#aya writes

[hirayaea]

xavier is just casually saying things like this in the office

tara for sure is squealing somewhere in the background

meanwhile, someone nero mutters, “some of us are single, you know…”

/

xavier doesn’t deny allegations when asked if you’re together

in fact, this man is so sly he fans the flames on purpose, but when you ask him about it he just goes: “hmmm? I told them we’re partners”

/

the next day, a “no flirting” sign is posted in the office

xavier is clueless, “who was flirting?” he asks, as he brings you a cup of iced coffee and mixes the gum syrup in front of you, drinking a bit of it himself before handing it to you

“we should share one coffee cup so there’s less trash”, he says, oblivious that tara is still giggling and the other men in the office want to shake him

/

somehow a sign also ends up at jeremiah’s flower shop

xavier asks where are the signs coming from???

jeremiah shrugs, “I don’t know about the one in your office, but I‘ve had that one for years”

/

source: memoria - fluffy trap

#ok this turned into a long headcanon post but bear with me #mc isn’t blameless either she was flirting back. IN THE OFFICE #gosh these two #jeremiah probably sent the sign in an anonymous e-mail #the email reads ‘it won’t help but you can try’ #jeremiah is so tired of this #seiya continues to ruin my life #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier #aya writes #my guiding star

[writeyourdarlings]

bucky was always drawn to lights - any kind of light. study lamp, street lights, fairy lights around a christmas tree, the light coming from behind the curtain of a window, even the light coming out of a firework or a laptop screen. the swift changing from darkness to brightness served as a symbol of healing to him, especially after the winter soldier happened.

now, christmas was truthfully bucky's favourite time of the year, because there's so much lights to see in his hometown and steve knew how much bucky loved the season. thus, during another christmas, after 2 days of snowstorm, steve gently woke him up at noon with a forehead kiss and asked him his favourite question: "want to go for a walk and check out all the lights?"

bucky beamed and got out of his bed immediately, causing steve to chuckle at himself. he went toward his wardrobe, getting dressed in layers and layers of thermal clothes, with bulky sweater, a pair of gloves, and a coat. after that, he walked towards the door, then he could see their xmas tree standing firm in their living room. it wasn't too big, but full of lights, balls, angels, many other decorations and a santa claus near the top, where steve put a big comet star. there was also a bunch of scented candles, some cakes, covers, and little things which steve had bought for old people living alone in a hospice near their town. plus, a pack of dog and cat foods, which were living in captivity into a kennel in their town. it warmed bucky's heart to see how steve prepared so much for christmas. however, steve wasn't actually a festive person, but once he found out bucky loved christmas, his reason of buying gifts and things was just: "i don't know, guess i just want to do so many things with you."

steve looked up at him after lacing his boots and said, "ready?"

bucky smiled and nodded excitedly.

shortly after, they walked together side by side and steve took bucky's hand to hold it and keep it warm. he didn't know where they would be headed, but he'd just let steve guide him along their journey. the snow made a crunching sound under their boots, like walking on a cup of granita. he could hear children's laugh and jingle bells song on every street corner they passed.

he watched steve with full affection, while the blond guy was staring into the distance. he loved that being with steve, he didn't have to say anything to him. just... silence. and nothing was wrong with silence. silence was not awkward. he didn't have to bother filling the cold air. the cold air brushing his rosy cheeks felt amazing. and between their holding hands, there lied something so comforting and safe.

now the residue of the past turns into dust; and everything’s sparkling beautifully under the christmas lights. those days of him being the winter soldier were left burried and forgotten, because all he chose to remember now was steve. his last flicker of light before the dark.

#i got this short scenario in my mind and it's not even christmas yet haha (well just a month away)😆 #i'm trying to practice my writing #aya writes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky fic #short fic #stevebucky fic

[not-really-a-writer]

A Kiss Goodbye

A poem about one sided love, giving up on the idea of being with that person romantically because they don't love you back. 💔

When we met, I closed my eyes

hoped you were a good man, and then

You were! And before I knew,

you were calling me honey and babe

instead of my name

and I loved it.

My heart stirred, awake

aware of a closeness together

but we were miles apart

in stormy weather.

Time flew, fleeting

forgot I was only dreaming

of you falling in love with me.

My eyes weren't open

didn't see you pushing

me so far away

because I wasn't what you wanted.

I guess it's time to kiss goodbye

not to you but to the things I dreamed:

of us someday

when we loved each other

and I could call you mine.

#aya writes #original work #poetry #heartbreak #one sided pining #unrequited love #yearning #angst #breakups #sad poems #breakup poem #he loves me not #unrequited feelings #feeling sad

[ayatier]

Sharing old gposes. My EB partner and I are having our 1-year ceremony soon in a couple of weeks from now.

We had our Eternal Bond ceremony before Endwalker expansion dropped. We walked MOST of the way to Endwalker together, experiencing it almost to the T, queuing for dungeons and trials together. When we started back in the 2.0 days when it was just ARR, we didn't know each other back then -but I'm glad I ended this expansion with you still here.

But nothing made me happier being bonded to such a delicate person as yourself, my EB partner. My glam-loving friend. I'm glad it was you who I had the ceremony with. You, who love the same gender. Me, with no attraction to any gender. Sometimes I wondered if things that have happened to us, certainly was our fate?

Words cannot express what I think of our friendship. You, whom stayed. We both who have had people loved to leave in our many years of living. We, who are similar in emotions. We, who shared tears and laughs over VC. We, who loves to teleport to each other. We, who could talk for hours. We, who are not committed -I hope you know I'm always wishing for your happiness and many successes in life.

