âł You and Kyoya have a complicated relationship- you've known each other since you were in middle school, and now he's become a haggling, "I Only Do What Benefits Me" business man, and it doesn't limit itself to your relationship with him. You've joined the Host Club due to the sole reason that Kyoya has forced you. God, how you wish he would stop treating you like a child and start treating you like the woman you are.
"Wait!" Aang suddenly shouts before leaping off of Appa's head and running back into the house. He leaves behind a momentarily confused Sokka who blinks once, twice before dramatically rolling his eyes.
"I hope I'm not this embarrassing with Suki," he grumbles, pointedly ignoring the condescending chirp that Momo gives him.
Aang's practically flying to the second floor and barrelling into your shared room, eyes frantically settling on the curled up lump in the middle of the bed. Then, without warning, he's landing on top of it and causing you to wake up with a loud screech.
"What the fuck!?" You yell, shocked and a little furious, but you barely have time to react before Aang's grabbing your face to plant a solid kiss on your frowning lips. It's embarrassing how quickly your anger fades and how you melt into Aang's soft lips like butter on toast. You hum when he licks at your bottom lip, moan when he licks into your mouth and are soon clutching at his cloak to draw him in further.
"Can't," Aang says breathless, managing to pull away by just a bit. "Gotta leave and I couldn'tâ" You're kissing him again, drawing a deep groan from his stomach as he resists sinking back into bed with you. "Sokka's waitingâ"
"He can wait a little longer," you murmur against Aang's seeking lips. "Stay with me for five more minutes."
A teasing nip to his bottom lip and sure hands slipping under his shirt has Aang's mind glitching before he can properly think.
And ten minutes later, Sokka's grumbling with crossed arms about horny newlyweds who have no respect for time constraints.
A place where you can find all of my Toph fics! Smut chapters will be marked with đ·
One shots:
Toph Beifong x Waterbender Fem!Reader đ·
Synopsis: You've been dating toph for over a year now and things are great, until you let the L word slip during sex and now shes acting all weird. If that weren't bad enough, she disappears for a week to help aang and sokka, leaving you to wonder what you did wrong.
Toph Beifong x Waterbender!Girlfriend!Reader Part 2.
Synopsis: You were chosen by the cat distribution system, now you just had to convince Toph to let him stay.
G!P Toph Beifong x Wife! Readerđ·
Synopsis: Toph hasn't touched you in two months and you're spiraling.
Needy Toph Beifong x Girlfriend Reader đ·
Synopsis: On an incredibly lonely night Toph gets herself off to the thought of you.
Needy Toph Beifong x Girlfriend Reader Pt.2 đ·
Synopsis: You finally return home from your seminar with Katara.
G!P Toph Beifong x Jealous Fem! Reader đ·
Synopsis: A woman gets a little too close to Toph at an event and you have to remind her exactly who she belongs to.
Older Trainer Toph Beifong x Fem!Student Reader đ·
Synopsis: When your friend sets you up with a personal trainer to help you get the attention of the girl you like. You weren't expecting someone as formidable as Toph Beifong. And you soon find out, its kind of hard to think about anyone else when you're in her presence.
Adult Toph Beifong x Hyperfeminine Girlfriend Reader đ·
Synopsis: Toph doesnt want you to go out with your friends so she finds other ways to convince you to stay home.
Adult Toph Beifong x Ex Girlfriend Readerđ·
Synopsis: You get called to a brutal scene in Republic Cityâs underbelly where a fighter has been beaten to the brink of death. Amidst all the blood and cracked stone, you find your ex-girlfriend, Toph Beifong who is all that remains.
Chief Toph Beifong x Captain Wife Readerđ·
Synopsis: You teach Toph a lesson after she runs into a dangerous hostage situation without backup.
Chief Toph Beifong x Pregnant Wife Reader đ·
Synopsis: You wake up desperately needing Toph so you call her at work.
Older Toph Beifong x YoungerWife Reader
Synopsis: Toph has been buried in her work and hasn't left the police station in days. So you decide to stay up and wait for her one night. Only, what was supposed to be a kind gesture turns into a confrontation that threatens to ruin your marriage. Based on this request.
G!P Toph Beifong Ă Wife Reader đ·
Synopsis: After weeks of disappearing into yourself Toph finally confronts you.
