassle for him to leave the rest of the clothes for later but Robbe got to them first.

To be completely honest, Sander can’t wait to be alone with Robbe. They’re alone now, everyone else already moved on to where the main party is happening a few meters down the beach but still, it feels very public being out in the open, with their stupid friends able to see them from anywhere. But he can’t wait to slowly kiss this boy until their lips get puffy and raw. He can’t wait to tease Robbe about the wet clothes as he takes them off slowly, one piece at a time, kissing some warmth back into Robbe’s cold-from-the-ocean-skin. He’ll have to wait, probably more than he’s willing to because he knows Robbe wants to enjoy these last few moments of high school in a way.

Robbe’s hair is still very much wet, the sun almost meeting the horizon, sort of giving it one last glaze for the day as Robbe’s long, dark hair settles back down after a few crazy head shakes to get rid of some of the ocean water. He opens Sander’s shirt while putting one arm then the other through the sleeves, and carefully lets it fall around his head without touching his wet hair. The vintage shirt is already worn out, obviously, so it falls even more loosely around Robbe’s smaller figure, exposing his beautiful collarbone. He tries to adjust it, trying to let it equally loose on both of his shoulders before he moves on to the sweater, the cream one that Robbe says Sander looks really good wearing.

As he watches his boyfriend putting it on without giving a thought, Sander tries to remember to tell Robbe later how good he looks in it too. Robbe is now busy grabbing the rest of their things, shaking them to get rid of some of the sand, apparently deciding to go fully clothed to the party but carrying his sneakers in between his fingers, struggling to find a place in his hands, or pressed between his arms and chest, for his clothes, sneakers, Sander’s jacket, their phones and wallets.

“What?” He finally notices Sander staring.

Sadly, it makes Sander have to go back to living his life instead of just watching the most beautiful human he’s ever met.

“What what, Robin?” He steps closer, grabbing their phones and wallets to put in his pockets and give Robbe’s hands some room to adjust to what they can carry.

“You were staring. And not saying a word.”

“Am I not allowed to do that?”

Robbe laughs, walking closer to him.

“Of course you are…”

Sander sighs, putting his arm around Robbe’s neck, pulling him closer, making him stumble a little bit because of his already soaking wet jeans - caused by the soaking wet boxers he’s using underneath - slowly slipping down his hips, bunching up around his feet.

“I was just thinking about the last time we were here with everyone, well, the ones that you knew.”

“Now the ones you know are here too…” Sander nods his head, kissing Robbe’s temple, not about to bring back wounds that are not completely healed in Robbe about his past with some people that did not want to come to the beach with them.

“Yeah, and we’re together, not kissing other people.”

Robbe laughs softly, nodding his head.

“That too.”

Sander doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget how he felt during those days.

It didn’t feel completely horrible with Britt, she was in a good mood for most of the time and they were chill. But Sander could not bring himself to care about her when he was right there, no masks or moon this time.

He could see Robbe, and watch him, even if from afar, pretending he wasn’t doing it. He had never felt like that before. The adrenaline, the rush, and butterflies, and utterly happiness that Robbe brought him just by existing, and being his cool, soft, loving self. Even if Robbe was clearly going through some things he had no idea about, Sander could see it, Robbe and the boys were hiding it too.

But when they were together, it seemed like all the problems disappeared for him too, and Sander let himself hope he had a chance. That at some point, life would be nice to him for once and give him what he wanted.

He remembers those beautiful, a little chill nights, when the sky was so clear even in the middle of the night, no clouds in sight, and so many stars, that he felt slightly more hopeful about life, so much so that he let himself ask for something. The universe, God, nature of whatever, whoever that could be listening to his thoughts, he asked for all his past wishes - most of them dark, getting himself through bad episodes - to be ignored completely if he could ask (and get) for this one thing: make whatever was going on between him and Robbe to work out the exact way he wanted, and he wouldn’t ask for anything else, ever.

