#skam ficlet

[anaisanais-stuff]

Gif by @lokkanel ❤️✨

Worth It

Relationship: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim

Rating: M

•

When Isak’s roommate sits him down 1 December, and tells him he’ll be moving out by the end of the month, the search for a new roomie begins.

-A 1000-word ficlet written for SKAM Secret Santa 2022 and a prompt by @thegirlyouknow -

Now on ao3! 🎄🎁

[tailsbeth-writes]

Welcome to another Ficlet Friday folks!

The Rules: Copy the following prompts or make your own, post what fandoms you write for & your followers can request one of the prompts with a ship, character or fandom for a ficlet. Have fun! 

We're sticking with the summer theme, this week's prompts are summery anthems: (YouTube links attached)

🌈 She's a Rainbow - The Rolling Stones

💃🏻 Dance Before We Walk - August Moon

👏🏻 Praise You - Hannah Grace

☀️ Never Ending Summer - Wes Reeve

👟 New Shoes - Paolo Nutini

🪻 Lavender Forever - Jake Wesley Rogers

✨ Moonshine - Caravan Palace

🌻 Fare Well - Hozier

😎 At the River - Groove Armada

❤️‍🔥 End of an Era - Dua Lipa

My fandoms: Red, White and Royal Blue, Bridgerton, Skam, Heartstopper, Dead Boy Detectives & Young Royals.

☀️ if you want more summery songs, here's my Spotify playlist ☀️

Tag You're It: @run-for-chamo-miles @taste-thewaste @onthewaytosomewhere @candyspandemonium @myheartalivewrites @luainthewild @priincebutt @seths-rogens @fullerthanskippy @thesleepyskipper @sophie1973 & open tag as always 🫶🏻

[mazarin01]

A tiny piece of writing loosely based on an IKEA commercial I saw on TV the other day. Just 500 words Isak and Even being themselves.

Go read if you fancy 😊

[oneiriad]

So, as requested by kajsaschubeler a Danish ficlet featuring Susan (Narnia) and Dream (Sandman).

Susan drømmer at hun vågner i et fremmed soveværelse.

Hun ligger stille og lytter til et ur, der slår tunge timeslag et sted i det store, gamle hus.

Hun står op, da hun har talt de første tyve. Stikker fødderne i tøflerne, der står ved sengen, og tager pelskåben den sorte silkemorgenkåbe, der hænger i garderobeskabet på en krog på døren, på over natkjolen.

Den snedækkede skov Huset er en labyrint. Lange, mørke gange og trapper i de særeste kroge, som om en galning var arkitekten bag værket.

Hun følger den rungende lyd af noget, som hun ikke længere tror på er timeslag.

Bag hende hører hun ulvehyl skridt, og hun gemmer sig bag et træ en overfyldt stumtjener mens en række sortklædte skikkelser med fakler går forbi. Da den sidste passerer trækker hun morgenkåbens hætte op over hovedet og falder i takt bag dem.

De fører hende til en stencirkel ned i husets kælder.

Skabningerne De sortklædte skikkelser samles hujende og skrigende, vrikkende og dansende højtideligt messende omkring et stenbord en cirkel.

Der ligger en løve en mand på stenbordet i cirklen.

En afskyelig lille trold med en absurd stor saks En dreng, som virker vagt bekendt vover sig hen til den bundne løve mand. Tøver, men berøver så den fangne konge hans regalier.

Endelig træder heksen selv en gammel mand frem og hæver sin kniv rækker hånden frem...

Susan ser væk.

Hun ser ikke op igen før det nedrige rakkerpak kultisterne er væk, før det bare er hende og den mishandlede løve manden guden kongen i sit krystalglasbur.

Hun kender sin rolle her. Hun husker den tydeligt, ved nøjagtigt hvad der forventes af hende, hverken mere eller mindre. Alligevel ser hun blot på kongen i sit bur - hvid som sne, sort som ibenholt.

Hun løb tør for tårer for længe siden, et eller andet sted mellem Lucys radbrækkede krop og Peters sønderlemmede - og der er alligevel ikke nogle ravne mus hernede.

"Deres majestæt."

"Deres majestæt."

Hun nejer, før hun vender ryggen til.

***

Sagføreren kører hende til stationen næste morgen.

Den unge Hr. Burgess bærer hendes kuffert ud til bilen, fuld af undskyldninger for sin gamle fars fravær ved morgenmaden. Hun forsikrer ham om, at det skam ikke gør noget, selvom sandheden er, at det irriterer hende, at manden, der havde insisteret på at slæbe hende herud for en simpel ejendomshandels skyld, ikke engang gider udvise et minimum af gode manerer.

Da de kører ud af indkørslen spørger hun sagføreren, om det måske er muligt, at de kan lægge vejen forbi grunden "for at sige ordentligt farvel," og nej, det kan han ikke se noget problem i. De har jo tid nok før toget kommer.

Huset er selvfølgelig en ruin, det vidste hun godt, men det er noget andet at se det selv - at se murstenene på græsset og det bizarre syn af en flyvinge, der stadig stikker op.

