#summer in the city fic

[readyforthegarden]

Summer in the City - Deleted Scene

Masterlist

The summer of love wasn’t what you had expected it to be. Instead of finding your place, you’d become a runaway, trying to find your footing in the desert heat. After getting picked up hitchhiking by three strangers, they take you to their home, with their mercurial brother at the helm of the family. Have you found your place at long last, or will you end up as dead as the free love movement?

Pairing: Mainly Sam x Female Reader, but uh…things happen. It’s the 60s, get wild and get with it. Jake x reader, Danny x reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!, smut, drug usage, sexual acts while under the influence, fingering, oral (f!receiving) nipple play

A/N: Here it is, a deleted scene from a meditation that has both Jake and Danny involved. This was going to be before Jake had his singular one. After getting part of the way through it, I realized that the friendship between Petal and Danny, as well as Danny and Sam, was too sincere to have him be apart of the meditations and it just didn't fit. Danny was always going to be a hero to this story. Here it is in all it's glory, a bit updated and finished (it is by no means good or amazing) for your enjoyment! Happy two year anniversary to the fic that started my journey here and brought me so many wonderful friends!!

WC: 1098

🥀 🥀 🥀

Your eyes were closed as the incense wafted around you, and the tea began to take it’s effects. The feeling of fingertips in your hair sent shivers down your spine, and you let your head tip back into the person's hands. Soft hums fell from your lips as another set of hands ran over your thighs, pushing around the material of your skirt against your skin. The addition of another set of hands startled you, but you heard a low rumble behind you, feeling the vibration against your back as someone pressed their chest against it.

“Relax, Petal,” Danny’s voice was soft in your ear as his fingers continued their path through your hair and along your scalp. “We’re here to help. Aren’t we Jake?” your eyes opened and you gazed down to see Jake kneeling before you, sleepy eyes and a smile facing up towards you.

“We just want you to feel good, open your mind.” Jake agreed, still massaging your thighs through your dress. Danny’s hands left your hair, trailing down your neck, stopping and feeling your pulse beat against his index and middle fingertips before continuing down, gently tugging your straps down your arms. Between the pressure of Jake’s hands and the pull of Danny’s you found yourself swaying back and forth. 

As Danny’s lips pressed against your shoulders, Jake’s fingers slipped under the hem of your skirt, inching up to where your hips met the top of your thighs. Jake let his fingers softly trace the triangle down to your mound. You shivered again, and Danny adjusted his arms, wrapping them around your torso and sliding down, taking the top of your skirt and lifting it up to give Jake access.

Jake rested a hand on your right thigh, taking the other and raising his pointer finger, gliding it between your legs. 

“You feel so soft,” Jake’s words were a quiet whisper, meant for only you to hear. He ran his finger up and down your slit torturously, pressing against your clit before moving back down and teasing your entrance. Slowly, he eased your thighs apart, and you barely registered him shuffling closer on his knees. It wasn’t until his tongue was on you, flat and wide, licking a stripe up you like you were a lollipop that you let out another noise, a gasp that lilted into a soft moan. “You feel like silk, Petal.”

“Y-Yeah?” you whispered back, as one of Danny’s hands came back up your torso, tugging down the neckline of your dress and exposing your breasts, quick to use his warm hand to cover one, kneading it under his large palm. 

“Are you ready to open your mind?” Danny asked you, the tip of his middle finger circling your nipple. “Ready to open that heart?” you didn’t have a chance to respond, though your answer was a yes. Jake shifted underneath you once more, lifting your leg over his shoulder and diving in, licking and sucking against you. Danny held you up, kept you balanced as your body began to melt, letting your skirt go and drape over Jake’s head. His hands returned to your breasts, kneading and tracing your nipples, causing them to perk so he could gently pinch them, rolling them between his fingers.

Your head lolled back onto Danny’s shoulder, and his lips pressed just underneath your ear. Jake’s hand that was holding your thigh over his shoulder tightened, giving him more access to your core as he devoured you. His tongue flicked over your sensitive nub and your body arched, that newly familiar fire in your belly igniting, beginning to flow through your veins like lava. One of your hands rested on top of Jake’s head, the other clung to Danny’s wrist, afraid if you let go of either of them, you’d melt into a puddle onto the floor. 