Adult Toph Beifong x Girlfriend Reader
Synopsis: While on a date Toph confesses she wishes she could see you.
Adult Toph Beifong x Earthbender Girlfriend đ·
Synopsis: You and Toph take the next step in your relationship.
Toph Beifong x Pregnant Wife Reader
Synopsis: You wake Toph up in the middle of the night craving something very specific.
G!P Toph Beifong x Hyperfem!Girlfriend!Reader đ·
Synopsis: You find out someone has been flirting with your girlfriend at the gym.
Pregnant Toph Beifong x Wife Readerđ·
Synopsis: After a spell of morning sickness ruins Toph's day, you try everything in your power to turn it around for her.
Toph Beifong x Black!Girlfriend!Reader
Synopsis: Toph comes home to find you struggling with retwisting your locs and offers her help.
Toph Beifong x Pregnant Reader
Synopsis: Toph hears another heartbeat in the home and swears she's going crazy.
Toph Beifong x Wife Reader
Synopsis: You have to break the news to your daughter's that you're pregnant and it doesn't go very well.
Synopsis: Toph has been buried in her work and hasn't left the police station in days. So you decide to stay up and wait for her one night. Only, what was supposed to be a kind gesture turns into a confrontation that threatens to ruin your marriage. Based on this request.
Warnings: Sfw, Hurt/Comfort, slight angst, argument, toph is a little mean but shes hurting, tickling, massages, Lin and Su mention, toph is in her 50s and struggling with getting older, Lin lowkey saving her parents marriage(we love her), stubborn toph, toph hates that she's aging and its doing a number on her mental.
You were curled up on the sofa, a thin blanket draped over your shoulders. The glowing screen of your phone read 3:42 AM, casting a sharp blue light across the dark living room. You stared at the digits, feeling the crushing weight of the silence around you.
For three consecutive days, this has been your life. Waiting up into the exhausting, early hours of the morning for Toph, only for the familiar sound of her breathy grunts and harsh footsteps to never come. The only confirmation you had that your wife was even still alive was the phantom trail she left behind at dawn. Every morning you would wake up to the faint, bittersweet scent of her citrus soap lingering in the bedroom air.
Your chest ached again with that familiar, suffocating loneliness that you couldnât seem to shake. The more you thought about the way both of your lives seemed to be changing, the more you felt a desperate, driving need to intervene to steady it all again.
A paralyzing fear trickled up in you the longer you were left alone with your thoughts. It was the sort of cold realization that had you wanting to step in before the distance between you grew so wide it couldn't be fixed.
It has only been three days, and your life already felt like it was completely falling apart. You couldn't even begin to imagine the state of your heart if you went weeks without seeing her, or months without hearing the sound of her voice.
You knew that if you let this continue, Toph would take your silence as permission to keep slipping away. She never asked how the distance felt, which was the quiet fault line running through your entire marriage. Toph always had a way of simply shifting the earth beneath your feet, and just expecting you to adjust your stance and fall into line with whatever rhythm she dictated.
But your vows weren't a contract of quiet compliance. Marriage was a lifelong commitment to protect one another, and you refused to sit back and quietly accept the self destructive stranger she was forcing herself to become.
You knew her patterns too well to believe this would just pass. If you didn't draw a boundary tonight, the cycle would repeat forever, because in her world, there would always be another cold case to bury her mind in, another crime to solve, or another suspect to chase into the dark.
You didn't care how long you had to stay up, or how tired you would be the next day. You wouldn't go another day without laying eyes on your wife and hearing the familiar rough sound of her voice. You were going to wait on this couch until that front door opened.
Since the moment you met Toph has always been fiercely independent. She despised clinginess, and she hated when people hovered over her. She tolerated it with you, but even then, you knew she had her limits. Her age had only hardened her exterior, making her more stubborn and grumpy as she threw herself into her work as if she were constantly trying to outrun the clock and catch up on time already lost.
It worried you, seeing just how much of herself was slowly eroding away at that police department. Toph had spent so much of her life giving everything to others and saving people, while completely neglecting herself and her own needs in the process. It made you terrified that beneath her gruff exterior that she may be harboring quiet regrets.
