#thank you the offering ill cherish this image forever

[tatatatatara]

i offer you: car guy tatara and also tatara washing (houji's) car sexy fundraiser style

You can fucking bet that if Tatara does a sexy charity car wash and Houji's car comes before me, I'll crash his car into a wall because Tatara's soapy and wet body is mine!!!! I'm not gonna share it with anyone even with Houji fuck that guy!!!

[novanitas]

Love Goes

Writing from experience is always the hardest part about writing because you allow yourself to be vulnerable in a story that you have spun.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31290827

Childe is the only Genshin character mentioned in the story.

The work was written with the mindset of a female reader but no pronouns were used so any reader may enjoy~

Warnings: I don’t know of any to tag >.< Loneliness? Minor Violence? Fluff? A Kiss???

And maybe sometimes love isn't meant to be. And perhaps sometimes it is better to love someone than to be loved yourself. And sometimes love comes and goes, and other times it just goes. Love is like a dam opening and closing as the water rises and falls in hopes of keeping everything in order, in hopes of homeostasis. If love was like a river, then yours must have run dry, the idea of a balanced ecosystem, something of the past. The summer months were approaching fast, and how would you make it through this long drought again?

Water, an essential component of life, something that everyone needs. Love, something you once equated to water, is now like that of exquisite jewelry, something only the rich in life has.

Maybe it was your personality that was unapproachable; perhaps you were too plain and boring; maybe it was the universe punishing you for being born. The maybe's and possibilities as to why you never found love piled up. Your brain found in its darkest crevices perfectly valid reasons as to why you were lonely. You were shy, too shy. Your voice was never loud enough for people to hear, even when you tried to speak. You spent so many years making yourself small and unnoticeable that now when you wish people would throw a glance your way, it never came. You were never pretty, or at least not in the eyes of those that caught your attention. You found yourself boring and without much of a personality, and you knew that others felt that way too. You never stepped out of your comfort zone because you never had anyone you felt comfortable enough to step out to. You had grown so accustomed to your ways that when someone started to take an interest in you, you'd push them away.

How is it to love and never be loved? It was lonely, to say the least—no one to share your feelings with and no one to share moments of happiness with. Your life was lonely, and you didn't know how to escape it.

How is it to be loved but be so oblivious to it? It was painful but only for the person loving you. To see their efforts dismissed because you were so used to being alone, so used to being unloved. To know the pain, you hide because you never had anyone to share it with. To see you suffering alone even though he was right there. To have a ruthless harbinger admire you was one thing, but to have one be troubled by the way you dismiss any kindness towards you was another.

"(Y/N), why won't you look at me?" The boy pleaded.

Why would you look at him? You asked yourself. Just another person passing through your life for what, a day this time, or a week, a month, maybe a year, but not long enough for you to trust your heart with again. Too many people passing through, too little pieces of your heart left to give—too many years of being left alone to know how to let someone else in.

You turned further away, walking down the busy streets of Liyue. The trees rustling in the wind reminding you that summer was approaching once again. Maybe if you ignore him, he'll go away. Perhaps you have finally lost all sanity, and the man speaking to you is nothing but a vivid hallucination built to keep the loneliness at bay.

A hand clasps around your arm, and you knew they were real. You knew good and well that you ignored the one guy you have had your eyes on since the second they walked into town, but why are you dismissing him now?

Loneliness is like a black hole sucking you in until you can't escape.

"Listen, (Y/N), I see the way you steal glances at me when I walk down the street. Why can't you look at me now?" His voice was torn, unsure of what to do because someone dared to ignore him with such a somber look plastered on their face.

"Because," your voice faltered as you stopped walking. "Because, nothing." You decided not to answer, why give your heart to a harbinger of all people. Yeah, give your heart to someone who literally takes people's hearts for a living, you thought.

"You can tell me. I'll listen," Childe said as he pulled your hand and your unwilling body over to a quiet table just above the noise of the streets.

You admit you didn't want to be unwilling; you just didn't know anymore how to be open to others.

Pulling a chair out for you, Childe then sat down across from you and placed his head contently in the cup of his hand, ready to listen to every word that fell from your lips. He was not expecting you to sit there at the table and quietly cry as he watched frantically racking his mind on what to do. At first, he thought it would be best to sit patiently and wait until you stopped crying, but as time stretched on, he became more and more distressed. After long antagonizing moments of contemplation, Childe rose from his chair and sat closer to you, offering a shoulder to cry on as he wrapped his strong arm around you. You found yourself leaning into his embrace and cherishing his presence. Noticing this, you soon composed yourself and thanked Childe for his time before begrudgingly leaving his company, in which you so desperately wanted to stay.