“Please, please?” you whimpered, feeling like a band was growing tighter and tighter in your belly, your thighs beginning to shake as Jake’s tongue lapped at you like he was a starving man. 

“Please what?” Danny murmured softly in your ear. You turned your head towards him, and he captured your lips in a kiss. “Petal, what do you want?”

“I-I don’t know,” you sighed, your hand leaving his wrist and brushing across his jaw, trying to hold onto it. You truly didn’t, you’d only experienced this feeling a few times. “I just want it.”

“Jake, do you hear our flower?” Danny asked, an almost mocking laugh to his voice.

“Mhm,” the vibration from Jake’s reply had you arching again as he nodded against your skin. His free hand came back up, sliding up and down your slit again, collecting your wetness on his index and middle fingers before working them inside you. Jake’s talents weren’t only in his guitar playing around the campfire, he knew just how to curl his fingers at the right time to make you pant and plead into Danny’s mouth. 

“You’re doing so well, Petal.” Danny coaxed you as you writhed between him and Jake. Your foot that was still on the ground began to tense, raising you onto your toes. Danny brought one of his hands back down to your shaking torso as you began to climax, holding you tightly to his body, making sure you didn’t fall. “Come on, give it to us, be completely open.”

“Yeah darlin’,” Jake pulled away from your pussy briefly, grinning up at you, the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin coated in your slick. “Give it to me,” with a breath, he was back latching onto you, his lips and tongue working fervently and making you cry out. Danny’s fingertips pinched and tugged your nipples alternatively. The band in your stomach exploded, and you cried out, nearly suffocating Jake with how you thrashed against his face, though he was eager to take everything you could offer. Danny’s pinches became gentle until he resorted back to full hand kneaded of your breasts, gently bringing you back down as Jake’s tongue and fingers slowed and eventually left your bated body. 

“You feel good?” Danny smiled against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the shell. You nodded as Jake pulled away from you, kissing your inner thighs and pelvis before leaning back, cleaning his fingers off in his mouth and wiping his mouth off on the bottom of his shirt. 

“I think you’re ready, Petal.” Jake grinned, turning and calling for Josh before turning back to you. “You’re so sweet, darlin’. Better than any fruit we can grow or trade for.”

🥀 🥀 🥀

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @gvfpal @shutupdevvie

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @radmads-gvf @the-starcatcher @shineforever19 @earthgrlsreasy @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @amethystars @mindastreamofcolours @peaceloveunitygvf @gvfsstardust

[night-heron-writes]

Big Bang Fic Reveal

I’m excited to finally be able to share the fic I’ve been working on for the @zkbigbang : The Caldera City Caper

It’s a high-stakes heist oneshot loosely inspired by Leverage and similar shows/movies. For this oneshot, I had the privilege of working with a fabulous team. @waiting-for-nobody was a wonderful beta reader and truly helped make the fic a story I can be proud of. @neva-borne and @panda-p3 each made gorgeous arts that really bring the story to life. It was a privilege and an honor working with y’all.

[synonymroll648]

"And she [Sophie] couldn't help noticing how good he [Keefe] smelled—like wind and salt air and something a little citrusy."

hey guys remember when on page 646 of stellarlune shannon confirmed that keefe is a bit fruity (/hj)

[dreaming-of-the-end]

futures and dreams (and other non-fading scars): Bianuca

A/N: Hi @uni-seahorse-572, I'm your secret santa! Thanks @song-tam for hosting!

Summary: Biana looks at her again, and her eyes are tinted red from exhaustion and pain but still they carry with them the Vacker power. The one she's craved and hated for far too many years.

