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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 3 years

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[CN] S2 Victor- Right Now Is The Time (Eng Translation)

⌚ Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a company project that is yet to be released in the global server! ⌚

NOTE: This post features S2 Victor and MC, and takes place some time in between post-Chapter 4 and pre-Chapter 10. And it’s the 4th company project. However, it doesn’t contain any spoilers regarding the S2 storyline. I’ve listed the notable storyline mentions at the end of the post, so no worries about storyline spoilers! (◍•ᴗ•◍)

ー

[ SECTION 1 ]

The day before the show is officially about to be filmed, I’m setting up the apparatuses in the lobby of LFG.

The company’s new variety event “Right Now is The Time” is a workplace observation related reality show, filming the internship of five talented students working at LFG.

According to the script settings, they have to pass a number of tests with the aim of obtaining a formal offer.

In this process, we hope to be able to display young peoples’ ardent love towards life and strive towards improving themselves simultaneously.

The format of this show has been introduced via overseas. I have spent a long time in obtaining the copyright, and also spent quite a long time in convincing Victor to set the filming location at LFG.

Now that the progress is continuing without a flinch, and the filming is officially about to be started, I also can’t refrain from heaving a sigh of relief.

MC: Master, remember to take away all the wires from here when you leave later. Otherwise, the property owner will definitely say something when he sees them on his way to the office at 6 AM.

As I walk around in the construction site, I lower my head to reply to the messages in the group from time to time. Suddenly, as I turn my head, I almost bump into the person standing behind me head-on.

MC: Victor.... what are you doing here?

Victor pulls away from me slightly, sweeping his gaze at the several cameras hanging high up on the wall.

Victor: This is LFG. What do you mean what I’m doing here?

MC: ....No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, why are you still at the office now. It’s already one o’clock.

Victor: Just got finished. What have you got up here?

MC: It’s nothing. The master will be done in a moment. It certainly won’t affect your company’s regular work tomorrow.

Victor seems to be about to say something when an abrupt call pops up on my phone. I embarrassedly duck my head at him, and tap on the call button.

Anna: MC, are you still at LFG? We have just gone through the script, and kept feeling that we won’t be able to shoot so much in one day. We have to pick out some contents to delete.

Anna: How about you do a round trip to the office, and we go over it one last time?

MC: Okay. I’m also done here anyway. I’ll go back right now. Are you guys hungry? I could buy some late-night snacks and bring them up.

Anna: No need for late-night snacks. We will try to get it done within the shortest possible time.

MC: Alright. I’ll be at the office within half an hour.

I hang up the phone, and turn my head to look at Victor. Even before I can say anything, he opens his mouth immediately.

Victor: I’ll drive you to the office.

MC: It’s okay. I can go back on my own. It’s too late already. You’d better go back and rest.

Victor: You also know it yourself that it’s too late.

He stares at me for a couple of moments, and seems to sigh. Then he takes out the car key from his pocket, motioning me to walk towards the elevator.

Victor: I happen to be going to the airport. I’ll drop you off on the way.

Victor: I’ll be away on a business trip these two days. If you need anything, look for Goldman directly. He will help you in arranging it.

MC: OK. But....

Did he set off for going to the airport in the middle of the night, and is going to attend a meeting on the next day straight away? Although I’ve always known that his work intensity is like this....

Victor: But what?

I fish out a picture from my phone and send it to him, smiling at him jestingly.

MC: I’ve sent you a phone wallpaper.

There are only six words written on the black background with white characters: “Working-class people, working-class souls.”

[ Note: It’s actually sort of a running joke in Chinese “打工人, 打工魂” (dǎ gōng rén, dǎ gōng hún) about the distress of the working class people :(. It has a rhymed version of it in English, but I’m not going to mention it here cause I’m not sure if I should be typing the word haha~ ]

MC: Although I know you are a capitalist, but you are able to understand the spirit.

MC: CEO Victor~ mutual encouragement!

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 2 ]

Before Victor returns from the business trip, I specifically give him a call, wanting to arrange for one of the outstanding performing interns in the show to pick him up at the airport.

I really can’t bear to miss on a good filming material like this.

Victor is speechless on the phone for about 10 seconds before he finally sighs.

Victor: The audiences with little common sense would know that, it’s not within the turns of an intern to pick-up at the airport.

MC: Yes, yes, yes, it’s certainly not within the turns of an intern to pick-up the CEO at the airport. But CEO....

MC: You have great compassion towards considering the ratings of my shows. And you also know how important your appearance for this show is....

MC: You promised me, that you could make an appearance in the trailer for at least 3-5 seconds.

Victor: But according to my understanding of you, when you have a great amount of source materials, it’s impossible to have only 3-5 seconds.

MC: This is no surprise.

MC: You already knew this, and you still promised me. It’s clear that this 3-5 seconds is not the important point. The important point is making the appearance in the appropriate way.

MC: I think going with this pick-up method is very appropriate!

MC: Just be yourself. Whether you want to speak or not, what to say or how to say it, it’s all up to your pleasure, CEO Victor. Is this OK?

An almost inaudible sigh can be heard from Victor over the phone.

Victor: OK. I’ll arrive at 4 PM on the day after tomorrow. If you want to film the pick-up, make the arrangements in advance.

MC: The arrangements will certainly be made adequately for you! I’ll ask Goldman for the flight number.

Victor: Your tone sounds like you’re going to make arrangements with great fanfare.

MC: It’s just.... such as, since it’s a cameo, what kind of clothing and make-up....

Victor: No need.

MC: ....

MC: Yep, yep, yep. No need. CEO Victor will win the show as soon as he steps in front of the lens of the camera. We focus on the authenticity.

Victor: I still have matters to attend to. Let’s leave it here.

MC: You go ahead. I’ll get in touch with you the moment there is some progress!

Since I’ve received the special authority to shoot, I naturally arrange everything up frantically.

On the day of picking up at the airport, I sit in front of the monitor from beginning to the end, and stare at it from the first second Victor gets into the car to the final second. The result is beyond expectation—

Unexpectedly, he and the intern in charge of picking up hasn’t spoken a word.

The big brother in charge of filming laughs out loud as he looks at it: Playing this segment of 3-5 seconds would do it. Perhaps the audiences are going to feel like they are stuck in the frame.

MC: [ Talking to herself ] ....Victor wouldn’t be so stingy to really just give me a few seconds of materials, would he?

I wait until the filming clearance carrying great doubts, and is just intending to look for the intern in charge of picking up and ask a few questions, but that person disappears in the blink of an eye.

After a while, he comes over and finds me, additionally carrying a paper medicine bag in his hand.

Intern: Sister MC, CEO Victor spoke a few words with me after getting off the car. I felt his voice sounded a little hoarse. Would you like to send this to him?

MC: A little hoarse?

Intern: Mm, it felt like a cold. Luckily, we have also been on a project with CEO Victor in the past 2 days. Director Zhang said he even received an email from CEO Victor at 3 o’clock last night. The temperature difference in these two days was so huge and CEO Victor hasn’t rested well. So he might have caught a cold.

A wave of worry floats to my heart as I carry the medicine bag in my hand.

This person.... still doesn’t understand when he starts to feel unwell, nor does he know to make a sound about it.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 3 ]

I knock on the door to Victor’s office, and there is no response for a long time.

This kind of situation is very rare. I feel a little worried, and twist the doorknob to push open a little crack.

Victor leans back in his chair, dozing off. I haven’t pushed the door too loudly, but it still wakes him up.