You told yourself in the first steps you took heading away from him not to go back and find yourself in his warm embrace again because it felt so intoxicating there that you wanted to stay forever, you wanted to give him your whole heart when there was only so little left to give. You told yourself to make yourself even smaller and to grow colder, so he stays away, but a heart born in Snezhnaya is already so used to the cold.

In the days following that, you and your strong will only left the confines of your home when absolutely necessary. If by chance you did venture out into Liyue, you made sure it was by the dark of night, and you kept your head down, eyes cast barely above your shoes, only making eye contact with shopkeepers to pay the dues. The streets of Liyue at night were always a sight that brought your gaze from the ground to the world around you, but in an attempt to avoid the sharp blue eyes of that reckless harbinger, you left behind a sight you adored.

Soon those days turned to weeks, and a habit had formed, and the pattern of your life shifted. You began to become familiar with Liyue's nighttime scene, and you began to prefer it as the crowds of people dwindled down, and the soul piercing eyes of Childe never found you. To be honest, you missed his gaze and the cocky way he walked the streets with confidence, but to protect yourself, you thought to stay away. And sometimes, when you protect yourself, you end up hurting or getting hurt more.

Childe was worried at your absence from the quaint streets of Liyue. He, instead of going about his official business at the Northland Bank, began waiting at shops he'd seen you visit daily in hopes to see you, in hopes to coax your heart out of its shell, in hopes to help you carry the pain. In heartbreaking instances, Childe would think to see a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, and his heart would race at the thought of seeing you just once again, only to be crushed by the image of someone else reflecting into his eyes. He wanted to curse those people, but more than anything, he wanted to curse his heart for jumping at the thought of you.

Childe, having scoured the streets for weeks, began to worry if you had fallen ill or had left for good, and his head was shrouded in turmoil. Lonely nights in his bed turned to lonely nights in his house, his thoughts echoing off the wall, pacing around in their own cage. He only knew of violence, but yet he could not stop thinking of how he held you so fragile when you cried, so violence he turned to. He tore out his house into the streets of Liyue to interrogate and rough up anyone he could in hopes of finding you. Knuckles tight, he grabbed civilian's shirts and demanded had they seen (Y/N). Most of them were too terrified even to give a proper answer, which fueled his growing rage even more. Some civilians got off lucky as their shirts slipped from his grasps, while others were less fortunate than that. Dawn was slowly approaching as a yellow hue graced the horizon while Childe's bloody knuckles dangled by his side.

"Love comes and goes," he mumbled under his breath, "but why can't I let this one go?"

Not even hours passed before the word had spread through all of Liyue that a crazy ginger-haired harbinger tore through half of Liyue looking for you, leaving a trail of half battered bodies in his wake. You thought that in any other instance in your life, you would be scared by that news, but you weren't. Maybe, you thought, if someone was willing to go to such lengths to find you that perhaps this time, love wouldn't go. Perhaps this time, rain will come in the form of Childe, and the drought in your heart will be quenched. But some walls are built to last, and the wall barring your heart would not be an easy one to break. Strength, perseverance, patience, and a fierce tenderness could all hold the key to the breaking of the wall.

So the next night when you strolled the streets of Liyue you did not dare walk with your head down as before, you let your eyes flutter over the docks, hoping once more for a glimpse of Childe, of the harbinger with a delusion, of the man who's touch you could not erase from your memory. His embrace from weeks ago still imprinted on your skin. The stall owners began giving you sideways glances as you passed, and whispers of you and the harbinger of death filled the air. You wanted to hide away from their eyes, but you knew somewhere deep down that the only way you could find love was to give your heart away again, and so you walked with the purpose to find him. You felt exposed, all eyes staring at you, and in moments your heart lurched to a stop when a shadow in the dark had the same form as him. Disappointment was always soon to follow as a Millelith or drunkard emerged in his place. Perhaps you thought, as your mind wandered deeper into the darkness as the night stretched on, maybe, after all, Childe gave up on you. Maybe last night, he was giving up on you as his fist met the faces of others. Perhaps he found you impossible and unlovable after your shying away and weeks of not seeing you.