She simply wasn't as young as she was when she used to run around the world with the Avatar. You had just celebrated her fifty-fifth birthday a month ago, a milestone that brought her changing body into sharp focus.
Her hair was heavily laced with black and silver streaks now, a look that you thought refined her appearance beautifully. You absolutely loved the silver, even though she insisted on you dying it dark again. When you asked, Toph claimed she didn't want her officers to think less of her or see her as weak.
You recognized it as a deep seated insecurity that you couldn't fully relate to since you were considerably younger than her. So to protect her peace and avoid an argument you dyed her hair every few months.
You were just starting to nod off when the heavy front door finally clicked open, breaking the silence. Toph dragged her feet across the threshold, her shoulders hunched tightly under the crushing weight of her armor. At fifty five, the relentless strain of the job was visibly catching up to her.
She walked like her limbs were constantly aching. Toph was slower now, moving with a stiff, heavy exhaustion that was very hard to hide especially from you. She winced with every step she took into the home, it was a brief flash of vulnerability that she quickly masked before settling her expression into a hard line as if she hadn't meant for you to see. But you always noticed everything when it came to her. Over the years of your marriage you've memorized every hitch in her breath and every slight shift in her posture.
Toph didn't even bother using her metal bending to strip her armor which was telling, She just kicked her heavy metal boots loose with a miserable sigh that echoed through the dark room.
âYou know, you could just tell me if you're starting to sleep walk Chief.â You say softly from the darkness, offering a gentle, tired smile. âI usually charge an admission fee for people trying to break into my house at four in the morning.â
Toph flinched slightly, her milky eyes turning toward the couch. âWhat are you still doing up?â She grumbled, her voice scratchy and thick with exhaustion. The joke went over her head like most things lately. âGo back to bed and it's our house.â
âReally? Because lately its been feeling less like a home and more like an empty hotel,â You said, tossing the blanket aside and standing up to face her. âI haven't seen my wife in seventy two hours, Toph. I am not going to bed.â
Tophâs jaw tightened, the stubborn lines around her mouth deepening in the dim blue light of the room. She felt the shift in your posture, the sudden hardness in your voice that told her you weren't backing down tonight. Instead of softening, her defensive walls immediately flew up, fueled by a toxic mix of physical pain and sheer exhaustion.
âDon't start with me,â She growled, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous register as she unbuckled her heavy metal breastplate with a harsh, metallic clatter. âI don't have the energy for a lecture right now so get off your high horse. I was running a sting operation on the Triple Threats down by the docks for thirty hours straight. I'm doing my job.â
âAnd what about your job here?â You asked, taking a step closer, your heart hammering against your ribs. âYou slip in like a ghost in the early hours of the morning to shower while I'm sleep and then leave before the sun is even fully up. You aren't taking care of yourself, Toph. You haven't slept in days, and don't try to tell me you're resting at the office because I know you aren't. I can literally see the physical toll this is taking on your body. You're working yourself into an early grave, baby. Look at you. You're limping and you can barely move.â
âI am fine!â Toph snapped, her voice cracking in the quiet room as she spun on you, aiming her words to cut as deep as possible. âYou think I don't know what's happening to my own damn body? You think I can't feel my joints grinding and my spine aching every single second of the day, knowing there is absolutely nothing I can do to change the fact that I am getting older?â
âI have to deal with enough shit at work all day. I don't need to come home to my wife coddling me, and keeping tabs on my hours like I'm incapable of figuring out my own life! You want a fragile little housewife who is home by dinner time and tucks you in at night before bed? Then go find one.â
She took a sharp breath, her sightless eyes flashing with a cold, defensive fury. âBut I am the Chief of Police, and I have a duty to this city that I helped build. So if I have to stay at that precinct until dawn to keep the people that live here safe, then that's what I am going to do until my dying breath. If that's something you can't handle, then you should've thought about that before building a life with me.â
The harshness of her words sliced through the quiet room, leaving a ringing silence in their wake. You stiffened, staring at her as the raw cruelty of them hit you squarely in the chest, physically knocking the breath from your lungs. It felt like a sudden, violent eviction from her life as if all the years you had spent loving her, learning her rhythms, and holding down the fort and raising your kids meant absolutely nothing the moment you dared to care about her survival.
