#amie fic

[nvvermore]

Like Never Before

A lonesome apprentice is taken under the wing of a kind witch

[takes place after songbird vs rattlesnake]

words: 3.5k

cw: implications of abuse, descriptions of burns/cuts

accompaniment

Vesuvia is overwhelming.

After what happened with Veronique, they decided they would run. It took a few weeks of planning, but they did it. Ran as far away as they possibly could.

They have nowhere to go, no one to turn to here. There’s dozens of other orphans on the streets, fighting for all the same resources, while people dressed in finery pass them all by without a second thought. Bustling markets, guards patrolling the streets, gatherings in the square, rowdy taverns, a brutal coliseum.

It’s nothing like the dull, monotonous happenings in Chevaisé.

It’s already been a week, and they've spent most of the time hunkered down in various inconspicuous corners, listening—and learning— as the Vesuvians around them openly air their improprieties. There’s some rotten men here, and if they close their eyes it almost feels like they're right back home.

They only chose Vesuvia on a whim, the furthest place they could think of where they still knew the language. But even if the people here were just as evil as in Chevaisé, at least here there was no one to control their every move, every breath.

They had to be at least a little thankful for this city. Without it, they would have never been able to escape the gilded cage they were born into.

It doesn't take long for them to figure out that the only way for them to make it here is to fall back on their old tricks. They pick a spot near the marketplace with heavy foot traffic and summon up a song, every note a spell of persuasion.

They aren't necessarily out to con anyone, they at least wanted to pretend they had some newfound dignity in this city. It was just meant to give a little push to any passersby who just so happened to get caught up in their tune.

Starting from the ground up was a little daunting, even if their effortless street performances didn’t give off that impression. They had figured out a reasonable enough pattern— sing on busy corners, get tips, find somewhere to eat and sleep, then do it all over again the next day. Just about everyone who passes by is compelled to leave them a tip for their talents, some more generous than others.

Overall, they still prefer this to being trapped under the vicomte’s thumb.

But, today seems to not be turning out as fruitful as yesterday.

They've only just begun to conjure up a song when out of nowhere they’re grabbed by the arm and pulled around the corner into the nearby alley way.

Their instincts kick in and they’re ready to fight their way out of whatever this is, but a woman’s firm voice snaps them out of it.

“Child, do you have any idea what you've been messing with?” The voice scolds, with a heavy accent unlike any they've heard in the city so far. They have to look down to make eye contact with her. Kind— but stern— hazel eyes stare back up at them, waiting for a response.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” they respond, unconcerned. Maybe there's some unspoken Vesuvian rule about street performing and they've secretly been offending all the locals. There’s no way this woman could know the secret meanings woven into their songs.

“Oh, I think you do. I've been casting spells longer than I'm sure you've even been alive.” She drops their arm, folding hers over her chest. “Nothing gets past this witch.”

In all the years they've been performing this way, no one has ever been the wiser.

But then again, they've never known anyone else with abilities even close to theirs.

They mimic her body language, turning their nose up at her from underneath their veil. “Well, perhaps this witch is none of your business.”

“You've made it my business, showing up out of nowhere, on my side of town, conning innocent working-class people.”

They give the woman a quick once-over. She’s dressed quite modestly, in a well-worn blouse and bodice, the colors faded from what they once were. Her hair is fading too, from a deep black into patches of gray, the strands woven into an intricate braid. The glasses upon her nose sit crooked, her boots muddied.

It's clear she's a woman who has worked her way through life.

“That wasn't my intention,” they confess. “I suppose I was trying to con people. But only the ones who have more than enough to spare.”

The woman laughs, the sound high and raspy. “You're on the wrong side of town for that, but I can appreciate your quick thinking.” Her demeanor switches then, from prepared to reprimand them like a mother would her child to something softer, accepting. “What’s your name, dear?”

They stare at her blankly, unsure of what to say. They hadn't planned on what to do if someone asked their identity, they didn't even know if they have one outside of Chevaisé. But they couldn't introduce themself as who they once were. They ran away from being the unfortunate one.

Their eyes shift to their surroundings, racking their mind for anything that might sound like a decent alias. No— not just an alias— they would be speaking themself into existence for the first time.

They land on the florist's stall across the way, the various flowers and greenery practically spilling from the small structure. But one set of blooms in particular manages to capture their attention, their crimson color standing out against all the others— prideful.

They turn back to the woman.

“It’s Amaryllis.”

-☽☼☾-

The woman’s name is Thana. She explains that she actually owns a magic and oddities shop a few blocks away, and insists that they— that Amaryllis— come with her. When she offers a hand, they take it, her grip radiating comfort.

And then they’re off, Thana leading them away from the only comfortable place they've found in this city so far.

Amaryllis keeps their eyes trained on the street before them as they walk, but their magic is focused on her in an attempt to pick up on whatever her motive might be.

“I was quite impressed by your performance, but your songs were much more subtle than whatever you're trying to pull now.” Thana speaks up, breaking Amaryllis out of their careful inspection of the woman. They feel a pang of irritation at being found out, for the second time in the last hour. Defensively, they straighten out, pulling their hand away.

“I’m at my strongest when I use music to cast. Reaching out with my aura is more difficult,” they admit with a pout.

“I wasn't trying to discourage you, dear. Your magic is quite the impressive feat.” Thana smiles, backing up her compliment. “I haven't seen proficiency in that manner of magic in many years or from very many magicians. Who was your teacher? I likely know them, there are only so many that are capable of weaving spells into song.”

“No one, actually.”

“You’re self taught? You’ve never had a teacher?” Thana sounds truly astonished, and Amaryllis wonders if around here it must be the standard for people to have magical mentors.

“I didn’t have the resources growing up. Magic isn't exactly a welcome concept where I’m from. I figured it out myself.”

“How long have you been in the city, dear?”

“A week,” they reply. “It’s been a long one.”

“All alone?” Thana asks, and Amaryllis nods. “Goodness child, how old are you?”

“I’ll be fifteen in a month or so.”

“And you don't have anywhere to stay, do you?” Another shake of the head. “This might seem a little impulsive, but if you end up finding the shop to your liking, perhaps you'd like to stay? I could use some help running the place, I have a spare room and lots of time to help you hone your skills.”

Amaryllis’s steps falter, and they can’t say anything, only stare at Thana for a few moments, trying to wrap their mind around her proposition.

“I— But you don’t know me? Surely there are better candidates here.” They feel foolish to be so hesitant in taking up such an offer. But frankly, they’re astounded, it seems an offer too good to be true to trust so blindly.

“Maybe, but I haven’t found them.” Thana shrugs her shoulders. “But you need a roof over your head and someone to keep an eye on you, and I need a protégé and some extra hands. It feels like fate to me.”

For another moment, all Amaryllis can offer is stunned silence.

“I— well. Alright, I suppose,” they agree, still quite skeptical. They don't like feeling as unprepared as they do right now. “As long as when you wake in the morning to find I’ve vanished, along with your most valuable possessions, you don’t blame me.” It’s simply a joke, a lame attempt to feel like they have even footing here. They're half expecting Thana to completely revoke her offer.

But then she laughs, sweet and loud and sounding like it belongs to someone much younger than she. “If that’s the case, then so be it, I am the one who insisted. But I doubt you’d do such a thing anyways.” Amaryllis wants to argue, tell her that she knows nothing about them, what they’ve done. But before they can say or do anything else, Thana wraps her arm around their shoulders and continues to usher Amaryllis away from the square.

“It’s this way to the shop. For now, let’s get you settled in, sound good?”

Amaryllis nods, letting the petite woman lead her away, a mix of conflicting emotions swirling around their mind.

-☽☼☾-

Magic was never something Amaryllis had ever set out to do. They barely remember discovering they were capable of it, never really realizing what it was they had been doing until years later. There was a point where they sought out tomes and other books to hone their skill, but with all the time they had to kill they quickly mastered the material and moved on. Magic wasn’t exactly accepted as a normal skill for one to have in Chevaisé. They kept the truth hidden until that secret was taken from them and extorted.

“So, explain this music to me, Amaryllis?” Thana requests, but it isn't like any Amaryllis had ever received before. It's casual, an inquiry that they're more than welcome to decline to answer. And if Amaryllis refused, the kindly witch would simply smile and move on. Thana was strange and confusing, the most intriguing part being how kind she was. Amaryllis had done nothing since she dragged them here besides use up all her hot water and eat more than their share of her food. Deep down, they've been expecting Thana to reveal the catch any minute now, feeling guilty to find the woman suspicious for no particular reason. But Amaryllis can't blame their gut feeling, as it was very biased. They simply aren't used to kind people.

“I’m not sure how to explain it,” Amaryllis answers, a little deadpan. They’d felt exhausted and a little detached since Thana brought them to the shop. They surmised it was from the sudden upheaval of the last week, and staying on their feet with no resources was more work than they thought. But Amaryllis doesn't understand why they're feeling this way.