In an instant, dawn was upon you, and your feet were planted in front of the Northland Bank. This wasn't how the story was supposed to go. Childe was never supposed to approach you and ask why you wouldn't look at him. Childe was never supposed to be kind and to take you to a quiet spot to talk. You were never supposed to cry because you were touched by that act of caring. You were never supposed to shed a tear in front of him. He was never supposed to want to listen so intently to what you would have said. Childe was never supposed to hold you in his arms so carefully as if his touch might break you. You opened the doors to the Northland Bank and asked for Childe so you could tell him what you would have said that day at the table above the streets. The employees raised an eyebrow, knowing no one ever asks for Childe, but before they could escort you to his office, he emerged from behind them.

"(Y/N)" his voice was hoarse, and his eyes seemed much darker than before.

"I want to tell you what I didn't say before." The words escaped your lips at the volume of a whisper.

Taking your hand, Childe leads you through Liyue to a quiet tea shop.

"I was worried about you." Childe blurted as you both sat down with your teas.

"I know. I'm sorry." You said, a slight flush rising in your cheeks.

"If you knew then, why?" Childe asked, concerned.

"Because, Childe." You took a breath of the warm Liyue air. "I have gotten stuck in my ways. I have been alone for so long that I don't know how to accept your love or anyone's love. I don't know how to accept company when I have been so used to no one by my side. I am unsure if my heart can handle someone else walking out with a piece of it and never coming back. I have done things on my own for so long I-"

"And we can learn together," Childe said, reaching his gloved hand out to yours.

"But," you wanted to protest.

"But nothing." Childe insisted. "Love comes and goes, but I don't want to let you go. Love is hard, and learning to love is hard, but we can learn to love together."

"If I ask you if you love me 100 times a day, then would you still want to be with me? If I doubted you and ran away from your kindness, would you find that desirable?" You asked, looking deeply into his eyes, hoping Childe knew what he was asking for in wanting a relationship with you.

"It is easier for me to tell you 100 times a day that I love you than to stand by idly and watch you suffer on your own. If you didn't doubt my kindness, then I would not be living up to my name as a harbinger then would I?" Childe laughed lightly, trying to dissipate the thickness of the air. "And besides, prey is not as fun to catch if they don't run." Childe winked charmingly.

You smiled and punched his arm, to which he recoiled from.

"Be serious." You whined.

Childe's eyes grew a shade darker, and his face dawned a saddened expression.

"(Y/N) have you ever seen someone you love suffer and not be able to do anything? Well, in case you haven't, it is painful, more painful than watching someone die. Seeing you suffer from being alone and your self-doubt is harder for me than anything because it is not like a wound I can patch up. So please let me in, let me share your pain. Tell me your secrets and all your favorite memories. Let me be the kind of person that you have always wanted. Let me help you. I want us to grow as people together." Childe's eyes searched yours, praying the words he said reached your heart.

You sat there stunned at his words and decided that this was the time, now to step out of your comfort zone and to give your heart away, knowing that this time it won't go to waste.

And at that moment, the first rain of summer came, and the drought your heart had been in for so long had been washed away. Childe, a fatui harbinger, a killer, had a heart for you, and happiness bubbled in your chest.

As the rain fell harder, you and Childe stood from the chairs. Before you could run to shelter, he grabbed you by the waist and kissed your lips softly, pulling you into his strong embrace. Hair plastered to his face; he smiled at you as he rested his chin atop your head.

Love was like fine jewelry, and you were finally rich enough in life.

[usurpyr-a]

[ taste ] for (Mikasa) to cook for (Eren) :''^)

                             “... Huh ? What’s all this for ?”

THERE’S NO special occasion he can convince himself of: no significant date he recognizes as belonging to an important anniversary / a holiday / a reason why that would offer up a substantial enough explanation to excuse his rampant paranoia. Not that he distrusts Mikasa, necessarily, not in the way of cooking - she carries a familiarity with her into the kitchen that is indicative of a quiet childhood spent at her mother’s elbow, watching her work ( the both of them ). A far cry from the days of his careless youth, when the retort to his own mother’s asking for assistance in preparing dinner had been something along the lines of “but that’s a girl’s job” - to which he had been promptly hauled up by the ear and made out to be an unwilling accomplice, every night, for a whole month, until he knew his way around the knife and ladle. Unaware, the whole while, that even his vehement railing against the unjust ‘punishment’ he had received was all just a part of her grand design - a patient waiting game / a guiding hand: what do you want to have tonight, Eren ? How about I teach you to dice potatoes, hm ? Or maybe we could make something sweet, what do you think ? Some apple tarts, how does that sound ? Can you do it on your own this time ? Can you show me how you made it ? How does it taste ? What did you learn ? Wasn’t that fun ? I’m so proud of you, you know.