#aya thoughts #aya writes

[shyam-kariya]

Now this is my love language🌸🌻

#tumko dekha to ye khayal aya #zindagi dhoop #tum ghana sayaa #radha ka shyam #shyam writes

[ataraxiaspainting]

It's Cold Outside.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: A stranger has weaseled his way into every aspect of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con/dub-con (the reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs but non-consensually), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, threats of violence, stalking, manipulation, Chrollo the Creepster, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley

Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

Who Is She? by I Monster

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

4:00A.M. by Taeko Onuki

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Sonne by Rammstein

The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground

*~*~*~*

i. “Technicolor worlds with white clouds are bound to be destroyed by silver snow.”

When you step into your house, it is like you are instantly transported back to a year ago. Everything in sight, from the walls to the shelves, has decorations of some kind, whether going all out with the kitchen table having an entire feast of delicious holiday treats made by your grandparents, or just a green and red painting of a Christmas tree placed in your older sister’s usually monochromatic room. Perhaps the painting is yet another way she proves that she can somewhat react well to requests to change her room a little bit. Even if the painting is on the farthest wall from the door and is partially hidden from view by the many anime figurines and books larger than your head. Your mother claims that it is a miracle she convinced her to put up any holiday decorations in her room at all and thus doesn’t bother her further. 

Each room also has a different festive scent, your younger sister’s room having a hot chocolate scent mixed with the smell of piled up dishes on her desk, most coming from when she was ‘helping’ your grandparents cook by ‘testing to make sure the food isn't poison’.

How heroic of her to sacrifice herself for the family.

Your room, you think, looks much better than your sisters’ combined, having decked it out to the maximum by taking out all of your Halloween decorations and replacing them with Christmas ones. It took you the whole weekend, sure, and caused you to break the bank, but your love for accessories outweighs your logic and reason by quite a lot. Your beloved record player is back on your table that also simultaneously houses your television and jewelry playing Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas. A wreath larger than your torso is on your door and your room smells like all the holiday air fresheners you found in your closet. Pine, peppermint, orange, lemon, cranberry… all mix to make a beautiful festive scent unmatched by even your parents’ bedroom. Everything is how it should be, and how it always is every year.

Well, almost. A man named Chrollo, a man who gives you anything but comfort, has been invited to your family-only yearly Christmas party. When your father, who has always been too protective of you and your sisters and never lets you spend time with the opposite gender, told you that Chrollo of all people would be attending, you tried to argue otherwise. You tried telling him that none of you had known Chrollo for so long, but he had rebutted Chrollo’s lie that you had known him for over a year with you two developing a close bond. You realized it was too late then, and Chrollo had charmed your entire family, with even your older sister always having a smile on her face whenever she saw him at her workplace. 

ii. “Like actors, each snowflake has a different role to play. They sing along with every step of a boot as a deceitful way to express their pain.”

The moment the doorbell chimes, its piercing resonance assaults your eardrums and causes an unsettling shiver to course through your spine.

You find yourself in an unsettling situation as your family eagerly awaits, and to your dismay, you are the designated individual tasked with the responsibility of opening the door. You two are such good friends, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.

You want to say he is lying, to tell them everything, every threat he has told you, him meaning them or otherwise. But as soon as they know of what Chrollo really and truly is, they will meet a painful end; that being pushed onto train tracks, their drink being laced with a poison that destroys the body from the inside out, or having nails thrusted into their bloody palms as they hang on their bedroom wall as you look in horror. Elton, Anya, and Robert all being examples of such… You don’t want to think of the bodies just waiting to rot around the Riverbend, your fault or otherwise.

You also don’t want to drown in this river. A river inhospitable to any aquatic life whatsoever, and only harbors a barrier of carnivorous plants that eat those who dare come close. Butterworts, large lilac purple ones that feel like they have been dipped in the most tempting butter mixed with forbidden fruit and honey produced by none other than the queen bee herself. Are you the fly, or are they? You have no idea, and you don’t want to find out.

“Hello.” Your response is concise and devoid of warmth, with a noticeable absence of your usual cheerful demeanor evident in your expression and tone.

Chrollo's smile is so sinister that even the most depraved devil's grin would pale in comparison, with all the large gift bags behind him swinging like a tail.

“Ah, [First]. Happy holidays. No need to be so cold, you know. The snow is already doing that for you. So-”

Despite your strong desire to slam the door in his face, you choose to step aside and allow him entry, in an attempt to silence him.

“Put the gifts by the tree by the kitchen table. The white table and not the black one.”

However, rather than fulfilling your expectations, all he does is elicit a burst of laughter so unique that it resonates within you, while discreetly handing over the most colossal gift bag, compelling you to accept it as if under some intangible force.

“Just a little something. I know it’s customary to wait until later but… I simply can’t help myself. Open it whenever you get the chance, dearest.”

…He means right now, in your room, doesn’t he? Perhaps he installed a camera in your room as you slept, he has certainly threatened to do that before. Or maybe he will just spy on you through the little space between the door and the frame. He has done that before, after all. 

…

You resisted the urge to scream when you saw a picture of your mother sleeping blissfully, the camera focused on her ring finger with the caption Should I take another souvenir? written on it, but the card, as beautiful as it appeared with a lace envelope and your name written in script on the card’s cover above Chrollo’s, proved to be even more of a challenge. When you read the words on it, your heart plunges so deeply that you fear your gastric acid will erode it.

Save your tears. For even if you cry to the whole world, it will never be enough to make me disappear. Meet me outside in five minutes, and make whatever excuse you deem necessary. No exceptions.