Hun mindes kort et andet hjem, en anden ruin - så ryster hun på hovedet, kraftigt, som om en hveps var fløjet for tæt på, og vender ryggen til.

Det er alligevel ubrugeligt til hendes formål. Den nye ejer vil helt sikker rive huset ned, rydde op, måske grave ud til en kælder.

Hun går langs åen og fisker den lille stofpose op af tasken. Den skarpe formiddagssol gør det hvide stof næsten gennemsigtigt, næsten grønt.

Næsten rødt som Edmunds blod. Hun kan lugte det, lighusstanken, mærke nylonsstrømpen hun havde brugt som en improviseret handske mens hun gennemrodede hans lommer, så politibetjenten ikke ville kunne se nogle pletter på hende bagefter, og så hun ikke risikerede at komme til at røre ved...

Hun kunne smide den i åen.

Men åer flyder ud i floder og floder flyder ud i havet, og hun smed en af de gule ud fra færgen til Calais.

Hun vandrer langs åen, forbi træet hendes brødre plejede at hoppe i åen fra, og langs krattet, hvor de allesammen proppede sig med bær. Et pludseligt minde og hun maser sig ind og jo, det gamle brønddæksel er der stadig, gemt og glemt og med et knastehul.

Vil det være nok? Risikere hun ikke bare, at nogen finder den? Den nye ejer, måske, med hans okkulte prætentioner?

Skulle hun ha' beholdt grunden? Genopbygget huset (for hvilke penge?) og slået sig ned som eremit og portvagt? Var det derfor hun havde været indsat som professorens arving, længst nede i testamentet efter selv deres fætter?

"Frk. Pevensie? Hvis De ikke vil vente til fire-toget skal vi kører snart!"

Der går lidt før hun hører plasket. Så går hun ud af krattet igen, retter på sit tøj og børster et par blade af, før hun går tilbage til bilen.

Hele historien startede med en afdanken troldmand. Hvis det går helt galt, så er det vel passende nok at den slutter med en af samme slags.

Og med den tanke går Susan ud af eventyret en gang for alle.

[irazor]

for @thegirlyouknow on her birthday:

It’s October.

The month of near-ends and beginnings. One where the world holds its breath on the threshold of change and then releases it, ready to transform into the new.

September had been hopeful glances: across the street, the corridors, the stairs. It had been a month of waiting: waiting for the boy with the scowl and the dip in his upper lip; the boy who glared at his locker as if he wanted to kill it; the boy with his backpack hanging off one shoulder, standing half asleep by the tram stop. September had been Even looking, looking, looking—

—but October had been the month when the boy had finally looked back. 

Across the cafeteria, the toilets, the schoolyard; from short to longer, from the wish in Even’s chest to the jubilant near-certainty. No one else knew, no one saw, but Even’s heart soared.

Finally, he’s looking at me.

After that, October was a different month altogether: it was tendrils of smoke and the afternoon light in Isak’s eyes; it was legs almost, almost touching on the windowsill; it was toes brushing in the kitchen, Isak’s lashes so close that Even could see the sharp points of their tips; it was stealing away and laughing and not looking back, never, never. The crown of Isak’s floating hair, moving closer, the determination in his eyes. The taste of chlorine on Isak’s lips, his damp hair drying on the pillows, on Even’s arm. Hours upon hours on that bed, the bed that used to be only Isak’s but isn’t, not anymore.

Even still doesn’t like to think of what came after. Of November, of the spoken and the not-spoken, the not-intentioned and the dark. 

October, though. October was, still is, excitement only. The bright colors, the orange and the yellow, the clarity of the underwater lights.

It was, and will always be theirs. The start of their loop, the point where it all began and begins again. 12 in reverse is 21 and Even knows this, will always know:

It’s the most beautiful month to be born.

[imminentinertia]

Hey @modestytreehouse, have some ridiculously gooey sap. Because I adore you.

They take a shortcut through a small wooded area, and that's where they find it. Isak is up the rope ladder before his brain catches up, telling him it might not be safe. It doesn't break under his weight, though, and he pokes his head through the hole in the floor.

It's really fucking cute. A child size mattress covered with a blanket, tiny windows, even a yellow napkin serving as a tablecloth on a small upside down crate.

Even shouts at him from below, telling him to get out of the way, and so he hauls himself in and flops down on the mattress. Even looks like a weird and lanky jack in the box, coming up through the floor after Isak.

He sits down, cross-legged, admiring the interior. “I love it. Let's move in.”

“And where would we cook?”

“We can have a campfire.”

“Rain…”

“Sandwiches! You'll survive having sandwiches for dinner.”

“Bathroom, then? Shower?”

“You said it yourself. Rain.”

“With the forest as our loo.”

Even grimaces, as Isak knew he would. He's possibly the least outdoorsy person Isak knows.

“Good point.”

“Of course.”

Even leans over and touches his fingertips to Isak's cheek.

“We can hang out here for a while, can't we? Make plans for buying a tree and building something like this, only bigger.”

“With a kitchen and a bathroom.”

Even moves all of thirty centimetres onto the mattress, almost into Isak's lap.

“And a bed a little bigger than this.”

“Good plan.”

“You'll get sandwiches for dinner sometimes anyway.”