He could not believe what he was seeing when Robbe kissed Noor while staring at him. He was consumed by a lot of jealousy, yeah, but Robbe was looking at him, and seemed just as bothered as he was. Sander was so excited after that he could barely sleep that night, trying to find a way to be alone with Robbe one last time before leaving to go home the next morning.

“You were really kissing Britt at that party.” Robbe says like he’s reading Sander’s mind, and he snorts, looking at his boyfriend, at his lips that only Sander kisses these days.

“But I was thinking about you, if it makes it any better.”

Robbe pouts a little bit looking up at him, and Sander smiles, kissing him for a second, playing with the hair falling in Robbe’s eyes.

“This time is lot better.”

“Yeah? That much better because I’m kissing you now?” Sander teases, and smiles when Robbe rolls his eyes fondly.

“You know what I mean. There was a lot of drama back then.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sander sighs, wishing he could have done more now that he knows what Robbe was going through at the time with his parents, and the boys, and himself. “But now I’m here, and I’m not going nowhere unless you ask me to.”

Robbe purrs, grabbing the back of Sander’s jeans, pulling them even closer if that’s possible, kissing his jaw, climbing to his mouth for some quick kisses, staring at each other. Sander runs his thumb through Robbe’s flushed cheek.

“I’ll never ask you to go anywhere but right next to me, ever!”

Sander lifts his eyebrows, shaking his head a little bit, pressing his lips together before mentioning, “You do ask me to go grab our food downstairs a little too often.”

“Oi! That doesn’t count.”

Sander snorts, kissing his temple again, stopping on their walk, pulling Robbe back to have some extra time alone with him before they catch up to the party, properly kissing him this time.

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A Sobbe hiking fic for @justalina and @debussyatmidnight because they asked, and I couldn’t help myself.   

Read on Ao3 if you prefer. -> Link

Climb Every Mountain

Swaths of bright sunlight shone through the breaks in the canopy of trees, rays of light landing on the rocks and moss and other forest detritus. The light spread as it descended, highlighting the vines creeping through the branches, the changing leaves in various shades of auburn and orange. They hadn’t fallen yet, but their colors had reached their zenith. The sun set them aglow, and it was like the trees were on fire, a rustling, undulating blaze that flickered with each shift of the wind.

A bird sang a twittering tuneless song somewhere above them, and a stoat skittered over a fallen tree to their left, stopping, it’s nose twitching curiously, to stare at them before continuing on. Robbe couldn’t help thinking he was in heaven. It was so beautiful, so relaxing and peaceful. He could finally breathe. They were out of the city, out of the noise, the hustle, the constant flurry of activity. Away from homework and textbooks.

With every shift in the wind, with every crack and crunch that settled around them–a reminder that this was a living, breathing forest–he felt his soul settling back in his body. He was free. This was heaven.

Keep reading

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64 for Sobbe 😀💛

64. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

Sander was completely content in his friendship with Robbe.

He was, undoubtedly, Robbe’s best friend. It never even came into question. No one could argue with the fact that he was clearly Robbe’s favourite. It didn’t matter that he liked the boy, and said boy didn’t appear to return his feelings. He was still the person Robbe loved most—that was what mattered. He didn’t have any competition; he wasn’t under any threat.

He knew this. No matter how much the others (even Robbe) may have teased him by suggesting otherwise. He didn’t buy it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t make him a little grumpy, on occasion.

“So, you’re going to take me, right?”

Robbe raised his brow. “You just assume that because…?”

Sander rolled his eyes and pulled himself into a sitting position on the grass. “You don’t want to go alone.”

There wasn’t much hesitation before Robbe shrugged and agreed, “Well, no.” It was fairly obvious. Robbe’s relationship with his father was improving, but there was still a lingering tension when Robbe’s anger got the better of him, or a heavy awkwardness when neither of them knew how to interact with each other. The man’s new life was something Robbe was still having to adjust to, and a party for his father’s girlfriend wasn’t something he would enjoy on his own.

“And I’m your favourite,” Sander said obviously. “You need to take your best friend.”

Robbe smiled at him, brow scrunched. “So are you asking me to take you, or Jens?”