As you begin to read further, a wave of fragrant and delicate floral scents envelops your senses, instantly igniting a warm sensation in your head, leaving no time for contemplation.

Trying to ignore your slight dizziness, you read the rest of the card.

Just a little something to make sure you do this. We wouldn’t want your family to see you in… what state you are about to be in, do we?

…Just what did he do to you?

iii. “With the burden of wintertime ending, nature spends time creating beautiful trees and flowers. To accompany them, she makes twisted vines and weeds, for she knows that without them there cannot be balance or purpose in being comfortably numb.”

You were on your back, on his bed, within what felt like one second, not remembering the car ride over to his place, your wrists pinned beneath the strength of one of Chrollo's hands while he looked down at you within another, his other undoing the tie of the bandana on his forehead and showing you, for the very first time, of the cross tattoo underneath it.

All you can do is watch your whole world slow down and be replaced by a dream.

A blissful and sweet dream, as sugary as saccharine and as dissolvable as cotton candy, that is a veil and covers your eyes from what is happening; until it is too late, until you feel some of his fingers go into the band of your skirt and start pulling and pulling, downward, and that is when terror went to combat with your unwanted lust.

“...What… are… you… doing…? Chroooooo…” Your words slur as your mind buzzes with euphoria, and you can feel every sensation in vivid detail, every touch and every breath feeling heightening and intoxicating. As much as you want to, you can’t tell him to stop, not now.

“Shh, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” At least that is what you think he said, because as Chrollo spoke, you struggled to decipher his words amidst the haze that enveloped your mind. Reality fragments, leaving you unable to muster the strength to plead for him to cease. “It will feel oh so very good, I promise. Very, very nice and very, very good.” With that, you come to realize the wetness between your rubbing thighs, amidst the cloudiness and the larger-than-life headache that rips your skull apart. “Do you trust me?” The voice sounds almost heartfelt, not as intimate as it could be, but it was still more than enough for your hands to cling to him and pull him in closer, faster, so he could relieve you of this hell. “I will assume that that is a yes.” His hands move to the two buttons on your blouse, undoing them with ease, softly, gently, like it was a baby bird. 

“Faster… faster…!” You feel like a man who hasn’t seen water on any day of their life, and if you lose the location of the oasis you are sure to never find it again. 

Like a man lost in the desert, you choke on imaginary quicksand, soon to drown if water does not save you.

“Aw, such a precious little thing, aren’t you?” You are gently flipped over in an instant and he unbuckles your bra, quickly. 

“If you love me… really love me… make me feel better… please.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He flips you over again and his fingers lower to your panties, pulling them down from your trembling legs, just like he did with your skirt. “You trust me after all, don’t you?”

You cry out yes after utterly desperate yes, as he watches, his smile getting wider as he starts undoing his belt. He puts a finger on your lips after he has heard enough, shushing you gently.   

“Then trust me when I say that this, my dear, is for your own good.”

Beneath the surface, whether it be shallow or not, you have no desire to comprehend his intentions.

You don’t want to know. You just want this to go away.

iv. “Through discoveries, there is a hint of madness that enters our minds. Only then can we see our world’s colors change from squid ink and bone to begonias and finches.”

Chrollo undoes his belt, then his pants, and then his boxers. You focus on his face to ignore what is currently nearly touching the side of the mattress by a hair or two, hard and enlarged and slightly pink and-

He takes off his shirt button after button, much, much, much slower than how he took off the rest of his clothing. There exists a deep-seated anger within you, yet it is accompanied by a sense of gratitude, as both you and he are aware of your mutual aversion towards this situation.

Despite both of you being aware that this is not your desired outcome, he still kisses you, gently, full of warmth, and tenderly. What you truly desire is to satisfy the ache within you. But he won’t give it to you yet, will he?

Time seems to drag on as his kisses get faster, and more hungry, with his tongue essentially becoming another of your muscles, wet, and neither wanted nor unwanted. 

Eventually, you get what you want, after enough begging for him to just get it over with. At the beginning, there is a gentle caress resembling a warm and velvety rose petal. However, as time progresses, the touch becomes increasingly forceful until his fingers enter. But it does not hurt. Should you be thankful for that? At least he is being nice.

He starts thrusting, and that also does not hurt. No soreness. You won't feel any discomfort until your eyes meet, causing a sensation that almost makes you want to throw up, were it not for the illicit satisfaction this dreadful encounter brings. It's a peculiar kind of pain, one that lingers like a ghost stealthily gliding through walls, catching you off guard before you can comprehend its presence.

Nothing hurts, and that in of itself gives you the most pain anyone could imagine. 

v. “Heat lightning gives way to summer storms and verdant wind. This makes for a hauntingly beautiful melody of ripples and thunder.”

“…And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.”

vi. “The dead, fallen leaves of autumn come in many shades from bright red to a dull brown. They flow with the wind from one place to the next as invitations from those who passed on to the living.”

#TIME TO WRITE SIN.......... #(sweats nervously) #author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #hxh #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #chrollo hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #not sfw #yandere hxh x reader #hxh x reader

[il-predestinato]

Apparently a renowned poet posted something on Twitter about Lestappen, his name is Richard Siken

The way I screamed when I saw that yesterday - 🙈🙊

No but for real, every single poem is about them:

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #richard siken #poetry #quotes #writing inspo #elle.ask #anon #the days when aya and i would scream at each other over richard siken poems… good times

[teecupangel]

Bayek meeting Desmond?

Like, Desmond gets transported back to Egyptian times and becomes a merchant or protector of some small town, and Bayek comes waltzing through.

