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fluffnflightillustrations · 1 year ago

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------------------------------------------------------------------------------ (Living World & Pretty Outfit drabble)

The sun was setting, and Renji couldn't help but worry slightly as he checked the time on his watch (what an invention! Humans never ceased to surprise him) and waited for Rukia to show up. He tried to lean nonchalantly against the side of the building, briefly crossing his arms to look cool and disinterested, but he became antsy after a minute, and rearranged himself to sit on the bench with his arms crossed. Still cool. Still nonchalant. He wore his leather jacket, some tight jeans he picked out with Matsumoto a day or two back, and a plain, white V neck underneath. Chad had given him a nice little shark tooth necklace, which he paired with the outfit just to garnish his goods a bit. He fiddled with it, trying to get it squarely in the center of his cleavage, when he heard the clearing of a throat. He looked up quickly, and his eyes almost bugged straight out of his skull. There Rukia stood, her hair pinned up in a casual and messy little updo, a small lily hair clip pinning it in place, with a few strands of hair curling behind her ears and escaping the constraints of the clip. She wore a dash of dark eye shadow and liner, and even a bit of lipstick, making her eyes look larger and more vibrant than ever and giving her lips a sharp, but enticing contrast to the soft curvature of her cheeks. She was wearing a black mini dress, with black tights and a small beige faux fur coat to keep in some warmth against the crisp autumn air. She wore heels, smaller heels, so the possibility of walking wasn't cut out, but they gave her more height than usual, and she looked like she could destroy him with them. "Like what you see?" Renji snapped out of his gawking, immediately cognizant of the fact that his face was brighter than the streetlamp beside him. He grinned at her, quickly regaining his composure. "I think you already know the answer." He stood up from his seat on the bench, looping his fingers through hers and giving a gentle squeeze. "Where did you wanna take me, anyway?" Rukia chuckled softly, cheeks tinged with a soft blush. She pulled him along the sidewalk, leading the way. "Well, I know your first encounter with coffee wasn't exactly the best, but I know your tastes, and I know a beverage that you could clear very quickly." He nodded, not quite concerned about much else other than getting a kiss from those sweet, painted lips. He knew she liked to brag, and he would spend all day listening to it. She was the only person he could say that for. They arrived at a local shop of some sort, and he finally ripped his eyes away from her to examine the area. It smelled fruity, and strange contraptions made grating sounds behind the counter as they stood in line. Interest piqued, he elbowed her lightly, and pointed to one of the machines. "What's that thing making the awful sound?" Rukia grinned ear to ear, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm glad you asked! Those are blenders, used to create these tameable beverages. They put ice and fruit and milk in them, and it chops and batters it all up until it becomes completely liquidated." Renji stared at the machine as it did just that with the customer in front of him's order. He was very glad that the Sereitei didn't have them, or they would be cooking up quite interesting ways to replace the Soukyoku. They ordered their drinks, watched them get beaten and battered and liquidified, and paid with some pocket money they borrowed from Ichigo. Well, they exchanged it, so he would have Soul Society spending money, and they could have some Living World money. They took their seats, Rukia taking a strange, oblong, cylindrical item from a wrapper and sticking it in her beverage. He raised an eyebrow as she passed him one, and she set down her drink. "Okay, so, the straw and I go way back. I learned about this one on my second day of human high school, and it still eludes me at times. It's a simple contraption to let you drink your beverage from a distance." Renji nodded, unwrapping his own straw and stuffing it in his drink. The smell wafted through his nostrils, and he just couldn't wait to taste it. He took a huge sip, and immediately regretted it, his brain overcome with a terrible panging sensation. He clutched his head, making a scrunched up face. "What the hell is in that thing!??" Why was Rukia making him drink something so painful? Rukia snorted, stifling a little bit of laughter. "And that would be another human phenomenon. That's called a brainfreeze."

Here are a couple of writing suggestions, in case any of these strike your fancy: (1) Rukia takes Renji on a date in the World of the Living (possibly to show off how much she knows about the WotL). (2) Rukia gets an extremely minor injury and Renji patches her up. (3) Rukia is wearing a pretty outfit and Renji loses his entire mind over it. Good luck with your writing practice!

I couldn't choose, so I'll do all three! I combined the first and the third for the last one though. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ (Minor Injury drabble) Rukia sighed loudly, brows knitted together in irritation as her husband fussed over her, wrapping a big bandage around the small scrape just above her knee that she had recently earned, courtesy of an unfortunate run in with the side of the coffee table of their new shared home. "Renji. Babe." He ignored her, unwrapping the bandage quickly upon forgetting the antiseptic. He was in intense concentration, so much so, that he acted as if he hadn't even heard her. She rubbed her temples. While she could understand wanting to be careful and extra safe whilst carrying a child to term, this was getting incredibly exhausting. They were warriors; they risked their lives on the battlefields together, their lives were built on death, hunger, and hardship. And now, after they had almost lost their lives in the Quincy War, Renji was fussing over the most minor scrape she had ever had. It was sweet, but sort of also pissing her off. In fact, she wasn't even that far into her pregnancy, so he was being extra ridiculous. "Babe." He rubbed the antiseptic on her carefully, and looked up at her, finally hearing what she had to say. "Hmm?" His ministrations slowed down, his gentle touch moving away from the wound to grab at the bandage again. "We are soldiers... do you know how silly this is, over a single little scrape?" She couldn't stay too pissed at him, not with all the worry in his gaze, unfounded as it may be. "You're a little too paranoid." He shook his head, and continued securing the bandage. "I mean, yeah, I know we've been through nastier, but Hanatarou was pretty clear about watchin' your immune system while expecting. I ain't taking a chance." She let a slow breath out of her nostrils, rubbing her temples again. "I don't think he meant it like this." Renji finished with the bandage, securing it in place by tucking it in between her skin and the other layers. He sat next to her on the sofa, pulling her gently to the side, to carefully rest her between his legs and sit together lengthwise on the sofa, her head nestled under his chin and his arms wrapping snugly around her shoulders. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Rukia..... we're going to have a family again soon. Me, you, and this little tyke." His arm drifted down, resting on her stomach. "I know it seems kinda minor, but I don't want to mess this up. I'm not gonna take a chance on anything happening to you, and I sure as hell ain't gonna lose this kid from an infection from a scrape. I don't want a coffee table to take away my chance at a family." Rukia tried not to laugh, really, but he was still being a little ridiculous. "Whatever you say, babe." If he wanted to schmooze all over her, then she would let him schmooze. If it made him feel better about it, then she would deal with it. She sighed, placing her hand atop his. "After this kid's born, I'm not sitting around for this, though." He was too schmoopy for his own good.

#part 2 #tumblr couldnt handle all the renruki mojo in one post #so here is part 2 #renruki #fluffwrites

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demauryss · 5 years ago

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Prompt 24 seems interesting

hi. thanks for sending this in :)) here’s my take on an office!au in which eliott is a graphic designer and lucas is assistant managing editor. hope you like this :))

no. 24 from “the way you said i love you” drabble challenge

When Lucas thinks about it, he figures it can be a lot worse than his current situation. He could be stuck in a dream in which he’s in his philosophy lecture from college which has somehow dragged to ten hours, revisiting the torture inflicted on his poor brain once again. He could be stuck third-wheeling Basile and Daphne – or, front-desk Helene and fourth-floor Sharon on their amazing, brilliant, always adventurous and with too much lovey-dovey stuff dates. And, if worst comes to worst, Lucas could be caught up in the Sammy and Tammy Riots – the STARS – that his neighbours are notorious for starting over issues of minute importance.

But it’s just his luck - Lucas would say - that out of all the above and decidedly much, much better ways for the universe to gang up on him for all the wrong he’s done, he’s stuck in a room with flaking brown paint on the walls, a broken fan and hanging bulb from the ceiling – both of which are worthy of being featured in a horror movie - and, admittedly, his worst nightmare – tall, beautiful Eliott Demaury, who’s currently jumping on his foot, holding the other one in his hands over the shoes after hitting the door probably too hard.

“I told you it won’t work,” Lucas sighs, stretching his legs which have now begun to cramp. He’s made a home for himself against a wall, sitting on the floor covered in dirt and a web courtesy of a spider he saw crawling under the bookshelf Eliott’s currently sulking against. He’s given up trying long ago, picking at the wood flakes on one of the cabinets to his right. Might as well make himself comfortable if he’s going to spend all day here.

“Eliott sit down,” Lucas sighs as Eliott picks up pacing in the room wide as his whole leg – probably even wider, Lucas’s just being dramatic, “You’re giving me anxiety.”