Tears burned like acid behind your eyelids, blurring the dark room, and you quickly tore your eyes away from her rigid form, realizing with a shattering certainty that she had genuinely wanted to hurt you and it had worked.
âWanting to make sure your job doesn't take you away from me earlier than it's supposed to isn't coddling.â You said, your voice cracking into a fragile whisper as the first tear finally spilled over your lashes.
You choked back a ragged sob, pressing a hand flat against your chest to try and anchor a pain so sharp it made you physically ache. âYou don't get to lash out at me and push me away just because you're terrified, Toph. This isn't about the city, and it isn't about me smothering you.â
âYou are losing your mind because your body is changing and you cannot control it. You would rather bury yourself in work and actively destroy our marriage than admit that you are hurting, and that for the first time in your entire life, you can't just bend your way out of something. You are terrified that one day you won't be able to be Chief anymore, and you're scared that once that badge is gone, you won't have anything left- because you've let it become your entire life, your entire being, and the only identity you think you have left.â
Your voice dropped to a hollow whisper, heavy with the devastating weight of your devotion. âI am not saying this to hurt you, baby. But as your wife, I refuse to sit back in silence and watch you kill yourself for a city that will never love you back the way I do.â
âFor the last three days I have bled my own heart dry keeping this home warm for a ghost,â You wept, with each word that spilled out from your lips you could feel another piece of your heart withering away. âAnd how dare you say I shouldn't have built a life with you just because I am the only person alive who dares to love you enough to try and save you from yourself.â
Toph stood entirely paralyzed in the dim light. Her chin, usually tilted up in fierce defiance, dropped as her chest barely rose and fell. Through the soles of her bare feet, she could feel the violent, trembling vibrations of your heart breaking right in front of her, and for the first time in her life, Toph Beifong had nothing left to say.
You turned your back on her, the movement sharp and heavy with a grief that nade it hard to breathe. You didn't wait for her response. You didn't want to hear another word that could fracture whatever was left of your dignity.
She didn't want your help, and she didnt want you.
Clutching the thin blanket tightly around your trembling shoulders like a shield, you walked away into the dark hallway, your bare feet paddling softly against the floorboards. Each step felt incredibly heavy, as if the suffocating weight of the apartment were pressing down directly onto your chest.
Walking away from her was the hardest thing you had ever done. Every single instinct in your body screamed at you to turn around, to pull her tightly into your arms, and to apologize just to stop the bleeding. You knew that leaving Toph alone in the dark meant abandoning her to the one thing she feared most: her own mind. Without you or the noise of a city to police or a fight to win, she would be left completely defenseless against the quiet terror of her own thoughts.
But as you sank against the closed bedroom door, pressing your palms hard against your mouth to stifle the ragged, broken breaths tearing from your throat, you knew you had no choice. You couldn't keep sacrificing your own soul just to keep her upright. Loving her meant refusing to become a casualty of her fear, even if the silence on the other side of that door felt loud enough to shatter you completely.
The distance that followed was a living, breathing entity that swallowed the apartment whole. When dawn finally broke, casting weak streaks of gray light across the guest bedroom floor, you didn't hear the familiar clatter of Toph dressing for work, nor did you hear her heavy footsteps heading toward the kitchen. She had probably left sometime last night after your argument, unable to be in the same home as you.
You sucked in a sharp breath, forcing yourself out of bed as the bleak reality of the morning settled in. You immediately checked the bathroom, but the air was entirely dry, there was no bittersweet scent of her soap lingering in the breeze, no damp towel thrown carelessly over the rack. Walking into the living area, the kitchen counter was completely untouched. The tea kettle sat cold and mocking on the stove.
She was really gone.
This wasn't like the previous times she's left. Now, Toph was intentionally burying herself at the precinct, actively using the endless chaos of Republic City as a shield to hide from the smoking wreckage of last night's argument. She was running away from her own mind, leaving you behind to drown in an agonizing silence that felt loud enough to splinter the very walls around you. Every single time the old floorboards creaked from the settling building, your heart violently leaped into your throat, foolishly hoping it was her, only to be instantly crushed by the stark reminder that you were completely alone.