TW: mentions of blood/violence/wounds

Tags: @steppingonshatteredglass @sunset-telepath @stardustanddaffodils @turquoise-skyyyy @skylilac @wu-marcy @saintashes @rune-and-rising @lavender-and-rainy-days @confusedamphibian @hellomyfriends @callas-starkflower-stew @a-harmless-poison @professionalwhalewatcher @theogony @gay-otlc @confuzzled-fox @almostfullnerd @athenswrites @synonymroll648 @squishmallow36 @xanadaus @honey-the-dinosaur-ate-our-kid

Biana's lips part as she sleeps, in soft contrast to the rest of her twisted face. Maruca wants to trace a finger down her skin, soothe the wrinkle between her brows, let her eyes rest easy instead of pressed tight.

At least she's finally asleep.

The bandages wrapped across most bare skin make the idea of rest impossible: three hours ago, she was pinned down to keep from writhing, with teeth clenched so hard they ground audibly as Elwin and Livvy plucked shards of glass from her skin, then poured a disinfectant elixir over the jagged wounds. The numbing elixir barely eased the pain for her. Elwin said some of the glass had gone too deep.

Maruca wants to hold her hand, but even if she could do that without causing her pain, she isn't sure what it would mean. Years before, there wouldn't have been any sort of hesitation, only relief, comfort, familiarity.

The thing is, she knows the feeling of her hand so well that seeing those fingers twitch in her sleep is a phantom pain, an absence so familiar that feeling it is easier than it would be to feel the real thing.

Biana's mouth purses and her face screws up on itself for a moment before fading back into worried sleep.

(god, that mouth.)

Livvy had taken her aside, an hour ago, when the bandages had just been wrapped and the color had still been gone from her skin. "Elwin will tell them that the scars might fade. He will give her a possibility, maybe a hope."

"And you?" Maruca asked.

Livvy looked at her. "Maybe in a hundred years, there will be nothing remaining from this day on her skin. But the scars will still be there."

Maruca scrubs at her face with her hands.

She can hear Fitz in the next room talking to his parents, swoops of anger filling the area before he remembers to keep his voice down. Della's sobs punctuate the conversation. Alden's voice is lower than usual, pieces of his crisp accent lost in raspy worry.

Sometimes, it's like it only took a day for their family to fall apart. But then Maruca remembers it really took two, even though she wasn't around for either of them.

One: Alden's mind break. Two: Alvar's betrayal.

She wonders if this day will be the third. She knows it would have been if Fitz and Dex had taken any longer, or if Livvy hadn't been in Atlantis, or if they hadn't found her in time.

Still, all she knows is that there was the last day she was there: when Della was smiling, when Alvar was making his stupid jokes, when Alden could tease his children without worrying about the consequences, when Fitz still had that laugh that didn't turn dark halfway through. When Biana's breaths were even and balanced and calm.

And then there was every day after. When she'd see them in public, or in meetings, or in school, and suddenly the memory of the planting scattered its leaves through every long-lasting look, or there was a missing piece from their unified front.

If they hadn't found her in time.

The thought is more than a prickle or a pang. It's an explosion, a road to a future without her. A future she never imagined, never wanted to imagine.

All the future she'd imagined consisted of kisses in the dark and smiles across a bright room and fingers tracing arms and thumbs scraping across cheekbones and dark hair twisted carelessly around a knuckle and limbs slung over stomachs—

Goodbye does not have to go both ways.

It doesn't even have to go one way. Biana never said goodbye, but neither did she. They never made a promise not to grow apart, but Maruca doesn't think it would have mattered.

In the end, it wasn't a clean break.

It was a drawn-out pull, like a strand of yarn from a threadbare sweater. It unraveled so quickly and so suddenly that all of a sudden Maruca was left with threads the size of hairs and no way to weave them back together. It took several months of wondering when it would happen and then all of a sudden she was gone.

Gone.

"I'm scared of losing you," Biana had told her once upon a time. Back before the first time falling apart. Not the Vackers, but them.

Well, great job, Bee. 'Cause now she's fucking terrified.

Biana stirs. 

Fitz is there immediately, thanks to his sixth sense that tells him whenever a sibling is either dying or betraying him. He leans over the bed, hand hovering an inch above her cheek, her hair, the closest he can be.