He straightens up his back, and reaches out his hand to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he looks at me.

I feel somewhat very bad, and simply walk straight over.

MC: ....Did I wake you up? The intern said your voice sounded a little hoarse. So he bought some medicines for you, and asked me to bring them to you.

MC: Are you OK?

I can’t help stepping forward, and reaching out my hand to place it on his forehead. He has just woken up, his reaction clearly hasn’t come over, and he doesn’t even frown almost subconsciously like ordinary times.

MC: Fortunately, it’s not a fever.

Victor adjusts his suit, picks up the cup, and takes only one sip before putting it down again.

Victor: It’s no big deal.

....His voice indeed is very hoarse, and one can tell it’s a cold just by hearing it.

I rummage through the bag of medicines, and inside are throat-smoothening lozenges, indigowoad roots, fever patches– everything needed is available. It can be clearly seen that the person who bought the medicines was considerate and very attentive.

— Someone might be able to take over the job from Goldman in the future.

I eye up his cup once again. Thinking that the water inside surely have gotten cold a long time ago, I smoothly tear open a bag of indigowoad roots right away, and give it to Victor to brew up.

He actually doesn’t refuse, lifts up the cup with his both hands, letting the warm steam rising from the cup to blow on his face.

It’s rare for me to see him with the appearance of being unable to lift up his spirits like this, and I truly can’t help but frown.

MC: Why is it that the first thing you do after getting off the plane is coming back to the office, and not give yourself even a day of sick leave?

Before Victor can say anything, his phone sitting on the table starts vibrating.

I look at the lock screen illuminated by the light. Surprisingly, it really is that picture of “Working-class people, working-class soul” I have given him earlier.

Victor ignores the phone, and lowers his head to drink two sips of the indigowoad roots.

Victor: There are two more meetings in the evening, and the time was fixed already a long time ago.

The implication is that, it’s not happening.

My very soul is shaken: When the capitalists work with all their might like this, what qualifications do I have to not make great efforts.

MC: ....If this segment of yours is included in the show, LFG’s stock price will have to rise by at least three limit ranges.

Victor casts his everyday speechless expression at me. Judging from this reaction, it must have gotten a little bit slower due to the dizzy state he has been in just a moment ago.

I set my heart down, and shove my both hands inside the pockets of my coat.

MC: If you’re all right, I’ll go on and continue to keep an eye on the progress. There are throat-smoothening lozenges in that medicine bag. Remember to take them if your throat feels uncomfortable.

Victor nods, and as soon as I turn my head, he picks up the phone.

MC: Remember—

I suddenly recall when I have walked to the door, and smile at him as I lean against the crack of the door.

MC: To drink plenty of hot water!

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 4 ]

Today’s filming goes on till 10 o’clock, and wraps up without a hitch.

I heard Goldman say that Victor’s meeting has also adjourned about at this same time. I buy some food for him and bring them over. As expected, he really hasn’t eaten again.

He is probably tired, and doesn’t hold it against my meddling in other people’s business, nor does he mock my poor order.

Just as I have set the four dishes on the coffee table, he then picks up the chopsticks on his own.

MC: Chicken, fish, less salt, less oil, and high protein.

MC: How’s this? This sick meal is still not bad, right? [1]

Without making any assessment, Victor picks up the rice, and tastes two bites in order to show his affirmation.

Victor: How’s the filming of the show coming along?

MC: Surprisingly good.

When the topic of the interns who participated in the filming of the show is raised, I don’t know how am I supposed to praise them.

MC: Kids nowadays can be extremely quick-witted. They learn things both fast and well, and are also very savvy about interpersonal relationships....

MC: Each one of them are standard template for the business elite.

MC: There is this one intern who came to LFG on the first day, and the department manager called him to write a summary on the conference....

MC: He said straightforwardly that he didn’t know how to do it, and requested for someone to teach him.

MC: And at that time, we were even talking about it encircling behind the monitor.

MC: If it were up to the conventional thinking, the audience surely would have thought that he’d be stifling, be scarlet red in the face and enter the conference room trembling in fear.

MC: In the end, not only did he not have any of those, but was even very frank with his approach. This kind of self-confidence is too rare.

Victor suddenly laughs while eating.

Victor: Do you think they are all just like you?

MC: ....What’s wrong with me!

Victor: Always preferring to buff your way out.

MC: Am not!

Even if I really have, it was also a long time ago. Things are very different now.

MC: Anyway, not....

Victor is still smiling. His smile makes me feel that these few clearly light and bland dishes must be very tasty indeed.

Victor: Considering your opinion, they all possibly will get the offer smoothly?

MC: Of course.

MC: Trust me. They are all excellent. You were able to attract such a group of youngsters towards LFG, and have made the profit!

MC: And also after the show is broadcast, it will be a good thing for LFG’s publicity aspect too.

MC: Didn’t you say earlier that LFG’s Strategic Development Department wants to set up an image of high professionalism in the public’s eyes?

Victor: Since you are this set on heart about LFG’s future, you should be brought along to future meetings of the Strategic Development Department.

Victor: And give you the title of external consultant.

MC: I’ll come if I’m given the wages.

Hearing him speak in a voice a little more hoarse than in the afternoon, I think and know as well that he has spoken a lot during the meetings again. I get up to pour him a cup of hot water.

Victor doesn’t say anything, and carefully eats the food. Not a moment later, my phone rings out abruptly.

Kiki: Boss— I’ve something to ask you. How many minutes in total is the pilot episode going to run?

MC: Half an hour or so, I think. Take a look at the source material in use.

MC: ....Are you still at the office? It’s already half past ten. Didn’t I say you can take an early break today to rest.

Kiki: Alright, I’ll go back immediately. Boss, you should call it an early night too.

Victor puts down the bowl and chopsticks, and leisurely wipes his lips while shooting me an alarming glance.

Victor: It’s so late already. You’re not off work either.

Victor: And you still call someone else a workaholic?

[ Note: The phrase used here is “人家” (rén jia) which can be translated to other people/someone else. But it’s also used to referring “oneself” as “people/someone.” So basically here, Victor is saying how MC calls him a workaholic LOL. Similar to how the “a certain someone” phrase is often used in their conversation. ]

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 5 ]

I stare at Victor, and sigh in a manner as though I want to say something but am hesitating.

MC: But I came here to bring you dinner in the spirit of dedication based on “It is everyone’s duty to take care of the Boss.”

MC: Did you just classify this as autonomous overtime activity?

I hold out my hand towards him.

MC: How about you pay for the overtime?

Victor shoots me a glance, and simply purses his lips with a faint smile.

Victor: I don’t know if I can afford to pay the charges of the gold medal producer.

I laugh along with him, and raise my eyebrows imitating the way he usually does.

MC: If you can’t afford to pay, I can give you a discount.

As we are talking, Kiki sends me a rough cut of the video that’s going to be used in the pilot. I place my phone on the coffee table, and turn it in an angle that both Victor and I can see.

MC: Just in time. Let’s have a little look at the clip of the show with dinner.

This segment happens to be the scene when the interns were being interviewed.

At first glance, they all appear to be business elites clad in suits and with boundless prospects. But the tension in between waiting during the intervals is entirely visible to the unaided eye.

....Also there was a young girl, as a result of being too keyed-up, she even decided to memorize a piece of English text to loosen up for a while.

I watch with keen interest, and Victor looks at my gaze with keen interest.

