i offer some sa fic part 2 because wow i have been promising this for a long time and i have been absolutely terrible about it im sorry 😭
“Buck?” a deep voice rumbles above him, the words vibrating the chest he’s pressed against. A rush of calm crashes over him, dulling his panic before he registers the voice as Eddie’s. Which- oh. Oh. Buck takes a second, a deep breath. The cologne on the neck his nose is pressed against- cedar and amber. The arms, strong and firm, wrapped around him. The skin beneath his own, tan and warm. The rough voice whispering his name, the voice he’d know even in death. Eddie.
“Eddie,” Buck breathes, but it comes out as a soft cry. Eddie’s arms loosen around him and Buck doesn’t know if he’s relieved or disappointed. The solid body pulls away from him slightly, giving him more room to breathe. Shakily, he sits up, bringing the heels of his hands up to press into his eyes as he forces slow, steady breaths. He’s okay. It’s Eddie. Just Eddie.
Eddie shuffles, adjusting until he’s sitting up too, propped up with one arm and the other landing gingerly on Buck’s shoulder. His voice is soft, gentle. “Hey.”
“I’m sorry,” Buck murmurs, head buried in his hands. “I- you didn’t have to-”
“I didn’t,” Eddie cuts in gently. “I wanted to.”
Buck forces his face out of his hands, craning his neck to look at Eddie. “We slept on the couch.”
The corner of Eddie’s mouth pulls up and something in Buck’s chest cracks, warmth blooming. “Yeah,” he chuckles softly, “I didn’t wanna wake you by carrying you to the bed.”
tagging @loveyourownsmiilee @themoostking and anyone who wants to participate!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Dalinar brings Kaladin into a vision during the events of Rhythm of War, and some truths come to light. (or: I write a scene that’s more than 300 words long!)
(6.5k, rated m, fluff/h/c with the content warnings you might expect for this ship)
Hi there! Sorry I haven’t posted anything in quite some time, but I’m very proud to finally post this fic. I’ve been working my ass of the last half a year on this story and I really hope you all love it. Thank you for the continued notes, comments, reads, and kudos during my unplanned hiatus. Writing is my entire world and your support means the world.
-San Francisco, California-
Moritz opened his second package of Ding-Dongs around eleven o’clock, not even bothering to hide from the security cameras. In fact, he found it funny to eat the styrofoam tasting cakes while looking at the monitor that sat on the counter, watching himself feast on the stolen goods from an over-the-shoulder perspective that sorta gave him the creeps. The thought of his boss finding out and getting pissed didn’t phase Moritz for plenty of reasons. First of all, his boss had been pissed at him a hundred times over and for things much worse than enjoying some Hostess treats while on the clock. Second being that he found the Ding-Dongs delicious, so that was a personal win of his. And the final reason being the fact that he would be dead by midnight.
He had been telling himself that all night, using is as an excuse more than anything. Why mop when he’s going to be dead in an hour? Why stop the kids that came in to shoplift? Why not enjoy a cream filling snack cake when he was gonna be laying out on the bathroom floor by the time morning came?
He made himself chuckle. How fucking morbid. ABBA’s Take a Chance on Me started playing over the tinny speakers.
A/N/SUMMARY happy xmas to y'all/the shipdom!!! obviously i couldn't resist doing a quick xmas fic of the space dads (last xmas, i was still too sad that they died to come up with this) so here it is!!
I was tagged by the lovely @themoostking so here we are <33
this is a snippet from part two of the sa fic because it’s the only wip i currently like. also i cannot count.
“I’m sorry,” Buck murmurs, head buried in his hands. “I- you didn’t have to-”
“I didn’t,” Eddie cuts in gently. “I wanted to.”
Buck forces his face out of his hands, craning his neck to look at Eddie. “We slept on the couch.”
The corner of Eddie’s mouth pulls up and something in Buck’s chest cracks, warmth blooming. “Yeah,” he chuckles softly, “I didn’t wanna wake you by carrying you to the bed.”
“You could have-”
“I didn’t want to leave you alone, either.” Buck’s heart aches. Eddie’s expression shifts, his eyebrows pulling together slightly “Was- was that- was it okay?”
“Yeah,” Buck says in a rush, eyes widening. “Yeah, yeah. No. Don’t- don’t worry. I just- I feel bad you slept on my couch- with me- like- I- yeah.”
Eddie shrugs one shoulder, seemingly unfazed by Buck’s stammering. His expression turns somber. “I scared you, didn’t I?” Buck opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie doesn’t give him a chance. “When you woke up. You were pleading.”
“I-” Buck’s mouth is horribly dry as he looks away, looks down. “I didn’t- I didn’t realize it was you.”
When he risks a glance up at the resounding silence, he finds something unnerving in the darkness of Eddie’s eyes, in the tensity of his clenched jaw.