They both grin, then fall silent, just leaning against each other and looking out on the trees around them.

[itachi-with-a-chicken]

In our bed

So, this happens when I can't sleep. Hope you like it, is mostly fluff and obscure references, in a questionable English. Enjoy!

“This” Niccolò said, after leaving a kiss, “is my favourite spot. Is where I want to live from now on”

“On my chest?” Asked Martino, teasing.

“No! In what's beneath it”, the boy leaned on one elbow, to look him in the eyes. A familiar spark enlightened those, a teasing smile on his lips, that made Niccolò smile too.

“Oh, so my lungs” proposed the redhead, earning a impatient huff.

“No, not there”

“My ribcage? I don't know if you'd be comfortable there”

Niccolò rolled his eye a little, before laying down again, his head on Martino's shoulder, the hand drawing impossible things in his chest.

“You heart. So big, so warm, so brave, so bold. So beautiful. That's where I want to live. There's no better place to be”

Martino took a moment to absorb those words, a familiar lump sitting in his throat.

“You're already there” he said, eventually, “didn't you noticed?”

The he proceeded to embrace him, holding him tightly and steadily. Martino wasn't so good at speech, in explain in words how he felt and the depth of his feelings, but he knew how to show it.

He never made promises, to Niccolò. He never told we'll be together forever or even I won't ever leave you, but he just showed up every time. He was there. He was present, and vibrant, and steady.

He was a certain point in a all-changing era.

“Am I in there, too?” He asked, after a while, straightforward. He has never been a shy boy and he wouldn't start now that was so important to be direct and clear to each other. Even in those things.

Niccolò looked up at him, slipping up to have his head at the same level of Martino's, and placed it on the pillow. With one hand he cupped his face, leaving a light caress from the ear to the neck. Then up again, with the fingertips, brushing to the side of the jaw, to finally reach the lips parted. He put the thumb on them, and Martino kissed it.

“You are in everywhere” Nico said, a low voice, clear and tender at the same time. “You are in my legs, when i walk up to school. In my arms, when I reach out to the people who care about me. In my lungs, when there's too much to breathe. On my shoulder, shielding me from the enemies I create on my own. In my finger” and lightly, he pretended to play on his neck “when I'm on the piano. In my head, when I need a reason to stay.” Then he took one of Martino's hand and brought it on his own chest, covering it with his own. “In here. Before I even knew it.”

Martino kissed him. Kissed his face, his neck, the shoulder he's the protector of, the arms he needs so much to be held from, the chest and the fingers that were holding his so tightly, and he knew once again.

He knew their feelings were the same. Their love, their fear, their joy, their distress. He never thought, before, he could be so close to another human being, and now look at them.

Held and hold at the same time.

Scared and brave altogether.

Equals in what they need, equals in what they could give.

And that was worthy of any kind of pain and desolation he could have ever experienced before, every wound the life could have struck to him until that momento.

Niccolò was worth anything.

[skamfairy]

Super important prompt: what was the boy squad doing leading up to Isak's insta post.

This is super important, which is why I have bumped it up on the list. Okay here we go. 

“This is a terrible idea” Mahdi states as the boys walk around the corner to kaffebrenneriet. 

“What the fuck?” Magnus screeches “this is a great idea. Trust us man.”

They all pull a chair out and sit at a table outside near one of the windows to the cafe. 

Isak licks his lips before nodding “Mahdi was right. This is a terrible idea.” 

Jonas laughs and shakes his head “oh come on don’t act like my ideas have never worked before.” 

“yeah but this time it’s half Magnus’s idea” 

“EXACTLY!” Mahdi exclaims already getting up from his chair. 

“Mahdi sit down” Jonas orders, trying desperately to calm the squad down. “it’s gonna work.” 

Mahdi reluctantly sits back in the chair with his shoulders slumped as he chews on his lip anxiously. 

“So which one is she?” Magnus asks grinning. 

“shhhh can you try to be less obvious?” 

Isak and Jonas raise their eyebrows at each other because they both knew the answer was no and that Mahdi was head over heels. 

“Is it her?” Jonas asked, nodding at a brunette clearing a table next to them. 

Mahdi shook his head. 

“What about him?” Magnus asked pointing straight at a guy taking someones order. 

“Nei Magnus” 

Jonas and Isak laughed 

“What I can’t remember if you said it was a girl or not. and he’s hot right Isak?” 

Isak leant back in his chair with a smug smile painted across his face. “nah not my type.” 

“You’re so whipped man.” Jonas shook his head grinning proudly at his best friend. 

Isak shrugged, smiling. 

“oh wait is it her?” Isak asked as he spotted a blonde girl. 

“oh my god you guys are awful at this.” 

“she’s pretty though.” Jonas said. 

“yeah hot!” Magnus agreed. 

Isak squinted his eyes and angled his head like he was looking at an abstract painting he just couldn’t get. 

“I think i’m too gay for this.” 

The boys roared with laughter, the warmth of the joke making Mahdi finally relax a little. 

Suddenly a short girl with glasses, wearing an army jacket under her apron, and her purple hair tied up in a bun on the top of her head walked out with a tray of coffees. 