Sander blinked. Then he narrowed his eyes. “You take that back.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not Jens.”

“What?” Robbe laughed. “My best friend? Of course it’s Jens. Who else would it be?”

Sander scowled at him. The expression twitched as Robbe poked his cheek. Sander snapped at the finger with his teeth and Robbe sharply drew away with a bright laugh. This was best friend material, clearly. Robbe’s actions betrayed his words. Sander wasn’t even going to bother taking the bait. “How formal is it?” he asked.

“Too formal for you,” Robbe grinned.

“I can be formal.”

“But you won’t enjoy it.”

“Neither would you, without your best friend.”

Robbe pulled a face. “Jens would probably hate it even more than you would.”

“Robbe,” Sander warned. “Come on.”

“What?”

“I’m clearly not talking about Jens.”

“Well, you clearly are, and that’s why I keep getting confused. Do you want to come, or do you want me to take Jens?”

“Why would I want you to take Jens?”

Robbe threw his hands up, appearing genuinely baffled aside from the slight quirk of his lips. “You tell me!”

Sander narrowed his eyes. Robbe raised his brows. A stalemate.

Then Robbe said, “You know Jens is my best friend, Sander,” as Sander slid a hand over his mouth and said, “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

The effect was instantaneous. Sander felt Robbe’s lips brush his palm as they parted, his breaths growing low. His eyelids drooped, too, long lashes fluttering and masking the faint surprise. He darted a glance at Sander’s mouth, and Sander stilled.

Surely, it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been this easy.

Sander cleared his throat and withdrew his hand, but Robbe latched onto it. He curled his fingers around Sander’s and brought their clasped hands down to his chest, cutting off any of Sander’s attempts at thought.

“You’re not my best friend, but you are my favourite,” Robbe was saying now, smile so soft and wide that his eyes crinkled. “You know that.”

Sander blinked, trying to focus on anything beyond Robbe’s pretty smile, or Robbe’s thumb brushing absently over his knuckles. “Wait, you were serious?”

Robbe’s brow furrowed for a second before he shrugged. “About Jens? Yeah. ‘Best friend’ doesn’t really cover us, right?”

“What are you saying?” Sander asked slowly.

Another shrug, a more crinkled smile. “Maybe I’m just talking shit so you’ll make good on your threat to shut me up.”

For someone who could come up with an innuendo on an hourly basis, it took Sander longer than it should have to grasp Robbe’s meaning. Then he lightly smacked Robbe’s cheek with their joint hands. “What the hell?”

Robbe’s smile drooped, his eyes losing their sparkle as they went sad and scared, and Sander barged on.

“All the chances like that I’ve given you that you laughed off and never took, and now you’re going to get credit for our first kiss? Unfair, Robbe!”

He watched Robbe’s eyes widen, and then the boy broke into giggles. “It’s not my fault you make it a part of your personality!”

“Only for you!”

“That’s absolutely false. Keep those lying lips away from me.”

Sander made a strangled sound of protest and stretched his head towards Robbe, lips puckered, even as Robbe kept laughing and tried to roll away. Sander hooked an arm around his waist and held him in place, but only managed to land a kiss on his cheek. “Robbe,” he protested.

Robbe reached a hand up to squish Sander’s cheeks, keeping his face an inch away as he turned his head back around, suddenly serious. “It’s not a joke,” he said. It sounded like a question.

Sander tightened his arm around Robbe’s waist and shook his head, looking as earnest as he could with Robbe still controlling his face. He made another noise, questioning this time, and the parted lips and droopy lids returned as Robbe leaned in.

Sander closed the distance, because Robbe wasn’t getting all of the credit, and he was the one making good on his threat, after all.