“You should shower,” is all he says, “I’ll make breakfast.”
“Oh, like I haven’t suffered enough, now you wanna give me food poisoning?” Buck jokes on instinct, falling back into the coping mechanism like the arms of an old friend.
He did not receive anymore letters. When he could, he stayed couped up in his study, among his books, where he now slept. Alone and unarmed, Hanschen would face his wife three times a day, at meal times, and no more, unless she had had a particularly bad day. He saw a lot more of her on those days. As did his son.
One morning, a bright, brisk morning in April, a package arrived. Young Lammermeier was the one to answer the door, and knocked on his father’s study. “Father? There's a parcel here for you.”
“A parcel?” Hanschen stood up from his desk, gesturing for Lammermeier to bring it over. His son placed a large, thin square wrapped in brown paper on the desk, tied with a bow of string and a small tag that read ‘Herr Rilow’ and his address. Hanschen moved around to his son’s side, eyeing up the parcel. Slowly, he undid the bow, unwrapping the brown paper with the greatest of care. There, sat on his desk, was a beautiful painting of a vineyard, sunflowers and daffodils framing a purple sunrise behind a brick wall. Hanschen stared at the painting for a long moment, his eyes wide.
“It's a lovely painting, father,” Lammermeier said rather wistfully. Hanschen made no movement. “Father? Are you alright?”
“A-Ah, yes, fine, I just...Yes, it is rather beautiful.”
“Who sent it?” Lammermeier curiously picked up the tag and paper, looking for an address. Meanwhile Hanschen picked up the painting, flipping it over. There, on the back, in a beautiful, familiar hand, were the words ‘yours, forever and always’. Hanschen’s heart skipped a beat and his stomach dropped all at once. He shakily placed the painting back down on the desk, slowly sitting himself down on edge of it. He folded his arms, wrapping them around himself.
“Father? What's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost.” Lammermeier moved over to his father, resting a hand on his arm. “Father?”
“Nothing, Lammermeier...N-Nothing. Something just came over me, a fit of dizziness, nothing more. I just...needed to sit.”
“But you're trembling!”
“I’m fine, Lammermeier!” He let out a shaken sigh. “I’m fine, I just...Go and finish your schoolwork, go on.”
“But father-”
“Lammermeier, please, don't argue with me. Not tonight.”
Lammermeier nodded, slowly moving towards the door, slipping out the study quietly. Hanschen turned. Slowly lifting up the painting, he turned it once more. Sure enough, he hadn't imagined it, the writing was there, clear as day. As he saw it, he drew in a sharp breath, quickly slamming the painting back down on the desk and rested his head in his hands. Seeing the writing, reading that hand, filled him with desire and utter dread all at once. Every emotion he had been suppressing for almost a year came flooding back to him in one foul swoop, claiming its prey. He was in grave danger, if his wife saw the back of the painting. He quickly got to his feet, his knees almost buckling as he hurried over to a wall, clutching the painting. Struggling to breathe, Hanschen took a painting off his study wall, replacing it with his new painting. He stumbled back to his desk, placing his palms flat on the surface and attempting to breathe normally again.
Ernst had made contact again, and Hanschen didn't know why, or how, but all he knew was that this painting was either a blessing, or a curse. Only time would allow him to figure out which.
Lammermeier Rilow swung lazily on the swing, hanging from the large hawthorn tree which stretched out and hung over the lake. The secluded woods near their house was far enough away that nobody went there, but close enough so that he was never too far away from home. Like his father, Lammermeier thought a lot. He liked to think, and came out to the lake to think on things such as his future, the future laid out for him by his school, his parents, society, and he liked to think about the brown eyed boy who he met in secret in the evening after school, under the Hawthorn tree, who lay just by his feet, shaded by the leaves.
“Lammermeier?” Icarus asked, sitting up and gazing over the lake. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” Lammermeier replied, a small, content smile on his face.
“What happened to the letters?”
The smile quickly faded. “I told you, I’m not allowed to talk about that anymore with yo-”
“I won't tell anyone! I haven't told a soul yet, not even my papa and mama. Don't you trust me?”
“Of course I do, I just don't want to-”
“Don't want to what?”
“Disappoint my father. Or anger my mama.”
“You won't if they never find out!” Icarus hopped to his feet, placing himself on the other boy’s lap and holding onto the rope of the swing. “It’ll be our secret. I promise.”
“You say that about everything I tell you, Icarus.”
“Well, it's worked so far!”
Lammermeier thought for a moment, then sighed, nodding. “Alright, fine. My father visited the man who sent the letters, do you remember that?”
“The day your mama beat you.”
Lammermeier paused. “Yes. And you know that mama found the letters, and got angry about it.”
“Just get on with it, Lammy!”
“Alright, fine! Well, father got home, and when he did, mama was so angry with him that she set them all on fire.”