They meet and Desmond (who may be a bit thick) doesn't connect the Hidden Ones/Assassin/Medjay relationship. And Bayek just sees this guy who might be Greek and obviously isn't Egyptian protecting this small Egyptian town. Chaos ensues.

Romance may bloom?

It would be possible for Desmond to not put two and two together because he’s never even heard of the Hidden Ones and only saw Amunet’s statue as a ‘proto-Assassin’.

There’s also this sense of loyalty he feels towards the ‘Assassin Brotherhood’ as a title because of his Bleed of Altaïr.

As far as he knows, their Creed started with the Brotherhood.

And the Hidden Ones do their best to stay out of sight after what had happened before in Sinai.

It also helps that the small town he decided to dig his roots in was an out of the way peaceful town.

They rarely get visitors and, even when they do, those people turn out to either be a relative of one or more of the townspeople or a traveler who got lost.

Desmond got a small house with a small plot of land that can be converted to farmland by saving the son of the village chief who had been chased by a pack of wild animals and had to climb a tree in fear.

Desmond had just been passing by, debating if he should try his luck in going to what would later be called Levant or to just… stop somewhere and try to build a life there.

He was so tired.

So very tired.

And the people of the town had been kind to him. They didn’t ask why he was traveling all by himself.

They even stopped asking about his past after Desmond told them it was a ‘not a kind one’.

And now, here he was…

Working on his farm using the knowledge he had from the small farm that the Farm had, the books Altaïr and Ezio had read during their lifetime about agriculture and the tips and suggestions from his neighbors and fellow townspeople.

And one day…

He appears.

Bayek of Siwa.

He calls himself a traveler.

A few drinks later and he admits to being the last Medjay, traveling the lands to ensure its peace and to help those who need a hand.

Desmond had simply been in the village’s house with most of the men because they wished to present a united front in front of a traveler armed to the teeth.

Desmond saw his missing ring finger and thought of it as a coincidence.

Then…

Their paths intersect once more while Desmond was out in the wilderness near the town, bow in hand and quiver filled with arrows to hunt.

They met by accident and Bayek admits that he heard there were ruins nearby.

Desmond heard the tale, of course.

An ancient city, deep underground, holding the ground from caving in and burying everything with strong stable pillars too many to count.

Desmond has heard of the tales.

And he knew the name.

To be more exact…

His Bleed of Altaïr knew of the name…

Imar.

The fabled City of Pillars.

He also knows that this city was supposed to be somewhere in Levant or near Levant, not here in Egypt.

The tale the villagers would tell their children was that it wasn’t a city.

It was an underground road that would lead to the fabled city.

Desmond never saw anything, not even his Eagle Vision could find anything of interest in this town or anywhere nearby.

The most interesting thing his Eagle Vision had pinged was the gold in the village chief’s house and that was actually the chest where he stored the funds he would use to maintain the towns’ buildings and roads.

But if this man believes he can find that city then Desmond felt the need to follow him.

Because if there really was an underground city or a road that would lead to it nearby?

That could only mean…

There was an Isu facility nearby.

… and perhaps a POE as well.

.

.

.

Cue a DLC-length storyline of Bayek looking for an underground city with a mysterious young man who seems to embody the core principles of a Hidden One.

#desmond doesn’t have a hidden blade #otherwise bayek would be super sus of him already #desmond doesn’t recognize bayek’s hidden blade #because (1) he uses his sword and shield most of the time and #(2) bayek’s hidden blade look a lot like a normal gauntlet in desmond’s eyes #this is after the main story and dlcs #so that bayek and aya have both moved on #ask and answer #what do we call this? #baymond #baydes #XD #assassin's creed #desmond miles #bayek of siwa #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed

[demigoddessqueens]

more fluff 💞

a fluff headcanon companion piece to this Haytham request

Ezio

Oh he’s pulling all the stops to impress you, night life in Florence and all over, the most romantic dates, and though he’s flirtatious, there’s a genuine feeling to it

Edward

Lets you take the helm of the Jackdaw sometimes, brings you along to his missions, tells you of life back home, long talks under the stars that light up the sea

Jacob

Likes spending time with you by sneaking away to any of the pubs or rooftops

Eivor

Watching the Northern Lights with you whenever they pass over because of how your face lights up in joy

Bayek

You’ve taken riding trips with him sometimes and also found an oasis refuge

Aveline

A bit of a shopping trip, canon or au, can turn your frown upside down

Connor

Very fond of taking nature walks with you, hunting trips, or tasting whatever delicious dishes you’ve concocted

Yusuf

He’ll want to take you all over Istanbul, admiring her night life and numerous shops to offer

Altair

Likes talking philosophy with you, training or admiring the views from the rooftops of Masyaf

Evie

She likes a good book/library date with you

Kassandra

There was a grotto spot you two stumbled across to get away from the more city life

Arno

A tragic romanticist that takes you along to see the Paris skyline, dates at the Cafe Theater or dancing under the chandeliers

Henry

He likes making you tea or recommending a book for you, maybe even cuddling you with a good book

Aya

She likes practicing archery with you, or just using it as an excuse to hold onto you 😉

#assassin's creed #altaïr ibn la’ahad #altair ibn la'ahad x reader #ezio auditore da firenze #assassins creed x reader #my writing #headcanons #ezio auditore x reader #kassandra of sparta #writeblr #jacob frye x reader #evie frye #arno dorian x reader #eivor wolfsmal #edward kenway x reader #aya of alexandria #bayek of siwa #yusuf tazim #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway x reader #henry green #jayadeep mir #bayek x reader #aveline de grandpre

[seuonji]

彡 your voice. — choi seungcheol

notes ๑ angst-ish?

warnings ๑ indication of consumption of alcohol — drunk characters

word count ๑ 0.1k

your phone buzzed.

it was 2am and you were getting a call from an unknown number. actually it was more like a number without a contact name. you recognised the number, somehow you remembered it by heart but you could be hallucinating. what were the chances it was actually him?

out of concern, you picked up and from the other line, you heard a desperate, raspy voice, “pick up please.”

your heart dropped.

