#avowrites

For the short prompt thing I've had this au idea for awhile. It's a variation on the "one owns a flower shop right next to the other who owns a tattoo shop" but extended to include the triad so Anne owns the flower shop, Sasha owns the tattoo shop, and Marcy owns a bookshop, all on the same street/ block. I was wondering if you could do a short drabble of sashanarcy in this au?

Thanks if you do, no prob if you don't

@una-luz-puesta you get a long one because nobody else has sent me a prompt today! I hope you like it.

~~~

"Roses are boring."

Anne looked across the shop at the other woman, pausing as she tried to figure out how to reply to this statement. The customer pushed a lock of golden hair out of her eyes, leaning forward on the counter as she stared at Anne, brown eyes locked with hers as she continued to speak.

"Everybody gets roses. And I mean, like, everybody. Rose this, rose that, show off that I love love, love roses, put some roses around my boyfriend's name that I'll come in crying about and asking for a coverup of in a month. I'm sick to death of roses."

"What," Anne said, her mind very set on trying to ask this question and not getting distracted by the blonde stranger's toned arms, "are you looking for, then?" She had matching sword tattoos running down her forearms, Anne observed, and then slapped a hand to her face internally.

"I dunno." The blonde woman shrugged. "Y'know. Love and stuff, I guess. Attraction? Interest? I want to practice more flowers than just roses. I can tattoo a rose in my sleep. I figure I just moved in next door, and you've got the hookup, neighbor, so I can buy some from you."

"Right," said Anne, her ears definitely not burning under her hair, "well, I can show you some flowers." She turned to the array of flowers arrayed around the shop, all trimmed and prepped and shining with a rainbow of colors. She hesitated, then crossed the store, retrieving a long stemmed, tall, pink clutch of blossoms, and a clipping of stark purple buds.

"This one's called a Gladioli, or a sword lily." Anne slipped it into a small vase on the counter, staring at the stem as she watched the stranger raise an eyebrow out of the corner of her eye. "It means strength, and honesty... you can use it to admit your crush on someone, too." She looked back over at the other girl, watching a smile split her face.

"Yeah? That sounds pretty cool." She leaned forward on an elbow, one hand coming to her chin, her eyes going to the flowers Anne was still holding. "And what about those?"

Her eyes crinkle up when she smiles. Anne drew in a breath. Holy shit, girl, get it together. She's just asking about flowers. She held up the stark purple star-shaped blossoms with a gesture that looked a lot more confident than she felt.

"These are bellflowers. They mean - attractiveness, gratitude - everlasting love. And sometimes people plant them on graves."

The woman laughed, a peal of bright sound among the greenery of the shop. "Oh, metal. I love that."

Marcy, blearily, blinks open one eye, and then the other. She screws them shut again as the light pours in, but she finally squints against it as things swim into focus, her head turned to the side.

There's a pair of figures sitting and facing her. The sound of their slow breathing is fading in and out as they sleep.

The first thing Marcy can see, squinting, is just the color of their hair. The blonde's hair is up in a tight ponytail, and her head is tilted back against a pale green wall, her chest rising and falling slowly. The brown-haired girl has her head on the blonde's shoulder, hand clutching the other girl's jacket sleeve, looking like she rolled there accidentally in her sleep. Her hair is pressed against her unwitting pillow's neck, all curl and poof. She's drooling a little bit, onto the other girl's shirt, mouth hung slightly open as she snores.

Marcy smiles to herself. Anne refuses to believe it, and always says Sasha makes it up to embarrass her, but she always snores...

Anne.

Sasha.

Anne is here. Her head is on Sasha's shoulder.

There's a moment where Marcy is still. The echoes of their voices fill her mind- a scream of despair in unison- "MARCY!"

The rest of the thought is just a blur. She can't think straight. Everything is flashes, and pain, and she whimpers without realizing it, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to will the thoughts away.

There's the sound of a shuddering, waking breath, and the intake of a quiet gasp. Marcy hears movement, and then the weight of a hand on her cheek, and her eyes flutter back open to stare up into Sasha's.

"Marcy."

Sasha smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a deep happiness, an expression Marcy's only seen on her face a few times.

Marcy stares back at her childhood friend, and her eyes start to fill with tears.

. . .

I wrote my first Amphibia fanfic! It's 5675 words, a complete hurt/comfort oneshot about Marcy dreaming before, during and after Olivia & Yunan. There's... a lot of Sashannarcy. Is this a coping mechanism? Maybe. Shut up. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for beta reading and offering advice, @thesugarcookieday! It means the world to me.

If you reply, sender can see when you are online.

Anne Boonchuy - sent Thursday, 2:14AM

Hi, Sasha.

I don't know if you still check this account. I get it if you see this and don't reply, too.

I was thinking of when we used to hang out together with Marcy Wu, back in middle school. I know those aren't all the best memories but they still come up sometimes. It's strange to think about how we spent so much time together and then one day we just didn't.

I know we both kinda made that decision. It's hard for me to remember everything that happened around it? But I guess it was for the best back then.

I caught back up with Marcy the other day. She's been going to CIT! I always knew she would pull off something big like that. She says she hasn't heard from you in a while, and we both wondered how you were doing.

So how are you? How's life? Are you still in LA? I saw you're in a punk rock band on a poster the other day. Sasha of the Sharps in the the bigtime! We always knew you'd make it.

I guess this is all a complicated buildup to a silly question. I don't mind if you tell me about that kinda stuff. I always like hearing about how old friends lives are going, even if we haven't talked in a while. But I guess the real question I wanted to ask is just...

Have you been having weird dreams lately?

this chatlog of mr and mrs boonchuy talking is a clever ruse to get you to read my emotional 4k fic about anne crying with sprig over the bench where she opened the box for the first time

and also mr. boonchuy loving his wife. that's a good plus.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35219158

[image alt text under the readmore]

oh my heart, how can I face you now?/when we both know how badly I have let you down [x]

Sasha stood still in the middle of the road, and her grip on the hilt in her hand loosened. Her boots sank slightly in the damp and the wet, soaking another layer of mud onto her worn boots. Her eyes were wide in disbelief.

"Sasha?"

The girl was turning, her shining blue eyes seeking her out, her hand raised, soles of her shoes drifting inches above the muddy earth, unspoiled, clean. Her hand (shining with blue, too, laced with it,) released the grip of the metal under her fist (it crumpled like paper,) Sasha thought to herself, (like a page of homework she failed, red ink on white). The eyes of the droid that had been facing her flickered and died in a hiss of lost electronics, a canceled signal that never left its body. It slumped to the ground as she let go in a clatter of metal and sound.

Sasha's fingers went loose and the sword fell to the mud without even so much ceremony, just a thud as it found wet earth. Her eyes filled with tears and Anne's image blurred until it was only blue fire in her sight.

She turned, and she ran.

Anne drifted down to the ground with the wind as the fierce fire left her eyes. She slumped to her knees in the muddy earth besides the battered metal body, and her hands found the blade in the dirt and the muck.

Her fingers tightened around the sword, and it did not cut her skin.

Here's the guide to my original Amphibia posts! Clicking on the individual tag will bring you to all the posts in my blog in that category, including drabbles, sketches and the 3am theories that didn't make it to big fancy post land. I love to see notes pop up on older work, so don't feel weird about liking or reblogging from the archive. Thanks for stopping by, and sorry for missing you... lunch, you know, is the most important meal of the day...