Eliott stops pacing, now standing in front of Lucas. His hands are perched on either sides of his waist as he stares down at Lucas’s reclining figure on the floor. His hair - the obnoxious, sex hair which Lucas has imagined many times passing his fingers through (just to see if they’re as silky as they look, no other reason) – a millimeter away from the bulb which is currently swinging, throws a shadow around the room, making the room resemble more and more to the set of a movie bound to give nightmares. Lucas decides, if he ever makes it out, he’ll direct a movie here.

“But Lucas,” Eliott sighs, lines beginning to form on his forehead. That can’t be good. “I need to be in the Conference Room in thirty minutes. I’m gonna fucking miss the presentation!”

Lucas forces the unease bubbling in his stomach down as he raises his arm to hold Eliott’s wrist, giving it a tug; his supervisor would be walking in the Conference Room in thirty minutes, livid, and with a now unemployed Lucas following behind her, if Lucas makes it out of here by then. Eliott stops his rambling about letting his supervisor down and everything to look at Lucas, eyes filled with so much tension Lucas almost throws up. “Calm down, Eliott,” Lucas says, tugging at the sleeve of Eliott’s camel jacket, “It would be all useless if you walk out of here with a ruptured blood vessel in your head or a dead cardiac tissue.”

Eliott lets a frown take over his features, quickly glancing to where Lucas’s hand is wrapped around his arm. Lucas drops his hand awkwardly, flashing Eliott a hopeful smile. Eliott sighs, dropping his shoulders before sitting himself against the wall in front of Lucas, who realizes his miscalculations just when Eliott stretches out his legs which reach Lucas’s knees. Okay, the room is bigger than Assistant Mayor Bellwether’s room from Zootopia.

“How are you so calm?” Eliott narrows his eyes, watching Lucas intently, like he’s gauging his reaction. He voice is higher, breathy. Lucas fears for the state of his skin, probably prepping to be covered in wrinkles in a couple of minutes.

“How can I not be?” Lucas shrugs as if he’s been stuck in a room like this a million times before. “You’re taking all the stress with you.”

Lucas smiles as Eliott giggles, some tension diffusion from his shoulders, “Yeah, I’m stressed out enough for both of us.” Eliott shakes his head, looking down for a bit, playing with the frayed thread of his jeans over his knees. The light over them in the sound-proof, signal-proof room flickers for a bit before turning bright again. Lucas realizes with a heavy heart that his worst fears are going to come true in mere seconds.

“I can’t not worry,” Eliott speaks softly, “My team is presenting the design for the book today. I can’t let them down.” The heaviness inside Lucas’s heart comes up in his throat. Lucas is the assistant of the Managing Editor, Marley, while Eliott leads a whole team of talented graphic artists in the Creatives Deparment. Lucas knows Eliott was supposed to present the design for a book cover. His job is more on line than Lucas’s is.

“Man, I’m never searching for archive files again,” Eliott groans, turning on his phone to see if there’s any network or not. Dejected and with a heavy sigh, he turns it off, looking up at Lucas, “What were you doing here before?”

Lucas shrugs, again, “Same as you, digging up old treasure.” While that’s partly true, Lucas can’t let Eliott know the times he’s spent sat just like this, allegedly on lunch during the break, serving his cold heart with its impulses to look at these fucking old files and memoirs and whatnot, holding worn out pages and pretty handwriting from days computers didn’t exist. There was a reason how the spot he chose to sit on was so clean, Eliott.

Lucas was busy in one of his sessions again when Eliott had walked in, all bright and fresh from the rain outside. Lucas had squeaked out a ‘Hi’ to Eliott’s pleasant ‘Hello’. It was weird to see Eliott this close after months of admiring him from afar. Even though their departments had caused them to interact with one another on many occasions before, but it was never like in this vicinity before, in a storage room as wide as half of Lucas and with no other person around.

Lucas was in a weird state of panic as Eliott told him of the file he was looking for, something from an artist working here before. And then a thunder, pretty powerful wind and a loud bang of door later, Lucas was stuck in the room with his raging crush and the person the crush was on. No amount of forcing the doorknob breathing its last and swearing at the door to open – or resorting to kicking it – had caused it to budge.

The rain has long since stopped, but the humidity prevails. Fucking physics and its useless fucking phenomenon. Lucas sits with trembling hands, legs now perched up, Eliott’s feet touching his own. Apart from the fear of doing something traumatic for both of them in front of Eliott, the light going out is taking away ten years Lucas’s life every time it flickers. Being stuck in a room with Eliott in front of him? Fucking great. Fantastic. Being stuck with Eliott in total dark? Count him the fuck out.

Eliott sighs once again, catching Lucas’s attention, “Why did it need to stick now?” He looks lost like a child, all tensed shoulders and creased forehead. Lucas can guarantee Eliott’s walking out with permanent health issues.

“Humidity,” Lucas answers, keeping his voice soft, probably too low. It’s as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear but Eliott, which is odd since Lucas could yell and the sound wouldn’t make it past a millimeter outside the door. Fucking fantastic sound-observant room, guys. Would definitely recommend having one in your house/office/whatever building, if you’re up for a quickie or two in terrible, unhygienic conditions.

Eliott looks at Lucas with confusion now replacing the worry in his eyes. Deeming it as a distraction, Lucas continues, “The door must have expanded from the humidity left by the rain. And when it banged shut, the added volume must have caused it to stick.”

Eliott narrows his eyes, “So it won’t open unless it de-expands?”

De-expands. Lucas smiles. Stretching his arms over his head he explains, “That’s right. So, we might be here for a while.”

“As if I don’t know,” Eliott scoffs lightly, leaning against the wall with a quite groan, “What time is it, though? My phone’s almost dead, and neither do I have any signal. Who’d have thought I’d be stuck in a ratty old room with you today?”

Eliott laughs as Lucas gulps down something acrid, a bitter feeling clawing up at his throat. It’s moment like this when he’s reminded of just how out of Eliott’s league Lucas really is. The realization that he won’t ever look at Lucas the same way kicks in much faster than he expects it to. But it’s fine. Lucas is all fine.

With a tremor in his arm, he takes out his phone from his pocket, pressing the home button. He clears his throat, “It’s one-fif-“ And then, like a car clash in slow motion, it happens. Something pops up on the screen. A notification. A message. A fucking message from front-desk Helene asking about his whereabouts. Slowly he turns his vision to the left-corner of the screen. Heart thrumming in his throat and tremor in his hands he leaps up to his feet, Eliott following him with his eyes.

“Lucas? Is everything alr-“

Lucas cuts him off, probably looking like a wild animalescaped from the zoo. “ELIOTT, I’VE GOT IT!!” He yells, previous trepidation about anyone but Eliott hearing him out of the fucking window. Eliott stands up, confused, “Got what?”

Lucas thrusts the phone in Eliott’s face. It takes a momentfor realization to kick inside him, but when it does, it’s beautiful. “Oh God, Oh God. Oh God. Lucas!” He yells,excitedly bouncing up and down on his feet. Thank God. Now Lucas doesn’t have to worry about them running out of oxygen and their corpses decaying with no one knowing where they had went. Thank fucking God.

Lucas peers at the small lines at the corner of his screen which weren’t there minutes ago. Fucking miracles. He wastes no time in dialing Helene’s number, Eliott watching him with a small smile as he stutters out some nonsense involving “the storage room, Helene. Eliott-I’m-we’re stuck. Quick!” It makes no sense to his ears, blood currently filling them, spiked with adrenaline and- and Eliott looking at him like that. As Helene shouts something about being there in seconds, Lucas can’t take his eyes off of the now relaxed and smiling Eliott. His face is soft, soft. Lucas wants to tou-

There’s a bang. Another bang. Lucas jumps ten feet in air, Eliott backing both of them into the cabinet behind them. The door rattles, opening with a loud sound as it smashes just where Lucas was previously standing. He would have been hit in the face if Eliott hadn’t acted wisely. Lucas feels the warmth of Eliott’s hand on his arm too late before he’s being pulled away, Helene jamming into the small space in front of Lucas, several sturdy men behind her. They must have kicked the door open. So Eliott was really up to something, even if it didn’t work then.

“Lucas- oh god, are you okay?” Helene rushes out in a single breath. He chuckles, realizing how hard his hear is actually beating. Well Lucas, time for cover ups, “I’m fine, Lene. Though you should worry about this idiot. Pretty sure his blood pressure has passed the two hundred mark.”

He points to where Eliott stands, still pressed up against the cabinet. Helene shoots him a quick, worry-filled glance before deeming he looks fine. “You two can come with me to the break room. The presentation has been cancelled, that’s what I was going to text you about.”