“ynnie.”

“hello?” you whispered.

“yn,” he slurred. “i’m forgetting your voice,” he continued.

“seungcheol?”

“please just talk.”

it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to him, how is it he’s here, begging you to speak now?

“i miss you.”

“wha- are you okay?”

“i’m fine, just want to hear your voice.”

you were silent and you could hear quiet, sullen murmurs from him.

you didn’t know if you should oblige to your ex’s wishes. but perhaps just this once, you could. after all, you’ve never heard him so vulnerable before.

#i’m bored and want to write but have writers block… #crying #🐚☆ #📢aya wrote! #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #choi seungcheol x reader #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol angst #scoups #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups x y/n #scoups imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt angst #svt imagines #svt scenarios

[romance-rambles]

319 ROSES AND A DATE

Alkaid gets asked on a date by the girl he desperately wanted to ask out, at least before he found out who the flowers were for. You'd like to maintain that nothing you said was a lie.

— pairing: [modern] alkaid mcgrath x little painter/you

— word count: 2.8k

— tags: takes place after alkaid's florist ending [everything else happens the same way, except alkaid's first meeting with mc happens after godheim], misunderstandings [not unrequited love], some angst

— note: i was moved to try and write a flower shop au at least once after godheim but destiny's call really helped me out. handed me everything on a gold platter and said, "go to town, aya."

return to lbc masterlist | series: none

ALKAID STARES DOWN BLANKLY AT the bouquet of white roses in his hands. At some point during his stunned silence, he had unwittingly taken them off yours, just as you had hoped for.

All 319 of them, to be precise—which is a number that, put in a different context, can also refer to 3/19, the day of his birth. Even with the limited capacity he has at the moment to sort out the events that led up to this moment, he can't help the way his heart flutters at the knowledge that you remembered, even though so much time has passed.

"Alkaid?" A gentle tap against his shoulder robs the flowers of their spotlight. "Do you...not like the flowers?"

He looks up and sees you, still here—still dressed so beautifully he's once more in danger of succumbing to asphyxiation, with a fretful expression that makes him wonder if he's already there. When he does not respond, you close the remaining distance between them, obscuring all else from his vision.

It is a problem only because he has nowhere left to run.

"No," he croaks out finally, leaning back over the counter to accommodate you.

Obliviously, you move closer, leaving him with no choice but to avert his gaze once more. Alkaid can only hope you aren't offended—that you don't think he finds you unattractive, with how often he does so. It's only that your beaming smile reminds him of what it feels like to stare down the sun.

"They're lovely."

Satisfied with his answer, you pull back. Your hands are clasped behind your back, and your ponytail sways slightly, once more retreating behind your shoulder. There's an adorable star-shaped pin fastened onto the strap of your cross-body bag.

He sighs discretely, relieved, and pulls the bouquet up to his face as casually as he can. The petals, he hopes, will be enough to cover up the deep scarlet staining his cheeks.

"I'm glad!" You clap your hands together. "I was worried they wouldn't be to your liking. Maybe I should've asked you what your favorite flower was before I tried asking you out."

A self-deprecating laugh slips out as you scratch your cheek. An intricate design spans the length of your nail now—shades of red and green shaped into what he can clearly recognize as halves of a rose hugging the edges—against a black background.

Alkaid bites his lip, converting the interrupted gasp into a quiet exhale.

"You guessed right. I like white roses," he says, hoping desperately that his words are nothing less than reassuring. "Though they share that spot with lilies as well."

"Lilies," you repeat, a determined gleam in your lovely eyes. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

He bites his lip harder.

THE MORNING HE'S DUE TO hand off your flowers, Alkaid finds himself contemplating the benefits of coffee behind the register.

Though his favorite concealer and his usual color corrector have done much to brighten up his undereyes, they can do little for the grogginess that comes with staying awake the whole night (Why such a specific number? Who are they for? Do you remember him at all?). And, by the time the clock strikes nine, he's already downed three cups of strongly-brewed tea.

What pushes him to finally break away from his usual preferences is a simple headache.

The store is empty, and there remains more than half an hour before you're set to arrive. A sharp twinge of pain in the side of his head as he stands up to check on your flowers draws out a careful hiss. Alkaid, with some amount of lingering hesitance, flips the sign on his door to closed, with a note explaining the rough length of absence. Then he walks out the door, his destination the artsy cafe across the street—the one that makes him think of you whenever he walks in.

Allen, the normally deadpan barista on duty, seems to shut down when Alkaid corrects him on his order. Soon, the news spreads to the rest of the employees, who take turns staring at him as he leaves with a warm thermos of coffee in his hands.

But, in the end, it proves to be an unnecessary trip.

You're already in front of his flower shop when he returns, half-crouched and studying the sign the way someone might study a work of abstract art. Today, too, you have a large, dark blue backpack slung over both your shoulders, its surface decorated with various pins and stickers—mostly of a cat, your cat, but also of a popular manga that you seem to like.

In Passing, that is.

It's about a love triangle featuring a tyrant emperor and a well-liked leader of the rebellion. Even without the reviews praising it for subverting expectations, Alkaid would've picked it up anyway.