“that’s her” Mahdi mumbled. 

“what?” Magnus asked confused 

Mahdi’s eyes nearly fell out when he stared at Magnus trying to convey what he meant “that’s heeerrr” he said between his teeth. 

“ahhh” the boys sang together. Mahdi rolled his eyes at how long it took them. 

Isak smiled “She’s cool.” 

“And cute” Jonas agreed. 

Mahdi smiled “yeah we met at a save the planet meeting” 

they all stared at him. 

“What? I care about the environment!” 

“Sure you do…” Jonas smirked and rolled his eyes “just like Even cared so much about kossegruppa.” 

Isak ignored him “anyway what’s the plan then?” 

Jonas and Magnus looked at each other in silence. 

“Hello? Plan?” Mahdi pressed, getting anxious. 

“ugh well…” Magnus began 

“This is as far as we got.” Jonas finished. 

Mahdi facepalmed “you have got to be kidding me.” 

“it’s not our fault! We were planning on Even being here to you know, take over…” Magnus said. 

“Yeah where the hell is he anyway?” Jonas asked Isak. 

Isak grinned cockily “i’m making him study for his math exam.” 

“Making him?” Mahdi asked

“How the hell could you-” 

the moment Isak’s cheeks turned pink the boys chuckled as Jonas waved his hand in the air, shaking his question away. “nope nevermind, I don’t want to know.” 

“Okay” Isak said, clapping his hands ready to take over. “this is what we’re going to do.” 

“Quick does anyone have any asprin?” Jonas interjected. 

Isak glared “that’s not my only move jackass.” 

“How about you go up to her and tell her-” 

“No Magnus” the boys said simultaneously. 

“Okay, Mahdi, you go and order us coffee.” 

Mahdi stared at him.

Isak stared back

Mahdi raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?” 

Isak smiled “that’s all there is to it.” 

Mahdi groaned, “I can’t believe i’m doing this” before standing up. 

Jonas clapped as Magnus cheered and Isak threw his head back laughing. 

“you all suck” Mahdi said before walking in to the cafe. 

“so how do you think he’s gonna do?” Jonas asked as soon as he walked inside. 

“terrible.” 

“he’s probably gonna pass out before he gets to the counter.” 

Jonas shook his head “you guys are horrible friends.” 

“hey it took me and Vilde like months to get together! How long did it take Evak?” he asked Isak. 

Isak thought about it. “well, we nearly kissed 3 weeks after we met…actually kissed a week after that but then we weren’t official until…like what a month? or actually maybe-

“We get it. It was complicated.” Jonas interrupted. Isak replied by sticking his tongue out at him. 

“real mature.” 

“so yeah it’s realistic for us to assume he will bomb out the first few times. It’s just how it is.” Magnus said wisely, shrugging at his insightful knowledge. 

Finally after ten minutes Mahdi walked out with a plate of Waffles. 

“So how did it go? Isak asked, just as Mahdi shoved half a waffle in his mouth. 

“Oh! Good. We’re going out on friday.” he mumbled through the mouthful of waffle. 

Magnus’s chin nearly hit the ground “you got…you got a date?” 

Mahdi nodded confused “wasn’t that the plan?” 

Isak grinned “nice one Mahdi.” 

Jonas high-fived him. 

Magnus was still in shock. “but…but….it’s supposed to- you were meant to- what about bombing out?” 

the boys laughed. 

“oh and she gave me free waffles!” Mahdi said proudly, staring at the plate with heart eyes. 

“she’s definitely a keeper.”  Isak nodded in approval. 

“see Mahdi you should appreciate us. Look, our plan work.” 

“your plan sucked” he replied. 

Isak nodded “yeah it did.” 

Jonas rolled his eyes. “Shut up and lets take a photo to commemorate this moment.” 

the boys all huddled together. Jonas struggled with his phone “do i…do I stand here, or should it.”

Magnus pointed at the screen, “maybe if you flip it” 

“but then we won’t be able to see what we look like” Isak stated. 

“Will someone just press the button?” Mahdi said. 

“I think i’m pressing” 

“wait you’re pressing?” 

“Yeah i’m not sure but - oh shit it’s taking photos” 

“it’s taking photos?” 

“oh fuck it was on burst mode.” 

the boys looked through the photos together. 

“Yeah that looks about right.” Isak said 

the boys agreed in unison. 

“Who wants to go get pizza? I promised Even if he studied for his math exam I would bring him home some.” 

The boys all stared at him in surprise.

“What?” Isak asked. “What the fuck did you think I meant?” 

Mahdi shook his head “nothing.” 

“oh yeah nothing I totally thought you meant bribing him with food” Jonas said as they all began walking off. 

“What?’ Magnus asked finally catching on to the conversation 

“OH I thought you meant sex.” he shouted, earning a punch in the arm from Isak. 

[anaisanais-stuff]

It's missing Isak Valtersen hours

But true story: Today, on this grey and cold 13th December, Isak’s nearing the finish line of studying for his Immunology exam tomorrow:

“Baby? Isak?” Even’s voice has a weird underwater quality until Isak finally comes to; groggily waking up to Even sitting on the edge of the bed, warm palm on Isak's cheek. He nuzzles into it, croaks out a hoarse “hey” back in greeting.