She pats Lucas’s arm before turning, muttering about stupidrains and humidity. Lucas smiles, beginning to follow her. But he’s stopped in his tracks by a hand wrapping around his wrist. Before he knows he’s being turned around, and enveloped in strong muscular arms, heavenly orange-y sent blurring his senses, and warm face pressed into his neck.

Eliott’s hugging him. Eliott is fucking hugging him. EliottFUCKING Demaury is HUGGING HIM.

Before he could launch Operation PANIC AT THE FUCKING INTIMATE CONTACT WITH HIS CRUSH, Lucas is stopped however by his still sensible brain. Maybe Eliott’s just happy Lucas’s not the last person he’d see before he dies. Yes. That’s plausible. Awkwardly, Lucas wraps his arms around Eliott’s waist, inhaling the scent of oranges currently dominating his brain. Admittedly, Lucas thinks, it feels nice being wrapped up in somebody like this. He’s so much hug-deprived he’ll cry if he thinks about it.

Eliott gives a final squeeze before pulling away, a tentative smile on his face which is too close to Lucas. He can count the freckles. The smile on his face enlarges as Lucas awkwardly steps back. He needs to be professional.

“Thank you,” Eliott says, eyes in pretty crescents. Lucas wants to draw them. “You got me out of this room. I’ll love you forever Lucas, for this.”

Lucas’s heart catches up in his throat again. Eliott winks, before moving around Lucas and walking out of the room. Lucas feels his heartbeat in his ears, head, everywhere. Eliott said ‘I love you’. He probably didn’t mean it. Eliott said “I love you.” He probably didn’t think what he was saying. Eliott said, “I’ll love you forever, Lucas.” Maybe he goes throwing those words around to people helping him. Yes, that’s probably it. It’s not even that deep, Lucas. Eliott didn’t mean it that way. Stop complicating things.

So Lucas takes a deep breath, forces his heart back into his cage, and follows the receding figure of Eliott Deamury into the break-room.

#penned #elu fic #i'm so sleepy the words are all blurry #hope this is okay #didn't know what else to do with this prompt #i've got one more prompt to do #but at this point i'm like what are words #anon i hope you don't mind waiting because #i don;t know when that onw will be up #skam france #skam france fic #elu drabbles #good night from me :)#je taime prompts

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ottelis · 5 years ago

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🌈🌈🌈

send me a 🌈 and i'll write elu fluff!!

"lucas! it's here!" eliott calls from their front door, carrying a small box.

"what?" lucas replies from their living room, looking up from his phone.

"your book!"

lucas's heart leaps in his chest, all the breath in his lungs escaping in a relieved, joyous sigh. he jumps up from the couch, almost running into eliott.

"let me see it!" lucas grins, accepting the box when eliott hands it to him. he studies it for a moment, his publisher's name in the corner, and his name at the center.

"this is it," lucas says, breathless. "it's here."

"open it!" eliott urges, leading him to the couch.

lucas rips the package open, his heart beating faster and smile getting wider as it seemed to unravel in his hands. then, the book he had been writing for six years, ever since he met eliott, was staring up at him. "boys on film," he reads aloud, quietly. he studies the cover, a pastel drawing of two boys sitting on a picnic blanket. the sun is nearly setting, bathing them in gold. and there right along the bottom, reads "lucas lallemant."

his vision becomes blurry with tears as he pulls his book out of the box and holds it to his chest, the heartbeats matching, marching towards joy. he leans into eliott, who envelops him in a hug.

"how are you feeling?" eliott asks, ruffling his hair.

"like i'm walking on air," lucas replies, wiping his tears off his cheeks. he looks back down at the book, flipping through its pages. he smells the crisp, clean smell of the pages. he remembers how much that smell would comfort him growing up, and now, his words are written on the pages.

he flips it to the back cover, with glowing, advanced reviews inscribed on it. but, to him, the most important part was the little note at the bottom left corner. he points it out to eliott.

cover art by eliott demaury

eliott gets tearful, too. but, he smiles and teases again. "does this mean i can read it now?"

"no," lucas chuckles. "but, if you want, you can read the dedication."

he opens it to the page he's looking for, then hands the book over to eliott. he holds his breath, watching his eyes flick over the words.

to eliott—the moon in my sky; the love of my life.

"i could've been a little more poetic with it, but they gave me a two line limit," lucas says, nervous.

"i love it," eliott chokes out. he kisses lucas's forehead, the tip of his nose, his lips. he grins, then whispers, "i can't wait to read it, mon amour."

#thank you so much lauren!!!#i figured i would expand the boys on film universe a bit for you!!#i miss them omg #also it's a tad more than 300 words but hey it just happened okay #asks #tawmlinsun #hush bailey #my writing #skam france #elu #elu drabbles #also sorry if the like formatting is wonky im on mobile oops #boys on film #prompts

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kissjane · 4 years ago

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SPIN THE BOTTLE / Drabble

#34 on this prompt list.

Spin the bottle

He can really only blame himself, Lucas thinks. He got enticed to try Emma’s sugary drinks, and he had completely forgotten how much alcohol she managed to sneak into her concoctions.

That’s how he finds himself on the floor in a large circle, too drunk to protest, while somebody puts the bottle down.

“Okay,” Emma announces gleefully, “if you spin your significant other, you have to spin again. Nobody gets the easy way out.”

There is some groaning at that, but nobody cares too much, and Manon starts the game. It goes on for a few rounds, and Lucas loses interest, until Alexia spins and the bottle lands on Eliott.

They give each other a chaste kiss on the cheek, Eliott plopping his lips in an exaggerated kissing sound, making Alexia giggle.

Lucas wonders if he would have dared turn his head at the last moment, if it had been him, to finally feel Eliott’s lips on his. He could have blamed his drunken stupor and nobody would be any the wiser.

Eliott sits down and spins. Lucas tries to follow the blurry motion, but it makes him dizzy and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the bottle points straight at him.

He stares at it, his mind racing. Here is his chance. He could do it. Offer his cheek, then turn. He can almost taste Eliott’s sunshine scent on his lips.

“Oh, no, Eliott, spin again,” Daphné says, sounding disappointed. “I don’t want to see some platonic bro kiss.”

What? Lucas glares at her. Why is she depriving him of what could be the best kiss of his life?

Eliott, who already stood up to make his way towards Lucas, turns towards Daphné in surprise.

“Huh? Why are you changing the rules?”

Daphné giggles and overly enunciates her words, clearly drunk.

“You kissing Lucas would be like you kissing your brother. That doesn’t count. Couples can’t kiss each other either, so why should you?”

“But Lucas and I are not a couple, so that rule doesn’t apply to us,” Eliott states.

Thank you, Eliott, Lucas thinks.

“Oh, come on,” Emma interrupts, when Daphné starts to object in earnest, “Let’s not fight. Just spin again, Eliott, no harm done.”

And Eliott, after the slightest hesitation, spins the bottle towards Imane, and kisses her.

Lucas stands up, gangly and stumbling over his own feet. He suddenly has sobered up considerably.

“I need some fresh air anyway,” he says, frustrated and too upset to deal with this while everybody is around.

Eliott finds him on the balcony some ten minutes later.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “Ready to pay your debts?”

Lucas looks over at him. God, why does he have to be so gorgeous in the moonlight?

“What debts?”

Eliott chuckles.

“I spun the bottle at you. You owe me a kiss.”

Lucas feels his anger surface again. By all rights, he should have gotten to kiss Eliott. It’s bad enough that he got cheated. His friends teasing him about it is just plain inhumane.

“Go complain to Daphné,” he says curtly.

“I could,” Eliott answers, thoughtfully, then adds, with a hint of challenge in his voice, “I won’t have to if you just pay up, though.”

Somehow, he has gotten very close to Lucas.

A strange excitement overtakes Lucas. Eliott seems determined to kiss him, for whatever reason. He is not about to let his second chance pass by unused.

He leans forward.

“Okay,” he whispers, his lips a hair’s breadth away from Eliott’s, their gazes locked.

Slowly, their mouths touch. Finally, Lucas thinks, and he sighs into the kiss. His body melts against Eliott’s and Eliott’s strong arms grab his waist.

“All paid up?”, Lucas asks, his voice shaky, as they let go.

“Not even close,” Eliott replies, just as affected, and captures Lucas’ lips again.

#I write things #elu #drabble #50 cliché prompts

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officiallynuts · 4 years ago

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A/N: Hi there! It’s been so long since I’ve written anything, like really written anything. and so I’m going to pop in with a little fanfic for you guys. So I’m going to start this off with a little fic of Elu from Skam France! (Yes, I know, cliche ship to start with but I would be more than happy to do the others as well if anyone would like me to! Even the friendships too! Or when my own inspiration strikes. Anyway, enough rambling, sorry). So I hope you guys enjoy!