This went on for a week, neither of you spoke a single word to each other. When Toph did return home every few days, you pretended to be asleep as she moved through the bedroom and grabbed a fresh change of clothes to take back to wherever she was staying. You always left her dinner wrapped in the fridge, and it was on the forth night that you smelled the aroma of the chicken you had made, heating up as she sat stiffly at the counter and ate for the first time in god knows when.
It was when Lin showed up at your studio on the seventh day if you and Toph not speaking that you knew this had become something far larger than you could contain.
You were right in the middle of a session with a client when the glass door of your studio swung open. Lin stepped inside, her metalbending uniform clinking sharply with every rigid stride, her jaw was set hard into an expression of pure frustration. The tension radiating off her was enough to make the client freeze in surprise.
Lin didn't care about the disruption, her sharp eyes locked onto yours immediately, making it crystal clear that she wasn't here on official police business, she was here as a deeply concerned daughter who had seen far too much over the last week to keep silent.
Your relationship with Lin had always been close. You had stepped into her and Tophâs world when Lin was just a tiny, fierce toddler, and you had raised her as your very own from that moment forward. You were the one who wiped her scraped knees, cheered the loudest during her metalbending training, and held her hand when the weight of the Beifong name became too much for a young girl to carry.
As she grew, you became her ultimate confidant- the safe harbor she ran to whenever she got completely overwhelmed by the Chiefâs harsh, uncompromising nature at the precinct, or when her little sister, Su, managed to work her last nerve.
You knew every line of Lin's stubborn jaw, her favorite comfort meals, and exactly how to interpret the rigid set of her shoulders. So it wasn't surprising at all that she was standing here in your studio now. You had a feeling that if Toph wasn't sleeping at home she was likely crashing on Linâs couch.
Lin didn't wait for you to make excuses. She took one look at the client sitting in your studio chair, adjusted the metal cuffs on her wrists, and stepped forward with her signature, no-nonsense scowl.
âSession's over,â Lin announced, her rough voice cutting through the room like a siren. âPolice business. Grab your coat and get out.â
The client blinked in absolute shock, looking between her and you. It only took them a second to realize Lin wasn't giving them a choice, they frantically scrambled to gather their keys and bag, muttering a hasty goodbye before practically sprinting out the front door. The bell above the entrance jingled frantically, and then the shop door clicked shut, leaving only the two of you.
Lin watched the door close, her rigid shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch as the tough detective persona melted away. She turned to you, her jaw still set tight, but her sharp eyes were filled with a deep, familiar concern.
âShe's been crashing on my couch for a week.â Lin said bluntly, confirming your exact suspicion. âAnd she is making my life an absolute living hell. Seriously, you have to take her back before I lose my mind.â
Lin threw her arms up in total frustration, pacing the floor as she began counting her grievances on her fingers.
âShe completely took over my space, Ma. Yesterday, she got bored and used her earthbending to permanently alter my apartment, fusing my favorite iron skillet to the stove burner because she said the heat layout wasn't right and all her food was still cold, mind you it wasn't even turned on!â
âThen,â Lin exaggerated the word just so you knew how serious she was. âShe decided my kitchen counters were too low to the ground and made for ants so she bent the foundations three inches higher and now my countertops are almost as tall as me.â
You snorted at the mental image, but your daughter scowled at you so fiercely that you quickly flashed her an apologetic look to smooth things over.
âBut it's not just the property damage, Ma,â Lin continued, crossing her arms defensively. âShe is completely intruding in my personal life. Sheâs been interrogating me about who I'm seeing because she claimed she caught the scent of a woman's perfume in my bedroom. She is entirely wrecking my privacy, treating my home like her private precinct, and she's driving me completely insane.â
If it were any other situation you would have laughed. This was Lin's classic reaction whenever she had to spend more than five minutes alone with her mother. But now, knowing that your marital issues were actively spilling over and affecting your kids only made you feel worse, a heavy wave of guilt washing over your already exhausted heart.
âShe doesn't want anything to do with me, honey. I-I don't know what to tell you.â You admitted, your voice wavering as you looked down at your hands, unable to meet her gaze.
âYou guys always fight,â Lin said as she blew out a long, frustrated breath. âWhatâs so different now?â
You shifted your weight around on your feet before walking towards your office to put some tea on. Lin followed right behind you, collapsing onto the sofa with a heavy sigh as you made the both of you some tea.