Their expression and state of affairs– immediately makes me evoke all of that scene in one go, that time back then, when I stood in front of Victor.

Victor: What’s on your mind that you’re so engrossed in watching?

MC: Don’t you have a sense of resonance? Weren’t you like this when you were young?

Just as expected, Victor gives an expression of “Of course not.”

....Is the world so enormously uneven?

Victor bores through two more segments anyway, and the video happens to be onto the time when the interns were receiving their written notice of the internship prepared by the program team.

MC: Yesterday Anna discussed with me that this pilot segment is intended for setting up the keynotes for the show, and in what pattern the character are written here is very important.

MC: What we are thinking about at the moment is— Beginning from here on out, may we all have a luminous and sparkling future ahead of us with boundless prospects.

MC: What do you think?

Victor has been titling his head to the side throughout as he listens to my words, showing no expression of evaluation.

Victor: About what exactly to do on your shows, don’t you usually ask for less of my specific opinions?

I tap pause on the video, and the frame rests on the glass window outside the LFG building, reflecting off the blue sky and white clouds.

MC: This time it’s different. This group of youngsters are from LFG.

MC: You’ve worked so hard in creating LFG to have a platform so bright and beautiful....

MC: Isn’t it just in the hope that even more people will find broader future here.

Victor’s gaze remains calm and collected, and a smile has been gracing the corners of his lips all along.

It’s already very late at night. Seeing that Victor has also had his fill, I tidy up the coffee table at once, get up and gesture at him.

MC: Let’s go CEO. Time to get off work.

MC: I’ll drive you home.

Victor is clearly taken aback for a moment.

Victor: You’ll drive me?

I nod boldly and self-righteously.

MC: Goldman got off work already at an earlier time, and also greeted me just before leaving. You’ve taken the cold medicine tonight. I’m driving, okay.

Victor: ....

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 6 ]

My car is parked directly opposite the elevator. As soon as Victor steps out of the elevator, he walks straight over to the backseat, pulls open the car door, and hops in without saying a word.

I fasten my seatbelt in the driver’s seat, and can’t help from glancing over at the back seat.

MC: CEO Victor, generally speaking.... at times like this, you should be taking the passenger seat.

Victor looks down at his phone without even lifting his head for a bit.

Victor: I’m not used to with sitting in the passenger seat. [2]

MC: ....Fine.

After all, he is the CEO. It makes sense that he has never sat in the passenger seat before.

I suddenly recall the app-based taxi guidance, and repeat them without missing a word.

MC: Our trip is about to begin. Please fasten your seatbelt. Is the temperature inside the car fairly appropriate?

This time, Victor lifts up his head to look at me, his eyes laced with very obvious confusion.

Evidently, the CEO has almost never taken a taxi either.

Overjoyed, I drive the car out of the parking lot, then immediately lower half the car window, letting the unrestrained sweet night breeze of spring to blow in.

Victor hasn’t said anything all the way, typing down messages on his phone from time to time.

Halfway through the journey, Victor puts the phone back in his pocket, leans back in the seat and looks outside window, laughing in a lazy manner as though soliloquizing.

Victor: You are the person I know, who very rarely let me set down my work to rest.

I think back carefully— in fact, that was not the case. It’s just not in his memory. *[ clutches chest ]*

But now, it really isn’t my habit to speak up too much to persuade him into something. He has his own principles and reasons for everything he does....

MC: You won’t listen even if I said so anyway.

MC: Also.... work is a very important thing to you. I can understand that.

Half the side of Victor’s face is reflected on the dark tinted car window, and his eyes are casted towards me in alarm, within which are reflected the gorgeous neon lights of the city.

Victor: Does work have to be a very important thing?

The lights of the street lamps fall on the asphalt road. This road, carpeted with light, seems so far away that it doesn’t have an end.

MC: Mm.... work is a very important thing.

MC: Work is akin to flights of steps. By stepping up and standing in an even higher place, you can then do the things you want to do more.

MC: Perhaps back then, the CEO of LFG has also been just like these group of youngsters. Clad in a suit, standing at the starting point, and then he walked on his way to this day.

In the rearview mirror, Victor locks eyes with me meaningfully. This is an expression I’m familiar with, an expression that represents his tacit understanding.

Victor: Earlier, did you want to have me attend the show’s press conference?

I pick up on the keynote, and hurriedly get my spirits up.

MC: You agreed!

Hearing my absolutely certain tone, Victor smiles faintly.

Victor: I haven’t said anything yet.

MC: I still have some of that sharp workplace acumen, and don’t need to be told everything by the CEO to get it right. I can understand the spirit on my own.

Victor doesn’t say anything anymore, and he lowers the car window too. Seeing the night breeze messing up the fringes in front of his forehead, I’ve originally wanted to speak up, and remind him that he’s unwell and should refrain from blowing the wind....

On a second thought I feel, the breeze is very comfortable and is worth blowing.

Especially after constantly running around for several days, and after finally ending a busy and tiring day.

It’s worth blowing a little breeze, and having a look at this resplendent city.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 7]

The press conference has been arranged at a hotel under the banner of LFG. Victor has been invited to attend, and he sits in the VIP area off the stage.

I’ve arranged the sequence of process in advance. The only thing he needs to consider is that going up on the stage– next, saying a few words to make an official speech, and that will suffice.

But today’s situation is comparatively lively, and the reporters are clearly very interested in LFG itself as well.

As soon as Victor comes up on the stage, there is constant applause, and the “click-click-click” sound of taking photos nearly overpowers the clamors of the tide of people.

The host has tried several times to ask Victor, who has already finished his speech and is getting off the stage, but couldn’t find the appropriate opportunity to do so. Thereupon, I cast an inquiring glance.

I’ve just got up, wanting to stop the reporters, but Victor lifts up his hand— which means is that, it’s fine.

Victor invites the reporters to ask questions one by one— in a manner that, he is in a very good mood today, and nobody will be refused.

Reporter: CEO Victor, is there any serious consideration behind LFG choosing to collaborate with this kind workplace related variety show?

Victor: There aren’t any serious considerations. We simply feel that, every one of the employees working at LFG are excellent, and they are worthy of being seen by everyone.

Reporter: Excuse me, CEO Victor, do you have anything to say to these young people who have become a member of LFG?

After glancing at me faintly, Victor once again looks towards the press box, and opens his mouth unhurriedly, uttering the words that I have said in front of him before.

Victor: I hope that they will set sail on their journey from LFG, and have a luminous and sparkling future with boundless prospects.

When the applause rings out, I suddenly realize that– I, too, have apparently set sail on my journey clumsily under Victor’s wings, and then slowly walked on my way to this day.

Regardless of the time, the LFG he has created, the doors of this tremendous business empire is wide open to all dreams, waiting for young people, waiting for everyone.

The letters “LFG” have long since not only been the bearer of Victor’s expectations and prospects alone.

After walking through the entire sequence of events, the press conference is officially concluded.

As soon as the hotel brings up the wine and food for the buffet, I immediately offer my eager attention to Victor, busying myself with choosing the champagne to bring over to him.

MC: Is CEO Victor fairly satisfied with this press conference?

Victor takes the wine glass in my hand, and gently raises his hand to gesture at me.

Victor: This is your show, as long as the producer is satisfied with it– that will do.

From my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of the interns in the show being huddled together, taking selfies against the signature board at the doorway, and am instantly struck by an idea.

MC: Victor, why don’t you wish me a future with boundless prospects too, and give me a blessing for good luck.