They're far away from Chevaisé now. Away from the vicomte and the madame. Away from Veronique. Away from all the disgusting nobles they had no choice but to appease. Amaryllis would never have to see them again. And despite the things they've overheard in the city, Vesuvia was promising. Thana’s opinion of it was positive— big, bustling, and diverse. Her family immigrated here when she was young for all those reasons. And on top of it all, they’d been brought into the warm and caring refuge of Thana’s shop, her home. There was hardly anything to be upset about anymore.

“That’s alright, you don’t have to explain it if you don’t want to.” Thana smiles softly as she takes a sip from her teacup.

The master and her new apprentice sit at a table in the backroom of the shop. It's a cozy little room— the walls decorated in hand-embroidered tapestries and the area sectioned off by curtains dyed with rich, vibrant colors. There's a large section of shelves that hold what they can only imagine is every sort of magical artifact and book to exist. Candles littered around the room, casting every inch in a warm, calming glow. Thana’s familiar, Pandora, a fluffy black cat, naps away peacefully in the window. Thana had explained when they first sat down that this is the room where she practices divination, tarot cards, palm readings, tasseography, scrying— a sect of magic Amaryllis isn't at all familiar with.

“No, I mean–” Amaryllis truly has no idea how to explain it. “The best way to describe it is… as I'm composing the music, I concentrate my magic on what I want it to accomplish. I’ve been using my magic this way for a long time, it took me a while to even realize what I was doing,” Amaryllis explains, fidgeting with the silken tablecloth before them. “Music has been my only solace my entire life. I've always found it comforting to pour my goals and emotions into it.”

“And in turn, your music rewarded your love with quite the gift.” Dimples and laugh lines frame the radiant smile Thana gives them. Amaryllis isn't sure if anyone has ever looked upon them with so much genuine pride before. “What sorts of spells have you composed? What you were using in the square was very clever, even if I don't agree with its use around here.”

They feared Thana would ask this. Their most impressive compositions were all embedded with charms meant for much more serious manipulation. They don't want to lie, after everything she's given them, but they didn’t want her to know either.

“The spell from the square was a subtle version of the spells I’ve used in the past. It was meant to be more of a suggestion than anything. But I’ve worked with much more powerful charms before, on audiences even larger.”

“So you're something of an enchantress— or enchanter? Sorry, dear.”

Amaryllis smiles at Thana’s thoughtfulness. “Either is fine. But yes, I suppose that's the word for it.” Thana hums softly from across the table, curious, asking without asking. They don't have to tell her anything, but they’re surprised to find they want to. It's an unfamiliar feeling, one they’re hesitant to bask in. “Where I come from, I was surrounded by many unpleasant and cruel people. My compositions, and in turn my charms, kept me safe.”

Thana reaches across the table to give their hand a gentle squeeze, an unfamiliar gesture of comfort.

Amaryllis wonders if this is how a mother would have treated them, if they ever had gotten the chance to have one.

Thana breaks the lull in conversation.

“What do you say I give you a reading? You’ve never had one before, have you?” Amaryllis shakes their head, quietly intrigued. “Alright! Then this will be fun, I promise.” She sets aside their cups, and she pulls a deck of cards right out of thin air.

Thana shuffles the deck without even looking, cards effortlessly weaving through her ringed fingers with all the practice of someone who's done this for decades.

“Alright, I’d like you to keep a question in your mind, about anything. It doesn’t even have to have a possible answer. Keep it loose, and don’t worry, trust the cards.”

The only query Amaryllis can think of is ‘why?’

Amaryllis nods, and Thana gestures for them to select one out of three stacks of cards. They choose the middle stack, and Thana spreads the cards out across the table, in a crescent shape. They glide easily across the teal satin tablecloth, and the flickering of the candlelight makes the golden detailing stand out against the black cardstock like stars.

“Choose the three that call out to you,” she instructs.

Truthfully, Amaryllis has no idea what that even means, but they focus anyway, reaching out with their magic until they decide on three.

Thana does away with the rest of the cards, laying the remainder out face down between them.

She flips over the leftmost card first.

“Three of Cups, reversed,” Thana announces. She pauses, shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath in. “In the past, you’ve felt as though you've indulged in frivolity while things were burning around you, and in turn isolated yourself, as punishment.”

Amaryllis feels their expression twist before they have time to stop it, but Thana continues on to the next card.

“The Fool, upright.” She smiles, but they don't understand the meaning behind her apparent joy. “Currently, you've been blessed with unlimited potential. There's much for you to learn, and it's up to you to seek that experience without chaining yourself to the past.”

They can accept those words better.

Thana moves on to the last card.

“The Star, reversed. Her message is harsh, but of the utmost importance. You're insecure, and it will be nothing but a detriment to you going forward. You must find something to believe in, and hold on to it tightly. At best, you will remain stagnant. At worst, you'll fall into depths too deep to manage.”

Amaryllis remains quiet, letting everything sink in. It all feels so hauntingly accurate, it’s jarring. They know next to nothing about this kind of magic, and unless Thana is just that good at reading them, it must be powerful.

“Nothing laid out here is set in stone, The Arcana’s words are meant simply as a guide to you. The Star told us what you needed to hear, even if it isn’t what you wanted.” Thana rises from the table, leaving the cards where they lie. She comes around and places her hands on Amaryllis’s shoulders, gently leading them away from the table and up the stairs. “I know it all must be a lot to take in, so let's have you rest, dear. It will be easier once you’ve slept on everything.”

-☽☼☾-

Amaryllis is always right.

Or, at least, that’s what they've come to believe.

It was something of a standard they held themself to— possibly more of a coping mechanism. But one that they needed to uphold nonetheless.

They had always breezed through every textbook, aced every test once the vicomte decided they were worthy of an education. Their limited magical studies never confused them, and they picked up every new skill with ease. It’s why Veronique hated them so much.

Overall, Amaryllis couldn’t recall a time where wrong or couldn't figure it out on the first try.

Until now.

“Fait chier!” Amaryllis shouts, slamming their hands down onto the countertop.

“Language.” Thana scolds, earning a side-eye from her frustrated apprentice.

“Thana, this is a disaster.”

“Amie, you need to relax. It will be a disaster if you get riled up.”

Thana decided Amaryllis’s first lesson would be on pyromancy.

They know all about it, and know it's a relatively simple magic, something absolute beginners were assigned.

But it had been almost an hour since they began, and Amaryllis hadn’t even managed to light a simple tea candle.

Perhaps Amaryllis couldn't do it now because of the one time they did manage it. Because for the last hour, all they’ve been able to focus on is that time. The stench of Veronique’s skin as it burnt away under their touch. The sound of her screams as she cursed the day they were born. The feel of their own blood rushing down their cheek, the pounding pain from the slash their own sister had inflicted there.

“Maybe we should just move on.” Amaryllis snaps, pushing themself away from the counter.

“And why is that?” Thana crosses her arms too, mimicking Amaryllis’s attitude-filled posture.

“We have a stove salamander, you have a grasp on basic magic, and even if there wasn't any of that, matches exist! It's not like I need to be able to do this,” they argue.

“You aren’t wrong, but you don't actually want to quit, do you?”

It isn't Amaryllis who's always right. It’s Thana.

“...No.”

“Good. Now take a deep breath, and try again.”

Amaryllis does as Thana instructs, taking a slow, deep breath, inhaling and exhaling. They turn back around to glare at the innocent candle on the counter. If things were going their way, their glare alone could have lit it and the entire shop on fire.

Amaryllis focuses on bringing the burning sensation of their anger into their fingertips. Another deep breath, eyes closed, the visual of a spark sprouting from their fingertip, setting the wick ablaze, the dripping of the wax.

They hold just like that for several moments, staying level headed for most of the time. But just when Amaryllis can feel their frustration beginning to creep back up, a delighted cheer erupts from Thana.

“See! Was that so terrible!” She laughs, and Amaryllis opens their eyes just in time to see the small flame they produced before it ultimately flickers back out. They frown, and Thana puts a reassuring hand on their shoulder. “I know it probably seems inconsequential to you, but that was amazing dear. You’ll only get better from here, I promise.”

Thana seems to realize the time, and shoos Amaryllis away from the counter before opening up the stove and effortlessly lighting it herself. Amaryllis says nothing, just pouts at the witch.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, I've been doing this for almost double the time you’ve been alive. There was a point I could do even less than you, you know.” Amaryllis softens at that, able to muster a small, but grateful smile. “Besides dear, you don’t have to be good at everything. You’ve already excelled at so much.”

“I’ve never been bad at anything before.” Amaryllis points out, and then cringes once they hear how it sounds. “I don’t mean to sound conceited, but it’s true.”

“How about looking at it this way, you aren’t bad at it, you’re just still learning.”

“Well, it’s never taken me this long to just learn something.”

Thana laughs, a loud, amused cackle. “You are too much, Amie. A little fire magic is nothing compared to what you can already do. What’s really so bad about never being able to pick it up? You said it yourself, we have the salamander, I’m here, matches exist. But you can calm people, entertain them, charm them. You’re not missing anything if you can’t light a candle a little faster than the average person.”

She moves around the kitchen, prepping for dinner. Amaryllis sits at the dining table, leaning onto it with their elbow. Pandora hops up, moseying over to Amaryllis for pets, and Thana gives her familiar an exasperated glance at Pandora’s rule bending.