No, he doesn’t distrust Mikasa as a chef. The problem is that he trusts her almost a little too much - the smell of that vegetable stew she had just placed in front of him is uncannily nostalgic, after all. Bordering even on the absurd. He nearly convinces himself of some kind of witchcraft, a trick of the senses / memory betraying him for an idolized ideal, that’s all, that’s all. But. He finds himself picking up the spoon regardless. He falls all-too-easily back into that old habit of not asking too many questions, at least when food is involved. Fresh food, at that - more than a starving little orphan on the street could ever hope for in the depths of a recession. He’ll just have to accept the reality that this is, apparently, another one of Mikasa’s spontaneous ‘good deeds’, which have been becoming more frequent as of lately ... Restlessness, perhaps ? He has always known Mikasa to be a very, ah, active spirit. Nevermind that most of these ‘random’ acts of kindness have been dedicated specifically to him, it seems - just another facet of her coddling, overbearing, protective mother-hen nature. Though he has not quite yet reached his threshold for refusing her at every turn ( so he will forgive her this once ).

Eren takes a tentative sip of broth - she’d had the courtesy to wait for it to cool a touch before serving, knowing full-well he’d scarf down any meal too-quick to register his tastebuds melting until he was already more than halfway through. He hums, feeling a stubborn knot in his sternum finally relax under the torrent of warmth flooding through him. This is ... exactly like Mom used to make. I didn’t think such a thing was possible, after all this time ... had Mikasa really been paying that much attention ? It’s a ... not an unwelcome feeling, but ... For whatever reason, he’s reluctant to admit how much this has moved him / shifted something inside, as though a burden has finally been unshackled, the skin raw from where it had chafed against guilt. He can’t recall the last time he ever felt such a way. And Mikasa was able to do it, with a simple soup from when we were kids ...

“It’s ... good,” he finally manages, swallowing heavily. Suddenly, the idea strikes him: possibly ill-conceived, but the words are already tumbling out of his careless lips, too late to take back. “Hey,” he continues, looking evenly at her, “you should have some, too. Doesn’t feel right, me having all this for myself when you’re the one that worked so hard to make in the first place.”

Except. He already knows her answer, sees it in the nervous wrinkle of her nose: I’m alright / I made it for you / just enjoy it, okay ? He tries not to let his annoyance show, convinces himself of his maturity, the years spanning between the here-and-now. But something is inexplicably pulling him back into his past ... not that he is resisting it. And this is not a childhood of bitter arguments and scraped knees, utensils tied haphazardly to the ends of broomsticks, the ground trembling underfoot / eyes transfixed on the haunting image of some cherished someone’s last moments in the hand of a giant marauder-- This is warm summer days and carefree laughter echoing through the streets, a parent’s unconditional affection, pillowcases suspended from a clothesline / their billowing reminiscent of far-off ocean waves. These memories are cherished, yes, but have wasted away in his mind’s eye / been buried like so much else under the rubble of his old life, the life that could have ( should have ) been. How can he be sure he is remembering correctly ? How can he be sure he is recalling the correct taste, the correct atmosphere ? When he’d last thought of his mother, was she different than as he thinks of her now ? How many of her wrinkles has he smoothed over in his imagination ? How many of his angry, hurtful words has he since swept from her brow, in an effort to preserve her forever as the saint-savior-martyr of his youth ? All along, has he been the one robbing himself of resolution ?

... He’s never been good at it, talking to Mikasa. He’s never been any good at talking in general, forever to be known as the bull-headed boy that goes about spouting whatever inane nonsense that jumps to the tip of his tongue. He’s reserved himself, recently, to speaking only in whispers / small sentences / clipped tones. Perhaps that is the greatest deception he’s ever committed himself to: a manic desire to be at once suddenly unapproachable. But especially in the earliest of hours, like today’s, his guard slackens / slips off like an ill-fitting coat, too large for his slim shoulders. He’s never been good at pretending, either, but that hardly matters when any mood he adopts nowadays never seems to be able to find its purchase against the smooth rock wall of indifference that stands ( ever-present ) between them. As though he can do no wrong - as though he hasn’t been trying.

Eren abruptly clears his throat before discreetly glancing at Mikasa from behind the thick curtain of hair falling over his face. It’s getting long. He should really cut it soon. But, ah ...