“Napping?” Even smiles, the pad of his thumb smoothing over Isak’s cheekbone, and Isak notices how he’s still wearing his winter jacket and wool scarf.

“Yeah, fell asleep I guess. Did you just come home?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“17:30”

“Oh.” Isak lazily sits up in bed, wakes his laptop back up with two fingers on the keypad. “…Shit, I should get back to studying.”

He’s still feeling a little cross-eyed with sleep, but he’s down to t minus 15 hours before his exam. Gotta make the most of it.

Even presses a kiss to his curls, then his temple.

“I’ll start on dinner.”

Isak looks up from his laptop, catches Even’s hand just as he stands up from bed. Pulling on it, he draws him back down. Tries to let his gratitude and love for him bleed into the kiss,

“…I’m sorry for being-“

“Being what?”

“…Like, all stressed out and weird. I just really… I want to do well on this exam, y’know?”

“I know, Is.” Even kisses him again. “…And you will. You’ll ace it.”

“Hah. I hope.”

“You will.” Kiss “…And then tomorrow…” kiss “we’re-“ kiss “flying out.” Kiss. “…and we’ll have all the time in the world.”

Isak smiles against Even's chapped lips, his stomach fluttering at the thought of their post-exams Tromsø cabin trip.

“Tomorrow.”

A promise.

“Tomorrow.”

[surrealsunday]

omg omg omggg jaime please please you have to write something about Tempo Eliott on this!!!!! even if its two lines jaime i’ll die

Ok... just for you doll... and because honestly that IG story demanded it (I blame this on Axel and Ouba respectively)... 

🐶🐶🐶🐶

“I’m home!” Eliott calls as he enters the apartment, only to stop dead in his tracks the moment he enters the living room and catches sight of Lucas, sprawled on his gym mat on the floor with Ouba curled on his chest. “Oh, Jesus,” he groans. “You’re not allowed to attack me like this when I haven’t even sat down.”

Lucas laughs, looking up towards him. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” Eliott disagrees. And ok… so Lucas is aware of the enticing picture he makes in his running shorts, shirtless, with the adorable fluff of fur known as Ouba on top of him… but it hadn’t been intentional. He’d meant to get up ten minutes ago, when Ouba had then decided to curl up on his chest and given him the perfect excuse not to move. “What were you even doing?” Eliott asks, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table as he looks down on the two of them.

Lucas considers his options, landing on… “Stretching.”

Eliott snorts. “You were training abs again, weren’t you? I don’t know how many ways I can tell you this, baby, but you don’t need any help in that department.”

“Yeah,” Lucas says with a roll of his eyes, “I know any time I need to work on my body, you’ll just –”

“You don’t need to work on your body!” Eliott squawks, sounding utterly offended. “Your body is perfect.”

“– say that,” Lucas finishes.

“Well, so what?” Eliott pouts. “I can’t help it if you don’t see what I see. Ouba and I know what’s up. Don’t we, baby girl?” The moment Eliott raises the pitch of his voice, Ouba’s head pops up to look up at him sleepily, tail thumping against Lucas’s body.

“Nah,” Lucas denies, hands moving to rest comfortably on Ouba. “She knows I need to bulk up if I want to land that street-kid-turned-boxer role. That’s why she’s here.”

Eliott raises one eyebrow skeptically but he can’t stop the way his mouth pulls up in a smile. “Is that right? And how is her curling up on your chest helping?”

“We were just taking a little breather,” Lucas replies smartly, tipping his chin down to get Ouba’s attention. “Weren’t we, sweetheart? Just getting ready for our next set.”

“Next set?” Eliott asks, looking more than mildly curious now. “Set of what?”

Lucas grins devilishly as an idea comes to mind. “Press-ups of course. C’mere, sweetie.” He moves Ouba to a stand on his chest, getting one hand comfortably under her. He looks back at Eliott. “You ready for this?”

Eliott shakes his head. “When it comes to you, baby? I’m never ready.”

Lucas smiles, pleased by that estimation, before taking a deep breath and pushing Ouba up into the air, in semblance of a one-armed press-up. He does it again, muscles straining as he balances her weight while simultaneously moving her as though this were no more complicated than training with a dumbbell.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eliott groans. “My heart and dick are so confused right now.” Lucas laughs, unable to continue his motions while doing so, and stopping to rest Ouba against his chest. “No, no, no,” Eliott complains. “Keep going.” He’s fumbling with his phone.

Lucas raises an eyebrow, but does as told, getting Ouba back into position – she really is the most patient dog in the world. “You’re going to post this, aren’t you?”

“I am absolutely going to post this,” Eliott says, raising his phone to record as Lucas resumes the press-up motions. “The world needs to see, Lucas. Would be selfish of me if I kept this all to myself.”

“Oh, is that right?” Lucas challenges, lowering Ouba once more as Eliott has finished recording. “You saying you’re not planning on keeping this all to yourself.” He tilts his head slightly to run eyes down his own body in clear suggestion he means more than the recording.