“You know…” Thana trails off, making sure she has Amaryllis’s attention before continuing. “You also accomplished something else today too. You let yourself be frustrated, openly, in front of someone else. That’s important too, not just for magic.”

Amaryllis doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Um, I guess so.”

“I’m glad to see you becoming more and more comfortable here, dear.”

“I— me too, Thana. Thank you.”

“You can thank me by coming over here and washing these veggies.”

Surrounded by laughter and love, as they assist Thana in the kitchen, a mere month ago Amaryllis would have never believed that they could ever have anything like this.

[princess-pine-cone]

[siggiedraws]

Scene commission done for @blurredblu's fic gossamer love <3

[heavenlyraindrops]

☆ “ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ☆

☆ She said “fuck me like I’m famous”| Chapter one

☆ Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, awkward!reader, reader is literally a hermit, no established relationship, not proofread, porn with like a drop of plot, they get slightly awkward after doing it but it’s ok <3 ☆ Word Count: 3.3k | Available on Tumblr & AO3

“Out? For dinner?”

You tore your eyes from your phone to look at Ami, who was watching Chiho roll around on the floor, immersed in whichever new game of pretend she had devised.

“Yes, dinner,” she repeated, then turned to look at you. “I’m meeting a… friend. Not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And it would do you some good to meet new people, and to get out more.” She raked her eyes over you, from your baggy clothes to messy updo. 

“What’s that meant to mean? I get out plenty often. I’m out right now with you, aren’t I?”

“‘Chilling out’ at my house twice every week isn’t exactly going out, [name],” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she stood up, stepping towards the kitchen. “You’re like a hermit.”

You furrowed your brows together. “Maybe that’s how I like it.”

You heard water trickling as it filled up her glass, and her voice drift down towards where you were sitting. “I tend to wonder if I’m your only friend.”

At those words you stiffened, eyes opening wide and shooting up, back straight. “What? Friends?” You spluttered. “I have friends. I have plenty of friends. You’re not my only friend.” The words tumbled out of you hastily, and then you paused, flashing her a charming smile, trying to distract her. “You’re just my favourite one!”

She rolled her eyes as she sat back down. “Well, you have awful taste.” She handed you a drinks can. Your favourite.

“Hardly,” you uttered

“Just- you focus on work too much, okay? You need to find balance.” She took your palm, uncurling your fingers and placing the cold can in your hand. “Just come to this dinner.”

“…Fine.” You dug your finger under the tab, trying to get it open. “Who even is this friend, anyways?”

“Kenji Sato.”

You stared at her.

She must have mistaken your silence and blank stare for shock, or stupor instead of a reaction to what you considered to be an underwhelming statement, because she just sat back, letting her words sink in. They did, not that they meant much to you.

“Who?” You said blankly.

She blinked, then leaned forward. “Uh, Ken Sato? The really famous baseball player?”

You took a slow sip of the drink- the carbonation danced on your tongue. “No idea who that is. I don’t follow baseball.”

“You don’t follow anything,” she pointed out. “You’re completely out of the loop.”

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. “Just- look, is he someone I should be impressed with? Like, am I-“

“I’ve mentioned him once,” Ami cut in. “Played in the States, moved to Japan suddenly? I was wondering why, and mentioned it to you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you weren’t listening.”

“No no, I was,” you said quickly, then frowned, furrowing your brow. “Wait, didn’t you interrogate him, once? Twice?”

“Thrice,” she corrected you. “And it's called an interview, not an interrogation.”

“Same thing,” you said indignantly, with another gulp of ice cold carbonated sugar. “And you’re sure he’s just a friend.” You eyed her, testing her for any telltale signs on her face suggesting otherwise.

She simply stared at you, unimpressed. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you said, stretching out the vowel, rolling it along your tongue. You stopped. “Okay, fine, I’ll come to your dinner thing.”

“Yes!” She said, sounding a bit too relieved. You stared at her. “Sorry, it’s just- I’m so glad you’re finally-“ she cut off with an excited, pleased noise. 

You looked at her, concern for yourself creeping into your expression. “Am I really that-“

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Now, please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night-“

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, do you have plans?” She didn’t wait for an answer, because she already knew it. “No? Thought so. Please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night, because it’ll be worth it.”

“Uh huh,” you said slowly.

“I wonder if you even remember how to behave in a social setting,” she mused, and you smacked her shoulder. 

That night when you got home and flopped down on your bed, pulling out your phone, your finger hovered over the search bar.

What was his name?

Kenji Sato.

You were typing in the words before you even realized it, and seeing the images, you froze.

Oh. 

Shoving down any sort of deranged thoughts that could have been formulating in your head, you buried your face into your pillow and tried to fall asleep.

-

“[name]!”

“Ami!” You stuttered. Ami came towards you, eyes lighting up as she took in your appearance.

“You look really different,” she said, taking in your appearance. “Really pretty.”

You didn’t often wear clothes that were form-fitting or flattered your figure, but you’d decided that since it was a dinner with basically a celebrity, you might as well have put in some extra effort into your looks. 

“Thanks,” you said, as she led you through the restaurant doors and to your table. Pausing, she turned to look at you. 

“You look sick,” she frowned. “And nervous.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe this really was a bad idea. I should have know you can’t handle-“

“No!” You almost burst out. “No, I mean, I can do this. It’s not that big a deal. I’m just meeting a new person, right?” 

She nodded hesitantly, still frowning at you.

“Right. So, not a big de-“

“Hey, Ami.”

You froze, shoulders stiffening.

“Kenji.” Ami turned to him. You still hadn’t looked at him yet, eyes fixed desperately on Ami’s face. “This is [name]. Name, this is-“

“Ken Sato.” He held out his hand to you, to shake. You stared at his long fingers, then slowly looked up to his face. He was wearing this easy, charming grin. Your knees almost buckled. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. “N-nice to meet you.” You both held your stare a few seconds longer than you needed to. 

He raised a dark brow, and you could have sworn his expression had flickered with amusement before he turned back to Ami. “And here I was worried I was late.” He waved you both on towards the table, where you took your seats.

Ami was looking at you, frowning. You gave her a wobbly smile back. 

Oh, fuck this.

-

“So, what did you say you work as, [name]?” 

Kenji’s voice snapped you out of your haze, and you looked up at him, eyes widening. “Oh, I’m an, uh, I’m an author.” You stared hard at your food, then looked back up at him to gauge his reaction. 

He just leaned back against his chair. “Cool.” His eyes were set on yours. You flushed. “What sort of stuff do you write?”

“Uh,” your eyes slid to Ami, who was looking at you expectantly. “Romance, mostly.” The confession made your cheeks burn but you were too much of a mess to lie smoothly, not that it had even occurred to you in the first place- and Ami would have teased you about it later.

But Kenji just formed a small ‘o’ with his mouth, then smirked. “That’s cute.”

“Is it?” You had to fight to not make your voice sound like a squeak. He just nodded, taking a bite of his food like it was nothing. 

He’d said it so casually that Ami hadn’t even noticed, instead pouring herself more of her drink and commenting on how Kenji had healed up. You blinked, confused, and turned as he held his arm out, flexing it.

“Yeah, quicker than I thought,” he said. You could see the faint outline of his muscles through the fabric and were so prepared to just jump out the window, then and there. He must have caught you staring because, without turning his head, he locked eyes with you and fucking winked.

You bit your lip, rubbing your thighs together and trying to ignore every instinct in your body screaming at you to throw yourself across the table. “You got hurt?”

He dropped his arm back to his side, rolling his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s fine now though.”

You didn’t press any farther, just eating your food in flushed silence, trying to ignore the burning you could feel in between your thighs. 

-

“How’d you get here, [name]?” Ami asked. You stared desperately at your phone screen.

“Cab,” you muttered, rubbing your hand on the back of your neck. The app was empty. “But there aren’t any available.”

You checked the time. Half past eleven. You shivered, the night air biting at your skin. Ami looked at you, concerned. “Should I drop you?”

“No. No.” Guilt ate away at your gut. “No, you need to get home to Chiho, and I’m in the completely opposite direction- it’s not worth it.” You stepped back, and you could feel Kenji look over your shoulder at your screen. He leaned down to your level, breath warm on your ear. You shivered again, but not from the cold. “I’ll just wait until something shows up.”

“What’s your address?” He tilted his face slightly towards you, before pulling away. You stared at him, then frowned at him slightly, opening your mouth to reply, but Ami cut in.

“Look, I-“ she glanced at her watch. “I really need to go.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, [name].”

You waved her off. “Don’t be.”

And she was gone, her car rolling off. You looked back at Kenji, and quickly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, mumbling your address.

He tapped something into his phone, and his face twisted into a satisfactory grin. “It’s on the way to mine. So I’ll just drop you.” He started walking down the street.

You stumbled after him. “Oh- are you- are you sure?”

He turned, walking backwards, in the same direction but facing you know as he shrugged, grinning. “Why not? Better than waiting around in the cold for a ride.”

“R-right.” 

He led you to where a motorbike was parked, and you blinked. “You rode here on a motorcycle?”