He's on the third volume right now, and—

Hmm? His eyebrows furrow. Where did I leave it? In my bag?

All of a sudden, the sleep that had been so insistent on dragging his eyelids down vanishes. Alkaid wracks his brain desperately for the answers, stomach churning at the thought of you finding out about his latest reading material.

Unfortunately, you choose that moment to turn around.

"Oh, Alkaid!"

Your confused expression soon melts away, leaving behind only a cheerful smile. Tightening his grip on his thermos, he exhales silently, before flashing you a gentle smile.

"You're here." Time stops as you begin to approach him, your keychains singing a short jingle to accompany you. Your expression softens, as does your voice. "You didn't forget about me, right?"

Alkaid can only sputter out a half-coherent apology.

The words get drowned out by the insistent, purposeful beating of his heart. It's as if it wants to claw itself out of his chest and entrust itself to your hands, as it is, with shattered bones sticking out of it.

You laugh prettily, as always. "It's okay. I'm just joking."

Then, like a moth to a flame, his gaze falls upon your lips. A soft red, with a glossy sheen, one that matches the color of your skirt. On a plain canvas, it's all the more striking. It leaves him wondering about things he, currently a stranger, shouldn't be fretting over.

He's not sure how long he stares for, with slightly parted lips and a series of half-realized thoughts chiding at him to stop—only that it's not long enough for you to grow uncomfortable.

Alkaid clears his throat, holding up his thermos (I should've bought her something too, he thinks) as an explanation. "I apologize for the wait. I went over to the cafe across the street."

"Coffee lover?" you guess, making room for him to open the door.

"I'm usually more of a tea person." As he slips inside the store, he can't help but chuckle self-consciously, remembering all the different ways he imagined this scene playing out. Naturally, his next words are nothing more than the most blatant lie he's ever told. "I thought I'd try something else for a change."

"Is it a nice place?" Upon seeing the puzzled look he sends over his shoulder, you clarify, "The cafe. I've seen the reviews, but I think only experience can beat the testimony of someone you know."

He considers your question for a moment. "The staff is very friendly. I often stop by during lunch for their sandwiches."

"I see..." you murmur.

"I think you'd like it," Alkaid blurts out as he slips in behind the register, happy to note that his copy of Volume 3 is, in fact, in his bag. "The owner enjoys collecting art—there's a lot of different paintings all over the cafe. Um, since you're an art major."

"Well, now I have to try it out." You don't seem particularly startled that he knows about your major; instead, you take to drawing patterns across the wooden countertop. He thinks he sees the familiar curve of an A. "The cookies you recommended last time were really great too."

When he keeps his silence, the complete opposite of what the state of his mind currently is (she remembers?), you look up.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head, confusion clouding your once smiling expression. "Do I have the wrong person? You're Alkaid, right? From that time in the snow mountains?"

He forces himself to nod, but that too is enough.

A shy smile blossoms on your lips, paired with both a brief flash of relief flitting through your gaze and the slight, almost imperceptible widening of your eyes. Placing your hands above your heart, you sigh exaggeratedly.

"You had me worried for a moment," you say. Your eyelashes cast a dark shadow on your undereyes. "I thought we'd never meet again."

For a moment, he wonders if there's more to your sorrow than you let on. Does it have anything to do with the way you disappeared? Somewhere so far away that no one could reach you at all?

Alkaid shakes off his thoughts.

"But we did," he responds carefully. I never thought we'd meet again either, he does not say instead. "Whether it was destiny, whether it was just a coincidence, we did. All we can do is make the most of it."

A tinge of sadness mars your lovely smile. "I think that sounds lovely."

SOON AFTER THEIR REUNION, DONE properly this time, down to exchanging numbers, Alkaid excuses himself to go fetch your flowers. When he returns, lovesick heart brimming with curiosity over the recipient's identity once more, he finds you've returned to doodling on the counter.

"Here they are, 319 white roses," he announces.

There's a blank expression on your face when you look up. Slowly, as recognition dawns upon you, it melts away to something bitter and rough. Its jagged edges dig into his his heart, leaving a paralyzing mix of sadness and longing to wash over him.

And then—

"Thank you," you say, and take the flowers off his hand.

His hand twitches, yearning for the camera he still keeps in his backpack, for the days where he feels like memorializing something instead. Lovely is the only word he has to describe you as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and pull the bouquet close with a faint smile.

Then, you close your eyes, and you inhale deeply. Once more, you are somewhere else—somewhere far, somewhere he can't reach.

"Ah, sorry." You crack one eye open. Now, the bouquet is clutched against your chest, but your sadness remains. "I guess I'm a bit nervous. I don't know if he'll like the flowers."

He? From some far corner of his mind, he recalls the image of your guardian. A tall man, with long silver hair and a pleasant, but guarded expression. Cael, he thinks is the name.

"For your guardian?" Alkaid inquires.

Your smile drops entirely at the mention of your guardian. A complicated series of emotions flash in your gaze, soon averted to one of the potted plants at the display. Scratching your cheek, you offer him a polite laugh.

Today, only some of your nails are a plain black. The rest remain bare.

"No, it's not for Cael." You answer carefully. "Actually—"

Looking down at the flowers, you take a deep breath. When next you speak, your voice has reclaimed the softness it'd shown him earlier—your searching gaze as well. You leave him with the truth, imparting it onto him like a mischievous secret.

"There's someone I'd like to ask out."

His stomach drops, and you leave him with the memory of lovelorn smile, forever imprinted behind his eyelids.

"I hope he says yes."

[3:00 PM] you: Alkaid, do you have any plans tonight?