Eliott watches him for a moment, smile soft. He sets his phone aside, moving to a stand and shooing Ouba off Lucas’s body as he towers over him. “Well… some things maybe. But I’m still going to post that.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Yeah? So then what are you doing up there?” Eliott has moved to stand directly over him, feet on either side of Lucas’s legs.

“Gonna help you workout,” Eliott replies, smile a little smug now. “Don’t want Ouba to think she’s the only one supporting your career.”

“Don’t see how you’re –” Lucas’s voice cuts off in one sharp breath as Eliott falls – or more accurately, drops, landing just above Lucas in push-up position, catching himself with hands on either side of Lucas’s head. “Fuck,” Lucas breathes, heart thumping wildly in his chest. “I fucking hate how hot that was.”

Eliott laughs, lowering himself until their lips connect. Lucas presses up into the contact, but Eliott keeps retreating, forcing Lucas to strain up as he chases his lips. He pulls back with a huff when his muscles begin to protest.

“How those abs feeling now, baby?” Eliott smirks – the smug bastard.

“God, I hate you.” Lucas wraps his arms around Eliott’s neck, pulling him down with a thump against his chest and reconnecting their lips in a hard kiss before Eliott can think any better of it.

In the end, Lucas does get his workout. And when Eliott kisses down Lucas’s body and gives his abs extra attention, licking and biting until Lucas muscles shake as he writhes and strains under Eliott’s mouth, Lucas has to admit – his fiancé’s idea of an ab workout is so much better.

[tailsbeth-writes]

The Rules: Copy the following prompts or make your own, post what fandoms you write for & your followers can request one of the prompts with a ship, character or fandom for a ficlet. Have fun! 

🌈 For all of June, Ficlet Fridays will be Pride themed. This week's prompts are lyrics from LGBTQ+ artists 🌈

Sweeter than candy, I know that you wanna try (Problematique - Kim Petras)

Drownin’ in the words that we don’t speak (Is It Love - Loreen)

I’m a blessing of a body to love on (I’m Not Here To Make Friends - Sam Smith)

No need to be hateful in your fake Gucci sweater (My Kink is Karma - Chappell Roan)

The people danced to the sound of your heart, the world sang along to it falling apart (The Good Side - Troye Sivan)

You never cried to them, just to your soul (Smalltown Boy - Bronski Beat)

Somewhere between the 0s and ones, that’s where I found my kingdom come (The Code - Nemo)

Guess ‘hot goddamn mess’ is your type then (Got Weird - dodie)

My fandoms: Red, White and Royal Blue, Bridgerton, Heartstopper, Young Royals & Skam.

Heads up, I will prioritise non-anon requests first and while I will try and get them all done at least by the next Friday, life doesn't always let me 💛

Tag you're it: @taste-thewaste @run-for-chamo-miles @onthewaytosomewhere @sophie1973 @thinkof-england

@heysweetheart-writes @firenati0n @duchessdepolignaca03 @littlemisskittentoes @miss-minnelli

[lololil]

From: Lucas

To: Eliott

or, Lucas tries connecting with his interior artistic romantic sap and writes a love letter for Eliott’s birthday

Hi, mon amour.

Happy birthday. You know, it is so hard to come up with something to write to you, because there is so much going through my mind, and you, you are indescribable. I could never put into words who is Eliott Demaury. Because you are so much - probably everything - to me. And it is scary, this power. Oh, Demaury, you don’t even know the power you have over me. It seems like my mind revolves around you. It is like I will be walking and I will think if I should buy something to take home to you, or I will see this flower and think about all the beautiful things you would say about it, or how it would look pretty in your hair, or I will be looking at the night sky and the only thing I will think about is how the stars could never compete with the glow in your eyes. And this is not even considering the time I spend trying to understand what is the color of  your eyes.

And it should be boring, but let’s be honest, you could never be boring. So it is probably a gift - funny how even on your birthday you are the one gifting me. And maybe it shouldn’t be like this. But it is. Because I love you so much it is even hard to think about it, and every day that goes by I love you a bit more and possibly one day I will explode with how much love is inside me, but it will be worth it. Because this love is for you. I think my love was always meant to be yours. In every universe. Maybe, after all, I do believe in soulmates because I’ve never been more certain that you and I have and will meet one another in every existing dimension out there. And I am sure that I am the happiest person alive in all of them. 

Yes, you make me happy, so happy. But I guess you already know that, because whenever we are together I can’t stop fucking smiling. It is actually kind of irritating how happy you make me, because I never thought I would feel this kind of joy; all-consuming, warm, deep, constant. I think you taught me what happiness is. Of course, I had felt excited before, maybe even kind of happy, but never close to what you make me feel. It is like one look from you makes this energy flow through my veins, this warmth spread through each and every one of my cells, and I get taken over by this calmness, this peace, and it makes me want to get lost in it. So I just feel like smiling. All it takes is one look. All it took was one look.

You saw me. Really saw me, Eliott. Like nobody ever did, and nobody ever will. And I saw you too. Call it destiny, fate, whatever you wish, but I think we were always supposed to see one another. Because, you know, after I saw you everything changed. And it might be selfish, but you could be the only person I see for the rest of my life. I wish you were the only person I saw for the rest of my life. I could never get enough of looking at you, of course, you are the most beautiful person to have existed, but that doesn't even come close to describing what you are. Looking at you is like looking at an entirely new universe. And I am so happy that you let me be the one to see you as a whole. Not the Eliott Demaury to the world, but Eliott Demaury. Only that. In your purest form - my Eliott Demaury. 