With one hand in his pocket, Victor turns his head to look at me.

Victor: You’re already very luminous and sparkling. Do you still need to ask for this kind of blessing for good luck?

MC: The more the better.

A smear of smile hangs across the side of Victor’s lips, and he even mulls it over for a while.

Victor: In that case, I wish that you.... can always sparkle luminously, at all times.

I’m able to intuitively grasp a little bit of the implied meaning within his words. Accordingly, I draw closer to Victor.

MC: Just like you?

Victor slightly lowers his eyes to regard me, his gaze- carrying within them a smile lands on my face.

Victor: If you want to, you can.

◇──◆──◇

[ EXTRA TIDBITS: ]

[1] - MC is referring to the time Victor was in hospital in CH 4.

[2] - Victor mentions this event during the car tampering incident of CH 10, when MC told him that he’d get penalty for running the red light, and he replies with- that it’s fine cause he has a driver LOL.

──

#Fluffy goodness for the heart (*´ω｀*)#pardon my thousand screenshots >.<#mlqc cn #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc spoilers #mr love victor #mldd victor #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #li zeyan #李泽言 #恋与制作人 #love and producer #mlqc s2 #mlqc season 2 #mlqc translations #The anon who asked for it- I hope you see this~ ♡

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calif0rnia-lovers · 4 years

Text

MBJ Alphabet | Choker.

twenty-six fluffy/smutty stories, long over-due. a mixture of reader/oc fics divided amongst mike & the characters he has played. based on the word suggestions received for each letter of the alphabet. updated out of order, based on your votes. can be tracked under mbj alphabet in my tags for mobile users. check out the prompts & submit your vote for what you’d like to see next. feedback always welcomed

Link to the MBJ Alphabet Masterlist | Sign up to be tagged

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Black!OC

Summary: It’s midterm season again at MIT. Cue copious amounts of coffee and group study sessions. Erik’s distraction comes from Jaz’s favorite accessory

Words: 1.8K

Erik doesn’t play when it comes to his grades, but that’s not the reason he’s in the library at nine-thirty on a Saturday night. Any other Saturday, you wouldn’t dare catch Erik in the library. By this time, he is typically done working over one of the many girls he has wrapped around his finger.

Speaking of "one of the many girls" -- that’s why Erik has interrupted his usual Saturday night routine with a trip to the library.

Jasmine Stewart.

She may be one of the many girls that have entered the orbit of Erik Stevens, but she is definitely not wrapped around his finger. If we consider the sole reason Erik is in the library, it might be the other way around.

Erik can’t remember the last time he actually studied. He’s never had to. He hears the information once, and he’s good. That’s why he received the sight of rolling eyes upon his arrival.

“What?”

Jaz bites her tongue as she watches Erik drop into the chair next to hers. When he chased her down, after class, with a smile and "you got one more spot on that list?" Jaz had extremely low expectations.

She has crossed paths with Erik for the last year and has never witnessed him step foot in the library or attend a single study session. This is why, as her eyes pass over his lack of-- well lack of anything -- Jaz shakes her head.

As she meets his playful eyes, she redirects her attention to the study guide before her.

“You’re late, Stevens.” She replies, raising her pencil to point towards the clock. “Twenty-seven minutes late to be exact, without a single book. Which is why we started without you.”

“You didn’t think I’d show up?”

“Can you blame me?” Disregarding the rolling of Erik's eyes, Jaz easily swipes his hand away preventing him from dragging her chair closer to his. Instead, he settles for moving his chair closer. “It’s Saturday night, and trust me, we all know what you do on Saturday nights.”

Jaz’s eyes roll as Erik's arm drapes along the back of her chair. She knows pushing it away is pointless. Primarily because the smile she had intended on suppressing, has already made its way across her face.

Now that her previous statement has had a chance to set in, Jaz's smile is gone. Erik's smile, however, has grown in size as he watches Jaz's gaze drop from his. It lingers on his lips for a brief moment before she pauses to clear her throat.

Blinking, Jaz redirects her attention to the stack of study guides before her.

"Um...I made these for everyone," she offers, blindly pushing a copy in his direction.

"Thanks."

Even after her focus has shifted, Jaz knows the remainder of the session will be useless. At least with Erik seated alongside her. He doesn't bother to read the study guide she spent hours creating. His gaze, instead, is preoccupied with regarding her.

The worst part about Erik's gaze is that it is unapologetic--shameless. It lingers on each of her features, somehow evoking vivid memories of how they felt beneath his lips.

An all too familiar heat that only rouses in his presence spreads across Jaz's skin as she attempts to concentrate on her notes. Shifting forward, she rests her elbows against the table, trying to increase the space separating their bodies. The feeble attempt does little to help her focus.

And he knows it.

The last time Erik was this close was a week ago. Jaz was pinned against the fridge in his apartment. And Erik's hand wasn’t rapping against the back of her seat. It was wrapped around Jaz's throat while he watched her come undone for the second time that morning.

The memories of last Saturday, that melded into Sunday morning, quickly flood her mind. The smile on Erik’s lips morphs into a grin as Jaz shifts in her seat, her legs uncrossing, fingers toying with the black lace around her neck.

It was a nervous tick. One Erik noticed she only seemed to display beneath his gaze. No matter how quick she was with her words, Jaz toyed with her necklaces when nervous. A tick that made it impossible for Erik not to think about kissing her neck each time he witnessed it.

Today’s distraction is Jaz's favorite black lace choker. With her long, dark locks pulled into a high ponytail, it’s easy for Erik to see that the evidence from their last encounter still marks her skin.

If it weren’t for the fading hickies meticulously placed along her skin, barely covered by the thin lace, Erik would’ve accepted he dreamed their encounter.

Because after he’d interrupted her making coffee for a round of half-sleep, lazy sex, Erik had stopped to take a shower. By the time he had found a towel and stepped back into the kitchen, Jaz was gone.

She hadn't even bothered to leave coffee in the pot for him. Once they saw each other in class that following Monday, Jaz was back to addressing Erik Stevens with the same amount of energy she had the past several months. Little to none.

When she came home with him that first night, Erik hadn’t initially planned on calling her the next day.

Relationships aren’t really his thing.

But he did at least anticipate a phone call -- shit, even a text.

They always come. No matter if Erik never bothers to respond half the time, they always come. Not from Jaz.

“Speaking of Saturday night,” Erik sighs. His eyes drop to follow the action of her fingers as they trace the lace against her skin. “You lose my number or something?”

This question is enough to raise her eyes from her notes. Erik earns a smile as Jaz’s eyes meet his.

"When you popped smoke-"

“Or something.” A light shrug accompanies Jaz's words. Putting her pen down, she shifts in her seat to find Erik's eyebrow raised, his lips turned up into a grin. “And I did not pop smoke. Especially when you're Mr. Can't Sleep With The Same Girl More Than Once."

"Okay," Erik chuckles. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, dragging Jaz's mind straight back to the last Saturday. “Last I checked, we definitely went more than once-”

Shaking her head, in a feeble attempt to clear it, Jaz ignores the smile she receives in response.

"So, what?" Jaz huffs, the sarcasm in her voice surprisingly strong. "Is this where you tell me that you showed up tonight to say I'm the exception to the rule, and you suddenly wanna take me out?"

"I didn’t say all that-"

"Good," she smiles as she pushes her chair back. Standing, she retrieves the sticky note from her notebook. “I don’t have time for a boyfriend, so you can save the whole I'm not emotionally available speech."