“... You’ve been eating,” he states, less like a question and more like an accusation, “-right ? I was just remembering .. when you first came to live with me and my family. You didn’t eat anything for days - Mom thought you were ‘gonna starve yourself.” It’s a cheap, underhanded tactic, but it works - is likely to work, anyways. Eren leans back in his seat, turning over a chunk of potato in his dish. He relaxes his words, feigning nonchalance / his levity tentatively genuine. “First thing we got you to choke down was some soup, just like this ... but, heh, you only agreed to because I said I wasn’t going to eat anything so long as you weren’t.” A strange twitch of his upper lip warns of a smile threatening a larger grin / something showing teeth. “I was real serious about it, too,” he adds. “Thought I could go weeks without food if I had to. If it’d make sure you came around, eventually.”

Maybe it’s selfish of him, to weaponize those particular memories against her / in an contrived effort to comfort. But it serves to make its point: he does worry about her, in his own strange fashion - in a way even he himself cannot recognize as totally altruistic in nature. Though he does not leave the anecdote unscathed, either; he can’t stop rubbing his wrists, can’t stop itching them with blunted fingernails, afraid of his newfound freedom ( after all, what would an animal born in captivity possibly know of a life meant to be lived without restraint ? ). Despite how obediently he chews and swallows, at some point the reward of her hard work turns to a mass of indistinguishable mush in his mouth / sticking to his tongue, the backs of his molars. This simple action, too, is made awkward - thanks in no small part to his social incompetence. His ears start ringing as a damming blush dusts their tips, perhaps in punishment of his childlike over-eagerness ( “I can show you how to make it sometime, if you want - Mom taught me how.” ).

Eren dips the spoon in again, holding it out carelessly - though his hand does not waver. He schools his features into something more serious / a replication of his boyish self, all those years ago, caught scowling across the dining room table by a girl who could not swallow the weight of that gaze / no more than she could the meal slipped in front of her, whose smell only sickened - which only reminded her of the home now lost to her. He remembers his mother scolding him, back then - reminding him to give her space, to let her grieve, to never expect anything more than she was capable of day-by-day, always at her own pace. But he’s never been a very patient person.

                            “ ... Eh ? How about it ?” He gestures again, tilting his head to one side, as though expectant. “Come on. Try some. For me ? I mean, I won’t have any more unless you take a bite ... Fair’s fair, and all that.”

non-verbal meme.

[angelsarts]

I wanna know more about your Death and Life AU OCs and BNHA OC!

Death and Life AU:

Ezekiel - 

He/Him || Virgo || 27 || Pansexual

Ezekiel is a higher up arch angel who is in charge of the Japanese district of heaven. He personally takes part in training new angels into carrying out their duties to protect and guide the living on a pure life and to avoid letting them into the hands of hell. Ezekiel is a proud and determined man with a usual sexy smirk and a kimono undone to see his chest however when it comes to training the newbies of heaven he always ends up drawing the short straws and getting the people who never gets the hang of it or messing around. That's why 80% of the training involves him face palming or dramatically sighing in resignation. So you could say he's the hot dad that has given up on his children-

Ezekiel had died early in his 20's due to an accident. The "royalty" of Japan at the time were holding an open event for the public to visit, it was mainly for socialising and making connections. He had attended mainly for the free food, but during an interaction with a member of royalty an unstable chandelier snapped and fell from the ceiling. Ezekiel had enough time to push the person he was conversing with out the way but not quick enough for him to avoid getting hit. The man was crushed and sent to heaven as a result for saving a life.

Nolan -

Half demon | Unknown age | 5"7

Nolan was born as a half breed, his mother had a romance with a high ranking demon that resulted in an unwanted pregnancy. His father wanted nothing to do with it, demanded she were to get rid of Nolan or he would do it for her, if it wasn't for his mother fleeing from her country and learning to make charms to keep the father away then chances are he wouldn't be around. Unfortunately his kind is very rarely accepted by neither humans or demons, perhaps that's why he became the edgy angry man he is today but despite this he cherished the love that his mother had given him and the friendship that Emmie-Lou, a fellow demon offered. Emmie Lou understood Nolan's feelings for she was a succubus that left her legacy behind to live with a human whom also accepted Nolan as a friend, because of this after his mothers passing he wasn't alone and for that he is grateful. If anything, Nolan likes the human world much more than that of the demons realm which he happened to visit out of curiosity about who his father was, let us just say he regretted his choice and received those scars on his face.