Maruca was scared for him, of him when she'd arrived. Eyes bloodshot, voice breaking every other word. He'd let go of her hand and then his nails had almost gone through his skin from clenching his fist too hard. He'd tried to smile at her and she caught a glimpse of a wild animal prowling, barely hidden anymore.

Dex had rested a hand on his shoulder, and it calmed and provoked him, sending him pacing and tearing his hands through his hair and eventually, sitting by her bed with his mouth moving, whispering to her what she'd never be able to hear. Dex sat beside him for hours, even if he's gone now, mixing elixirs for the scars that will never truly fade.

Maruca sits on her other side, staring at the bandages and thinking that maybe she should go into healing if only so she'd have some idea of how to be useful.

"Biana," Fitz whispers. Her eyes crack open.

Maruca almost retreats, but she's never hidden before and she refuses to now. She crosses her arms over her knees and twists her fingers together.

"Did we win?" Biana asks, her voice gravelly from sleep and screaming.

Fitz hesitates.

"They saved the city," Maruca says. Biana's eyes widen, flicker over. Then they drink her in like there's no one else she'd rather see and there it is. The reason she fell for her in the first place. That power, that makes her feel like no one else in the world matters, like no one else could make her complete. Maruca clears her throat and refuses to look away. "Linh did. And Sophie, Keefe. They saved Atlantis. Gisela tried to flood it, but they blocked up the barrier, held back the ocean."

Biana tries to sit up, mouth pressing into a fine line as she feels all the bandages over her neck, cheek, arm, and side. Fitz helps her, eyebrows pressed into a worried line. Still, relief eases the tension in his neck, the stiffness in his shoulders.

"So, did we win?" Biana repeats.

"Some will say yes. The Council will say yes." Maruca shrugs. She sees the gray in Biana's skin and can't imagine how it can fit together with victory. "I don't know."

"Sophie's parents," Fitz says. "They're safe. Everyone is safe."

Something eases in Biana's face. "Some losses. Important wins."

"You could say that," Maruca says. Biana looks at her again, and her eyes are tinted red from exhaustion and pain but still they carry with them the Vacker power. The one she's craved and hated for far too many years.

She's absorbed, as everyone ends up some way or another where Biana Vacker is concerned. It's not that she thinks of nothing else, but it is that along with all those other things she's still there, lingering just behind as an echo. Maruca considers a question on her Universe worksheet and finds the stars reflected in teal eyes.

This is the Vacker effect. The pull, the gravity of it enough to harness the moon into orbit. The power leaks from them like tea drips from a teabag once it's turned the boiling water dark. You can sense it when they walk into a room. Any of them, but especially her.

At least, this is what Maruca assumes everyone else sees.

For a moment, the feeling disappears and a weight takes its place in a band around Maruca's throat. The feeling is missing her, and it's not that it abates but that it's overwhelmed by hating her.

In the end, she's the first to look away.

[butterscotch-communication]

Contrary to popular belief, I've never actually stalked anyone.

What id call it is remembering conversations with someone who over shares, and is reminded of that person every so often.

Its not like I'm outside your dorm in Oregon. But I do have a video of one of your old campers (not me) reading to you your printed destiel fic (that I might've formatted and printed beforehand) at dinner at an overnight summer camp.

I dunno I just feel like I've been pretty tame. I feel like I could be so much worse, and I'm not. You should be proud of me.

I talk to you more than foxglove, and considering that I have her number, and only ur Tumblr/Ao3 that's probably not a good thing butterscotch.

@derpyanimatesstuff this is targeted at u if that wasnt clear

[tragicotps]

Summer in Oxford ☀️🌸

[odericevertz]

26, 30 & 33 for the writing asks! (please)

some fun ones!!!

26. what would you describe as OOC?