"And pick up with what comes after?" He chuckles as he falls into step alongside her.

She's not sure why the proposition throws her off, but Jaz glances in Erik's direction.

"No," she laughs. The sound does not sound nearly as convincing as she intends. "Did you get up to annoy me or help me?"

"I'll help you," Erik shrugs as she stops to double-check the author on the sticky note. "Just tell me what you need."

"You wanna help me out?" Jaz lifts the sticky note. She presses it firmly against his chest, stopping his hands from finding her waist. "Help me find this book."

Jaz may have had pure intentions when she stood up from the table. Erik, on the other hand, might not have.

In fact, if anyone in their study group could find the brainpower to look up from their notes, they would notice Erik is nowhere to be seen.

And has been M.I.A. for nearly ten minutes.

While his classmates stress over the quickly approaching midterms, Erik is deep in the stacks. His teeth cutting into her lip, catching the whimpers that spill from Jaz as his fingers stretch her open.

His thrusts are relentless and meticulous, melding into a torturous rhythm. Each time Jaz manages to regain control over her breathing, Erik's fingers move as fast as the stuttering of her heart. The second her fingers squeeze into his arm, her hips rolling forward to match his movements, Erik’s pace becomes teasingly slow. A chuckle is lost against her lips each time she whispers a protest.

Erik’s tongue passes over his lips at the beautiful sight before him.

Jaz’s head is tipped back, pressing into the books behind her. Her eyes gripped shut, chest heaving as she struggles to steady her breaths.

“We're in the library, babe," he teases. "You gotta be quiet."

It is the same taunt that comes each time he manages to pull a sound from her, and each time his pace slows.

Jaz would try and shoot back a snarky remark, but the fear of something much louder slipping out presses her teeth deeper into her lip.

They both knew the problem could easily be fixed.

All Erik has to do is lift his hand. Press it against her mouth, but that would be too easy. Instead of moving to muffle her voice, Erik's touch drags along the curve of her jaw. His lips follow its path, the brush of his tongue mixing in with heated kisses.

His grip tightens as it finds the base of her throat, his thumb tracing the pattern of the black lace against her skin. Pushing it up, he allows his breath to pass over the bruises on her skin. The shiver that passes over her spine, arches her body into his. Each brush and suck of his lips work to pull out a fresh bruise. Between the pressure from Erik's mouth and his fingers, Jaz's legs are trembling in a matter of seconds.

The wave of pleasure she has spent minutes chasing comes to an abrupt halt the moment “E-” passes her lips.

In an instance, Erik’s touch is gone. His chuckle muffles the gasp that escapes Jaz’s lungs.

“You should head back.” Jaz’s hooded eyes open. The deadly look in her eyes is enough to make Erik’s smile morph into a cheese-eating grin. “Wouldn’t want your group to start wondering where you went.”

“I’m going to kill you,” the promise in her voice earns Jaz a chaste kiss.

“You might need this,” Erik smiles.

Jaz's gaze falls from his sparkling eyes to the deep navy book in Erik’s hands. The slowly ebbing high has left her mind hazy, meaning it takes her a moment to realize it’s the book she had initially set out to find. Pressing it against his chest, Jaz tries her best to ignore the smug look on Erik’s face as he takes a step back.

“Use my number if you wanna finish later.”

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nbrook29 · 4 years

Note

99 🖤🖤

Hello there! You’re officially my last dialogue prompt 🤩 I’m sorry this took so long, anon, I hope you’re gonna like it at least a little 🤓

I don’t take prompts for this challenge anymore. Just wanted to put that out there 😇 There are so many amazing ones on that list, but as of now I have 3 WIPs and one additional one in the works and I’d like to finish them before wtfock ends 😅

Anywho, here you go!

99. “I don’t think I’ve ever played spin the bottle.”

* * *

Robbe is going to kill Moyo.

In fact, he's going to kill all three of his so-called friends because none of them protested when Moyo, tipsy and on his way to drunk, announced that this party sucked and was in dire need of some spice.

He wishes he had listened to his past self and stayed home just like he had originally planned. It was supposed to be a quiet night in, editing videos or maybe spent in bed rewatching Romeo and Juliet in peace with no broers around to mock his movie choice while stuffing his face with onion chips and pretending the movie does not make him emotional, no sir. The wetness in his eyes must be sweat, not tears.

Then, after the movie would have ended, his sulking levels high, it would be time for his favorite activity of recent - daydreaming about reality in which he actually had the fucking guts to make a proper move instead of turning red everytime a certain someone was in his close proximity; smiling at him with that perfect sweet lovely smile that turned his already gorgeous features so much more beautiful that Robbe could weep.

And doesn’t that sound like a magnificent evening?

It may sound kinda lame, Robbe is a man enough to admit that, but the prospect of spending the night watching his friends salivating over girls they can’t get being the alternative wouldn't be particularly alluring to anyone, he guesses. Especially since he never partakes in that salivating part himself, instead chugging one beer after another and playing his designated role of a wallflower.

Story of his life.

The whole thing just plain sucks, because it’s not like his friends aren’t well aware of the fact that Robbe’s interests lie elsewhere and that he’s usually bored out of his mind at those parties. But when there’s at least a semi-attractive girl around them they don’t care about anything else but getting her number and Robbe’s not exactly their priority then. In fact, he could well enough not be there at all and it wouldn’t make much difference. It happens every time they drag him along to those parties and every time he just stands there, rolling his eyes on their embarrassing attempts of flirting.

Not like he’s the master of flirting himself, but even he’s not capable of stooping as low as they usually do.

This time, he reluctantly agreed to come to this one, against his better judgement, after Jens bugged him about it for their entire biology class, trying to convince him it was going to be more of a small gathering rather than a party. And frankly speaking, he did that just to make him shut up so mrs Jansen stopped glaring at him. Like he was the one running his mouth.

Once Robbe said the magic words “I’ll be there” there was no way of getting out of it. Still, his plan was to come by for an hour or two to get the broers of his back, drink a few beers, talk to Jana maybe, and then quietly leave when everyone would be too drunk and too busy tonguing at each other's tonsils to notice he's gone.

But to his surprise, the party turned out not to be the typical banger they usually attended. It wasn’t even that bad and he was kinda having fun since he wasn't forced to play the guys' sidekick-gay-friend this time around and instead was dragged by Zoe to the kitchen to drink shots with her, Jana and Luca right after he arrived.

However, parties are not really his scene in general so when it started getting really late he finished his last Buttery Nipple shot composed by Luca (don’t ask) and was just about to make an apologetic face at the girls and say his goodbyes.

But then Noor and Brit arrived.

With him.

And Robbe almost swallowed his tongue.

Nobody should have the right to look this good but there he was, laughing with Milan in the hall while taking his signature leather jacket off, running a hand through his smooth like silk hair (Robbe's convinced it's indeed very silky) to ruffle it a little like it ever needed any styling, and in general looking like he had just walked out of Robbe's dream straight into Milan's apartment.

Sander Driesen.

The reason for Robbe’s cheeks being permanently stained pink as of late.

They met at one of those after school clubs led by Amber several weeks ago that Robbe came to only because he agreed (after pretty much being blackmailed into it) to play Aaron’s wingman in winning Amber’s heart.

He was gone as soon as those green eyes met his and the boy in front of him, wearing a black Bowie t-shirt and a leather jacket, shook his hand while smiling a little unsurely but still friendly, never breaking their eye contact as he introduced himself in a honey-like voice that penetrated every cell of his body, knees buckling a little, heart stuttering, the whole shebang.