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Hi there :) So I don't know if you're still taking those prompts but I'mma grab and squeeze this opportunity to get fics from you hehe 😁💙 so 😏

A cute little fic about one of the boys teasing the other about a celebrity crush of your choice? 🥺 Like, imagine Sander finding out Robbe has a crush on like Timothee Chalamet or Omar Rudberg or maybe someone from Sex Education or sth 🤪

Anon: Ohh so amazing that you are taking in ideas for small little things! I'm so excited about the results. Yesterday I was thinking about big things that happened in August and one that jumped out was the Olympics so I had one idea. I know there's some athletes!sobbe aus but what about this: Robbe has some athlete he has always loved (maybe had a crush on?) and that athlete is representing Belgium so he's home with sander watching the final. So let's say the athlete wins and Robbe can't contain his excitement in front of sander (who isn't into that as much) and makes sander wonder why he's so excited over a medal. What would the conversation be? I don't know if that's well explained but I think the bases are there so you can go from there and make it yours, create context, all that stuff, and if you don't feel like doing it, it's okay! Love your writing sm, take care 💕

Firstly, I'm always taking prompts! Secondly, these were really cute and fluffy and kind of along the same lines so I thought I'd free two birds with one key <3 I watched more sports this summer than ever in my entire life and naturally I developed a few short-lived crushes. This is me projecting those onto Robbe shdgf

Sander is over sports. Not that he was ever into them in the first place, but now he’s definitively over them. All he has heard this summer is Euros-this and Olympics-that and probably something to do with cycling in between.

Robbe and the boys dragged him with them to watch the football matches on a big screen downtown along with many, many others. He didn’t care for the sport itself or the warm sprays of beer in his hair, the low sun in his eyes or the hoarse voices all around him. What he cared for were the euphoria all over people’s face and the little smiley kisses that a tipsy and happy Robbe pressed against his mouth during half-time.

Sometimes he noticed Robbe’s eyes lingering on some of the foreign players during the game and in the interviews after, and at home in bed before they went to sleep, he often caught him watching clips of them on his phone.

“Who’s that?” he’d ask to which Robbe would answer with something soft and secretive in his voice, “Just one of the footballers.”

Sander knows Robbe gets crushes easily. And of course he recognizes them for what they are: innocent and superficial, lasting only a few days before Robbe forgets their existence completely. He teases Robbe about his quick flings, chuckling “You’re hopeless” at his heart eyes or telling him dumb, dorky things, such as having read somewhere that the person in question has a micro dick. It’s all fun and games, but it doesn’t mean Sander is above getting a little jealous, no matter how irrational it feels; he’s a human being with a sensitive heart after all, very much in love with his boyfriend – who has the audacity to crush on other, very attractive people.

And his sensitive heart reaches its limit one day in August when he finds Robbe sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to the Olympic athletes on the TV. Or rather one specific athlete. Sander sees floppy, brown hair, lean and veiny and defined muscles in tight clothing. The man sprints down the runway, plants the pole in the box and swings himself up, his body moving fluidly and effortlessly in the air, miles over the bar. When they zoom in on his face there are blue eyes, dark eyebrows, and beauty marks dotted across naturally tanned skin.

Armand Duplantis, he reads. Here we go again.

“Ah, the obsession of the week.”

Robbe snorts softly in answer, draping his legs over Sander’s thighs when he sits down be-side him. Sander slips a hand under the pantleg of Robbe’s sweats, resting it on his shin. And when Robbe starts rambling, he knows that this guy is indeed the new obsession.

“He’s from the U.S., but his mama is Swedish, so he competes for Sweden, which some Americans are unhappy about. And, and he’s only twenty-one and already a world record holder with a height of 6,18 metres; that’s, like, 3,5 times my height! How is it even possible to jump that fucking high?” Robbe says, and Sander hears the wonder in his voice so clearly. “He just became the Olympic champion; now he’s basically just trying to beat his own world record. How crazy is that?”

Sander glances at him, commenting drily, “Someone has done their research.”

“It’s what the commentators are saying,” Robbe says, giving him a look before continuing with a teasing glimmer in his eye. “He’s like the sports version of Timothée Chalamet.”

“Great.” Sander fights the urge to roll his eyes, his tone more clipped than he intends it to be, and from the smirk spreading on Robbe’s lips, he knows he’s very much enjoying this.