OK I HAVE TO CONFESS. i am SO picky with rpf characterisation that it annoys me an unreasonable amount when these guys are mischaracterised....i genuinely tap out of the fic and sit there stewing like NO. my pet peeve is lowkey when people woobify them to the point where i can't suspend disbelief like these guys should not be crying or calling each other cute pet names or acting like anxious girlfriends. the main appeal of rpf to me has always been strong characterisation — as fantastical as the worlds we put them in are, i have to still be able to identify the character in the au as being clearly drawn from the irl counterpart. so it goes doubly hard for fics set in canon—don't get me wrong i love when they're pathetic, but it has to be done in a nasty terrible realistic way. less is more

30. describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't

ooooh this is an interesting question. went hunting in my graveyard (docs scattered with unfinished ideas) and found that i'd actually planned out a short hunger games au.....martin-centric, starring him as a victor from 4 who slowly discovers his mentor granit and granit's capitol-client-turned-lover mikel are orchestrating a rebellion. i think this ended up abandoned because i could not give less of a damn about stringing the plot together i was having too much self-indulgent fun working out the backstories of all the boys

33. give your writing a compliment

oh! hm. i'd like to think i have a knack for scenes that capture the undercurrents of a complex relationship without explicitly spelling out what's going on between them.....still working on precision of metaphors but i think i manage to portray relationships that have a strange mix of tension/desire well. there's that one quote that goes something like when writing you should always know what the character means vs what he actually says out loud and i try to write in a way that shows that.

thank you for asking <333

[blucassiopeia]

Vanilla Twilight

ー requested by anon!

warnings: angst, mentions of su!c!de, freak accidents, depression and moving on

a/n: um, anon, and all, i don't know if you can enjoy this but have fun reading! but don't let this piece confuse you, but it's okay to be confused, just ask me wink wink

listen to the song

Osamu remembered the frantic airport staffs, inaudible yellings, running around and incessant radio communication. He can just make up a little but got no clue what was happening.

Osamu remembered the cute giggles of the 5-yr-old twins, a reaction from a silly-faced Tetsurou that he wished he took a picture from to laugh at with the others later that evening.

And you. Osamu remembered your laughters, eliciting from the giggles of your twins, wrapping your arms around your 3-yr-old toddler dressed in Hawaiian shirt seated on your lap. He remembered that he grumbled at the thought that the six of you are seated on a bench just off the waiting area of the Okinawa airport and wearing the same Hawaiian outfits as a pun. He remembered he tried not to blame you for his outfit because you were very attractive in your sundress to blame at.

And thenー

And then, he achingly remembered you crying so hard, a face he and Tetsurou worked so hard to erase from you after being widowed exactly a year ago. You cried after hearing something so illogical for him to also process as he walked with the airport staff to wherever they are taking him.

He remembered bombarding the GC until someone anyone replies something, anything. Much to his dismay, the ones who replied are not with the others. He was shaking, kept guided by the staffs as they enter a frantic room. Some of them shot their eyes on Osamu and he remembered someone whimpered from the side but he didn't cared.

"Sir? Can you confirm things for us?" He remembered he heard a lady talking to him, asking. He nodded so absentmindedly as he stared at his phone, constantly dinging and ringing.

"The one flight you're waiting for is JP3749 from Tokyo to Okinawa flight time 8:45 - 10:30am, is that correct?" He nodded, eyes still in his phone. He remembered he didn't wanna look anyone in the eyes.

"It is a chartered commercial plane and you know everyone on board except for the crew, am I correct sir?"

He remembered shaking at the question. "Is my brother okay?" was the first question he administered to the staffs. It was hoarse, from pending tears and nervousness and anxiety dwelling from within.

"We have the list of the passengers listed from Haneda Airport. We need you to confirm it."

And a clump of paper was issued on his sight, across the table. He remembered he first recognized Yuu's name, followed by Koushi's and the list went on. His eyes scanned it fast.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Hirugami Fukuro

Hoshiumi Korai

Kageyama Tobio

Meian Shugo

Kita Shinsuke

Hinata Shoyo

Suna Rintaro

Miya Atsumu

Heisuke Riseki

Akaashi Keiji

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Yamamoto Taketora

Kozume Kenma

Tsukishima Akiteru

Tsukishima Saeko

Tsukishima Daiki

Tanaka Ryuunosuke

Tanaka Kiyoko

The list was still long but his eyes were glued at his brother's name. He remembered blinking so hard, tapping so hard on the desk, shallow breaths, his shaking thighs and falling tears. He remembered wishing he was only dreaming.