He shrugged his blue biker’s jacket off, and without warning, draped it over your shoulders. “Yeah. Surprised?”

“I… don’t know.” Your face was burning at the action. “Are you sure…” you fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

He waved his hand at it dismissively. “Take it. You look cold.”

You fell silent. Then: “I don’t have a helmet.”

He reached into a compartment, pulling one out. “Spare. For situations like this, I guess. Comes in handy.”

“Situations like this?” You echoed, as he stepped towards you, setting the helmet down over your head and fastening it tight. Your heart was going a million miles a minute.

“When I have to make sure a pretty girl like you gets home, obviously,” he said casually, but the look on his face betrayed his nonchalant tone. He clambered onto the bike. “Come on, then. Get on.”

You blinked, face burning even harder than before, but did as he told you to. 

-

“Thanks. For taking me home, I mean.” 

He looked up at you as you pulled the helmet off your head, imitating the action himself. A strand of hair fell in front of his forehead. “Don’t think about it,” he shrugged, and your grip on the helmet tightened as you clutched it to your chest. 

“Oh, but I will.” You dropped your voice to a husky whisper, and watched his jaw clench. Oh thank you god, I remember how to flirt. Kind of. 

Now it was his turn to become flustered, as he gave you another grin, shaky this time. “Really?” He asked, voice hoarse. You stepped back, towards your house.

“You should come inside,” you suggested. “It’s not that late.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s almost midnight,” he laughed, but didn’t object to your offering, licking his lips nervously. You paused your walk up towards your front door, turning and looking at him expectantly. 

“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered, abandoning the bike and walking towards you. Your stomach exploded into a flurry of butterflies as you both hurried towards your front door. 

-

You bit back a whimper as his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with a hunger you hadn’t been met with before. The door hadn’t even shut before his hands were on your waist, dragging you close to him- and then it was, and he pinned you against it, your back pressing into the ridges of the wood. 

He pulled away, both of your breathing ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, eye contact unwavering. He cursed under his breath. “Sorry- I should have- I should have asked.”

You were barely able to move your mouth, shaking your head lightly. “It’s fine,” you breathed, and his eyes flicked back down to your lips, grip on your waist tightening. “You didn’t have to.”

“God, you’re-“ he choked on his own words. “You’re pretty.” 

You didn’t have time to respond before his mouth was capturing yours again, heat burning all over as one of his hands wandered to grip your nape, holding you steady. His teeth grazed your lip and you gasped, but he pulled away, pressing kisses all the way down your jaw and collarbone, leaving a trail of blooming bruises in his wake. His other hand fell from your waist to hip, pressing you close up against him, and heat pooled in your core. 

“Ken,” you managed to whisper weakly through the dizzying haze clouding your mind. He paused, teeth pressed against your skin, and he leaned back up to you, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear, humming. “Are you sure this is a g-good idea?” Your voice was shaking. He frowned, pulling away, and his fingers dug into your hips. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” His voice was husky with desire, eyes trained on your every movement. You could feel his breath on your skin. You opened your mouth, searching for a reason, but couldn’t find any. He trailed his fingers down your neck, brushing over the marks, to the collar of your top, tugging at it. “Come on.”

You stumbled after him, shedding the jacket, ignoring it as it fell to the floor, and he pulled you down onto the couch with him, hands on your waist. You fell into his lap, straddling him. He grinned. “Still can’t find a reason?”

“…No.”

“Then just relax,” he told you, lips still pressed against your jaw, fingers creeping beneath the hem of your top. “Because I’m about to make you feel really good.”

At his words you bit back a moan, sucking in a harsh breath as you bit your lip, involuntarily rolling your hips against him. He hissed, tipping his head back. You were certain his hands were going to leave marks everywhere they touched, feeling them dig into your hips as you dove onto his neck, suckling and biting, anything to repay the affection he’d shown you earlier.

His hand fisted your hair, gently but firmly tugging you back and away. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Just let me do my thing, okay?”

You looked at him, confused, and slightly hurt, until he quickly pressed a reassuring kiss to your lips. “I said I’d make you feel good, so just sit back and let me, got it?”

You didn’t argue with him, not when he flipped you around so that your back was pressed against the couch, or when he sank to his knees, pushing your legs open, letting out a shaky breath as your skirt hiked right up your thighs. 

He let out a breathless laugh. “You’re wet,” he teased, his hot breath hitting your skin. He pressed a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you shiver, then another, each one lasting longer before the one before, leaving marks littering all over your inner thighs. You bit your lip- the mere sight of his face in between your legs was enough to get you dripping, even more than you were before, and he seemed to notice, because he let out an amused chuckle.

“Wh-what?” Your voice was broken, and hitched when he pressed his thumb to your clothed clit, sending a jolt of pleasure into your cunt. He smirked at your reaction. 

“Nothing,” he murmured, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your soaked panties, tugging them slowly down your legs. Your teeth pressed down on your bottom lip harder. His eyes flicked up to meet your expression. “What? Nervous?” 

You didn’t reply, just shaking, and he let out a slow breath, pressing his lips back against your inner thigh as his expression softened. “Don’t be, baby.” His lips curled back into his signature grin. “I told you you could relax, remember?”

You flushed, and nodded.

Without warning, he dove in, lips pressing down on your clit. You whimpered, not even enough time to react before his tongue licked a long strip up your entrance, making you twitch and spasm, throbbing pleasure aching. Your legs instinctively pulled together but he forced them back apart, tongue tracing slow patterns across your bundle of nerves, eyes hooded with lust as he watched your flinch and gasp. 

You let out a broken whimper of his name, and felt him tense under you- but he didn’t stop his movements, slipping his tongue in between your folds, stretching you out with his fingers. You bucked your hips, but he grabbed your hip with his other hand, pinning you down to keep you from moving. “Shhh,” he whispered, his low voice sending vibrations into your core. You let out a desperate moan- it took everything in you to not desperately start grinding against his face. He chuckled slightly at your pitiful state, turning his attention back to your dripping cunt, slipping a finger inside. Your back arched, hand flying to your mouth to clamp over it. A finger slipped inside, curling to hit that sweet spot- you almost saw stars.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, screwing your eyes shut. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

He simply hummed at your words, the vibrations of his voice sending another shockwave through you, lapping at you like he was hungrier than before, fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. You knew what he was saying.

Go on. Cum. 

And you did, a broken cry of his name slipping past your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, legs shaking as he drew out your high for as long as possible. And when you finally came down he pushed himself up, towards you, capturing your lips in another feverish kiss. 

You could see the shaky movements of his chest as he breathed heavily, feel his boner pressed up against you, his face flushed and burning to the touch. You pulled away. 

“Are you… shoud I…” You reached for his zipper, despite the fact your voice was heavy with fatigue but he just shook his head, laughing breathlessly.

“No, no, I… don’t worry about me.” He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I’ll just- where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the corridor, first door on the left,” you mumbled, slumping back. He stood up, adjusting your head on the couch.

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll be right back.”

You heard his footsteps hurry away and the door shut.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed, with you laying on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness, when you heard his footsteps approach you again. You looked up at him drowsily.

“Hey.” Your voice was barely audible. “You should stay here for the night.”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t object, even when you waved him over to lay next to you. You settled on top of him, laying your head on his chest. His arm looped around your waist. 

“[name],” he muttered. You lifted your head. “Is this just a… one time thing?”

You tilted your head. “Do you want it to be?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

You smiled. “Me neither.”

☆ A/N: visit either the first tag or the pinned post to find the other chapters!

[deimostes]

boy why are you so hammer

(this boy's on my artfight!)

[infizero-draws]

got pissed about not having early access to shadow gens so i drew tgirl shadow to cope

[seonghrtz]

𝑣ideo 𝑔ames. 𐙚 両面宿儺 ( streamer!au ) fluff 508 words + warnings. occ sukuna | sukuna reacts to ship videos.

Sukuna never imagined he would become a famous streamer.

It all started when he started playing games to relieve stress ⸻ something that didn't work out very well ⸻ and the idea of streaming came from his younger brother, who had commented on it as a joke, but as Sukuna had nothing to lose, he started streaming his online matches. But apparently people liked Sukuna's explosive personality. So he kept doing it.

Popularity came with time and what started out as something simple became one of his jobs. With the help of his best friend Uraume, he organized his schedule between his day job as a tattoo artist and his streams.

His videos were all over the Internet, including his fans, who made compilations of Sukuna's best moments (whether he was winning or cursing all the descendants up to the seventh generation of his opponents). It turned out that anything with his name on it went viral, for better or worse.

And Sukuna got a lot out of the whole situation. He didn't care about the comments about him ⸻ the haters didn't get to him even though they tried very hard. In fact, Sukuna didn't care about anything.

But that started to change when his name started to be associated with the name of another famous streamer.

Sukuna didn't understand all this association. They were two streamers from different niches, with different audiences. While Sukuna played horror games with lots of shooting, the unknown streamer was into games like Hello Kitty and Gris.

They were complete opposites.

So when he opened the livestream to start playing, within seconds the comments section was filled with fans asking him to react to some videos.

"Okay, I'll fucking react to this video." Sukuna rolled his eyes and clicked on one of the links that took him to an edit.