âYour mother is struggling, Lin,â You said softly, handing her a steaming mug. âAnd I can't say too much because I respect her privacy. But just know I tried to get her to slow down, get some rest, and she did not take it well.â
Lin held the warm mug between her calloused hands, staring down at the swirling amber liquid. The signature scowl she always wore seemed to melt away, leaving her looking remarkably like her mother for a fleeting second.
âShe told me to leave her the hell alone when I asked why she was sleeping on my couch.â Lin murmured, her rough voice dropping into a quiet, tone. âShe's been a nightmare at the office, too. Screaming at the cadets, burying herself in twenty year old cold cases and sting operations with special forces. I knew it had to be bad if she was running this hard.â
Your fingers tightened around your own mug, the ceramic radiating a heat that couldn't touch the cold ache inside you. Toph was suffering, and it was utterly destroying you to be locked out of her world when she spiraled like this.
âI haven't physically seen her in a week and it's-â A lump formed in your throat, cutting off your breath. You swallowed hard, but the tears finally won, blurring the sight of your daughter sitting across from you. âIt's so hard, Lin. I love your mother so much that I don't even feel like myself anymore.â
Lin stared at you, the heavy metal plates of her uniform suddenly looking far too massive on her as her hardened expression completely fractured. Seeing you, the steady, loving rock of their family look so broken down by her mother's stubbornness was too much for even her. Lin hated seeing you cry or be anything less than your annoyingly happy self.
She set her tea mug down on the table with a sharp click. Without a word, Lin leaned across the sofa, reaching out to grab your hand, her rough palm squeezed yours with a reassuring strength that calmed the racing of your heart you knew she could hear. You looked away, mortified that you were having a breakdown in front of your daughter.
âHey. Look at me,â Lin commanded softly, her own voice cracking just a fraction. âYou are the best thing that ever happened to her. You know that, right? Sheâs a stubborn, miserable old bat who doesn't know how to handle the fact that she's not invincible anymore. But she loves you. She's just too damn proud and terrified to admit that you're right.â
You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. Seeing her step into the role of protector for you made the raw ache in your chest soften just a bit. You watched as Lin reached into her belt pouch, the metal components of her uniform expanding as she pulled out a brass house key. She slid it across the table until it tapped against your tea mug.
âShe knows she's wrong and she doesn't get to continue to hide out at my house just to avoid you,â Lin said, her expression shifting back into a determined, tactical scowl. âTake the key. She usually drags her miserable bones back to my place around nine to eat whatever scraps are left before heading out again. Go throw her off guard.â
You clutched the key tightly in your palm, feeling its cold, solid weight cut through your anxiety. Crossing the remaining space between you, you stepped forward and pulled Lin into one of those smothering motherly hugs. She didn't stiffen or become awkward like she usually did with others. Lin's rigid shoulders immediately relaxed, her armored arms wrapped around you just as tightly.
âI love you, Ma,â Lin whispered against your shoulder, her rough voice soft and laced with emotion.
Hearing those words made more tears spill from your eyes. It wasn't that you hadn't heard Lin say it before, but in this exact moment, you knew she felt just as terrible about how her mother was acting. She was standing with you, validating your pain, and reminding you that no matter how much the Chief pushed you away, you were still the heart of this family.
You gave her another tight squeeze before pulling away. âI love you too, Linny.â
Later that day you left your studio with a renewed sense of purpose. You stopped by a local market to gather some fresh ingredients for a dish you wanted to make. You couldn't bear the thought of Toph picking at cold leftovers on a lumpy couch, so you bought everything needed to cook her favorite comfort meal at Linâs place.
Once inside Lin's apartment, the nervous energy took over completely. To distract your mind from the impending confrontation, you set to work anxiously cleaning the space. You scrubbed the countertops, washed the dishes rotting away the sink, and neatly folded the laundry and spare blanket tossed over the back of the sofa where Toph had been sleeping.
By the time 8:45 PM hit, the apartment was spotless, and the rich, savory aroma of dinner filled the home. You sat on the edge of the sofa, your fingers nervously tracing the fabric of your jeans as the minutes ticked closer to nine. Your palms were sweating and your heart hammered against your ribs at every distant sound from the hallway as you waited.