Sure, Sander can appreciate good looks, and yeah, this guy is pretty attractive, but he doesn’t feel the need to talk Robbe’s ear off about it. Unlike Robbe who adds, calculated, “He’s cute.”

And Sander won’t stand for it any longer; he groans and nudges Robbe’s legs off, half-way off the couch when a giggly Robbe loops his fingers around his wrist and pulls him down on top of him until their noses brush, trapping him with his arms and legs like a monkey.

“What's wrong, baby?” he asks innocently, and Sander really wants to act all moody and petulant about it but engulfed by Robbe’s sugary warmth, his resolve falters.

“You’re falling in love left and right,” he mumbles at Robbe’s softening expression and starts counting demonstratively on his fingers. “First that Danish footballer during the Euros, Thomas what’s-his-name.”

“Delaney,” Robbe smirks.

“Thomas Delaney, and then that skater boy a few days ago and now this guy? We can’t have you watching all these competitions anymore. It’s slowly tearing my heart in two.”

“Sounds dramatic,” Robbe says, curling his fingers into the hair at the back of Sander’s head, gently drawing him down until they’re forehead to forehead. Like that, he brushes his lips, warm and slightly chapped, against Sander’s pout. “You know, I think I unconsciously fall a little for these people because I see tiny bits of you in them.”

Against Sander’s will, a small smile with a trace of boyishness grows on his face. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Oh you know, the pretty eyes.” Robbe brushes his thumb over the thin, delicate skin under one of Sander’s eyes. “The good hair.” A hand combs through the locks at Sander’s nape. “The nice body.” Ten fingertips run down his back and sneaks under the waist of his jeans. “The beautiful smiiiles.” Robbe drags out the word all dreamily. “The talent.” The tip of his nose skims over Sander’s. “Husband material, basically.”

Sander knows that Robbe only has him in mind now, and he teasingly dabs the edge of his sleeve on the corner of Robbe’s mouth in an attempt to mask the intense, messy sensation in his stomach. “You have a little drool…”

With an eyeroll, Robbe bumps his hand away, entwining their fingers between their chests, his tone mellow and sincere. “You know they’re nothing serious, right? These crushes or whatever? They don’t mean anything.”

Sander lets out a little breath at Robbe’s shimmering eyes, at how they can go from heavy-lidded to round and wide in the span of seconds.

“I know,” he nods, and just when Robbe is about to catch his mouth with his own, he pulls back. “So I’m husband material, huh?”

And the grin that blooms so breathtakingly on Robbe’s face is all the answer Sander needs, his heart soft like an overripe peach when he scrambles for his small waist, digging his fingers into the lines of it. This time when Robbe surges upward, he meets him in the middle, swallowing the sound the crash of their lips draws out of him, tongues pliant and feather-soft against each other.

They miss the medal ceremony, but who cares. Sander is pretty confident he has made Robbe forget all about that stupid pole vaulter anyway.

a gif for reference ;)) shjdgh

[fockingnice]

emma, hiii. you're taking requests, like that's the best thing ever hihi. idk why but I've had this image in my head of sander resting against robbe's chest as he robbe reads to him, while he runs a hand through sander's hair. maybe sander is coming out of a bad episode or maybe they're just relaxing on a sunday, but yeah.... maybe something like that hihi. much love to you emma <333

Cille, this was an absolute dream prompt for me, my gosh 💘 📖  I went off on a few tangents but hopefully that’s okay sfhjg. Walk, shower, read. It’s their little routine 🧡  Thank you for sending me this. Love you! Btw let me know if I should upload these on ao3 or if they should just be little tumblr exclusives?

Sander always knows when he’s fading away, when he’s turning into a shell of himself. But he never knows when he’s going to fall asleep at the wheel. Until it’s too late, until he crashes. And that’s when he loses all sense of who he is, of what he enjoys or how he likes to dress or what his voice normally sounds like. Sometimes the only indication of time passing is his alarms that tell him to take his meds and eat at set times.