"Rescue teams? Are the rescue teams going? Please take me. My brother's in there."

"The airline provided a rescue team, they're maybe en route the crash site, off the coast of Miyazaki."

He remembered asking for more rescue teams but they said they still have to assess the situation. What the fuck, he remembered cursing under his breaths, growling at them for more rescue teams. His friends, his brother needs every rescue personnel right at that moment. He remembered begging on his knees for help, on taking him there if it is what it takes, anything he can do to help save everyone, anyone, especially his brother.

He remembered convincing himself that they are well, and they had a good crash if ever any crash was good and they're just not answering their phones because it's in flight mode probably. But the anxiousness he's feeling was off the charts.

He remembered the stinging sun and the wild August waves of Miyazaki and how he wished he had a picture of you to calm him down while heading to the actual crash site in a speedboat. He left you with Tetsurou and the kids in Okinawa, to peel you away from the anxiousness as remotely as possible though he knows that won't help. He remembered and regretted, he should've stayed with you instead.

He remembered his mom waiting for him in the port area where the rescue teams are gathering and he ignored her, still can't find the right words to say, and maybe a big bit guilty for dodging something like this alone. He remembered he stared at her eyes, promising to take his brother home, to which he knew was impossible now, but he had to at least try. His brother was his everything, though sometimes they may bicker but he loved him more than anything.

Six weeks in and still got a quarter of the bodies to recover. He remembered that for every body he saw and recognized, he prayed his brother was just alive and off a beach somewhere, keeping his silly smile intact. Every body he sees and recognizes, he cries for forgiveness and wishes to the stars for anything to quell his unsurmountable despair.

Thenー

Then, he remembered seeing his shirt floating way off the crash site. He remembered jumping to the water, the yells of the rescuers far off behind him. He remembered grabbing it, paddling and crying, hugging it and whirling his head in search for the owner. He remembered diving, to which the rescuers forcefully grabbed him out of the water, scolding him but he didn't care. He was holding his brother's tattered shirt. He knew it's his, he has a matching dark one to which Atsumu gifted him three Christmas ago.

His world fell into pieces.

He can't remember the trip back to Okinawa, but he remembered wishing he was dead like what the others assumed the other quarter still missing. He remembered them assuming they must've been blown up due to the explosion of the fuselage of the plane, he can't listen to them anymore.

He remembered you, crying infront of him, begging for some good news but Osamu just hanged his head low in tears to which you cried your heart out with the others he didn't remember. He remembered the news declaring there are no survivors and how the country grieved for the young lives taken, for the still budding small families of Tadashi, Akiteru, Keiji.. how the Japanese Volleyball Association grieved for all the volleyball players, the bests among the generation. The world grieved with them, but he didn't care much of their sympathy.

He remembered you sleeping in his arms after a long day of crying, him waking up to your sobs and he kisses your head so tenderly to somehow comfort you but he knew he can't ever take the pain away, as much as it can't do to his. He remembered hugging you tight and letting you cry until you both fell asleep.

Then.. he remembered waking up at 2am, without you in his arms. He remembered searching for you in the bed and on the floor, only to find a closed but lit bathroom. He remembered dozing again to sleep. He remembered letting Tetsurou punch his guts out and yelling after Osamu saw your figure sprawled on the cold floor of the bathroom, blood covered the floor, already dried from your wrists. He remembered kneeling and begging for you to wake up, and Kenjiro dragging him away from your body to check some life outta you.

He remembered Kenjiro crying, padding your cold wrist and temples for signs of pulse, and yelled for an ambulance.

He remembered your kids crying.

He remembered that the already shattered world he has just shattered a bit more, now to dust and got blown by the August dry winds.

He remembered praying hard to the stars for one more chance.

He remembered praying hard, asking for a replay so maybe he can change what'll happen.

He remembered praying, crying hard to the dawn skies.