Just as Lin had predicted, the doorknob turned at 9:00 PM sharp, and the front door swung open with a familiar metallic creak. Toph dragged her feet across the threshold, her limbs moving with that stiff, aching exhaustion you knew all too well.
She looked terrible. In just a week deep, bruised bags had formed under her sightless eyes and her face appeared thinner and much paler than before. The deep crow's feet around her eyes were starkly prominent in the dim light, and her gray laced hair was messy, sliding completely out of the tight bun she normally forced it into while working at the precinct.
Toph froze mid-stride, her entire body locking up as if she had been struck. Her seismic sense instantly picking up the unique, unmistakable vibration of your heartbeat echoing through the floorboards. To make matters worse for her defenses, the rich, savory aroma of the comfort food you had just cooked was swirling thick through the air, entirely replacing the stale scent of Lin's apartment.
Toph stood in the threshold, one boot half kicked off. She tried to mask her expression with indifference but failed. You had already seen through the vulnerable cracks, and now there was no going back. The front door slammed harshly behind her, and she grunted in frustration, violently kicking her remaining shoe off against the wall.
âI gave you the house so you wouldn't have to be here.â Toph grunted, her voice cracking with an intense, raw bitterness.
You stood and walked towards her, narrowing the distance between you until you were standing inches apart. Toph didnât flee. In fact, she subconsciously leaned into your comforting warmth- a sanctuary she had starved herself of for far too long.
âI don't want the house,â You whispered, your voice steady but thick with emotion. âI want you.â
You weren't an earthbender, so you couldn't simply bend the oppressive metal armor off her body. You did, however, know every inch of her uniform, including exactly where the emergency release buckles were hidden. Tentatively, you reached out and began unlatching them one by one. The metal plates felt cold and stiff in your hands, but the raw heat radiating from Tophâs body was undeniable as she let out a shaky sigh.
âI shouldn't have bombarded you the moment you walked through the door that night, and for that, I am truly sorry,â You mumbled, your fingers continuing their familiar, gentle work. âBut what I will never apologize for is being terrified of losing you, or caring about your well-being. You can push me away all you want, but it won't change how much I love you.â
As the heavy breastplate finally unlatched and clattered to the floorboards, the fierce, untouchable woman you knew seemed to soften entirely. Tophâs shoulders slumped under the sudden release of weight, and she let out a long, shuddering breath, her defenses finally crumbling into the quiet room.
You gently took her calloused hand in yours, her fingers twitching slightly before wrapping tightly around your palm. Without a word, you led her over to the sofa. Toph didnât resist, she let herself be guided, her usual fierce independence yielding entirely to her exhaustion.
âLay down,â you whispered, patting the cushions. âLet me take care of you for once.â
Toph let out a low, defeated groan, but she finally complied, letting her large frame sink face down onto the couch. The moment her body hit the soft fabric, she let out a long, exasperated breath, her muscles beginning to slacken under your expert guidance. You sat on the edge of the cushions beside her and placed your hands on her bare shoulders, immediately feeling the rock hard knots of tension bunched up beneath her skin.
As your fingers began to deeply knead the sore muscles along her spine and shoulders, Toph let out a rare, contented rumble that sounded almost like a purr. The warmth of your hands seemed to melt away the last remnants of her stubbornness, leaving her completely relaxed and vulnerable under your touch.
But just as she began to drift into the quiet relief of the massage, you decided it was time to bring back the lively, spirited woman you loved. Shifting your weight, your fingers slid down her back and dug straight into her most secret, heavily guarded ticklish spots right along her ribs and sides. You hands moved feverishly, your hands sliding down her calves and ankles so you could tickle her toes.
Toph shrieked at the top of her lungs, her entire body violently twisting and squirming against the cushions as she tried to escape your treacherous fingers.
âHey! What are you- stop it! Let go!â She wheezed, her rough voice cracking as she burst into loud, breathless, booming laughter. She blindly kicked her legs in the air, thrashing helplessly as her fiery spirit took over completely, the agonizing silence of the last week officially shattered by the beautiful sound of her joy.
You climbed onto her back and straddled her to keep her in place. You giggled, and for the first time in a week, your smile finally reached your eyes. You finally let up after she nearly flipped you over and tossed the both of you onto the floor. Even with her age, she was still significantly stronger than you, and if she really wanted to, she could have gotten you off her in a split second.