(Note: I do not own the characters. All credit goes to the creators and showrunners of Skam France)

Word Count: 2,888.

Dark. Never-ending darkness. Reaching out all around him. All-consuming, gripping hold of his heart. Tightly, squeezing, never letting go. No release for the wicked. He couldn't breathe, couldn't feel, could barely move. All he felt was cold. Cold as everything was a slush, moving slowly as if he were underwater. No sense of what was up, nor down, he had no choice but to go forward. But there was a force pushing him back, it made him grow weak. Tired, too tired to move anymore. And so he floated. Arms held out beside him, hair floating up as he felt himself sink. Lower and lower, as his visioned blurred. He felt his last breath escape through his lips in a bubble, rippling away as he felt too weak to reach for it. Too weak to do anything but close his eyes one last time.

Hands. Hands were the first thing he felt. And soon they were all around him, sliding around his chest in a strong grip, pushing against him till he had no choice but to open his eyes, his mouth opening in surprise, feeling the gasp engulf him as water rushed through his turning blue lips. Blue was all he saw when his vision cleared, blue, maybe gray as well, eyes and brown hair that glowed like caramel as a light shone behind his savior. Closer the light came, till he was suddenly able to spit out the water he collected. Gasping for air, he let the hands led him to shore. Where his panicking friends were yelling out his name.

"Lucas! Merlin, are you okay?!" Worried voices called out as more arms helped pull him out of the water and to the soft grass. The drowning boy, Lucas, feeling as blue as his own eyes and scarf that felt like was strangling him, only coughed in response as he shivered harshly. He could barely speak, barely move. Even as everyone longed for him to say something, anything, to show that he was already. But he wasn't. Lucas was entranced in shock.

"The scarf." A rough, new yet familiar, voice spoke calmly. Possibly the only calm one there; Lucas appreciated that for a moment. Only a split moment, as he found a distraction. The body of his savior kneeling in front of him, hands reaching for his neck. Slowly, as if not to startle the shivering boy, he unraveled the scarf around his neck and laid it aside. "Lucas.. you're okay now. Can you breathe?"

Breathe, right, he could do that, Lucas thought to himself as he felt another wave of shaking cold rush through him. Closing his eyes, he tried to push through everything and focus. Focus... fo-

"Focus, Lucas," The voice continued as if he could read the other's mind. There you go, you're doing great. So great, Lucas. Yann, get me my wand, it's in my robes." His voice took on a demanding turn, still as soft but left no room for argument.

"W-wha..." Lucas was able to rasp out as he felt his breath coming back to him. He watched with wide eyes as his savior took the wand that was held out to him, then proceeded to wave it over Lucas's body slowly with murmurs of spells. Gasping out, Lucas felt his clothes dry as well as heat rushing back to him. He could feel the heat rushing to his face, turning his cheeks a slight pink. Feeling warm all over, like he was never in a cold, black, lake in the first place.

"There we go." His savior spoke softly, again, as he set his wand aside, his hand reaching out to hold Lucas by his cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Better..." Lucas breathed out, sighing as he slowly pushed himself in a sitting up position. "What happened?" He frowned, looking from blue/gray eyes to the eyes of his friends standing around with freaked out eyes.

"The idiot-" Arthur started, pushing up his falling glasses as he sighed with a shake of his head.

"Hey!"

"Got excited when he saw a certain blonde-haired Hufflepuff and tried to impress her with a spell, only to have it backfire as always." He continued as if he wasn't interrupted, sending a look to the one who yelled out. Basile, who was frowning at the other.

"You were walking towards the Lake, we were supposed to meet for a study session, and you walked right into the spell. Sent you flying." Imane, the only one who probably took their studies as seriously as he did, pipped in as she knelt to look him over. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Imane. Really. Don't feel like frostbite so that's a plus." Lucas shook his head, grateful for his friend's concern as he rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment.

"Speaking of which," his last friend, and maybe best friend out of them all, Yann, spoke as he turned to the boy who had saved him. "We have Demaury to thank for that. Seriously, man. You reacted faster than any of us. How did you even know it was going to happen?"

Demaury. Lucas knew the name. And the face. He was two years older, a Slytherin that came in the middle of the year mysteriously. He was quiet, kept to himself, but was one of the friendliest around. And maybe most beautiful, too, Lucas thought to himself. Everyone loved him, wanted to know him. Even Lucas did, secretly. But he could never suck up the courage to speak to him. Someone as... entrancing as Eliott Demaury was, didn't become friends with boys like simple Lucas.

"Oh." Eliott coughed as he shifted in a more comfortable sitting position. "I was drawing when I heard Basile yelling out his spell. Saw Lucas walking, put two together and... yeah. Here we are." He shrugged almost sheepishly, almost shy like as he turned his head. Like he wanted to avoid everyone looking at him. But his eyes met a certain set of blue, Lucas's.

"Well, still. Thank you for saving our Lulu! We'd be lost without him." Basile cut in with a wide smile on his face, only to frown again when Arthur reached to hit his arm.

"No thanks to you! Come on, you owe Lucas an apology dinner. And to explain to the professors why he won't be in class for the day." Arthur didn't give him a chance to deny the request, turning the curly hair boy around and away from the crowd. Back to the castle.

"What? I'm not?" Lucas frowned, watching his two friends leave before looking to the others.

"Are you kidding? Lu, you nearly drowned! Take the day. Imane will fight off any angry teachers." Yann scolded lightly, patting him on the shoulder as he turned his body to leave as well. "I'll see you at dinner, yeah?" Waiting for the nod of approval from Lucas, Yann looked from him to the last boy of the crowd, Eliott, then back at him to wiggle his eyebrows once before walking away.

"Feel better, Lallemant. I need you in top shape for the potions assignment next week." Imane talked as if she was demanding, but Lucas didn't feel threatened. He knew better. He could see the soft, relieved, look in her eyes as she stood up and left.

"She secretly likes me, I promise." Lucas let himself joke, to break the silence that seemed to take over once there were two left. He turned to the other and almost felt his breath leave him once again. Eliott was looking at him, staring at him. So close, so intensely, he felt like someone was casting the heat charm on him all over again. "So, um.."

"You scared me." Eliott started, not once looking away. Like the thought of taking his eyes off the boy physically hurt him. "Seeing you fly into the water like that... I didn't think I was going to reach you in time."

"But you did." Lucas put in, straightening his back to watch him. "You saved me, Eliott... Thank you. Seriously." He whispered by the end, his eyes wide as he felt the gratitude rush all over him. There he was, Eliott Demuary, saving Lucas Lallemant even though the two never met before. Never before now.

"I only wish I had gotten there earlier, save you the trouble from almost drowning. Before you hit the water, if I had run faster, or cast a levitation spell, or-" Excuse me, what? Was he seriously trying to blame himself right now?

"Eliott, no. Stop." Lucas shook his head slowly. "You couldn't have gotten there in time, I'm sure. Diving after me in the water... was probably the safest way. Who knew what spell would react to Bas's. It could have made things worse." Lucas felt himself wanting to reach out, to reassure the other. But he kept his hands to himself. He didn't deserve to touch.

"Still I-"

"Saved my life, thanks to your quick thinking," Lucas butted in before he could finish speaking. "I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you. Thank you, Eliott. Take it." He spoke strongly, not giving any room for a rebuttal as he moved to stand up. Eliott stuttered as he scrambled to stand up, taking Lucas's arm to help him. Just in case he would fall. If Lucas was shocked by his actions, which he was, then he didn't show it.

"I'm not sure you should be standing right now.." Eliott frowned, looking down at the boy. Which was something else, their height difference. Lucas knew he was shorter than others, and usually, he hated it. Still did. But having to look up at Eliott, who still had that glowing light behind him, he found that he didn't mind as much.

"Probably not. Which is why I should get to my dorm, to lay down." Lucas informed with a small smile, shaking his head. "I could use a nap after the near-death experience. And I'm sure you have a class you should go to."

"I can skip it." Eliott put in quickly, shaking his head as he took a small step to him. "Let me walk you back. Just to be sure."

"I.." Lucas bit his lip, licking them once, before shaking his head. Now that the shock was running down, back came the wall. Lucas could feel himself closing in, could feel everything coming back. So used to admiring Eliott from afar. But now he was so close he could just reach out and touch him if he wanted. But Lucas couldn't. He didn't have the right. They didn't know each other.

"Please." Eliott gave it one last try, sounding like he was practically begging the other. For what, Lucas didn't know. More time with him? He wished. But that couldn't be it.