His reminiscing was cutted off by a very familiar giggle and he can't help but smile.

"Chamuuuu~"

He turned his head to face your daughter, Hinata, running towards his sitting self on the beach, basking in the vanilla twilight. She was followed by a bullying Tetsurou and your sons, Takeshi and Mitsuki.

Hinata quickly sat on Osamu's lap and stared at his face, and immediately frowned, wiping dried tears off his cheeks. Osamu kissed her little hands and stared at your face in her face, a spitting image of her mother.

"Let's go. Doc Daisuke is already here to pick us up."

Osamu kissed Hinata's cheek to which she giggled again, her golden-hair blending to the pastel colors of the skies. He stood on his feet and picked her up, huffing as he took one last look of the shore you should've seen. He wishes you're here, wishes you're all here to witness this spectacle.

"I bet they're somehow glad we are still alive and kicking." Tetsurou mused as he too stared at the twilight, achingly slow on turning to a light blue hue.

You might've never known when you're still alive, that Osamu loves you, but he wonders that now you're in a much better place and looking after them, do you realize it? Of how he just wanted you to be happy even if it took a big toll on him? Of how your death, his last thread holding up his happiness, snapped in just one moment unannounced?

Maybe. And maybe he can move forward. It won't be the same anymore but as long as he don't forget his lost friends, his brother, you, it'll suffice, the memory will suffice. For as long as he thinks about you, he won't feel so alone. His vast feelings for the ones he has lost is as the ocean and it will keep him alive and moving.

He felt Hinata snuggle on the crook of his neck, and God he wished it was you. "Chamuu~ cold."

"Okay, let's go."

Maybe it's not so bad to stitch back his happiness, with the memories he won't dare forget, to the new ones he'll achieve soon, and to the new people he'll meet, and to the ones that remained, that you had left him.

"I'll reopen Onigiri Miya. What will you do, Tetsurou?"

"Open a volleyball clinic for the kids. Yuki will help after she retires from figure skating in two months, everyone left will help."

"I'm thinking of Fukurodani to be their school, can we finance it?"

"Doc Takashi and Doc Akaashi is going all out for the kids, don't worry."

And before Osamu knew it, they're heading back to mainland Japan after one and a half long year, Okinawa far behind, and plans for the future waiting for him to get signed.

Reblogs and interactions are appreciated. Theories will be entertained. Cassie 2023.

[twirlymarimo]

genuinely happy it’s monday for the first time 😩

[hide-in-imagination]

I can be just minding my own business and then all of a sudden ideas for an Omegaverse Simbar AU strike my head. Ugghh, I would love to write that so baaddddd 😩😩😩

[calsvoid]

can my brain stop braining why am i thinking of another seblaine fic idea i literally never write

[readyforthegarden]

so tomorrow is the 2 year anniversary of Summer in the City, and you know…i’ve been teasing for a while about releasing a “deleted scene” of a meditation that had Danny and Jake in it….👀 would be a shame if i finished it up and posted that tomorrow, wouldn’t it??

[97keanu]

i saw ur post about a new neo fic and was wondering if digital angel will make a comeback? it’s okay if you’ve laid it to rest but omfgggggg it was so good

I think the hardest part of continuing Digital Angel is because I never really had an end goal in mind when I made it, but! I think we will be seeing our goth!reader make a return to that world this summer as well as having a wip chapter that I want to revisit for DA soon! The new neo fic is going to be a one shot that is completely encapsulated, with similar topics as DA, so hopefully it can tide us all over until then! 💙

[synonymroll648]

i'm sure i've got a post about this somewhere, but i can't find it, so. time to make a new one! send me a sunshine emoji to receive a snippet of a summertime keefitz fic :)

[dreaming-of-the-end]

Dear Fitz: in a black and white world (you'd still be golden)

A/N: Remember that bonus I was talking about? Here’s the full letter Keefe wrote to Fitz in the forbidden cities. Please comment/reblog if you like <3

Links: [ao3] [wattpad] [masterpost] [previous chapter]

Tags: @an-ungraceful-swan @likefolksong @gay-otlc @fruityfintanfortythree @synonymroll648 @bookwyrminspiration @skylilac @song-tam @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @abubakr0567 @raeny-nights-and-faery-lights  @kamikothe1and0lny @arsonistblue @daphneishere @lemon-girl-in-devil-town @istanrandomfandoms @sunset-telepath  @s0larismoon

Dear Fitz,

Hey, Fi

I'm sorry,

Fitz,

This is not an apology. 