So, I do believe I have to thank you. Thank you for allowing me to see you - I’ve never seen anything as wonderful - and for seeing me. Thank you for loving me, even when you hate me a little bit, even when I am a little shit - not that I believe I am, but ok. Thank you for showing me each and every day that I am worth loving, even when I don’t believe I am. Thank you for letting me into your life. But, most of all, thank you for showing me that loving doesn't necessarily mean destruction, because I love you - oh, and how I love you - and you are the most perfect ray of sunlight on Earth. On the Universe, if you will. And you, my sun, could never be destroyed. Your brilliance is just too strong to fade away. Sometimes you even get me wondering how is it possible for someone to be this shiny, to be pure light, but it is you. And you, Eliott Demaury, were born to bring light into this dull word. So, my last thank you is to choosing to shine over me. I never thought I would have my own personal sun.

Happy birthday again, my love.

I love you with every bit of my being,

Lucas.

P.S.: Believe it or not, I’ve never written a letter before in my life, so I don’t really know how I should have started and ended it, or even written it at all. But I know how you are a hopeless romantic, and I guess letters are romantic - I wouldn’t know, because you are the sap - so here I am. Ok, maybe this was a little sappy - probably a lot, like make me throw up a lot-, I’ll admit it. But it’s only because it is your birthday, and, well, I gotta treat my mans.

[marlahey]

Did people black out when Eliott said, “I’m an adult and I know what I’m doing,” and “You didn’t force me,” or are we really just removing all his personal agency from this situation.

And maybe everyone is translating word for word, but you can’t seriously think he literally means “We’re not responsible for our MI,” and absolving himself of that important work of “fighting,” (as he says to Lola of their choices in the literal next sentence), rather than “We don’t (always) have control over it.”

[peachesplumsstakesfangs]

Sander is nervous. Why is he so fucking nervous? He combs his fingers through his white-blonde hair and straightens his shirt. He’d seen Robbe leave for the beach as they were pulling up to the house. Robbe had been looking at his phone, biting at the corner of his lip. He looked worried about something or someone, and Sander instinctively wanted to smooth out the corners of his mouth where it had gone pinched and tight. He wanted to make him smile, exorcise whatever demons seemed to be riding him down.

He’d stood at the door until he’d seen him heading back from the beach. This was it. He’d noticed Robbe a few weeks ago with Noor, but Robbe hadn’t seen him then. He’d passed him at the skate park a few days later, and Robbe had noticed him that time, but Sander had been too chickenshit to do anything about it. There had been other moments that he had let slip through his cowardly fingers, but not this time. He would push through his doubts this time...no matter the outcome. From the first moment he’d seen him, he hadn’t been able to get him out of his head. He’d finally learned his name from Britt, and had spent days tasting the letters on his tongue, saying it out loud as he smiled a soft smile. Shit, he thought to himself, he already had it bad.

He’d stood in the kitchen for what seemed like an eternity, but was only a few minutes, waiting for Robbe’s return. Britt had been tired when they arrived, so she was resting in one of the bedrooms. The house was silent, although the sounds of seagulls could be heard faintly in the distance. And then, one: Robbe turns the corner, two: Sander’s heart skips a beat and there’s a flutter in his belly, the same one he felt when he saw him weeks before, three: he turns, busying himself in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors like a mad poltergeist. Should he say something about the weather? No, that would be lame. But now the door is opening and he’s out of time.

There’s Robbe, sandy brown hair and that look, like he’s holding himself tight and straining at the seams. Sander knows that feeling; it’s like too tight shoes, except the calluses erupt on the heart and soul. But Sander has caught glimpses of something wild and free in Robbe, little stolen glances or smiles when he thinks no one is looking. And Sander wants to make him smile and laugh now, ease that pinched look from his face if only for a minute. He needs to get him away from the house and its sleeping inhabitants and whatever dark thoughts are causing that pinched look, so he takes a deep breath.

“Hey,” Robbe says. Sander has a voice now to put with those eyes and that face, and it flusters him a little, but he’s perfected outward control in the face of internal chaos. He’s had years and years of painful practice.

“Do you know where I can find the coffee?” Sander asks. He just manages to keep a straight face but his heart is in his throat now, and dammit, Bowie’s playing in his head.

[irazor]

I'm hurtin' just finished rewatching s3 OG again I can't believe it'll be 4 years soon...just how did something so amazing exist, I'm lucky I got to experience it as it happened...I was wondering during the xmas party how Isak & even celebrated the new year, Isak seemed sort of insecure or fragile (him saying he didn't know if even was the man of his dreams & if it would last) their relationship was so new...if you feel inspired can you do a little drabble pretty please?

So umm sorry that you had to wait, like, six months for this. But it seemed kinda fitting to post this on the 3rd year anniversary of this clip, don’t you think? ;)

(As you can see, I took a little liberty with the prompt. I hope you’ll like it anyway)

——

Isak can’t really remember the last time he wanted to be in the present.