Although he doesn’t reach the point anymore where he wants to be physically erased – he knows that this seemingly perpetual state of sadness isn’t definitive no matter how much his brain tries to convince him otherwise – some days all he can drag himself out of bed for is a cup of coffee and a cigarette or a few slices of tangerine, the scent reminding him of his boy, his college boy. He’ll crack open a window in the living room and curl up against the cushions in the window-seat, the hood of his black hoodie over his head, and there he’ll try weaving his way through the weeds and the tangled neurons in his thunder-stained mind to anything resembling an actual thought with a pinch of substance.

For the days where he’s more clear-headed his mama puts up little post-its around the house with simple tasks for him to do to help him feel useful and necessary. And in the mornings whenever Robbe has spent the night, Sander finds little notes from him too; there’ll be an I love you on his pillow, an I’m so glad you exist placed on his desk and I’m bringing you flowers later <3 hanging on his door. The first time Sander doesn’t think Robbe actually means the one with the flowers, but when he buzzes him in later that afternoon, the first thing he sees is a bouquet of light pink lilies cradled in his arm against the autumn brown of his jacket, the hues so lovely and gentle, just like Robbe. It’s more than Sander’s frail mind can take, and Robbe wipes away the thin streams of warm tears with his sweater paws, and they laugh softly when it only makes it worse.

Since before Robbe, Sander has been figuring out what soothes him, what makes him feel more at ease, what helps him settle back into his body and bones when coming out of a bad episode, and he has slowly built up a list of things that assist in bringing the puzzle pieces of his mind back into place.

Walks

Sander’s aunt has a golden retriever, Bella, who goes on a little holiday at Sander’s when he’s down and spends most of his days at home. In the mornings she’ll pad over the hard-wood floor to his bed and nuzzle her nose against Sander’s face until he wakes up, waiting patiently for her walk. It’s easier for Sander to get out of bed knowing there’s someone relying on him for their needs and wellbeing. He’ll take her and himself on a walk in the fog-blue mornings when the morning traffic is yet to come, and then again in the early evening when it’s still light out but the streets are quieter, enough for him to give his brain some stimulation when it feels like it has slowed to a halt. The sound of his boots against the sidewalk reminds him that he’s still part of the world, that he hasn’t completely vanished after all.

Sometimes he goes by himself, just listening to and observing the city around him with pale eyes. Other times Robbe goes with him, sleepy-eyed and rosy-cheeked in the mornings, relaxed and loose-limbed at night. He doesn’t curl his hand around Sander’s but lets it hang by his side with their pinkies brushing, open and inviting, for Sander to take if and when he feels like it. Sander will thread their fingers together always, but he loves Robbe for giving him a choice and never forcing anything on him.

Often, they find a bench somewhere, in a park or at the river, a place that isn’t too crowded but still has plenty of things for Sander to rest his eyes on. It’s only the middle of September but some leaves are already falling, lying yellow and limp on the ground, and Robbe notices Sander’s wondering expression.

“It’s probably because the weather has been so dry; they’re shedding their leaves to conserve water and energy,” he says.

And Sander instinctively inches closer, a small smile on his lips. “Clever you.”

Bella sits by Sander’s legs with her head propped on his knee, her deep brown eyes alternatively scanning the place and glancing up at him, sensing his sadness. She’s calm and curious and cuddly, reminding him of a certain someone. When Sander tells him, Robbe breathes out a little giggle, making Sander gaze at him more deeply than he has in days, at the silky curls around his ears and the blinking hoop and the crescent dimples curved into his cheeks, and he’ll quietly rest his head on the slope of Robbe’s shoulder, a few tiny clearings of blue sky starting to appear in his overcast mind.

Showers

Back at home, he and Robbe linger in the hallway for a bit, their hair messy, the scent of fresh air in their clothes. When Robbe says that his green, sparkly eyes are coming back, Sander curls a few fingers in the front of Robbe’s shirt, feeling the firm plane of his stomach against his knuckles as he mumbles, “Shower.”