In the edit, there were moments from some of his streams and others from the other streamer, while Video Games by Lana Del Rey played in the background.

"What the fuck?" Sukuna looked at the camera as if it were a person. "Why are you editing this? I don't even know her! We've never even spoken a word!”

Sukuna clicked another link that opened another edit ⸻ but with a different song.

"You make a cute couple..." Sukuna read one of the comments "How much did you smoke to say that?" Sukuna asked as he read the comments saying how good they would look together and how they would love to see them interact for real.

Sukuna had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at every comment he read ⸻ his eyes might have ended up in the back of his head. In the midst of the comments, however, Sukuna noticed one in particular from a well-known user.

@ yn.hrtz i think a collaboration wouldn't be bad :)

The corner of Sukuna's lips threatened to pop up, but he quickly looked away from the comment, hoping no one else would notice, and quickly continued his game, pretending nothing had happened.

© seonghrtz, 2024. all rights reserved, please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[thatbarricadebitch]

Oh to have a large friend group where we all have French names despite living in NYC and our biggest problem is *extremely vague political meeting*

[lenacosse]

In a world of boys, he’s a gentle man

pairings: Jake Peralta x female reader

warnings: Men being men. Angst with happy ending.

word count: 2.6k

summary: You’re having a hard time at work, things are stressing you out and you’re at a crossroad in your relationship with Jake but he’ll always fix his mistakes.

———————————————————————

The blaring of your obnoxious alarm fills your ears. Ripping you from your sleep for another day of work, another day of men undermining you, another day of unsolved crimes.

You reluctantly drag yourself out of your bed and get ready. To make matters worse you and your boyfriend Jake were fighting- you wanted him to move in but his fear of commitment made him laugh the topic off and diminish your feelings. You understood his issues, but it wasn’t fair. So you told him you needed space, and surprisingly he hasn’t contacted you yet. Not that you’re necessarily upset about that, you had mixed feelings.

You arrive to work at 9:12am. And there stands holt an eyebrow raised at you. You sigh and begin.

“I’m sorry sir. I got stuck in traffic.”

“So you’re the only one of my detectives late because of traffic, even though you live closest to the precinct.” Holt gives you a stern look and you just nod and walk into his office. He follows you in and shuts the door, you take a seat.

“I’m sorry captain. I don’t know what you expect me to say.”

“I appreciate the apology. But I’m worried about you (Y/L/N), you’re one of the finest detectives in the precinct yet you cannot unsolve simplest of cases?”

“I know. I just have a lot going on right now.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take your cases and put you onto paperwork tasks. I understand it won’t help but it’s protocol.”

You just nod and exit his room, not looking where you’re going you walk right into Hitchcock who spills his coffee all over you. You take a long breath and look right at him. Violent outbursts weren’t your thing, but the stupidity of the situation is making it hard not to punch him in the face.

“Would you watch where you’re going!” You storm off into the women’s bathroom to dry your shirt off. A worried Amy follows you in.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Amy asks, slowly moving towards you where you stand drying your coffee stained blouse.

You look at Amy and can’t help the tears that are filling your eyes. “I’m sorry i’m fine. It’s not big deal.”

Amy puts a hand on your arm, giving you a reassuring smile. “I know you’ve been stressed recently, and I’m sorry that your cases have been reassigned. But think of it as a break. Now you can have time to think.”

You nod and offer her a smile. Amy was undoubtedly your best friend, she had a way of understanding your feelings and you appreciated that more than you could explain.

“Thank you Ames. you’re amazing.” You and Amy share a hug before she leaves the bathroom. You dry your shirt by which time you’ve collected your thoughts. Allowing you to go back out there with a clear head and better intentions.

Walking back to your desk you get a few reluctant glances, you know it’s bad when people look at your like you’re Rosa. Half way through your first paper work task you get a short tap on your shoulder, you turn around to see Jake. He looks worn down, not as enthusiastic as usual. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little bit bad, your aim was not to upset Jake when you said you wanted space, but to give yourself time to think. Which you haven’t even had a chance to do yet.

“I brought you a coffee.” Jake says, it was strange to see him so… calm? The main reason you agreed to go out with Jake was because he made you laugh. Because being with him was easy, you didn’t have to change yourself to be with him and that was all anyone could ask for. But the last few days he has been indifferent, you couldn’t help but blame yourself.

“Thank you.” You smile and take the coffee from his hands. Jake nods and starts to walk away, he glances back at you. Continues to walk, glances back again then walks back to you.

“Can.. we talk later? I know you want space but I hate this. I feel bad and it’s just..”

You cut him off with a sympathetic look. “Jake..” you begin, your tone flat.

“Yeah. sorry.” He walks away, this time not looking back.

You sigh and look to your left where Charles is sitting shaking his head and wiping his eyes. You furrow your brows at him and he takes that as an invite over. He walks over to your desk, his shoulders slumped.

“Can I help you Charles?”

“God. I’m so worried about you and jake. These last few days have been utter hell. I haven’t felt this helpless since Elenor and I divorced. I’m so upset I can’t even eat my stake tartare.”

“Maybe that’s for the best Charles, sounds absolutely disgusting.” You shake your head in disgust, “as for me and Jake we are grown adults and can sort it ourselves. Don’t stress.”

“That’s impossible! I’ll talk to Jake. I know how to solve the issue, a nurturing shower where he tenderly washes your hair with lavender shampoo.”

“Seriously?! Go back to your desk.” You shoo him away with your hand. Accepting defeat, sometimes you feel bad for dismissing Charles, but not today.

By lunch time you made a reasonable dent in your paperwork. You glance over to Jake, he’s doing paperwork too. But nothing is distracting him, not even the fact that captain Holt cracked a smile, at least someone’s in a good mood.

“Come on get your stuff we’re going to get lunch.” Rosa says standing in front of your desk with her arms crossed. Behind her is Gina.

“This doesn’t mean I care about you by the way girl. I need a break from my endless paperwork.”

You look over to Gina’s desk and roll your eyes, she had two files sitting there. “Wow I couldn’t imagine it. Is Amy coming?”

“It was her idea to bring you to lunch, then she got out her colour coordinated file of conflict resolution to help you lighten up. So I told her the wrong place, being around nerds is not what I need right now. Poor Amy sitting alone with nothing but her folder.” Gina shrugs.

You grab your jacket and go out with Gina and Rosa. You go to a cafe near the precinct, the cafe echoed with small talk and coffee pots brewing. It was peaceful compared to the loud precinct, the constant keyboard clicks and nonsense talk could of easily driven you mad.

“Damn I think you ruined Jake’s life, he’s a serious depresso these days.” Gina starts.

“I did not ruin his life. I needed space.”

“Why? Did his immaturity get the better of you?” Rosa questioned, you were slightly surprised at her input. Usually an outing with Rosa entails complete silence.

You sigh taking a sip of your drink. “I wanted us to move in together. He brushed it off saying there’s no need. So I told him I needed space from him and time to think, I feel bad sure but I don’t know what to do. It feels like he doesn’t love me enough to work through these issues.” You swallow back the lump in your throat.

“Mmkay well not to give you a compliment but Jake does love you.” Gina retorts. Rosa nods in agreement.

“You always try to get me to talk about my feelings, so take your own advice and go talk to him.” Rosa added.

“I don’t know what to say, we’ve been together for almost two years and it feels like we’re capped at the newly established relationship part.”

“I think that’s enough relationship talk. Who do you think we are, Amy Santiago? No.” Gina scoffed, as she did the food arrived. You sit with your friends eating lunch and listening to Gina talk about her upcoming dance competition and her love for Beyoncé.

———————————————————————

“Thanks for lunch.” You smile at Gina and Rosa as you sit back at your desk.

“Yeah whatever you’re welcome.” Rosa shrugs. You continue with your work, peacefully getting through your tasks with your mood peaking by the minute.

“(Y/N) can you give these files down to officer Smith?” Your sarge Terry asks, you get the files off his desk and get into the elevator to go downstairs.

It was no secret that the officers downstairs were dicks. They didn’t like you, especially officer Smith as you rejected him years ago. Ever since then he’s been making remarks about you attempting to piss you off, this has been applied to Jake as well because he is your boyfriend. Right after stepping out of the elevator you hear a wolf whistle coming from officer Smith. you roll your eyes and walk to his desk handing him the files.

“A present for me? You shouldn’t have.”

You ignore his words and explain the contents of the files, he doesn’t seem to be even paying attention but you didn’t care. That was until he piped up.

“How come you’re giving me files and not Gina?” You go to speak and he puts his finger to his mouth silencing you. “Don’t tell me the nine nine’s lousiest detective has been placed on desk duty.”

“It’s absolutely none of your business. But even so desk duty is much better than being stuck as a first rate officer for eight wasteful years.”

“Ah typical (Y/L/N) being a bitch when she gets her feelings hurt.”

“You’re pathetic. Don’t you get bored of being a dick?”

“You’re Goddamn insufferable. Just shut the fuck up and clear off.”

“Gladly. When you get off your ass for the first time today make sure to leave these files back.”