Shin -

Shrine spirit | Pan | 300+ 

Shin has been a shrine spirit since he could remember , at first he never took his job particularly seriously and more than often played pranks on those who say prayers but leave no offerings. He still plays pranks but 300 or so years later? He's become more mature. The shrine woman he had been so fond of had passed away and so until someone takes up her role, it was up to him to write down each prayer made, to make talismans and clean the shrine to it's best standards on top of guarding it from evil. Now he has what people would call the qualities of a man, and he takes each prayer to heart trying to help those who make them in any way that he can manage. It warms his heart particularly to see that even in modern ages people still come to the shrine even if it isn't in masses anymore. He's a curious being though, wondering what's beyond the shrine, what he has missed over the hundreds of years. It's not all bad though, he often shows himself to those who visit and bring offerings regularly as well as children, the affection that they show him and their thankful attitude more than makes up for being alone at other times not to mention he loves to watch the snow fall. Making snowmen was one of the first thing he and the shrine lady had done together when he arrived and so he makes it a tradition to make one each winter. When the days are quiet and the visitors are low he makes the extra charms to leave outside as well taking well earned naps.

Rigger -

Male | Taurus | 36 | Bisexual Rigger was a French Plague doctor who died in his 30's due to being struck around the head down an alley, reasons to why he was hit was unknown. However Rigger didn't completely die, his good services had been rewarded, a reaper offered his life to be immortal on the condition that instead of saving lives he were to take them - only when their time had come of course. As a result of coming back to life, Riggers left eye became blind, the scars across his face a mark of his contract to become a living reaper. Rigger took this offer, being bought back to life to live and breath as a 39 year old forever. He takes his job seriously, taking down sinners with no mercy, being kind and delicate with children too ill to carry on living, careful and gentle with the elderly. Each person he treats how they should be, although he has got stuck in cases where the elderly with poor sight mistake him for their grandchild, he once was mistaken by an elderly lady and he hadn't had the heart to tell her no - spent over a year pretending to be 'Tommy' the sweet boy who hold her ball of wool while she knits and shows off ugly sweaters to the rest of the oldies at the care home. It took another reaper to take her soul. Rigger is generally very grumpy to normal people, although when he's grumpy the man is still kind and gentle. He secretly adores flowers, children and doesn't actually mind wearing ugly sweaters or hanging out with the elderly, he likes their stories and the sweet attitudes they have. The elderly and flowers are probably the only ones who have seen him look happy instead of the plain old grumpy guy face.

BNHA AU:

Elissa - 

Female - Bisexual - 19

Licensed hero - Quirk: environment/material manipulation

Lady manipulation or rather Elissa is a licensed hero that graduated from UA High, her quirk is the ability to manipulate the environment and material around her whether she makes something grow larger or change shape and form. The marks on her arms to neck glow whenever she activates her quirk. She can make the ground move, and turn it into an arch or even a sculpture, she can make anything into weapons or protection. However the larger the manipulation the shorter the time she can keep control over it. Once her time runs out it can take 10 - 30 minutes before she can use the same material or environment again . She works under a not particularly well known hero agency with a partner known as animorph, a man with the quirk that lets him turn into animals though he often favours the wolf. She's a rising hero in the world and she actually see's Aizawa as her hero/inspiration.

After a particular fight with a villain that she once knew as a friend, her entire image soon changed due to the villain's confrontational words getting into her mind. Now she keeps her hair short and changed her uniform and her hero name. Elissa tries her best to cut the ties with the villain particularly when they had once captured her heart in the past and though it is a struggle, Animorph is always there to help and support. The woman is a very happy person that no matter what happens always wears a smile and insists that no matter how bad things are she's always hopeful and grateful for what she has. Of course she's insecure about her looks or that she'll never do a good enough job to inspire kids she'll still put all her effort in, when she's not on duty she likes to try different ethnic foods, read manga or show off her art to her pet chicken Diego. She also has a long term affection for Bakugou, not that she would ever dare act on such a thing without reciprocation, for now she enjoys their explosive arguments.

I wrote heck loads ;; I apologise if it’s too much information!

[anodyne-sunflower]

Keep waiting-NewtxReader Request

A/N: For @jackdawsonsgrl ❤️I truly am sorry for your loss, it’s never easy. And I have no magic word to make it all better, but I hope that this helps even a smidge. Enjoy.