"Alright." Lucas finally caved, letting himself smile a little when Eliott shot him a blinding grin. Biting his lip, he let the older gather their things, handing everything back to Lucas. All but the Ravenclaw scarf, Eliott rolled it up before putting it into his own bag. Saying he knew of a spell that would never let it get wet or something like that. He didn't know, Lucas still felt a little dazed by everything. But after gathering their things, together they started their journey back to the castle.

The walk back was quiet, mostly. Lucas could feel himself getting awkward, not knowing what to say. But he also kept stealing glances at the other. If this was a once in a lifetime experience for him, being so close to Eliott, then he didn't want to miss a moment. He wanted to cherish it while it lasted.

Eliott, on the other hand, was secretly waiting for the other to speak. Come on, Lucas, what does it have to take to get you to talk to me like you do with your friends, he thought to himself, shooting the other silent looks. He, himself, didn't want the time to end. He wanted it to stretch on forever if he could make it. But as it always seemed to happen, time went by fast. Too fast. The portrait leading to the Ravenclaw common room was right up ahead, coming closer into view. The painting watching the two students come to it, no doubt waiting to speak the perfect riddle for them to answer.

"Well, this is me." Lucas cleared his throat, coming to a stop. He turned to Eliott, once again having to tilt his head up to look at him. "Thank you for walking me back, though you didn't have too."

Eliott, letting out a soft, almost disbelieved laugh, shook his head as he stepped forward. He reached up, taking a strand of Lucas's hair and brushed it back. "It was my pleasure, Lucas. Thank you for letting me." He spoke softly, letting his voice drop into a whisper. Like he was sharing a secret for just the two of them. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah.." Lucas whispered, his eyes had fallen shut the moment Elliot touched his hair. But the snapped open when he heard the latter take steps away. If he was going to leave, Lucas needed to at least watch him go. If this was going to be the last that they saw each other, despite the promise just made, then he wanted to memorize everything about the moment.

"Good." Eliott smiled at him, still taking small steps backward, not wanting to look away as he left the younger boy standing there. But he soon came to a point where he had to turn around. But as he did, he was stopped by a voice calling his name.

"Eliott." Lucas started, pressing his lips together with a small frown as he waited for him to turn back. There was a question on the tip of his tongue, ever since he came to his senses. Ever since he realized who saved him, and that they knew him. Everyone knew Eliott, everyone always knew the new kids. But how did he know him? "How did you know my name?" He finally asked, letting out a breath as if the question hurt him to say out loud. He probably sounded crazy. Merlin, he probably scared him off now.

"Lucas Lallemant. 6th year Ravenclaw. Bluest eyes I have ever seen in my life," Eliott started with a small laugh. The silly boy. How could he not know? He could he not see before? "You were the first I saw when I accidentally bumped into you in the hall on the way to the Great Hall. You were with your friends, so you didn't see me. But I saw you. I only saw you. And since then, you are all I can think about. Drove Imane insane until I got her to cave, telling me your name."

Lucas was speechless after that, not knowing what to say. His lips fell open slightly to show his surprise, watching as Eliott gave him a soft smile and laugh.

"I'll be seeing you, Lucas. Have a good nap." Sparing him from what Eliott could guess would be a stuttering mess if the flush to his cheeks was any indication. He gave the boy a wave before finally leaving, walking away down the hall.

Slowly, Lucas started to smile to himself and turned, walking to the painting of a bronze eagle waiting for him. Answering the riddle after a second thought, Lucas walked through the opening portrait, and the next thing he knew Lucas was in his bed. He felt like he was in a trance, replying the day, the encounter, over and over in his head. Not believing any of it, but the missing blue scarf was the only indication that it was real.

If it wasn't the scarf, it was the warmth that enclosed around him. Where Eliott had touched him before, from inside the water, to his cheek, to his arms, everywhere. He never felt so warm before. It was mind-blowing and soothing. And cold, as the reminder that he wasn't near the other, made him feel cold all over again.

"Oh.. I'm in trouble," Lucas whispered to himself with a sigh, already feeling his heartbeat a little faster the more he thought of the Slytherin. While he was used to that reaction, it was different now. He had the sound of a voice to go with the mental image of him, and a feeling of touch to go along with. It made his heart race faster than before. That alone scared him, almost terrified him, how affected he was by the first meeting.

"Okay.. okay. Breathe. You need to get some sleep. Calm down." Lucas continued to whisper, sighing as he shifted. Moving to lay on his side, he closed his eyes. It took some time, Lucas never did fall asleep easily. His mind was always racing. Thought after thought. Daydream to nightmare, whatever it may be, sleep was hard for him to come under. And a nap was no different, only this time his mind only had one thing in mind. Blue/gray eyes. Eyes so intense, they somehow lulled the boy into a slow sleep. And soon, Lucas was out. Dreaming of his savior, saving him even in his sleep.

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lallemanting · 5 years ago

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🌈 cant miss the opportunity, can i request an elu cuddling session 😍🥰

of course you can lovely! 💛😘

Lucas wakes to the soft feeling of fingertips brushing over his face sweeping his hair away from where it’s fallen on his forehead. He blinks slowly as he escapes from sleep, his body unconsciously seeking out the warmth he can feel across the mattress. It must be early – the room is still mostly dark, but Lucas doesn’t mind waking up. Not like this, not with Eliott.

As he stirs, he feels the hand above him freeze.

“Sorry, love,” Eliott whispers across the sheets. “Go back to sleep.”

Lucas only closes his eyes and shuffles closer. Even here, caught somewhere in the haze before waking, the only thing he really wants is Eliott.

“Come’re,” Lucas mumbles, blindly reaching out.

He hears Eliott chuckle, the noise bright and gentle, and then a strong hand is grabbing his waist and pulling him in. He doesn’t know how but suddenly he’s enveloped in Eliott – in the way his arms wrap around him, the way their legs tangle together, in the crook of his neck where Lucas now rests his head.

It’s soft and warm and safe here, in Eliott’s arms. It’s the kind of peace that Lucas had never really known before Eliott, a calm that always sounded trivial to him, until his heart no longer needed to hide.

“You have to get up soon, don’t you?” Lucas whispers, as he tries not to disturb the hushed calm around them.

“Not for a couple hours,” Eliott replies, pressing a kiss to Lucas’ hair. “You should go back to sleep.”

Lucas shifts closer, pressing a sleepy kiss to the side of Eliott’s neck and breathing in deeply.

“You’ll wake me up before you go?” he asks.

“I always do,” Eliott says, his fingertips smoothing down Lucas’ arm. It’s soothing and comforting, the feeling of Eliott’s touch grounding him to this moment, to now.

“Good,” Lucas hums, his arm tightening around Eliott’s waist, “because I have to give you your goodbye, good luck for the day kiss. It’s the rules.”

“It’s the rules,” Eliott agrees, still tracing patterns on Lucas’ skin, making his eyes grow heavy again. “I won’t forget.”

And Lucas sleeps.

#hi sorry i have a headcanon that they have to wake each other up before they leave for the day #mostly because lucas is greedy and wants to kiss him but also because they never want to go all day without seeing each other #skamfr #elu fic #elu drabble #dawnlus

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flying-elliska · 5 years ago

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another Elu snippet to add to et jour par jour while we wait ♡ with a tinge of Arthur related angst

MARDI 23:54

Everytime he kisses Lucas, it feels a little like the first time.

Not entirely of course, because they don't have their personal little rain cloud following them around. That would get old quick. And let's be real, they are actually much better at kissing each other now than they were back then. Their first kiss was a mad rush in the dark, teeth smashing against each other and noses smushed in their eagerness to knock down all the walls between them. Now they have shared a hundred, a thousand kisses, they know the feeling of each other, so close, inside and out, know how to find each other instinctively without any clumsiness. They know how to make each other's toes curl with a flicker of tongue or raise goosebumps on each other's skin.

The hunger is still there.

Lucas throws himself at him as if he hasn't seen him in years just as he comes back from the bathroom ; as always it gives Eliott this swooping feeling in his lower belly, a little bit like he is flying or falling or both. The fire between them is a perpetual motion machine - sustainable whether it blazes or simmers.

Tonight it's a shower of sparks, bright wild and joyful. He feels it under his skin, all of it -, the excitement, the elation. Lucas's hands riding low and snug on his waist. Eliott's been in clubs before but it was never this fun, before he met his boyfriend. Now he wants to show off. They both want to. Show off their love to the whole world. This is what dreams are made of.

It's New Year's Eve. A time for taking stock ; and what a year it has been.