He’s still thanking god he managed to hold back the whimper that was about to get out when he was saying his own name back.

Needless to say, the meeting became much more bearable after that.

Even having to witness Aaron’s cringeworthy attempts of gaining Amber’s attention weren’t that bad anymore. Not when they made Sander chuckle under his breath and catch his eye over Amber’s shoulder, winking at Robbe with a mischief dancing in his eyes as he bit his lip to keep his own laugh at bay.

And then, Amber came up with some stupid “love excercise” or whatever the fuck she called it and made them all hold hands in a circle. She claimed it released stress and spread positivity or some other bullshit, but Robbe was convinced it was just a ploy she came up with to hold the school’s number one fuckboy Senne’s hand (who, if Robbe had to guess, also wasn’t there out of his own free will).

Robbe wasn’t a very touchy-feely person, especially with people he had no business of touching in the first place so the whole thing was beyond painful. Thankfully, Jana came to his rescue, snatching his right hand as they exchanged smirks over Amber’s lofty speech about positive energy filling their bodies.

But then someone else gently took his other hand and when he went to inspect who it was, annoyance already starting to creep in, his mouth went dry, eyes going up, up, up the person’s leather-clad arm before stopping on Sander’s face, looking far too entertained.

The boy took an overly deep breath, eyes closed and face feigning seriousness, breathing out loudly.

“Ahh, I can already feel that rush of energy,” Sander leaned in to whisper to him, a teasing tilt to his voice making Robbe giggled at his antics.

“I guess Amber was right then.”

“No no, I don’t think it’s Amber’s techniques, I just think it’s because of you.”

Robbe just gaped at this shameless flirting, receiving another wink when caught blushing deep pink. Sander seemed unfazed though, totally chill, like saying lame lines and winking at boys was in his everyday repertoire. It definitely wasn’t like that for Robbe, and definitely not from boys as cute as Sander.

He should have probably rolled his eyes at him, called him cocky and full of himself. And yet.

There was something about Sander’s demeanor that screamed it was all a facade, and that underneath there was a huge dork that came out right after that guard was let down. Robbe couldn’t even be annoyed with the smug winking because it was adorned with such a cute smile that it called for a fond eye roll rather than scoffing.

Before he could form at least a half cool response, Amber started shushing all of them with a bossy face, glaring at every person that dared to make a sound. So with a rush of sudden boldness, Robbe just squeezed Sander’s hand and looked at him from under his lashes, biting his lip in an attempt at being coy (and cringing at himself internally) despite his body thrumming with nerves standing this close to Sander, and for some unknown reason it brought the desired effect.

Sander kept smiling at him surreptitiously throughout the entire meeting, making him laugh with his playful faces at some of Amber’s more ridiculous statements, and it felt like they had an entire conversation even though they didn’t exchange one word during that half an hour.

When they were finally free to go home it was after 21, Robbe realized with a whine. After they all collected their things and were ready to leave, Sander turned around in the doorway, searching for Robbe’s eyes while ignoring the rest of their friends crowding against the door, and when Robbe glanced furtively into his direction his expression turned almost bashful as he said bye, Robin.

And then again with the winking.

Good god this boy.

And how cute it was he couldn’t actually wink? It looked more like a reinforced blinking, but he still looked cute doing it.

Once Robbe came back home that evening, thoughts occupied with bleached hair and the smell of leather jacket, he couldn’t stop himself from searching for Sander’s social media. In just one sitting he gathered a handful of information, finding out Sander was a year older and recently transferred to his school (which would explain how he had missed him in the corridors). He also had a photo with Amber down at the bottom of his profile and from the caption it seemed like they were cousins.

Robbe’s fingers hovered over the ‘follow’ button, but he didn’t want to seem like a stalker so he just closed the app, throwing his phone on his bed in exasperation feeling sorry for himself and his inexperience in talking to boys.

The universe decided to be graceful for him for once in his life though and put Sander on his path again only 3 days later.

Like every Saturday afternoon Robbe was in the skate park with the broers, taking piss of one another’s skills and trying out new tricks while basking in the October sun that felt more like it was full on spring rather than the beginning of fall. He was in the middle of showing off some of his best tricks to the sounds of his friends hollering when he caught sight of bleached hair in his peripheral, almost falling straight on his ass. But luck was on his side and he avoided making a spectacle out of himself.

Once he was safely on the ground, skateboard under his foot, he glanced in the direction of white hair one more time to see Sander lowering his vintage camera and whistling, making an impressed face and promptly causing Robbe to downcast his eyes bashfully.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Robin.”

Robbe sighed. “It’s Robbe.”

“I know, but isn’t that a cute nickname?”

Robbe ducked his head, smiling a little to himself, cursing the heat rising in his cheeks. “Are you always this annoying?”

For a moment, Sander seemed to be taken aback, but then he must have noticed the teasing glint in Robbe’s eyes because he relaxed visibly, confidence back on his face.

Then, easily and offhandedly, he said, “No, just with very certain people.”

If Robbe had any doubts before about Sander taking immense pleasure out of teasing him, he didn’t anymore. He was flashed with another mischievous smile and then Sander nodded at the bowl.

“That was pretty awesome.”

“Thanks.” Robbe scratched at the back of his neck self-conciously, ignoring his friends’ intrigued faces and praying they didn’t say anything stupid. “To be honest, these aren’t even that difficult, anybody could do them...”

“Pff, I tried this skateboarding thing once and let me tell you, I was an absolute disaster so don’t sell yourself short.” Sander nudged at his shoulder with a knowing look, the contact sending a shiver through Robbe’s entire body.

“So what are you doing here if you suck at it?” He sent him a toothy grin when Sander gaped at his brazen words, faux-scandalized.

He then lifted his camera swiftly and took a photo of Robbe’s dumbfounded face.

“I’m only around this deadly thing to take artsy pictures of cute boys.”

Looking very proud of himself, Sander laughed at his indignant spluttering, refusing to show Robbe the photo at first, giving in a few seconds later under his killer pout (Sander’s words).

“So, is this where you spend your afternoons?” he asked casually once they sat down at a nearby bench, Sander scrolling through his camera roll and showing him the photos.

Robbe nodded, watching Aaron from afar attempting the backside ollie and failing miserably. It pulled out a snort from Sander.

“Well, you’re definitely better at it than your friends.”

Elbowing him in the side as a sign of loyalty to his friends, he replied. “Jens is actually better than me.”

Sander sent him a curious look. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“What?! Eww, no! I have way better taste than that.” It’s not like he’d admit he had crushed on his best friend a year ago. So, hopefully, he sounded convincing.

Sander lifted his hands in surrender, laughing at his outburst. “Okay, okay, message received, only the cutest boys for you,” he paused, biting at his lip to hold his smirk. “Makes sense,” he muttered under his breath, but Robbe heard him anyway.

Later that day, he got a instagram notification that informed him that earthlingoddity was following him as of now and damn if that didn’t make Robbe’s heart beat faster.

earthlingoddity sent you a link

S: Considering today’s unfortunate incident, I made you a bowie playlist, need to teach the youngsters like you the real music 😎😏

The first message from Sander made him scoff, but he rolled his eyes at himself anyway when he remembered his conversation with him at the skatepark, asking about the shirt and prompting Sander to quiz him about David Bowie’s songs.

Robbe hid his face in his hands at the mere memory.

Space Cowboy.

How embarrassing.