“Every single one?!”
“Not every single one! He still has one left. He doesn't know that I know that! I've seen him sometimes, reading it.”
“That's terrible.”
“Mama still holds it against him. I see him sleeping in his study sometimes, rather than the bedroom.”
“Did your mama kick him out?”
“Perhaps. He hasn't received another letter from the man since the visit. I think it's because mama is collecting them all and getting rid of them.”
Lammermeier swung higher on the swing, Icarus resting against his chest while settled comfortably on his lap. After a long silence, Icarus spoke again. “Does your papa know about...this? Me?”
“No, I daren’t tell him!”
“But why not? If your papa is...like us...then why would he be cross about it?”
“He wouldn't be, but if my mama found out…”
“Then I’d never see you again.”
“She blames my father for it. If she found out, I fear he’d take a greater hit than I would.”
“Your mama is a witch!”
“Don't say things like that! Mama is just...strict.”
“She's awful! It's like..all those princesses and maidens.”
“What do you mean?”
Icarus, as far as Lammermeier knew, loved stores, particularly fairytales and myths, fables and fantasies. “Your papa married an evil witch, and now princess Lammermeier, who is pure of heart and beautiful of face, just like all princesses are, is suffering because of it!”
“And I suppose you're the Prince Charming who swoops in and saves the day?”
“Perhaps. I’d much rather be a princess. Being the prince is too much work, you're much more suited to that job. Princesses can just sit around doing nothing all day, so I’d rather do that.”
“But in your analogy, I’m the one who needs saving. I can't save myself, and the princess can't save the prince! It doesn't work like that.”
“My mama writes stories about princesses who save princes.”
“Of course your mama would!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She's so...progressive! Like my father.”
“Your papa would get along well with my mama and papa. He should meet them!”
“Icarus, you know we can't do that-”
“But why not?”
“Can we please talk about something els-”
“Come on Lammermeier! It’d be fun to introduce them to-”
“Icarus, please, can we just-”
“They're so similar, they’d-”
“Icarus enough! No! If my mama found out she would beat the hell out of me and my father!” Lammermeier’s voice rung out, birds flying from the leaves above their heads. There was a long, long silence. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have yelled.”
More silence. Finally, Icarus said: “Enough talking. Lets swim.”
“Y-Yes. Okay.”
Lammermeier took off his clothes, stripping down to just his underwear. As he did so, his gaze was fixated on the grass, both out of residual regret for his outburst and the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from Icarus otherwise.
“Come, already! Honestly, Lammy, it’s fine. I understand. I suppose I hadn’t considered any parent could be so cru- strict. I forgive you.” Icarus beckoned, giving the other boy a tentative smile.
The two began to take shy steps into the clear and cold water of the lake. Each step sent shivers down Lammermeier’s spine, chilling him to his bones, while Icarus seemed completely unaffected, humming as he walked farther. This wasn’t the first time Lammermeier looked at him as one would look at a puzzle. Trying to piece together the bits that made up Icarus, though, seemed futile. The boy was unlike any other and he was completely smitten, regularly having to stop himself from doodling his name when he was supposed to be studying algebra. You’re a Rilow, for crying out loud, act like one.
Icarus turned around, giving Lammermeier and amused look. “Oh, come on, It’s just water! I didn’t know you were a chicken, Lammy!”
“I am- I am not! You know, not everyone is a water nymph like you, unperturbed by nature’s unfriendliness. I caught pneumonia by swimming in cold water once!”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “Hush, you babble when you’re flustered. Come further away from the shore, next to me, I’ll keep you warm!”
Reluctantly, Lammermeier began to swim further out into the lake, ending up next to Icarus, where his toes could barely graze the pebbles on the ground. Then, in a half second, Icarus was wrapped around him, peppering him with small kisses, his soft lips marking every inch of his skin, and, finally, a deep and lingering one on his mouth. When he pulled away, Lammermeier was completely flushed, his face a deep red.
“See! I told you I’d keep you warm!” Icarus said, bearing a wide grin.
Lammermeier wouldn’t let him have the last laugh, so he leaned in suddenly, grabbing onto Icarus’ shoulders, pressing their lips together. Eventually, they broke because they started laughing and neither of them could stop, so they resigned to holding onto each other, half floating and half standing.
Icarus rested his head on Lammermeier’s, sighing softly. For a moment, they felt as though they were in their own world, away from adults and society, and they could’ve stayed there forever, cold water be damned.
“I love you Lammy, even if you’re a chicken who can’t stand cold water.”
“I love you too, Icarus. Even if you’re a pompous peacock.”
The brunette boy suddenly moved away, grinning wickedly. “Pompous peacock, eh? Well, I’ll show you I have good reasons to preen! Watch this!”