Their friends are all around them. Sofiane, who he has been seeing a lot more of again, with Imane gracefully twirling on his arm. Daphne in her glittery dress, Alexia playing the elbows, the Gang goofing off. And to think he spent last new year's eve shuttered in his room, so lonely, the thought of the future so crushing. Now he wants to bite into the future and take the biggest mouthful he can. There will be challenges, but he's ready for it all, whatever life throws his way. He knows he's not alone, he can feel it in his very bones. It's such a life altering thing, really.

As they dance Lucas starts playing with his collar buttons and then opening his shirt a little, kissing the skin he reveals, little suckling kisses, increasingly bold and impatient. His expression is almost a little too heated for the occasion ; Eliott laughs and whispers some promises in his ear he hopes will keep him patient. He ruffles Lucas's hair a little as he separates himself from Eliott. It's so long now it's almost a mane, but it's as spiky as ever and bounces in tune with the music. One of the wonders of the world, really.

Lucas grins at him, and they speak without talking.

Our life is really fucking cool right now, huh ?

As the countdown to midnight starts, they all group together in a big circle, yelling and jumping as everything goes crescendo. His heart beats faster and faster, and he wishes he could capture emotions - he would want this one to remain with him forever.

3...2...1....

Happy New Year ! The world explodes into sound and light, silvery confetti raining down on them.

His first act of the new decade is, fittingly, a kiss. Lucas's already on him while they are still half hanging off other people's arms and they couldn't even wait. It's a chaotic jumble and then they are in each other's arms again and time becomes blurry, everything pulses of love and happiness and the taste of whisky-cola.

At some point he sees Arthur leave, alone, a distressed look on his face. It's strange, since he didn't seem to have drunk too much, and he looks like he is sneaking away. Well, of all of them, he is the one that loves his secrets the most - so often lost on his own little planet. Eliott can relate. Hopefully he's not in too much in a bad way. These days Eliott really wishes he could just put all the people he loves in a cuddly pile and keep them there. After spending so long isolating himself... If this year has taught him anything it's that the temptation to deal with everything alone is very hard to refuse but very important to let go of.

He's probably just projecting, anyway. Maybe Arthur has gone overboard with the drinks and he will be just fine.

He spends the rest of the night kissing his boyfriend and hugging people and keeping everyone close, close, close.

#skam france #eliott pov #elu fic #my fic #fic drabble #et jour par jour #can you tell i really want an arthur - eliott friendship to rise this season

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raconxteur · 5 years ago

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masterlist || *will be updated*

before, lucas had friends who shared a total of one (1) braincell between the three of them, a roommate fond of spewing out random shit about things lucas needed not to bother with, and a cat determined to make lucas's life hell on earth. but he didn't have 'failed executioner of plans' on his resume. nor a teeny tiny, almost invisible, perfectly non-existent inkling for the person's he's doomed to make up to up for said failed plan.

or, le gang's dumbassery combines with lucas's lack of good fortune to provide a concoction which might lead lucas to his grave.

part i, part ii

maybe the boy's brain has also short-circuited, maybe his nervous coordination has some flaws, because eliott was expecting a punch, even a slap would have been fine, as the tiny body jumps at him when he's a few millimetres away from eliott.

but there are warm lips pressing at his in a hurry instead of a fist meeting his jaw. and there are small hands wrapping around his shoulders instead of a kick in his stomach.

or, lucas is in trouble, and eliott's at the wrong place at the right time

(au, fake dating)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv

#skam france #my writing #elu fic #elu drabble #skam france fic #elu #lucas x eliott #lucas lallament #eliott demaury

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lallemcnt · 5 years ago

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without feeling, 2.6k words 🍃

lucas is a bit overwhelmed by quarantine. an elu social distancing drabble.

(or, 2.6k words of expressing all my feelings induced by social distancing through lucas.)

It’s cold outside.

It’s a little bit misty. The minaret of a mosque and spires of grand churches disappear into a grey-hued nothingness that catches the wind like a kite, spreading like acrid smoke, staining the sky in miserable doom: the red warning of traffic lights less vibrant and severe, less of a demand, an imperative to stop, and more of a weak sign of I still exist; there are still rules to follow. The sun exerts its will the hardest when usually it doesn’t have to do more than rise up from the horizon. Its potent presence and unmistakeable warmth is not quite so disarming. This is a first for the sun. Narrow beams of light puncture through where they might, at the weakest points of the fog’s intent: through slits of wooden floorboards, gaps in rusted blinds — hitting the edge of make-up smeared mirrors and feeding the forest-green leaves of succulents that create canopies on burnished-brown bookshelves.

And Lucas feels it across his bare back as he lies on the sofa in contemplative thought. No one thought plays centre stage, captivating this audience of one in a velvet filled old structure dedicated to entertainment. Or rather, on this blue velvet sofa upon which he is currently lying, stomach down, face resting on his hands as he stares out on the disappearing city. Curtains billowing around windows that have definitely seen better days and could do with a loving touch of paint.

The ocean waves. A fishing boat. The last time he had a cup of coffee. When he should realistically be doing laundry next. A slight head tilt shows an overflowing woven basket. Soon. When Eliott will be done with the commission he’s been working on for the past four days — Lucas is excited to see it. But he’s bias. Everything Eliott does is mesmerising in Lucas’ eyes; he falls a little bit more in love with him every time he sees the creations formed from such a brilliant mind. When will Eliott call the work day quits for today. He wants to see him, touch his hand, which he hasn’t done for the past six hours, because Lucas despises encroaching on Eliott’s space when he’s focusing and doing what he loves. Hates the idea of being a nuisance or disrupting a miraculous train of thought just for the ridiculous reason of him feeling needy and wanting attention.

What would it be like to experience the rain in a rainforest? This thought snags.

It recalls a memory.

At age ten, Lucas’ class was tasked with painting a scene from this famous painting. He can’t quite recall the name, but he remembers a broad canopy of cobalt coloured umbrellas clutched in the hands of men in top hats and tails, and women in petticoats, hair tucked up into chignons under a furious downpour. By the end, each class’ section of the painting would form to recreate an entire tableau of mixed-media, a cohesive mess of blue.

It lends his thoughts to Eliott once more, and they won’t shift. Lucas glances at his watch: 17:33. A sigh. He drops his head back onto his hands and rolls over onto his back, disgruntled by the thumping feet of their upstairs neighbours on the ceiling which is beginning to look worryingly like paper stained by coffee. Their landlord would not be happy.

Stretching out his limbs, the weak sun strokes a long finger down his spine as Lucas climbs to his feet, dragging the ends of his joggers down his calves with his feet. He shuffles towards a small closet slash utility room, turned Eliott’s office, dragging his t-shirt from the back of the sofa with his hand as he goes.

Tiptoeing, Lucas leans in the doorway of the decidedly tiny room, shirt clutched in hand. Observing from a slight distance, holding his breath and his shirt to his chest in the hopes of not letting loose a single sound. As quiet as a moose. As stealthy as a wolf. Serotonin and endorphin boost at just the sight of him, causing the sides of Lucas’ mouth to lift at the human person hunched over a table they saved from a neighbour who dumped it in the bin building. Restoring it from a wood-chipped, faded white-yellow desk, abandoned and discarded, with broken draws to a moon-chilled silver with baby blue accents. The draws reconstructed on a productive Sunday morning after Eliott managed to get several defrosted waffles stuffed into Lucas and a cup of coffee, which Lucas detested but made a ritual of because it was a grown up thing and he always seemed to feel a little tired.

Now, he yearns to run his hands up Eliott’s back and kiss his freckled shoulders. Lie on the sofa, snuggled up so tight they became a sine organism with no way of disaggregating. Permanently etched together like quotation marks; the perfect fit. But, as slient as a mouse, Lucas aimed to be. Even as Eliott shifting in his seat and Lucas saw he had put on jeans of all things. Yes, they were stuck at home but...jeans? He felt a rumble of laughter hit his chest and dashed from the doorway trying to prevent its outbreak, and in doing so, was in all ways unquiet, feet hitting the wooden floorboards hard.

“Lucas?” A sigh was all the response. Though not an unhappy one.

Oh, the wonders a voice could do and make you feel. Sometimes feel never felt like a big enough, grand enough, expansive enough word to encompass what it really meant. Nor could anything compare to one’s name being uttered by the person who made the word feel feel too small a word. His very bones and nerves and fingertips were on fire, but then again that could be logically reduced to the fact that Lucas was quarantined with his boyfriend who he didn’t speak to much during the day — on his own accord and to the reluctance of Eliott — but was separated by a nimbly, hallow wall and he simply wanted to kiss his face off every second of every minute. It was simple really. Not much to it. Except his undying love, of course.