MOOD MUSIC: Tomorrow never came by Lana Del Rey

***

Time has forever been a contributing factor in dealing with one’s grief, and it was a speck of hope you clung to everyday. An approach to mending your aching heart so that life could be a little easier to get through. Most days were fine, where memories served their purpose in allowing you a moment to breathe and smile through it. Another chance to witness those times he had lifted you in his arms with a laugh and a grin on his face, or when he sat at the children’s table that was much too small for him, and placed that tiara upon his head because you asked him to. You had slowly grown to cherish each one of those, a perfect image in time that could never be erased from your heart. Reminiscing on those days brought a bittersweet smile to your lips, knowing that no matter what you’d still always have that to escape to when life got a little hard. But, you couldn’t always promise yourself that tomorrow wouldn’t bring pain. Even when the happiest life events took place, you couldn’t just bring yourself to grin and bear it. No matter how much you wished you could.

You stared outside the windows of the venue, watching the beginnings of snow fall slowly to the ground. It melted away quickly, the chill in the air still not strong enough to make the snowflakes stick to the ground. Even so, the glimpse of the world outside was a welcomed distraction to the sorrow you felt in your chest.

“Hold this, sweetheart.”

“Hm? Oh…of course.” You quietly spoke, holding out your arm as your mother hung your veil over it. She was fussing with your pins, trying to fasten them perfectly to your hair so the veil wouldn’t go flying off in the autumn winds. It was a humorous sight really, watching her sigh and moan about the poor job done on creating the pins. You knew she’d get it eventually, your trust placed completely in her abilities when she offered to help you dress for your wedding ceremony. You couldn’t possibly thank her enough for her help, knowing this time in your life must be as hard on her as it was you. Changes like this should be celebrated by the closest of loved ones, instead you both likely felt the absence of your father all around. It wasn’t a fair thing to be holding onto such grief when the very essence of your happiness stood just outside those doors. But, sometimes the pain we feel can’t be helped.

“Do you miss him?”

Your mother glanced over your shoulder staring at your cloudy reflection in the window panes. She didn’t need to turn you around to see the tears collecting in your eyes, she just knew as any mother would when their child hurt. With a tender sigh she placed her hands upon your arms, rubbing gently in a comforting motion before answering you.

“Everyday, sweetie.”

Her words caused a swell of hurt in you, one that wouldn’t fade away like it did on good days. Because, the thought of walking down that aisle without him by your side was only reaffirming how cruel the universe could be.

“He should’ve been here, mother…” You bit at your bottom lip, trying to quell the trembles of your laments for your father. To an extent, you wished there was someway he could’ve battled his illness a little longer. But, deep in your heart you knew that was selfish to desire of him. He was a fighter and would forever be a fighter, but you had hoped there was even a bit of a chance that he’d make it to today.

“I know, sweetie.” She patted your shoulder, turning you towards her so she could alleviate some of the heartache you felt. “Your father tried as hard as he could, he wanted nothing more than to see you on your wedding day. Truly.”

In her advice, you could hear her voice falter, your grief growing as she tried to fight back her own tears. But, like the strong woman she always was she composed herself and sat you both down on the chaise lounge in the dressing room. She took your hand in hers, patting it gently as she tried to help lessen the pain you felt.

“Do not let this sadness stop you from enjoying your big day. Because, I know your father would’ve never wanted that.” She lifted your chin up, smiling as she touched your nose in an affectionate manner. “Besides, Newt is a good man, Y/N. Your father may not have known him long, but he told me the first day he met him…” She chuckled as she recalled that day, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “That he was the one for you.”

“He said that?” You laughed fondly, wiping at your eyes as you looked back to your mother. She nodded happily, tucking some loose strands behind your ear as she fixed your pins again.

“Yes. Your father loved you so much, he swore he’d always be there for you, to love you, to protect you from anything bad this world threw at you. He fought his illness for so long because he wanted to make sure you were protected,” She sucked in a breath, trying to keep her tears at bay for your sake. “And-”

The doors to your dressing room opened, both of you gazing back to find Newt standing there in his handsome suit. The wizard looked the very picture of a gentleman, and even though you felt pain in your chest there was an overwhelming sense of love upon seeing your soon to be husband.