Certainly not at the start of this term, when all he did was work so hard to keep everyone away from his true self that he barely had time to breathe. When every question from the boys, every message from his mother or every stranger casting him a glance on the tram felt like an intrusion into the safe shell he’d built around himself. When he was always on the lookout, always on the run for the next safe stepping stone where nobody could pry too closely and see his real self.

Not during spring, when he tried his hardest to ignore the fact that he was, in fact, sleeping in the basement of some weird dude he barely knew, who’d just taken mercy on him for some reason. Not during summer either, even if he’d been granted the relative heaven of his own room up in the apartment by then.

And definitely not last fall or winter, when everyone and everything around the house was balancing on a knife’s edge, threatening to fall apart and break at the slightest disruption. When the knowledge of what he’d done to his best friend was constantly glued to the insides of his brain, like a sticky black mass that wouldn’t let go.

Not even after he’d met Even, on the sunlit windowsill in his room, under the surface in the pool, not even after Even had broken up with Sonja and they’d had their week of wonder together, kissing in the kitchen, in his room, in the hotel –

Truth is, however relieving and thrilling it had been, it still had felt like it was too good to be true. A constant, nagging reminder in the back of his head: it could be taken from him at any moment. How is this even real? he’d thought more than one time during that short, dream-like week.

And for a little while after, he’d truly believed that it hadn’t been.

He knows better now, though. And looking up across the room to see Even standing there, maybe a little thinner and paler than a couple of weeks ago, but smiling, he realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t feel the urge to be anywhere else. 

Doesn’t want to fast-forward to a distant future where his past won’t be able to catch up with him anymore, doesn’t feel the need to desperately cling to childhood memories of when everything was simple and warm and someone else’s responsibility. 

It’s kind of a surprise when it dawns on him that he, for once, actually doesn’t want to be someone else. 

So when Eva draws his attention back to her glittery eyes, he can actually look right into them and tell her that even if he doesn’t know what’ll happen tomorrow, it might still be alright. That he’s content enough in the present.

Even if he can feel his heart pick up a little when he asks her to forgive the stupid, selfish mistake he made in first grade, he does ask, and when she shrugs and lets him know that it’s alright, he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

For the first time in years, he actually wants to leave things like that behind, not by pretending they never existed, but confess to them. Wipe his slate clean, sort of. Walk into this new, uncertain future without too many ghosts from his pasts hanging over his head.

Where he dares to say yes to what life offers him, and not only no.

Is Even the man of his dreams? When Eva asks him, he’s tempted to say yes. In a way, he believes that Even might be. He’d like to think so.

But, if he’s learnt anything from the past year, it’s that nothing can be taken for granted. 

And that he’s so fucking grateful for what he’s got.

He looks up at Eva, her expectant smile, her flushed cheeks. Then, he meets Even’s gaze across the room, and suddenly, he knows. 

It doesn’t matter, not really.

What matters is that in a little while Isak will go over to him, maybe actually approach him while he’s still standing under the mistletoe. 

That tomorrow, they’re going to Even’s parents – he’s going to his boyfriend’s parents, and even if it does freak him out a little, his heart is kinda fluttering with the knowledge that Even wants him there. 

That they’re here, together, him, Even, his friends. Eskild, and the rest of his flatmates that kind of feel like a little… family.

And that right now, for the first time in a long, long while, there’s no place he’d rather be.

[lallemanting]

🌈 !!

some more pirate au for you anna because I can’t control myself!! hope you enjoy 😊

Eliott notices that Lallemant, or Lucas now he guesses, has peeled away from the group, sitting quietly on a corner of the deck. The rest of the men are rowdy, laughing and drinking as they think about the day’s spoils, but Lucas looks conflicted, forlorn, pulling his coat tighter around him as the air gets colder.

Eliott picks up one of the bottles scattered on the deck and makes his way over to Lucas, dropping down on the crate beside him. He startles for a moment, but seeing Eliott he smiles a little in greeting and turns back to look out over the horizon.

The night is dark, but the stars are bright, mapping out a course – unknown for now but inevitable.

“You okay?” Eliott asks, taking a swig from the bottle and passing it to Lucas.

Lucas sighs and raises the bottle to his lips, taking a large swallow. He shrugs. 

“I get it,” Eliott says, filling the silence, “it takes a while to get used to it. But you do.”

Lucas doesn’t take his eyes off the sky. “How long have you been a part of this ship?” he asks, his voice quiet.

Eliott takes a breath. “Five or six years. I don’t know. Stopped counting.”

“That long?”

“Like I said. You get used to it.”

Lucas is silent again but when he turns and looks at Eliott, Eliott feels something in his chest shift. His eyes, even in the moonlight, are still so devastatingly blue.

“Why did you do it? Become a pirate?” His eyes search Eliott’s face in a way that makes him feel seen.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Eliott replies.

Lucas lets out a small, humorless laugh. “Neither did I.”

Eliott doesn’t know what to say to that, unsure if it’s an invitation or a confession or both. So he says nothing and watches as Lucas’ gaze turns back to the sky.