With that you walk away, but the cruel words that he shouted after had you clenching your fists and unwillingly crying in the elevator. That man knew how to get under your skin and you hated him with a burning passion. As you walk out of the elevator you wipe your eyes trying to mask the fact you’ve been embarrassingly crying. And once again you collide with someone. Their hands steady you by grabbing your shoulders. You sigh and look up, seeing Jake with a concerned look plastered on his face.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” You scoff as if you’re offended by the accusation.

“What happened?”

“Just Officer Smith being a dick.” You mumble.

His thumb lightly brushes a stray tear from your eye, you unwillingly melt into his touch, it’s warm and makes you feel safe.

“Whatever he said to you is irrelevant. He’s the biggest jerk ever. Don’t stoop down to his level and listen to what he has to say. You’re worth so much more than that.”

“Thank you Jake.” You run your thumb over his knuckles, a soft smile apparent on your face. Jake squeezed your hand three times, and you return the gesture. His face immediately brightens up, your eyes meet and you find yourself getting lost in his.

You hear a clearing of a throat, you look to your side seeing captain Holt stood with him arms crossed. You immediately drop Jake’s hand and he lets go of your shoulder. You both go back to your own desks. Today has made you realise talking to Jake is the best solution, it was only making you both miserable being apart. So you write him a note reading: ‘want to come over later?’ You throw it at him and it hits him in the head.

You watch his reaction to reading it. He scribbles something back on the page and throws it in your direction, but unluckily it hits Holt right in the face as he walks past your desk. You watch Jake’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights as he quickly looks down and pretends to be writing.

“Who on earth threw that?!” Holt rages. Everyone looks up from their desks yet no one takes accountability. Holt picks up the paper and reads it out. “Want to come over later? As long as we can watch die hard. (Ps. that shirt you’re wearing looks hot af)”

Your face turns a deep crimson as you look down at your desk, refusing eye contact. Everyone is quiet, mostly likely mentally scarred by the note. until Charles pipes up.

“WOOHOO!” He yells. “my dream couple are back. Did take my advice Jakey?”

“No Charles. I did not spoon feed her duck soup!”

“Gosh it’s a miracle things worked out.” Charles replied. You look over to Amy who looks just as disgusted as you from Charles’ statement.

“You two my office. Now.” Holt says whilst walking back to his office.

Jake follows behind you into Holt’s office, you both take a seat as does Holt. He does not look happy, or so you assume. He was difficult to read.

“Today started wonderfully. Everyone had work done. I even cracked a smile.” Holt starts. “However you two acting like teenagers is ridiculous! Throwing notes to each other like you’re in middle school?”

“(Y/L/N) started it.” Jake shakes his head in dismay. “She’s such a child.”

“Shut up Peralta.” You smack his arm, making him pull a classic face at you. You roll your eyes and cross you arms looking back at your captain.

“If you two can’t act mature then I’ll have to come up with a plan to keep you apart.”

You both mutter a sorry and he dismisses you. Of course the second you step out of his office you look at Jake and the both of you burst out laughing.

“What did I just say!” Holt shouts out, you both stop laughing and immediately go back to your desks.

———————————————————————

Your door knocked and you went to answer it. standing there is Jake with flowers, a tiny teddy bear and a bag full of snacks. You smile and let him in, letting him know the pizza is on its way.

“For you my lady.” Jake says in a God awful posh accent. You take the flowers and other things from him. You find yourself blushing at the thought of him buying you these things.

“Well aren’t you just a gentleman.” You kiss his cheek, he takes your chin in his hand and moves your face to look at him. Your foreheads touch and he leans in to kiss you, the kiss is tender and loving. You run your free hand through his hair and slowly pull back.

“I’m sorry for not taking things seriously.”

“It’s okay.”

“No I was being an idiot. I love what we have, and of course I want to move in with you. But that freaked me out and I was unfair. I want you to know that I would do anything for you. I want this for us, I want to come home with you every night, I want to wake up next to you every morning. I’m serious about you, I should have just told you that from the start. but I messed things up and to think that I almost ruined us-“

You shut him up by kissing him, you feel his smile against your lips. His hands go to your hips pulling you closer. You slowly pull away and he pulls you into a hug. The scent his cologne fades all the worries and doubts, it was simple. Jake was the only possible person you ever wanted to be with, and things would work out because you both were dedicated to making it work.

“Thank you.” You slowly pull back and stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“Okay I’m glad that worked out because I already sold my apartment.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course you did.” You tease.

The pizza arrives and the two of you lay on your couch together, eating pizza and watching die hard for the thousandth time. At this point you swear you could recite the script. But if it makes Jake happy then it makes you happy.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[mechanical-v1scera]

the dots… i’m connecting them

[beanbagstab]

Short Sonamy IDW Fanfic thingy:

Introspection/ Realization of feelings / Slight Angst/Sonic centric

Sonic would never admit it, but he has been in love with Amy practically since the moment he had laid eyes on her- though he hadn’t realized that until recently.

He didn’t understand Amy or the way she made him feel. At first, he just thought all girls were like that, weird beings who stir you up inside with their feminine charm but no. After he grew older, met more people- more girls- he realized these feelings only emerged around Amy. After he sorted all that out he decided it was best to avoid her (and these weird feelings) whenever he could. 

After all, he already knew what romance was like. Boy meets girl, they hit it off, girl asks boy for dates and marriage, boy proposes, they marry and move into the suburbs where they watch over their two kids before boy heads off to his 9 to 5 and girl stays back to cook dinner, they grow old, retire, die, and get buried in some nearby graveyard without traveling or adventures or fighting world destroying enemies. 

As far as he was concerned, if Amy had her way, they’d be on a one-way road to a dead-end life. And Sonic hated the Idea of that more than anything. 

So when Amy suddenly grabbed him by his hands and declared she never wanted him to change and wouldn’t want to force him to stay at HQ, he felt something swell within his chest. He stared at her dumbfounded. Huh? Did he hear that right? Was this really Amy, the same girl who would chase him down for miles begging him to marry her?  Before he could get a word out another thought crossed his mind. Had she just said ‘I love you’ to his face? She had said it so casually he had almost missed it. 

He didn’t know what to say to her. Sonic couldn’t speak so freely about his emotions the way Amy seemed able to, so he opted to reciprocate in his own- less direct way. 

He backed up slightly, scratching his nose and turning his head to hide the smile that was creeping up his face. “ You know, you could come with me if you wanted.”

He had offered the same preposition to Tails not too long ago yet, when asking Amy there was an air of awkwardness to it. He was unpracticed when it came to the matters of his heart so expressing these desires felt foreign on his selfless tongue. 

He won’t deny he was a bit upset when she declined, but that was quickly replaced with warmth as he saw the determination in her eyes. She had a job to do that not even Sonic the Hedgehog could pull her away from. To him, it was as if she was saying, ‘I won’t be tied down to you either.’ And the thought of that set his heart ablaze. 

Amy had Sonic’s heart tied around her finger-not that he would ever tell her that but with the way she acted around him, Sonic was sure that some way somehow, she already knew. 

.

.

.

Sonic caught himself sneaking glances at Amy far more often than he’d be comfortable admitting but could you blame him? He hadn’t seen any of his friends for 6 months and Amy was one of his closest. He figured that must be all it was. He missed his friends dearly while he was gone so it makes sense he was feeling a bit mushy. 

But then again, it seemed to be only around Amy did he feel this strongly. 

When she spoke, he found himself hanging onto the last word she said. When she looked at him, he felt himself bask in her attention. And when they were alone, an increasingly rare scenario given the busy nature of HQ, he covetted the intimate way she relaxed in his presence. 

She was so tense as the leader of the resistance and the restoration. He couldn’t recall a time he’d seen the ever-cheery Amy Rose so restrained and subdued. He didn’t like it one bit.

Eye bags and a caffeine addiction didn’t suit her. At least not the her he knew half a year ago. 

He tried not to think about it but, a lot of his friends seemed different; a little wiser, shoulders a bit broader, and a lot more tired. And Amy seemed the most different of them all. He noticed a distinct lack of hugs and dreamy lovey dovey rants. The best way he could put it would be that she seemed more… mature? At least, she was acting in a way a child might believe a mature adult might act. 

Sonic couldn’t help but feel as if she was putting up some kind of act for everyone. Like, she needed to change for people to take her seriously. But could he blame her? No one really took her seriously before- not until she took out her hammer at least. But momentary fear and respect are not the same thing.

Still, he hated seeing her in such a state. A rose deserved to be basking in the sun and swaying in the wind, not withering away in front of a dozen buzzing monitors.  

So he made it a point to invite her out on missions whenever she could afford herself to be stolen away. 

And that's what their mission to the mines should’ve been. Just an easy excuse to take his crush out of that stuffy office. 

But one thing led to another and the next thing he knew, he couldn’t even offer a shoulder for her to lean on.

.

.

.

If Amy seemed depressed before the metal virus, she was down right miserable now. But honestly, he wasn’t doing much better himself. He could barely sleep and needed to be on the move constantly, lest the virus spread further and further through his exhausted body. 