Another soft: “Lucas?”

The person in question returns to the little office and peers in expectantly. Eliott is resting his face in his hand, elbow on desk, hair ruffled and in need of a wash. As soon as Lucas appears his dazed eyes contract a more alert appearance, wistful and quite content with the sight he brings.

“You hungry?”

“Are you?”

“Kind of. I was thinking—”

“That we should have cheese toasties! Brilliant idea, Eliott. You finish up, if you’re ready? I don’t wanna rush you or anything, and I’ll be chefing away.”

“You’re not rushing me, and anyway, if you were, which you’re not,” Eliott replies, voicing rising slightly as he gets to his feet to move toward Lucas who retreats at the idea of imposing his presence on Eliott. “I would love you to rush me, because I’m sick of looking at it all. I’m tired. And I would much prefer to look at you instead.”

Reaching Lucas, Eliott runs his hands through Lucas’ hair till he’s cupping the back of his head, and then drawing it down the scope of his neck and shoulder, skimming lightly over collarbones — leaving an imprint in Lucas’ bones and muscles, a memory of a lover’s touch — and trailing down an arm lined with goose bumps until fingers are slotting together. A gift of warmth and blesséd touch. One Lucas is eternally thankful for. He is at his most appreciative when it comes to Eliott. For him, anything.

“Cheese toasties?” Lucas asks, face flushed from the loving caress of Eliott’s words that fall off his tongue as easily as they cost him nothing.

“Hm.” Eliott raises their entwined hands, lifting Lucas’ hand palm down so he can plant a sweet kiss onto it and then his knuckles.

“And then I was thinking...we, I mean, I, could paint your nails,” Lucas is almost, slightly breathless and it’s all a bit embarrassing. He rushes on, “It’s literally all I could think about this morning until my brain sputtered out from boredom.” He laughs a bit, self-conscious.

“Let me have a hug first, please?”

Lucas can hear the tiredness seeping out of every syllable, Eliott’s shoulder sink slowly down with each words like a deflating balloon left of all its oxygen. He reaches up to cup Eliott’s cheek, the skin soft and pimply behind his hand, he plants a quick peck on it before snaking his arms around Eliott’s hips and squeezing him just enough that he isn’t suffocating him but feels that steading presence of bodily contact, one t-shirt away from skin on skin. Lucas feels the reciprocation instantly, Eliott’s arms around Lucas’ shoulders, and then slipping a fraction further down as Eliott pulls him into the cocoon of his body.

“Ahhh.” Lucas can’t help the sigh of contentment. The verbal confirmation of satisfaction.

Warm breaths hit his neck, Eliott’s chest shakes marginally against his, and his arms tighten around Lucas who pushes at Eliott’s arms, because he is actually starving, suddenly, potently aware of it. He slides down and out of that particular safe haven and walks slowly backwards, eyes locked with the mystery of his boyfriend’s, the secret of their colour claimed by the first atoms of the world that created pigmentation. Sliding his t-shirt on he observes Eliott watching the last stretch of his abdomen disappear from, a slight hand clench is visible as he lifts his hand to rub over his face, and Lucas can’t help but laugh properly now as he enters the kitchen. Lucas is not a seductive person, but he does find pleasure in the way something small he does, not even consciously provocative can affect Eliott so.

Lucas spins around on his heels remembering that Eliott doesn’t, in fact, own a sandwich toaster so he improvises. Cheddar, four slices of toast and in the preheated oven. He’s gonna have to clean the oven afterwards, but it’s not like he doesn’t have the time for that: time he is in an abundant supply of these days.

While devouring their cheese toasties, Lucas and Eliott find themselves wrapped up in blankets on the sofa. Lucas is concentrating like a child trying their hardest to colour inside the lines of a picture as he sits bent over painting Eliott’s index finger a muted blue and his thumb a dusky pink. With a leg stretched over Eliott’s he inches forward as the former skips through a playlist on his phone sending the sound of bass and drums into the far reaches of the room, into the fissures and crevices of the walls decorated in black and white portraits and enticing landscapes of fruitful trees and sandstone buildings.

These photos shake Lucas a little at his core. Lucas dreams of running along cliff sides made of limestone, skimming his feet in the freezing loches of Scotland, picking mangoes from trees in Malawi during October, just before their rainy season commences. He’s been dreaming of far off places for days, wishing to escape from their confinement, daring to live a little wilder, further, deeper. Someday. Though this future he couldn’t quite make out in his head, secure behind a veil, much like the weather outside.

His eyes cloud over and he tries to focus back on the task at hand, sliding the side of his thumb down the corner of Eliott’s pinky finger where the brush veered off course. He wipes his left eye with the hand that was holding Eliott’s in place, trying to be subtle, because he feels stupid. He feels entitled and furious at himself. So he goes back to his task without a word, attempting to sink back into the motions and the music; the swipe of the brush, the sound of Eliott’s contented “this is it” as he finds the right song, settles into the melody of it and throws his phone to the other side of the sofa.

Social distancing has been at once soothing and triggering for Lucas’ anxiety. The beginning was a frustrating time, arriving when he finally thought he had some semblance of a plan formed. For his future. Then it all derailed and he was traversed into an existence of blissful indulgence in seven series TV shows and warm baguettes not reached lukewarm because he had somewhere to rush off to; waking up at 9 or 10am instead of his usual 7; walking around the block, stepping into a park for the daily fresh intake of vitamin c, watching fluffy creatures prance around the forbidden grasslands. Now, he knows he’s on the brink of a tumble downhill, a dip in a deceptively solid surface, and all he keeps hearing from online personalities, from friends and instagram stories is that “this is to be expected.” God, how tired he is of hearing that perfunctory sentence. Frankly, he wishes, fruitlessly, for someone to teach him once more how to cope, to be fucking okay. His ten week course of CBD ended the first week of quarantine and while he supposedly has the tools to rationalise, to acknowledge his thoughts and recognise some of them are to be untrue...it’s not quite so easy, because he can’t debunk them while stuck in a tiny city apartment. He is very literally restricted in space. So he’s on hyper alert for himself and Eliott, tainting the very air with his insecurities and fears. But that’s not quite right; he’s too consumed by himself, selfish, he thinks, you wouldn’t even notice the signs with Eliott. Sometimes he wants to be allowed, allow himself, to feel sad, dispirited, hopeless. He wants to lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of nothing but the way some areas are slightly raised. To sleep. But he hasn’t been diagnosed with depression, he’s not depressed, he doesn’t get depressed. Just sad and vapid, occasionally. The instances are few and far between.

He has his mum to reassure him. He wouldn’t call it comforting though she tries: “We’ll all get through this. You will, Lucas. That job is waiting for you, remember? Take a deep breath with me, okay?”

Today though isn’t as bad as it was two days ago, he feels himself getting out of this cave of darkness, this allocated place of sorrowful isolation, because he also has this. The security of these arms and this chest he rests his face against. That kiss on his head. And this person who can’t fight it all away for him, can’t always find the right words to comfort him, like Lucas cannot be a constant solid presence of stone in the flow of a rapid river for Eliott, he has to be patient and assume the pace Eliott sets.

They can’t always be the right answer, but they can try.

“I think you’re gonna need to repaint this hand, Lu.”

It takes him a moment to gather himself. He’s been resting here for some time, though time is inconsequential here so the length is lost to him. As he sits back up and his face disconnects with heart beat and muscle and skin, it feels flushed on the connect side and his eyes dry. He takes in Eliott’s painted hand, now smudged and clicks his tongue, shaking his head at the same time.

“Give me the polish.”

As Eliott reaches out to grab a mint-green bottle of polish, he responds in kind. “Try this.” Lucas shakes the bottle and glances at Eliott in askance. Eliott shakes his head, a small smile on his lips, not teasing. “Trust me.” No, not teasing. More in expectation of something good, something sweet.

And Lucas complies as he is wont to do, savouring those eyes and the hundreds of thousands of emotions they express in a single moment.

It tastes good.

Strawberries.

It tastes like sweetness.

#elu fic #elu drabble #skam france #tw anxiety #anxiety #my writing #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #elu #mine

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skam-ruined-my-life · 6 years ago

Text

"What happened to your hand?"

Lucas looks at Eliott and then at his bandaged hand, before his eyes drift back to staring into the green pools of light in front of him.

You happened.

He snorts. He can't say that. The wound is too fresh. And no, he is not thinking about his hand.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Eliott was concerned, judging by his knitted eyebrows, pitiful gaze and slight lip tremble. But he's learned not to be so gullible by now.