Because it's too late, isn't it? I’m already gone. I’m not sure if I miss you or not.

You'll be angry, won't you, that I ran away again. You are well-versed in abandonment but you still don’t understand why I would do it. Why anyone would do it. You can’t possibly know that i

I think we're past understanding. Let me help you.

In a world that was black and white, you'd still be golden. Guess gold's my favorite color for a reason. You probably don't know what the hell I'm talking about. You're never good at catching signals. In a world that was golden, you'd still be the brightest of all of us. Do you get it now? I sure don't.

Here, let me try again. In a world that was made of diamonds, you would shatter first.

Does that make more sense to you? Or should I keep seeing your face in my head when I'm trying to sleep, keep imagining your lips against mine even though it’s clear that can never happen, keep on stringing words on a necklace until I find the right order to send to you (I won't send this to you)—

You were sweet. Sweet in a sour, salty, bitter world. Sweet the way that turns your stomach into mush, sweet the way that keeps you wanting more, sweet the way that poison frogs are bright colors so predators know not to eat them. Dangerous sweet. Wicked sweet. Terrifying sweet. You scared me, is what I’m trying to say. But that’s not what made me run.

I want you more. I don't want you anymore? We are meant to be contradictions, question marks at the end of sentences that logically should use an exclamation point. Even if you're obviously still so obsessed with me that you'd open this letter that I'm not sending because it has your name that I traced onto my lips so often it probably left a mark, and I can say this because you won't ever see it. Maybe you won't recognize my handwriting that you'll never see again. Maybe this letter will be another piece of trash in a pile.

Why don't you recognize me, Fitz? Why don't you know me?

Fuck.

Why are you still in my head.

I'm going to leave you behind. I meant to leave my heart behind, but sewing it to Sophie's sleeve left needles in my stomach instead of butterflies.

I'm supposed to know how to feel but there isn't a definition for you.

Do you get it now? Do you get what I'm trying to say?

I'm saying my favorite color is golden because that's what you outshine. My Golden Boy, the failing perfection who couldn't stand the idea that he liked the perfect failure, the last thing I think of before I sleep and the first nightmare I have when I wake up.

A dream and a nightmare and a hallucination rolled into one, that's what you are, a sweet-smelling flower petal rubbed between your index finger and your thumb like how my heart got crushed open right there in front of you and you didn't even have the decency to mop up the blood.

But that's not what I'm saying.

I'm saying I know every acne scar on your face and I know about the hair dye you keep in the space under your sink just in case you ever get the courage and I know that you won't ever get the courage because you're a coward like me. Too cowardly to tell me you love me. Too cowardly to tell you that I hate you.

You're so obvious about it and it makes me wish that this world was easy. Makes me wish that there was doubt about it and that's why I'm not sending this. Instead, I'm not sending it because I know you won't try to find me if I do. Why do I keep waiting for you to find me when you're still waiting to find yourself?

Good thing I'm never sending this. Because you know the way my hair falls over my eyes and how my arm weighs around your shoulders and you've counted the freckles on my face when you thought I was sleeping (I wasn't sleeping. I felt your fingers feather-soft on my cheek) and you know me too well to let me stay away. You know me too well to let me come back.

This is another dare. You can't pick truth this time when I know you're so good at lying.

I wish you luck finding me. The coward I am. The cowards we both are.

I said this wasn't an apology but maybe I'm asking for one

Blame yourself for my disappearance, please.

Love,

Your darling, your love, your everything,

The only thing you ever won by being yourself,

-Keefe

[d20-summer-vacation-fic-exchange]

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