Sander tried so hard not to burst out laughing at Robbe’s confusion when his answer was met with a blank stare, bless him.

R: So you're one of those people?

S: What people?

R: Self-righteous hipsters 😜

S: Now now Robin

No need for names 😩

R: It's Robbe

R o b b e

S: Okay Robin ;)

R: 🙄

Unbelievable

S: So

What's up? 🙃

They kept up at this casual texting for 2 recent weeks, getting to know each other, and Sander confirming that he does, in fact, have a soft side. Robbe also realized he was a much bolder person when no face to face interaction was required when he had more time before responding to Sander. Then there were the occasional “hellos” at school when they crossed paths in the halls, but so far their friendship, if he could even call it that, hadn’t evolved further.

In fact, this party was the first time Robbe had seen him in a week.

Their eyes met for a few short seconds and Robbe waved at him, immediately after wanting to bang his head at the table because who the fuck waves these days?

Sander didn’t seem to mind this dorky display at all, beaming at him from across the hallway and not paying much attention to Milan who was talking his ear off. A second later, he was out of Robbe’s sight, dragged by Milan and the girls to the living room, leaving him staring longingly after him.

Before Robbe got his shit together and on shaky legs went there to maybe squeeze out a few words to him, Moyo was already on his way of arranging people into a circle and producing a bottle to spin.

What a bad fucking timing.

This was so not Robbe’s idea of fun so he started to surreptitiously backing off to the hall to slide out the door but Jana, the traitor, grabbed his arm and sat him next to her, seeming very excited about the game.

It’s not like he was the only one reluctant to play though. Sander’s face looked rather bemused too.

“Come oooon, Sander,” Noor groaned at him, pulling at his sleeve relentlessly to make him plop his butt on her left side. “You promised to leave that sulky slash lovesick face at home and have fun. This is fun!”

“I think we have a different definition of fun, darling,” he retorted, his gaze sweeping through the half-drunk faces, stopping at Robbe’s for a millisecond. It was so quick he thought he imagined the apprehensive look on his face, but then Sander did sit down, letting out a long-suffering sigh and promptly avoided his gaze throughout the game. Which was clearly an intentional effort because they sat exactly opposite each other.

To say Robbe was confused would be an understatement.

And that’s how he finds himself here, sitting in a circle amongst his friends and several strangers who keep hollering and shoving tongues in each other’s throats. He had one close call when the bottle spinned by a redhead girl almost pointed at him, making him hold his breath but then stopping on Moyo sitting on his other side, who was way more eager to fill the deed.

When it’s finally Sander’s turn to spin the bottle, Robbe's heart starts beating double time and he twists his fingers nervously. He realizes with dread that there is no good outcome of this situation; if it lands on any of his friends or any of those few people he only vaguely recognizes, he’s going to have to watch Sander play tonsil tennis with them and his stomach turns unpleasantly with something akin to jealousy at the mere thought.

But if it lands on him?

Oh god.

The bottle is spinning already, Robbe having missed the moment Sander put it in motion, too busy wrangling with his thoughts about what he should do. The fact Sander has been avoiding his eyes ever since they started this stupid game makes him even more nervous about the whole thing.

Then the bottle stops, pointing at him so accurately that it leaves no room for question.

And Sander’s face positively falls.

Sitting near him Jens and Moyo are giving him subtle thumbs up and not so subtle shit-eating grins with Aaron next to them clearly confused at their behavior all the while Sander looks like he’s in pain.

Eyes glued to the floor, body rigid, looking like he’d want to be anywhere but here.

People are staring at them, waiting for something to happen and Robbe feels nauseous.

And so humiliated.

How could he misinterpret Sander’s behavior so much? And it’s not even that, not really. Does the idea of kissing him disgusts him that much he can’t even give him one stupid kiss to avoid putting Robbe on the spot?

From the corner of his eye he can see Noor elbowing Sander in the side and there’s an entire conversation happening between them without one word being uttered.

Then, several things happen at once. The boys let go of any subtlety and start whooping and hollering like they want to force Sander to make some kind of move, there’s a loud whack coming from the kitchen where one of the couples went to continue their PDA so Jana and Zoe get up to check the damage and then Adi, who has been rummaging through the liquor cabinet for the last ten minutes, yells that he found a ten year old whiskey, making the broers scrambling off the floor to get their hands on it.

The rest of the people are still here with them though. Still staring. And Sander still seems to be rooted to the spot.

And Robbe has had enough.

Ignoring Noor’s soft Robbe, he gets up and with a heavy heart almost runs to the door, putting his jacket on in a haste, frustration and shame cursing through his body as he runs down the stairs two step at a time, wanting to get outside as fast as he can.

The cold air washes over him once he reaches the entrance and he breaths in shakily, feeling his eyes welling up despite his hardest efforts not to cry.

It just hurts. It really hurts. And if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that there have been witnesses to his humiliation is a small part of the reason why he feels this way. It’s about the fact that it was Sander.

Sander. This boy who let him believe there may actually be someone interested in him. In that way. Sander, who flirted with him, complimented him, smiled at him, listened to him and sent him Bowie playlists.

Sander, who he felt more connected to recently than to any of his friends.

He wipes at his eyes angrily, scoffing at the fact that this asshole was able to make him cry, when he hears rushed steps on the sidewalk behind him.

“Robbe!”

Walking faster, he tries to ignore the sound until there’s a hand on his shoulder stopping him in his tracks. He turns around ready to blow out in Sander’s face but the boy is faster.

“I’m so sorry for that,” he pants, voice tinted with desperation, apologies written across his face as his eyes flit all over Robbe’s like he’s trying to read his mind.

But Robbe only lets out a humorless laugh. “No worries, I understand, you were very clear. Point taken,” he sneers, starting to walk again.

“No, you don’t understand,” Sander pleads with him, taking his hand in his own to keep him from leaving. Robbe wants to pull it back, but the distressed look in Sander’s eyes makes him hesitate. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be a part of some stupid game. Not when I spent weeks trying to come up with a perfect scenario for our first kiss in my head.”

Robbe promptly loses his breath at his confession.

“You wanted to kiss me before?”

“Ever since I saw you,” Sander confirms in a small voice. His demeanor lacks the confidence Robbe got acquainted with, ripped of any trace of the usual conckiness. Instead, Sander appears almost shy, biting his lip nervously as if waiting for a blow and heart-breaking rejection.

There won’t be a rejection though. Not tonight.

Without second-guessing himself, Robbe takes that one step that still separates them and seals their lips together, hands drifting to Sander’s rosy cheeks on their own, like there was a magnet pulling them in. Sander is stunned at first, his lips unresponsive, but it only takes about three seconds for his brain to catch up and then.

Then.

Then there’s Chernobyl in Robbe’s head.

Fuck.

The way this boy kisses.

Phew.

Robbe’s brain shuts off as Sander’s mouth moves over his with intention, sliding together in a rhythm that leaves him breathless. It’s almost impossible to keep all the noises that threaten to escape inside, one small whimper getting out without Robbe’s accord, but it’s okay because it gets swallowed by Sander’s unyielding lips right after it leaves Robbe’s, making Sander pull him even closer.

Eventually, they have to stop, getting dizzy from the lack of air. When their mouths do separate though it’s only for a centimeter and they keep panting in that small space between them, soon breaking out in quiet giggles.