"Gardening accident." He chokes out, looking down again. There's a big brownish stain staring back at him. He couldn't be bothered to change the bandage since Manon wrapped it for him on the night it happened. Manon has been sleeping at Emma's the past few nights, and he couldn't bring himself to ask Mika to help him wrap it. He couldn't face him, not yet.

Eliott's eyebrows shoot up and Lucas' heart does a thing. It's been drumming since he bumped into the taller boy a few minutes ago, but now it twisted painfully at the memory of Eliott doing the same gesture while they were tangled in each other. Lips on lips and skin on skin.

The day he's been kissed senseless and left panting on the mattress. The day he felt more alive and more like himself than he's done in years.

No.

"It's no big deal." He shrugs, trying to play it cool.

Please leave please leave please-

Eliott doesn't. He comes closer, so close that Lucas can smell his cologne. No.

"You need to charge that. It could get infected."

Eliott takes his hand in his, probably to examine the damage, and Lucas shudders at the contact. He suddenly wants to hug him, to bury his head in the crook of Eliott's neck, breathe him in and feel his two strong arms wrapped around him. To be told that everything's going to be okay.

But then he remebers that it's him. He is the reason Lucas feels tears burning his eyelids now. The one who makes him want to pull his skin off and punch another wall. Or maybe a window this time.

He pulls his hand away so abruptly that Eliott is left completely dumbfounded. He looks scared. So scared. And hurt.

Good.

"Lucas-"

"I have to go-" He turns around and bumps into him again. The second time today and the third time ever, at least according to Eliott. He wonders if it felt this electrifying back then. Or maybe that is just one of all the other lies.

"You were all I saw."

What a load of bullshit.

#skam france #elu drabble #d writes #angst

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demauryss · 4 years ago

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17 ma'am!!!

ahhh mtea at first i was really confused what this was about,,,then i did some ~ snooping and if it’s not what i’m thinking it is,,,,then either way, i hope you enjoy!!!

(unedited, please ignore any typos if you come across any :-))

no. 17 from ‘the way you said i love you’ drabble challenge

eliott has a little notion of the first time he sets to have his heart broken into two. the memory is like a fresh wound - there, with all it’s tenderness transformed into prickly edges of a plant which keeps digging it’s ugly thorns into his chest. he has a little notion - maybe because it’s really not the first time - well, not the first time lucas looks up at him, eyes a striking contrast to the overhanging night sky, little pockets of stars acting like a buffer to reduce the thoughts in his head splintering to nothingness.

maybe it’s not the first time, you see, that lucas has looked at him, with his eyes a reflection of what eliott has always feared. and with each passing breath, plunged the thorns deeper into his flesh. not the first time that eliott has felt a stutter in his words as well as his steps. that he has stared at the ocean pulling him in. that he's felt the tumultuous force of the waves crashing against him and thought, you ruin me you ruin me you’ve ruined me again.

but it’s just that; him and his thoughts on an evening at the start of autumn, taking refuge on a balcony shrouded in darkness, when lucas stumbles with a bottle through the doors in a flood of light - because of course he does - and eliott’s left to feel the tender wound swelling up again.

“hey”, lucas says, words blurring together and feet stammering for purchase before he gets him - before lucas, fueled by alcohol in his system and swallowed in a haze formed from the deepest of eliott’s thoughts, wraps himself around eliott like fragile tendrils of wines, like sun around the leaves, “you disappeared.”

“yeah,” eliott grapples for support then; for the dark diminishing around him, for the fall his heart makes at that very moment, “i needed air.”

you. i needed you.

and it’s not the first time, you see. lucas wrapped around him like this, fingers igniting sparks like goosebumps, and eyes so wide eliott can’t help but drown drown drown. but it does feel like it - feels like eliott’s stepping into water for the first time, his footing loose on the ground and the waves cresting forcefully against him.

“but you need to come back,” lucas says, voice muffled in the lapel of eliott’s jacket. the bottle of whatever liquid he’s sneaked from inside burns eliott’s skin when lucas brings it to his lips and takes a sip. his eyes find eliott’s then, and says, “they’re playing dubstep. it’s no - ‘s no fun without you.”

eliott pries the bottle away from his hands, his fingers working gently against lucas’s wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle. it becomes a difficult feat, with one of his arms steadying lucas by his waist and the other working to loosen the bottle from his hold.

“lucas,” he whispers, hands wrapping around lucas again when he doesn’t relent. eliott’s ribs tighten in his chest, held from bursting into splinters from the weight of lucas’s head over his heart, grounding his thoughts and making them transform into something formless at the same time, “you’re drunk and you need to stop if you don’t want tomorrow’s presentation to suck.”

eliott feels a crack somewhere inside him - a weak branch breaking from a tree - when lucas looks up at him, face undeniably close, eyes blessedly wide and blue blue blue. eliott inhales a breath which gets stuck in his throat and makes his lungs burn in a way he doesn’t want it to end.

“you always do this,” lucas mumbles, the end of his words catching on a hiccup. eliott takes it as a sign and reaches for the bottle again. but lucas knows. he always does.

“what?” eliott asks, voice equally low, brain now clearing the haze and sending a wave of ache through him which makes his stomach coil and heart bleed and the wounds on his skin tingle with the breeze of air passing by them.

“this,” lucas repeats, “this care for me and remembering stuff.”

“stuff?” eliott’s heart bleeds through his chest on his shirt. it stains the material, his hands, his face; all red and ugly and shouting just look at me lucas.

“yeah - that,” lucas breaks apart, stepping back from eliott, taking his warmth and light with him, “you always remember even when - when no one does.”

of course, eliott wants to laugh, of course he would. how can he not, when there’s lucas writing every constellation eliott tells him in the notes app in his phone; when he brings him burgers without mustard and coffee from his favorite cafe; when he talks like there’s sun pooling behind his eyes and moon entwined like silver strings in his words.

“and you would remember nothing if you finish all of that now,” eliott smiles, reaching for the bottle again. lucas looks at him then, and eliott feels a tremor in his bones when the light casts a shadow over lucas as his eyes move from eliott’s face towards his hand. lucas seems to consider it for a moment, and then he reaching out, too, before bringing his free hand to wrap around eliott’s outstretched hand.

eliott’s heart gives a jolt, the part of his skin next to lucas’s feeling like it’s burning and soothing all the same. he looks up at lucas - his eyes now the center of a storm brimming to wreck all that eliott is; all what he holds and cherishes inside his heart - all of him; all of lucas.

eliott watches - fixated - as lucas juts out his bottom lip. it’s that, a delicate and soft contrast to the torment currently eating his insides. lucas squeezes his hand, once, twice, till it becomes a memory ingrained in eliott’s muscle - warm skin against skin, soft ridges and lines he would later remember to trace.

he gulps in a breath, eyes moving to trace the sky looming over them instead. he’s afraid - so, so afraid of lucas reading his face; of lucas finding what he’s so carefully tucked behind his skin after years of practice; of himself ruining every bit of breath he’s exhaled around lucas; of always running, always hiding.

“the bottle, lucas,” eliott’s voice doesn’t quiver like his heart. it’s much stronger, softer, and it gets lucas’s attention, who takes a look too long at eliott’s face before turning his head away.

“eliott,” lucas says, instead. eliott feels the palm of his hand in his, feels the way it clutches tightly onto him. lucas turns to him - eliott sees the pool of light in his eyes - and says, “i want to do it too.”

eliott smiles then, “what?”

“take care of you.” lucas breathes, his other hand coming to join their already intertwined ones following a smash which resounds with eliott. in that moment, there’s the bottle he was holding dropping to the ground, the glass giving it its form now in form of little pieces which littler the floor by their feet. eliott feels a squeeze, the broken glass reminded him too much of his state, and as he looks back at eliott, he feels nothingness in his chest in space of air.

and it’s not the first time eliott feels the words in his mouth. feels too short on oxygen to say anything else. feels like he may burst like the stars above him - forming hundreds and thousands of galaxies by their death. it’s not the first time that he wants to say - wants to tell lucas about the stars over him, about those in his eyes. about the universe and the sky and the daisy he saw on his walk home. and he wants to tell lucas that it would have looked good tucked behind his ear; that we care because we love; and that -

but it might as well be the first for when he thinks - he thinks being cared for by lucas is enough to piece together every part of the stars dying away. eliott’s only a reflection of one.

so he doesn’t. tonight, eliott doesn’t. instead he places his arm around lucas, and with the one clutched in his hold, squeezes lucas’s hand so tight he feels all the ridges, all the lines, and he thinks it shouldn’t hurt this much. it shouldn’t. but it does.

#i'm sorry i don;t know how to write rip #writing eliott like this was....ouch #skam france #elu fic #skam france fic #elu drabble #penned #je taime prompts

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