He started swimming rapidly, eventually reaching the middle of the lake, where he dived under the water, wading into the depths. As he began to get lower and lower, a sudden current appeared. Icarus thought nothing of it, for simply being pushed around every so often wasn’t a concern- he’d been swimming for years, his fondest memories were of going to the sea as a child.
He was about to reach the bottom, where he’d spotted a shiny black stone, smooth and round, which he wanted to give to Lammermeier. With his eyes on the prize, and the oxygen in his lungs slowly running out, he pushed harder, swimming more forcefully, determined to impress the other boy with his find. Icarus reached out his hand, grabbing the dazzling black egg, closing his fist around it. A distant, distorted shout rang out- Lammermeier was cheering him on, he figured. A small smile formed on his face, just imagining his reaction upon seeing the stone.
As he turned his body around to start swimming back to the surface, pain burned through his leg, making it spasm. Icarus’ eyes shot wide open, fear grabbing hold of every part of him, making his heart beat faster than ever before. His teeth cracking from gritting, he clawed at the dark water, fighting it like a wild beast. He used every ounce of strength he had to try and pull through, but the current jerked him this way and that, and he felt as though Triton himself had dug his claws into his leg, breaking skin and bone, dragging him down into the depths mercilessly. In desperation, he opened his mouth, the water and the lack of oxygen filling his lungs with liquid and mind with cotton. The rock tumbled from his now-open fist, slowly floating back into the darkness. As strength left him, he focused on the light piercing through the water, caressing his cheek tenderly- surely, it couldn’t be this warm at sucha depth. I always loved the sun. The boy waiting for him on the surface, another call, garbled by the water. Golden hair and golden smile, outshining all the stars and suns. His parents, his mother’s stories. The brightest one unfinished, whose pages will yellow and remain only for those who witnessed its spark.
Icarus sank deeper into the water, his body growing numb. The last thing he could hear was Lammermeier calling out to him, but this time it sounded clear as day. If this was one of his mother’s stories, he would’ve risen up out of the water, the sound of Lammermeier’s voice bringing his strength back. But this wasn’t a story, and Icarus was powerless as the other cried out in despair. He closed his eyes and let go.
Anxiety began to taint Lammermeier’s thoughts. Is Icarus okay? What if he’s hurt? Is this just a cruel joke? And yet, he remained positive, assuring him that Icarus knew what he was doing, and so he cheered him on, being as loud as he could be, to make sure the other heard him.
Lammermeier couldn’t tell if it had been hours or minutes or seconds when he’d yelled out again, this time desperately hoping to see Icarus’ face break the surface of the water, that same grin still on his face. And yet time passed, and his conviction wavered, try as he might to be optimistic. When he still hadn't come out of the water, Lammermeier decided it was time to go after him, so he started swimming towards the middle of the lake, breaststrokes rapid and urgent, yet measured and careful. But the currents grew stronger, sending him backwards into the water, gasping for breath.
No matter what he tried, he kept being pushed back; but while he was growing weaker, he was also becoming more desperate. His frantic searching was tiring him more and more by the minute, and he could feel his muscles growing sore. Lammermeier had never been an avid swimmer, he knew he couldn’t last much longer in this state. I can’t swim to shore, no. I won’t leave until I find Icarus, and that’s final.
As he went to dive beneath the surface of the water, he suddenly felt a hand brush his arm. He turned around, only to see himself faced with Icarus, who was floating numbly, face down. A wave of relief washed over Lammermeier, and he grabbed him by the shoulders, turning him around to see his face.
As he did so, his world came crashing down around him, one simple fact making the sun and all the stars go out, the earth to stand still. He’s dead. The realisation weighed Lammermeier down, numbing his senses, as if he’d found out his country had burned to the ground while he was away. Looking into Icarus’ empty, wide open eyes shattered his heart into a million pieces, which would never fit together the same way again. For all he knew, Lammermeier could’ve been there, staring at Icarus’ body for hours, before reality truly dawned on him, and he started crying, shaking with violent sobs.
Eventually, though he realised he had to leave, and was too weak to take Icarus with him, so he swam to the shore, each movement a burden unlike anything he’d felt before. As he reached land, he put his clothes on, and ran. Lammermeier, despite his aching muscles, ran as fast as he could towards his house, leaving the other boy behind, whose eyes would forever be gazing at the heavens.
A/N/SUMMARY day 3 of r1 first anniversary week with the prompt light & dark, set more or less before the movie? i was really really vague (but not with the prompt. this has been the most obvious use of a prompt i’ve done in a while)
A/N/SUMMARY day 6 of r1 anniversary with the prompt hope. oh god i can do this. this thing is a short short piece set during that bit where cassian told all his volunteers in yavin 4 to steak everything that’s not nailed down and no one was really minding what chirrut and baze were doing in the background (altho we all know that’s a lie~) aka it’s this bit right here