“I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you too. Ever since that stupid meeting,” Robbe admits, feeling brave and like he’s floating on air, no confession scary enough right now. Sander looks very pleased with his words, and Robbe can feel the telltales of his regular confident smile coming back to his face under his lips when Sander pecks him softly.

Then, he draws back, regarding Robbe with eyes full of mischief.

“I only joined to meet you.”

That makes Robbe cock his brow in surprise and he searches his face for a lie or at least a joke, but he doesn’t find any. “You saw me before?”

There’s a pause and then Sander’s smile turns softer. “I saw you the first day of school.”

And, wow. He did not expect such a turn of events.

“You were sitting at a lunch table with your friends, deep in thought, looking so beautiful you took my breath away. It felt like I saw an angel.”

Blood floods Robbe’s cheek and he drops his eyes under Sander’s intense gaze, because he’s not used to such praise, or praise whatsoever. And then there’s Sander, looking at him like he’s something precious, like he hung the moon and stars, touching him so gently and kissing him so passionately and Robbe feels like passing out.

Sander must have sensed he was getting overwhelmed because he chuckles quietly and cradles his cheek in his palm, thumb sweeping under his eye in a soothing motion as he leaves a few small kisses on his other cheek, melting Robbe in a pile of goo right there on the sidewalk, quiet night around them.

Once he pulls himself together, he can’t resist the tugging at the corners of his mouth and a full-blown smile blooms on his face that’s instantly matched by Sander’s own.

“You know, I don’t think I ever played spin the bottle before but I’d give it zero stars on booking.com,” he declares suddenly pulling a laugh out of Robbe. “I was so scared I’m gonna have to watch you kiss somebody else, phew!” He places a hand on his chest comically, turning on the dramatics. “My poor heart wouldn’t take it, Robin!”

And fuck, he’s so cute that Robbe can only laugh at this (his?) dork, fondly rolling eyes at his antics.

“Yeah, I didn’t want anybody to kiss you either. And it’s Robbe,” he adds with a long-suffering sigh, futilely, he’s sure, but it’s still worth it because Sander’s cheek in tongue expression lets him know the boy loves to rile him up and is not going to stop anytime soon.

Still, to wipe off the smug smile for the time being he pulls him back into a kiss by the lapels of his leather jacket and Sander doesn’t exactly protest such. The second kiss is slower, more thorough, but still mind blowing enough for Robbe to feel heat tugging at his stomach.

“Will you go on a date with me? Tomorrow? Or any other time you’re free? Please?” Sander whispers in the small space between them after they finally break apart, foreheads resting against each other and fireworks going on in Robbe’s brain. Despite them standing so close Robbe can see Sander’s face pretty clear, and he can see his hopeful but tentative expression as he waits for him to answer, eyes growing unsure with each second of silence.

Not wanting to keep him in suspense anymore, he gives his parted lips one more lingering kiss, too weak to resist them when they shine so prettily in the street light above them. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

#wtfock #og easter eggs because it's cute af #😌

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letterstomilen · 4 years

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i discuss the classification of igneous petrology as you fall asleep during my lecture (PART 1) (ASMR)

Childe/Zhongli, Alternate Universe (read part 2 here) When Childe's younger sister tells him about the volunteer at the library, he does not make the connection between that and his new favorite ASMR YouTuber, Rex Lapis.

Childe has a very effective method of getting through college. His little sister, who’s caught him making coffee at three in the morning on more than one occasion the past week alone, would beg to differ.

“You’re the best older brother,” she starts off, and he’s sure she’s trying to convince herself more than him at this point, “but you need to fix your sleeping habits.” Then, because she’s his little sister, she’d flash him a smile and pat his shoulder reassuringly.

(The comment is not lost on him though. He understands his sleeping situation will eventually wear him down if it hadn’t already, but he believes if he’ll drink a coffee every morning and a Monster every night, he’ll get through three days. By the third day, he’ll hardly be coherent but that doesn’t matter because he’ll conk out for the next twelve hours and then repeat.)

“Don’t worry, Tonia,” he says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible as he contemplates whether it’s worth it or not to swallow a pill of 5-hour energy with his morning coffee. “Once break ends, I’ll get back to normal.”

“You said that six seasons ago.”

Childe frowns, trying to remember if his sleeping schedule was this dysfunctional last year. “Huh?”

“The Walking Dead seasons,” Tonia clarifies, as if she’s not twelve years old and the show is for grown adults. He thinks. He hasn’t checked Commonsensemedia ever since La Signora labeled him as a “helicopter parent” and his Netflix tab has been playing How to Get Away with Murder as background noise for the past few weeks.

Isn’t it a show about zombies though? Tonia’s sheepish smile tells it all, because it’s the same exact guilty look he had when he got caught red-handed as a kid.

(Once he remembers later, Childe promises himself, he’ll check out The Walking Dead.)

“Oh. Well. I have a lot of shows to catch up on, you know. Not to mention a ton of my professors gave me reading for over the break.”

A half lie. They did give him a lot of reading because each professor assumed that their classes were his only one, and with seven days left, he still has a textbook worth of reading to go through. But there are no shows that Childe would sacrifice his precious sleep for. As a matter of fact, he would love to sleep. He’s spent the majority of his classes back in high school sleeping and faking attention, saving his grade at the last minute — it was quite the extreme sport really, if he says so himself.

Whenever he tries to sleep recently, his thoughts run at several hundred miles per hour, and he spends several hours staring at the ceiling before succumbing to the computer at his desk and watching trashy movies. At this point, he must have gone through the entire romance comedy list on Netflix. (Not a proud point in his life but if anybody ever wanted him to give a list of best to worst romance comedy movies, he now has one.)

Tonia, on the other hand, isn’t incredibly convinced.

Admittedly, the excuse was lame. Also, he can’t easily lie to his little sister, who’s far shrewder than he takes her for at times.

“You never start your reading in advance. You like to speed read it right before your class or watch a five-minute video on the chapters while your teachers take attendance. But that’s… uh, ‘a bad work ethic.’” Tonia looks immensely proud of herself as she says this, finishing it off with, “Zhongli told me that.”

“Zhongli?” he repeats, trying to remember if that’s one of her classmates or some stranger that’s hoping to kidnap his sister.

“The guy that volunteers at the library sometimes. He recommended me a loot of good books to read, but he talks like an old man.”

“How old?” Childe can tell she’s enjoying this — talking about her new friend at the library that he’ll probably have to run a background check on.

“Like he’s in his sixties or something. But he looks… actually, he looks your age! And he’s a student too. I told him all about you.”

Well, that doesn’t sound very reassuring coming from the mouth of a twelve-year-old. He’s not sure if that translates to his social security number, his current dilemma, or just that he’s her older brother.

“Like all of the stories you told me when I was a kid. And then when Lumine came to pick me up, she stayed to show him pictures of you too.”

“Of course she did,” he mumbles, ruffling her hair. One of these days he’s going to move without telling his classmates and the twins won’t enter his apartment unannounced. (But Tonia adores their company and the stories they tell her far too much for him to actually do it. But that doesn’t mean he’s above making threats when they tell his little sister about the bet he made about white-out and how it could dye hair. The jury is still out on this one.) “She’s just mad because I get away with it and she doesn’t. But don’t do it yourself. It’s a bad habit,” he adds, remembering that he should at least try to be a good influence on his younger sister when he can.

“Okaaay,” she says unconvincingly, before shaking her hair and running off to her room with lunch he prepared for her.

Watching her close the door and no doubt continue her binge of The Walking Dead, he takes out his phone and texts Lumine.

Childe