[3:17 PM] alkaid: No, I'm free

[3:21 PM] alkaid: Did something happen?

[3:22 PM] you:

[3:22 PM] you: I haven't asked him out yet. Gonna do it soon

[3:23 PM] you: All of my other friends are busy rn.

[3:24 PM] you: Is it okay if I stop by after you close up shop?

[3:24 PM] you: I'd want to talk to someone about it

[4:31 PM] alkaid: Of course

SOMEHOW, ALKAID MANAGES TO GET through the rest of the day.

His heart is held together haphazardly with duct tape and carefully-placed staples, though their efforts are thwarted constantly by a popular refrain (You hardly know him. Of course there's someone else.), and he's one stubbed toe away from being reduced to tears, but he manages. Somehow.

He swallows down his what-ifs and maybes and waits, watching the hands on his wristwatch inch ever closer to six in the evening. And eventually, the vaguely promised time arrives.

As he's stepping out from behind the register, a familiar chime echoes cuts through the silence. Alkaid looks up and sees you, dressed still in red and black, your turtleneck and skirt swapped out for a knee-length dress.

"Hi."

The bouquet of white roses—held in both hands, a stark contrast to the black leather jacket you're wearing—covers up its neckline. You smile sheepishly at him, pulling at the mesh of your bright red skirt to mimic a curtsy.

You're beautiful. Even the flowers surrounding them pale in comparison. Even the aurora they'd seen together pales in comparison. You rob him of his breath and leave gasping for a reprieve, but so long as he keeps his memory in even the smallest capacity, that's simply impossible.

The familiar knife called jealousy stabs into his heart, leaving him keenly aware of his longing. He averts his gaze, but the damage has already been done. You are beautiful, and he has waited years to see you.

"Hi." Alkaid swallows uncomfortably, as the sound of your footsteps draws closer. In a panic, his hands brace themselves against the edge of the counter. "Was something wrong with the flowers? I thought—"

A mysterious expression sits upon your features when you pull his gaze onto you, seemingly oblivious to your magnetic power.

With a deep breath, you thrust the flowers at him, knuckles brushing against his chest. You pull back for a moment, taking your flowers with you, and the soft coral of your blush makes it difficult to discern whether you find yourself a victim the of same scarlet blooming across his cheeks.

"That's—" You cough politely. There's a heart-shaped pendant dangling from your golden necklace. The dress is either strapless or your jacket has covered up the straps. "—what I'm here to find out."

Alkaid tilts his head. His confused gaze darts across his surroundings and stops at the glass window of the store's display, thinking perhaps that your mystery boy might be outside. But while the streets are not barren, there is no one outside his store.

You say his name in the same way you told him your secret. Like it's something precious. Like it's something you love. And the truth begins to settle into his bones with a finality that deafens the half-coherent puzzle pieces he's been trying to fit together—he is the only one you could possibly ask out in this empty store.

He has no choice but to look back. At you, and the bouquet you're offering him.

"Would you like to go to the movies with me?"

AND THAT IS HOW HE finds himself with the beginnings of a bruise forming on his lip. He doesn't mind, not when the sting he feels as he wets his lip reminds him that this is not, in fact, a dream (It feels like it though, he thinks), nor a fantasy.

"You...you don't have a girlfriend, do you? It's been a while since then..."

You rub your arm lightly, muttering about something he can't understand, and what else is Alkaid meant to do but take your hand? He squeezes it gently, tickled to find that he can return the favor for all the times you've stolen his breath away.

Your lips part slightly, but whatever you hoped to say does not leave the confines of your mysterious mind. Instead, you draw some of your hair from both sides over your flushed cheeks.

"Nothing like that," he reassures, smiling gently at you. "I'm just surprised. I didn't realize you were talking about me."

"That's a reli—what." In a single moment, your voice goes from girlishly breathless to an irritated flat. Releasing your hair, you blink uncomprehendingly at him. "How?"

Watching you descend into another muttered ramble, Alkaid shrugs. "If you'd still like that date..."

You whip your head in his direction. "Then it's a date!"

The first time he met you, it was when you had fished out of the snow and offered him a warm drink to fight off the cold. They had talked about miscellaneous things, from your half-hearted desire to request a camera for your birthday to who could make the better model between them both.

And back then, he had thought to himself that there was no sound more beautiful than your laugh.

Almost four years after the fact, as he watches you giggle, Alkaid can confidently say his past self had the right idea. Such a specific title leaves him with room to declare your follow-up smile to be just as breathtaking.

#fics by aya #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #alkaid mcgrath #alkaid mcgrath x reader #lovebrush alkaid #lovebrush alkaid x reader #lbc alkaid #lbc alkaid x reader #little painter #rambles from here on -> #i feel like lars has the common sense not to act like a ceo in a manhwa but i really do think cael would think this is fine #i feel like he'd probably be like “this is the least i can do” #that said i am curious if mc paid for those flowers with her own money?? is her mom rich too #i feel like she'd still be funded by lars (because fan) LOL he also coached her on how to ask alkaid out it's the blind leading the blind #should i write mc's pov too LOL #this was just supposed to be silly little misunderstandings and now there's ANGST and BACKSTORY and MORE ANGST

[hirayaea]

all the times xavier knew what he was doing (a series)

—part 2

—a masterclass in being sly to get the girl you want

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

note: sorry I took so long with part 2, real life ate me up

tender moments - warm wishes

hmmm and you just happened to be there at exactly the same time? ok seiya

if any of you have been to a festival the mood of this card just screams DATE, cause who else would you buy festival food with and split everything in half with but your SO?! we all know this. xavier knows this.

normal friends would be like “I’ll buy this, you’ll buy that, let’s meet in 15? oh maybe can share 1-2 food items” but no this man is “we’re eating everything together right?”

the intimacy of eating from the same plates… saying “no, it’s okay, you take the last piece!” laughing and saying together, “omg it’s really good right?!” blushing when he attempts to feed you… ok none of this happened but you can see the potential, I’m sure xavier saw it too

suuure you didn’t notice. but the next moment he chooses to read:

mc!!! he was reading about himself and just fishing, all you had to do was say yes

.