Before he was infected, he never noticed how often the two would exchange little touches. From the shoulder holds he would offer in consolation, to lingering touch in the place their fingers overlapped for just a few seconds too long when he needed to pass something to her.

There had just been too many close calls where he had reached out to hold her before he caught himself and quickly pulled back in embarrassment. He wanted to be close to her so bad he was absentmindedly putting the entire operation at risk. 

After he realized that, he decided it was best he kept his distance.

Best for Amy, best for the resistance, and best for his heart. 

[nvvermore]

I Always Will

for Amaryllis, nothing goes as planned

[part twelve of Come What May]

words: 3k

cw: memory loss

accompaniment

Last night, Amaryllis and Julian went their separate ways at the edge of the forest.

“We’ll start over fresh tomorrow, with the new information that we have,” Amaryllis’s voice cut through the pouring rain. “Let’s meet at Portia’s after breakfast. Au revoir.”

Amaryllis had lost track of the time they spent aimlessly wandering around the palace gardens, mind lost in thought.

How it could be so easy for Julian’s memory to return, but that they were in a constant fight to regain even just the smallest hint of theirs. After all he did, they still helped him, and he couldn't even be bothered to offer them anything in return.

Julian’s refusal at least confirmed one thing in their mind.

The two did in fact, mean something to each other before.

-☽☼☾-

Now, Amaryllis sits at Portia’s dining table, listening to Julian prattle on about his recovered memory.

That back then, when Lucio was infected, Julian was working diligently on a cure.

“I was down there that night, working, but Lucio was convinced I wasn't working fast enough. He locked me inside and I, well—“ In a flash, he pulls off his eyepatch to finally reveal his eye. It isn't just an empty socket, as he’d implied before. It’s all there, and even appears to have vision, but the sclera of it is a deep red, just like that of the victims of the plague. “I was dying. But the cure worked, and it could still be down there in that dungeon.”

From his coat pocket, he pulls out the skeleton key, and a folded up paper. “I thought long and hard last night, and this is what helped me make sense of it all,” Julian says, gazing down solemnly at the paper. They recognize it as the one that fell from the pages of the grimoire hidden away in their room.

“Then perhaps if you'd have let me read my own writings, we could have come to this conclusion sooner,” Amaryllis says. From the corner of their eye, they can see Portia give them a pointed look.

“Well, it sounds like you two need to go down to that dungeon.” Portia diverts back to the real subject at hand. “We’re running out of time, with how close the masquerade is. Luckly, the countess will be quite distracted today, as some of her sisters are arriving from Praka. So you have the perfect opportunity to go searching.”

Amaryllis glances over to Julian, expecting to see him putting on his classic brave façade, but instead finds him already looking back at them, uncertainty casting a cloud over his features.

“Then by all means, Julian, lead the way.”

“But first!” Portia interjects. “Ilya, you need a good disguise! I have some spare staff uniforms I snagged for the occasion. You can play the part, can’t you?”

“I suppose that could work,” Julian murmurs, mind obviously still somewhere else.

“Actually, I have a different idea. I'd rather not have any missteps, so I’ll use another glamour spell on you.”

“The same one as before?”

“No. This one will be much different.”

Amaryllis murmurs a quick incantation, and in moments before everyone's eyes he turns from a towering, lanky man, into a petite young girl.

“Oh my, Ilya look at you! How cute!” Portia squeals. “Amie, who is he supposed to be? She’s a beauty, for sure.”

“My ward, Ophélie. Julian is familiar with her,” they explain to her. “My first thought was Asra or Vesper, but I can't risk the real ones appearing while he’s disguised. She’s quite unlikely to make an appearance here, so If we run into anyone we shouldn't, it will be easy to explain why she’s with me.” Amaryllis turns to Julian, who's looking at his new appearance in a mirror on the wall. “And the two of you are just alike— you won't have to pretend to be anyone else.”

Amaryllis watches as Julian reaches up to cup his—Ophélie’s— face. “We are just alike, aren't we?” he says longingly. “She’s gotten quite big in the last few years, hasn't she?”

“You remember her?”

“Bits and pieces. Enough to put together what it is I've missed.”

“Well, the sooner we get this excursion over with, the sooner you can go see her for yourself. She’d love nothing more than a visit from you.”

-☽☼☾-

Julian claims to remember the entrance to the dungeons being located somewhere in the library.

With him disguised as Ophélie, the two were able to waltz right through the halls of the palace without a hitch.

“It was a secret passage. A book! I remember… red… gold?” Julian mutters, through Ophélie’s much higher voice, pulling at almost any book on the shelf he can find.

Finally, he pulls on a book bound in deep red leather with golden accents, just as predicted, and the shelf whirls to life, pulling away from the wall to reveal a dark, unlit passage.

Amaryllis summons a flame in the palm of their hand. They find themself far more wary of the flame than the ominous tunnel that lies ahead.

“Down we go?”

Julian only nods. They half expected him to fight back against them going too.

Amaryllis takes the first step, Julian close behind, dropping the glamour as they start to descend.

It’s a long, winding stairwell full of uneven steps. The further the two of them go, the brighter Amaryllis casts the flame. It’s eerie, but their discomfort at what they might find only grows when they sense a headache coming on.

Julian is uncharacteristically quiet, possibly too quiet.

Eventually, after what feels like several stories down, the steps end and they find themselves in a dirty, dimly lit clearing. There’s an old, rickety looking lift directly before them. Crimson light leaks from underneath it, likely coming from wherever the contraption leads to. A gate locks it away, made out of old and rusted wrought iron.

Amaryllis sends the flame they're holding into the rest of the room, lighting the worn torches mounted upon the walls.

Julian— fully himself once more— takes a few hesitant steps closer to the gate, a gloved hand reaching up to wipe at the iron plate in the center of it.

“This… I know this. It’s an old nightmare.”

Amaryllis joins him at his side.

There’s an inscription, along with a keyhole

“Bloody hands may turn the key. Know the weight of your sins, and enter,” they recite.

Julian pulls the skeleton key from his coat. “Well, this is it.”

Quickly, Amaryllis snatches the key from his grasp.

“We turn the key together, or not at all. Your innocence has been vouched for, I don't need you coming up with any other crimes before we have our proof.”

Julian seems to know better than to argue with them at this moment in time. He nods, an uneasy grin on his face, and his hand wraps around Amaryllis’s.

The lock turns over without a hitch. The gate snaps open with a horrible screech.

“Either we’re both just as guilty, or it's bullshit.” Amaryllis’s words don't seem to offer Julian any comfort. He stares down at his hands, cradling the key. He's filled with dread, from his expression to the way he holds his shoulders. There's a tremor running through him, they hear his breathing quicken. Against their better judgment, they take his hands in theirs, steadying him.

Amaryllis has been cruel to him, they know it. They could help it, they've considered that, instead of pushing him away they could have pulled him closer despite his protests. Their attitude might not have made his self-loathing any worse than it was, but it certainly hasn’t helped.

Julian gasps when Amaryllis touches him, like their comfort was the last thing he was expecting. He leans into them, burrowing his head into their shoulder, hands still clasped. “Amaryllis…” His voice still trembles. “I've been asking myself a question, over and over, since last night. If I didn't kill the Count, what am I guilty of? I've forgotten so much. Even though my memories are coming back…” He exhales against their neck, deep and shaky. “I think I know what it is. I think I’ve known since the letter I found tucked away in the book hidden in your room. If it’s true, I don't know how— I know it would be worse than if I was simply guilty of killing Lucio. I’m afraid that my crimes are here. At the bottom of this pit.”

“And what of mine, Julian? I have no memories, I have the same mark as you. Lucio’s own ghost accused me of his murder. According to your own standards, I’m just as guilty as you claim to be. What if we go down there and there’s no evidence of whatever crime it is you think you've done, but piles against me, what then?”

“I’ll still take the fall.”

“That’s not what I’m asking of you, but it proves my point. Why have you been so quick to judge yourself so harshly for the same thing you’d accept me as is for? You can't tell me it's different, because it’s not.”

Julian takes another deep breath, but this time it's steady and sure. His head turns, and then suddenly his lips are on theirs. Amaryllis kisses him back as his hands find their face, cupping their jaw and pulling them as close as he possibly can. They missed this, even if they only had it for a short moment and it had only been gone just as long. It feels so familiar, and they're so enraptured in the comfort he brings, that they don't notice the slight way Julian turns the two of them. They don't think anything of it when Julian’s hands slide back down to grasp their shoulders.

Amaryllis only realizes that they've made a mistake at all once Julian is already pulling away from them. He pushes them away gently, catching them off guard and sending them a few steps back. Before they can make sense of it, he’s already locked himself away in the lift.

They scramble forward to the gate, prying at the bars, but it’s locked itself once more, and they don't have the key.

“Julian!” they shout, fingers wrapping around the rusted bars.

“I’m sorry.” There's a look of genuine remorse in his eye, but he stands tall, confident in the choice he's made. “For what it’s worth, thank you, Amie. I’ve done a lot of things I regret. Things I remember, and, I’m sure, things I forgot. But I don't, I couldn't possibly regret meeting you. Every moment I have with you is a blessing. I want you to know, I… I want a future with you. I always have. More than anything. I’ll find some way for that to happen, to make you forgive me for everything. I promise.”