“Oh,” Newt blinked sheepishly over at you, giving that guilty smile of his you had grown so fond of over the years. He looked between you and your mother, hand still on the door knob in case you wanted him to leave. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

“Don’t fret, Newt. Just getting your beautiful wife ready.” Your mother smiled at him, looking back at you with an amused expression. “Listen,” She whispered, leaning in as if to emphasize her words. “Your father wanted to make sure you were loved, that someone could be here for you when you needed. And,” She glanced over to Newt, who was still waiting by the doors for you both. “And I think he knew you found that. That’s why he was able to finally let go.”

You gazed at her in awe, swallowing that lump in your throat as she rose from her seat and kissed your head lovingly.

“We’ll all be waiting outside for you. Whenever you’re ready, dear.”

Newt nodded with a smile as she passed him by, now making his way over to you and taking a seat. He could see the streaks of tears on your cheeks, though he needed no explanation as to what caused them. He already knew this day would be hard for you, it was one of the many reasons he took it upon himself to wait outside those doors. In the event that you needed him, he’d be there ready to help.

“Darling?”

Newt scooted closer to you, fingers entwining with yours as he took your hand and placed it in his lap. You could feel the warmth of his palm against yours, a nice comfort to your grieving mind. His presence alone was more than enough to ease that stress you felt, willing away the pain and replacing it with his love. Newt never needed to say or do much of anything to make your world better, he was just naturally good at that. One of the many reasons you fell in love with him to begin with.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you waiting so long.”

“No, please don’t apologize.” Newt squeezed your hand gently in his, brushing his fingertips over your knuckles and conveying the love he held for you with such a simple gesture. He leaned towards you, pushing your foreheads together with a joyful grin. “I’ve spent my life roaming the wilds of every country, years of research and hours spent tracking creatures. I assure you, my love. I can wait for as long as I need to.”

You let out a small hum of a laugh, looking into those gorgeous green eyes of his that always made your heart swoon. It never ceased to amaze you at how well equipped he was when dealing with your less than finer moments. Even now on your wedding day, an occasion meant to be cheerful for you both, he still found time to stay by your side in your hour of need.

A comfortable silence had developed between you two, until your faint sobs broke the reverie of your love. Newt offered you his shoulder to cry on, strong arms wrapping protectively around your shaking form as he soothed your feelings of distress.

“I know nothing I say will make it all go away, darling.” Newt comforted, caressing his thumb across your cheek and wiping the tear away with it. “You must know that you feeling this way is a symbol of how much you loved him, and he loved you. And rather than believe the pain should go away, believe that it is your love that’s staying for him that’s causing you to feel this way.”

His words held a deeper truth than you could ever imagine, and the very message behind them was something you never considered before. You may hold pain for his loss inside you, but it is the love you had for him that fuels it. The greater we love someone, the deeper the heartache we feel upon their passing. But, to forget that pain would be to forget that love, and that wasn’t something you would ever be willing to part with.

You smiled through your tears, holding Newt against you as you allowed yourself a moment to take in the relief you felt. His advice would forever be with you, and you could never thank your betrothed enough for all his kindness or support. There were times you felt undeserving of it, but Newt would always remind you of the truth. You both were made for one another, and after today you’d solidify that knowledge before all your loved ones.

“He really liked you, you know?” You snuggled into Newt’s chest, thinking back on your mother’s story of the first time they had met. It was no surprise for anyone to like the wizard upon meeting him. He was always a gentle soul, forever ready to lend his hand when needed. A true selfless person, such a rare occurrence in these times.

“Is that so?” He chuckled, carefully running his hand over your hair affectionately. He moved the veil away, not wanting to cause damage to it and potentially suffer the wrath of your mother and bridesmaids. “I really liked him, too.”

“You only met him a few times, Newt.” You reminded him, giggling at his eagerness to prove himself. Which he had no issue doing, especially when it came to charming your heart.

He held you close to him, kissing your temple as he whispered, “Well, my love. He created someone as perfect as you. How could I not like him?”

You laughed joyfully at that, glancing up at the wizard with an adoring smile that had him returning the loving gesture. It was impossible to stay sullen around Newt, and you enjoyed that about him.

“I can see why he liked you.”

Newt hummed in response, pulling away to kiss you fully on the mouth this time. He kept your lips locked together for a few seconds, just providing more clues as to how much he admired and loved you.

“Now,” Newt stood from the lounge, smiling down at you with one hand reaching out. “Do you want to go out there, darling?” You took his hand with a renewed sense of hope, holding it tightly in yours. Sometimes it struck you just how much you loved and adored this man, and you paused for a moment to take in the view of your sweet Hufflepuff.

“I do.”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it, my dear. ❤️