.

.

tender moments - a captured moment

earlier in this card MC was complaining that he was too aloof, and to be fair, he did kind of brush her off when he received the cookies. I have a theory its cause he was embarrassed about remembering seeing her skin when her clothes tore a little during battle... but this is not about seiya being embarrassed, this is about him being sly

and he's definitely being sly here because why else would you take a picture of an empty cookie jar if not for proof later on to the girl you like that you ate all of her homemade cookies

.

.

.

tender moments - dawn to dusk

ohhh this card, this card. seiya arrives in a backpack and later on you find out that the guide he read was a DATE GUIDE, and the first line literally says "bring a backpack so she can travel light". my man tries to brush it off when MC points it out that it's a travel guide for couples but ahem, ok seiya, nice try, we know this was on purpose. the rest of the card plays very boyfriend when he basically holds the bus ticket for her and does everything she wants

xavier likes pointing out MC is blushing (this happens in several cards, watch me point it out always) and my girl is also cute here for denying it, but as the point of this post, xavier knows what he's doing... and he knows he's baiting MC but its ok, we're not cowards!!! MC, FIGHT FLIRT RIGHT BACK!!!

.

.

.

tender moments - an appointment

oh mc was so caught here he knows she was starin' at him...

I bet he texted Jeremiah right after and was like. "she was staring at me today :)". Jeremiah was probably like, "good 4 u :)" or "??? who?" because he's a bestie like that and besties exist to support you and piss you off at the same time

.

.

.

note: as always, more to come soon

#all the times xavier knew what he was doing #seiya always trying to be the man you want #seiya continues to ruin my life #love and deepspace xavier #xavier #love and deepspace #aya writes #aya compiles things

[writeyourdarlings]

wrote this little poem for steve another day on my way to commute home. was thinking about that scene where steve was all alone in nyc, just trying to figure out so many things. 🤍

#poetry #aya writes #steve rogers

[not-really-a-writer]

Future Letters to the Love of My Life (3/?)

Summary: just mushy stuff I'd say to my s/o if I had one rn and so I write these things about whatever's going on rn to him bc I will meet him in the future.

Hey - just a quick note today. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I was so tired last night but couldn't sleep. And I kept thinking how nice it would have been to have you there. Would you be the type to talk to me until I was tired enough to sleep? Or would you be the type to just hold me, and run your fingers across my back while you let me lay my head on your chest? I imagined how your breathing would sound and how warm your skin would feel. How your heartbeat would feel against my ear. Would your chest hairs tickle my face? lol. All of that stuff. It was nice to think about it. And that was what I fell asleep to. The thought of you.

This morning when I woke up, all I wanted to do was run my fingers through your hair, look at you sleeping and know that you were mine. As I got dressed, I put on a pretty new pair of panties that I picked up the other day, as a treat. I wondered if you would like them. Or maybe you'd like them too much and make me late for work this morning! Haha! That was a fun thought.

I know that one day we'll meet and I won't have to imagine these things anymore. Perhaps I'll meet you today or tomorrow? Or this weekend on New Year's Eve? I'm getting terribly overdressed and going out by myself so please don't be afraid to talk to me! I refuse to close myself off because I've been unlucky in love this year. I still believe in love and that it will find me, and that we will find each other when the time is right.

#aya writes #original work #romance #romantic at heart #yearning for love

[lesovyart]

im so obsessed w them that I made fanart AND my own playlist

#気になってる人が男じゃなかった #the guy she wasn't interested in wasn't a guy at all #gays bonding over 90s grunge and dad rock #no like u don't understand I'm a wlw who was raised on rock and blues since as far back as I can remember #reading this manga has been SO en #SO enjoyable #I can't believe I didn't get into it sooner!!!!! And I love the NOFX Green used all through the series omg #Also re the fanmix #I know Aya and Mitsuki are super into 90's grunge and hard rock specifically #but I added in some diff stuff from betwee #Also I tried to the playlist follow the chronology of the story and might continue to add to it/edit 🤔 #Anyway I'm really interested in the way both charas relate to music? I feel like they both see music as a place for enjoyment and discovery #but Aya is quite aware of and #secure in her emotions so uses music as an outlet for them: a way to arrange and communicate how she already knows how she's feeling #while Mitsuki seems more to use music as a way to actually understand both the world around her #but also herself... I love them both so muc #god my tags are horrific but writing tags on the tumblr app is literal hell #aya oosawa #mitsuki koga

[plagiarised-passion]

If you’re gonna come into BSD and start labelling characters as “good” and “bad” willy nilly, I need you to take a step back and think reaaaallll hard about why you think those things

#I feel like I’m saying this all the time #but no BSD character is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ #it’s a spectrum #a morally grey society #of course there are character like Mori and Dazai #who are certainly a darker shade of grey #and Kenji or Aya could be considered lighter shades #but most of them lay somewhere in that middle ground #and if you refuse to see that you’re ignoring one of the most clever parts of Asagiris writing #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd mori ougai #bsd mori #kenji miyazawa #aya koda #bsd analysis #bsd meta