“Why are you making this sound like a goodbye?”

“I’ll see you soon.” Julian pulls the lever and the lift comes to life with a screeching of gears.

Amaryllis watches it take him down, still pressed against the bars of the gate, until the red glow consumes every last bit of him.

-☽☼☾-

As soon as Amaryllis is back into the palace proper, they rush to find Portia. It’s about midafternoon, the sunlight flooding through all the magnificently crafted windows is jarring when they first come up from the cavern. The halls are bustling, with all sorts of servants bussing about, cleaning and decorating. They stop to ask a few familiar faces if they've seen Portia lately, most have no answer, and a few look at them like they've just seen a ghost.

They haven't managed to compose themself by the time they finally stumble upon Nadia’s parlor. Determined, they push open the double doors and step into the room.

“Has anyone seen Portia?” Amaryllis doesn't bother waiting for the conversation they're certainly interrupting to be finished, doesn’t wait for their presence to be announced.

“Amaryllis?” Nadia questions, sat at the organ across the room. “You look a mess, what's happened?” They scan the room, no Portia to be found. But Asra is there— dressed to the nines in an outfit Nadia must have gifted him— along with several others who look far too similar to Nadia to not be related.

Asra shoots up from where he’s seated, almost spilling his cup of tea when he sets it down on the table. “Amie, what’s wrong?” He rushes over to them, thumb reaching up to brush something away from their cheek before his hands settle on their arms. He has the same look of genuine concern on his face as he does when he's waking them from yet another nightmare.

“Nothing, just… investigating.” Amaryllis clears their throat. “I apologize for the interruption. Is Portia around?”

“Her and I were quite busy most of the day with masquerade planning. She’s been wearing herself thin lately, and looked awfully tired. I— gently— ordered her to go home and get some rest until dinner.” Nadia explains, rising herself and stepping towards them. “You seem a little fatigued yourself, Amaryllis...” For a moment, they're worried Nadia is suspicious of them, but one look at her tells them she’s nothing short of a concerned friend at the moment.

“Nadi, why don't I take Amie back to their room to get cleaned up, maybe rest a little.” Asra suggests. Amaryllis can only nod, too embarrassed to admit that they really do need his comfort right now.

“I believe that is a wonderful idea. Perhaps if you're feeling well enough after, I could have the chance to properly introduce you to my sisters.”

Asra thanks Nadia and bids farewell to the room, and spins them around, leading them out the door and through the busy halls with an arm around their shoulder.

The walk to Amaryllis’s room is quiet. Faust pops out from Asra’s collar to greet them with a snake kiss on the cheek, and then disappears right back into the fabric.

No one speaks when they enter the room. Asra simply sits them down on the chaise, disappears for a moment, and then returns with a glass of water, helping them to drink. They didn't realize they had the taste of that cavern stuck in their throat until now. He leaves again, and Amaryllis vaguely registers the opening and shutting of cabinets. This time he returns with a damp cloth, wiping at their face once more, careful to be gentle around their scar.

“I've noticed you've stopped wearing your veil lately.” Asra finally speaks up, and it isn't what they were expecting him to say at all.

“I just haven't felt the need. I don't know why I ever did at all.” He takes their hands, and they look down at them, finally realizing they're covered in all sorts of dirt and rust from the cavern. No wonder every person they'd come across on their way looked at them funny.

Asra sets the cloth to the side and leans down, unlacing their boots, slipping them off one by one. He stands them up. “Come on, let's get you changed.”

And Amaryllis lets him lead them across the room, stands patiently as he unlaces their gown and switches it out for a clean nightgown. Lets him sit them down at the vanity where he goes to work brushing out their hair, as he braids it back out of their face. It's been years since Amaryllis has allowed him to care for them so closely, but once upon a time it was all they knew.

But right now, Asra is exactly what they need, and they'd be a fool to push him away.

-☽☼☾-

The sun has already set when Amaryllis wakes. They don't remember falling asleep, and they barely remember how they got in bed at all. They know Asra— nowhere to be found— was here. They know they stormed into Nadia’s parlor unannounced. They were looking for Portia because Julian—

Julian.

Amaryllis throws the duvet back and rushes out of bed, into the main room. Their panic rouses Styx, who’d been sleeping away on his perch in the corner this whole time.

“Amma?”

“Where is he, Styx? Has he come back yet?” they ask aloud to their familiar.

“Has who come back yet?” Asra’s sitting in the armchair, rising as they come rushing into the room.

“Julian.” Amaryllis tells him, as if they could be worried about anyone else at the moment.

“I don't think so.” Styx’s response echoes in their mind.

“Amie, slow down. Now that you seem to be yourself again, why don't you tell me what happened?”

“His memories are returning. We found the lift down to the dungeons. We were supposed to go down together but he went down alone instead. He was terrified about what he would find down there, what evidence he'd find of his crimes— of mine. I have to find another way down there.”

“Your crimes? Amaryllis, what are you talking about?”

“Lucio’s back. He told me I'm not innocent in his death. If Julian finds something that can prove I killed Lucio, he’s going to try to take the fall anyways.”

Asra sits back down, taking a deep breath and running his hands through his curls. “I know the dungeons. He’s fine, I promise. He’s not going to find what he thinks he will down there.”

“Then what is it he’ll find?”

“Answers. But I don't know if they'll make any sense to him.”

Amaryllis doesn't bother questioning Asra any further, but they're still uneasy and they're sure he knows it. He stands and approaches them, taking their hands. “He’s fine. He’ll find his way back up if he already hasn’t by now, and tomorrow you can track him down and continue sneaking him around the palace while I keep Nadia looking the other way.”

“That’s why you showed up here?”

“I had my suspicions, and I thought it was finally time to visit Nadi.” Asra gives their hands a squeeze. “Ilya is just… being Ilya, unfortunately.”

Amaryllis rolls their eyes. “Don't I know it.”

“I know I've been harsh when it concerns him. I’m sorry.”

“No, I don't blame you. I've said a lot of cruel things to him in the past couple days.”

“Oh really? Ilya finally got an earful from you?” Asra bites back a laugh.

“He makes it hard not to.”

“Well, I think you deserve not to dwell on him for a little while. Nadia sent for us to join her and her sisters in the ballroom, what do you say?”

-☽☼☾-

Asra spins Amaryllis around the ballroom. They can’t remember a time where the two of them ever danced together, but having him as a partner feels natural, like they've done this a billion times before.

“Nine years.” he whispers against their ear. Amaryllis isn't surprised to learn that they’ve known Asra for a third of their life.

“If I’ve known you that long, how long have I known Julian?” Amaryllis asks, surprised to find that Asra doesn't falter.

“It’s weird to hear you call him that, you know.”

“What else would I call him?”

“Ilya. That's what you knew him as, how you introduced him to me.” The two step effortlessly in time to the music Nadia and her sisters are playing, a routine forming out of thin air. “But you've known him longer than me. At least ten years, I think.”

Amaryllis doesn't know how to respond, and shouldn't have brought Julian up in the first place. They were having a nice time, but now anxiety is starting to creep back in. Asra must sense it, because he twirls them again and flourishes it by dipping them low, wrapping their leg around his waist.

The song being played changes to a slower ballad then, and Amaryllis rises slowly, keeping their leg hooked on Asra’s hip.

“Another dance?” Amaryllis drops their leg, no answer needed from Asra to know he would. Not with the way he’s looking at them now. They take his arms, guiding them up to their shoulders, while their hands go down to rest on his waist. Amaryllis leads them, swaying gently to the music. “How different am I now? Am I still the same person I was before?”

“Hauntingly so.” Asra breaks from his daze. “You're the exact same Amie I knew and…”

“And what?”

“…And loved. Love.”

Amaryllis breaks the rhythm they'd fallen into, standing still on the dancefloor, music still swirling around them.

“Why now, Asra?”

“I just thought you should hear it. I know you know, and I know we missed our chance, but I've never told you—“

Amaryllis cuts him off. “I woke up loving you, it was my first coherent thought.”

“But?” His expression isn’t hopeful, just, curious.

The music and their conversation is cut short when Styx comes flying in from the outside veranda, screeching.

“Amma! It’s Julian!”

[princess-pine-cone]

[ratrrriot]

Here's some fanart of “What was stolen”! My good friend @beeextraordinary123's medieval fantasy Sonamy fic that I've been reading 🦔⚔️👑

(Here's the snippet i based this painting on cuz I really like it!!):

and here are some doodles and small paintings to test designs !! ( note: these designs have been updated!!)

You can read the fic in AO3 , Just a heads up tho: Audience is teens and up and Amy and most of the characters are +20 yrs old in this fic,so while It doesn't have anything NSFW or explicit in it,some scenes are steamy.Thought i'll mention it in case that sort of thing makes anyone awkward and/or prefers to avoid it.

[lm-tomatito]

Metamy of a Riders au I have✨ Probably won't finish these so I'll post them, might redraw it later though since I like the Riders story idea and Metal's design ;u;

[deimostes]

happy pride post this hammer the hedgehog (transmasc amy rose)

(no ship tags please!)