Some nights Sander can’t stand the mere idea of catching glimpses of himself in the mirror; hates the way he looks with his violet circles and dull, greasy hair. So Robbe will light a couple of candles, and they’ll undress in the dim orange glow and quietly get under the shower spray. And there, with Sander’s forehead resting against his own, Robbe will wash Sander’s hair and tell him that he looks beautiful in this light, while his fingers work in small, bone-melting circles. The near orgasmic pressure on his scalp helps reconnecting Sander’s mind and body, making him press up tightly against Robbe, finally diving back into the swirling, velvety heat that licks into every cell of his being.

“Thank you for… For staying with me,” he says between hushed breaths and light kisses. It falls clumsy from his lips, sounding graver than he intends it to, but Robbe, the angel soul that he is, moulds his answer into five words of pure reassurance that protectively wrap themselves around Sander’s heart.

“I’m going to marry you.”

Sander doesn’t cry. But he’s very damn close.

Reading

This one begins one night maybe a year into their relationship. While Robbe brushes his teeth, Sander wanders Robbe’s room, taking in the familiarity of it, running a hand over the forest green sweatshirt draped over his chair, trailing the edge of his desk with a few fingertips. When he reaches his set of shelves, he sees it wedged in between a plant and some school supplies: a book of bedtime stories filled with beautiful watercolour illustrations, the cover a painting of a dark blue night sky with a full moon reading for her stars over a little sleeping village. The spine is threadbare, seemingly from the countless times of being opened and closed. As he flicks through the crinkled pages, soft lips press against the nape of his neck and the back of his shoulder.

“Are you snooping around my room?” Robbe mumbles.

“Mhm,” Sander hums. “What’s this book?”

Twining his arms around Sander’s stomach from behind Robbe says, “When I was little my mama used to read these stories aloud for me at night. She was looking through some stuff the other day and found it again.” He hooks his chin over Sander’s shoulder. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Very.” Sander glances back at Robbe with a squeezing feeling in his chest. “Did it make you fall asleep?”

Robbe smiles. “Every time.”

Sander drops his gaze back to the book, asking quietly, “Will you read for me?”

And Robbe brushes a “Sure” and a kiss behind his ear, tugging him along to the bed.

It’s something they do now: Robbe reading aloud for Sander whenever he feels low and doesn’t have many words to offer. Sander then tucks his head under Robbe’s chin, and Robbe tangles his fingers in his freshly washed and citrussy-smelling hair, scraping over his scalp in endless, soothing motions. Safe and sound, Sander listens to stories about naughty star-children, wizards flying about in rolled up rugs, and a Goodnight-ship with live stuffed animals as passengers. They flow over him like dripping streams of honey, Robbe’s voice lovely and wonderful and a little sleepy, and Sander tries so desperately to make his foggy brain hold onto the words.

Sometimes when the night air is cooling Sander’s room and Robbe feels a little cold, he’ll wear a thick hoodie to bed. Sander loves the scent and the comfy feel of the well-worn fabric under his palm, but sometimes he gets a little frowny and frustrated at having to fumble for his small waist; so Robbe pulls it off despite the goosebumps rising on his skin, and Sander presses his ear to his heart and tightens his hold around him, sharing his body heat his only job while he listens to stories from when Robbe was little. And Sander feels little too; but it’s something he allows himself. A few years ago, he didn’t dare dream that he’d ever have this with someone; didn’t think he even had this level of softness in himself.

But here he is. Here they are.

He has never wanted to be someone’s more than he does Robbe’s; it’s so clear that he belongs to him. And it’s crazy, Sander thinks. Because no matter how feeble and numb around the edges his body and mind feel, his love for Robbe is always right there in a molten pond at the core of him, and Sander could cry at the fact that his brain always lets him have that.

In the days following, when he finds that he has enough energy to send Robbe little dorky, flirty texts throughout the day, such as Bella woke me up with wet, sloppy kisses. Wish it was you or when you’re in the mood for a snack but you’re not there💔  with an attached photo of himself pouting at the open fridge, he knows that the darkness in his chest and brain is releasing its hold and taking flight.