âYou're so cute under all that brooding. I should've done this sooner,â You teased, your hands smoothing over her shoulders and the nape of her neck as you went back to massaging her.
Toph huffed, her head turned to the side as her eyes fluttered closed, completely surrendering to your touch. âI am not cute.â
âSure you aren't, Chief,â You whispered affectionately, your thumbs leaning deep into the tight muscles of her upper back. âYou're just my cute grumpy badger mole.â
With a sudden, explosive burst of remaining energy, Toph used all her years of combat training and twisted her body beneath you, using her powerful core to flip flat onto her back. Before you could even think about escaping, her hand shot out and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip, pulling you entirely off balance.
You let out a shrieking laugh as you tumbled forward, crashing right onto the sofa with her. Toph instantly locked her legs around yours, her muscular arms pinning you securely against her chest in an unbreakable hold that left you completely trapped beneath her weight.
âOh, you think you're real funny, don't you?â Toph said, her chest heaving beneath you as she tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks were still heavily flushed from the laughing fit, and her silver streaked hair was a wild mess across the cushions.
You took a moment to look at her, really look at her and your heart constricted in your chest. You reached out and traced the beautiful silver paths woven through her dark hair, feeling a profound surge of adoration for the woman beneath you. Despite what Toph might think. The lines etched around her eyes and mouth weren't signs of weakness to you, they were proof of her fierce resilience, a map of a life spent fighting for others, and you had never loved her more than you did right now.
Tophâs smirk gradually softened as she felt the shift in your breathing and the steady, warm weight of your gaze on her face. Her sightless eyes blinked softly, and she reached up with a slightly trembling, calloused hand, her knuckles gently brushing against your cheek.
âWhat?â She wondered, her tone dropping into a quiet, almost self conscious whisper. âWhy is your heart beating like you just ran a marathon?â
A rare, vulnerable shadow crossed her face. Her hand continued to map your softened features, tentatively brushing against your jawline, your nose and over your eyes. Her fingers trembled as she grounded herself in your touch, reading the lines of your face as if she could picture how you were looking at her.
You leaned down slightly, gently cupping her hand against your cheek, refusing to let her pull away.
âBecause I am completely enamored with you, Toph Beifong,â You whispered, your voice thick with a reverence so profound it seemed to quiet the entire room. âI look at you right now, and it completely takes my breath away. You think youâre hiding a breaking body behind all that armor and paperwork but all I see is the most beautiful woman I have ever known.â
Slowly, your fingers reached out and slid up from her jawline, your thumbs gently tracing the prominent crow's feet carved around her eyes. She shied away, a sudden twitch of self consciousness locking her posture as if she knew exactly what features you were focusing on, but you didn't let up. You held her face firmly but tenderly in your palms, refusing to let her withdraw into the dark again. She needed to know, down to her very bones, that your eyes didn't see her any differently than the day you fell in love with her.
âI love these lines,â You murmured, your touch as light as a feather over her skin, grounding her in the absolute safety of your gaze. âYou hate them because you think they show your age, but to me, they are a map of your resilience. They are the beautiful marks of every single time youâve smiled at me when the rest of the world wasn't looking. You trusted me with your heart, with the sacred duty to raise your family alongside you, and I promised you then what I am promising you right now.â
You leaned down further, pressing your forehead gently against hers, letting her feel the fierce, unshakeable depth of your devotion through the shared warmth of your skin.
âI am staying, Toph. Not out of some stupid obligation, and not because a marriage certificate says I have to. I am here because you, Lin, and Su all carry the very pieces of my soul. I gave my life to you three decades ago, and every single day since has been a gift. Without you, I could never be whole.â
You placed a kiss at the corners of her eyes. âAnd I know you're hurting so much, baby. It breaks my heart to think that you've been bearing this quiet, relentless weight all by yourself. That you've somehow convinced yourself that if you let me see the cracks in the stone, that if you're anything less than the untouchable force of nature the world expects you to be, that it would change the way I feel about you.â
âI want you to really hear me when I say this,â You pleaded, closing the final inch between you until your lips brushed against hers with every single word you spoke. âMy love isn't conditional on your strength, Toph. Your changing body isn't a burden to me, it is a privilege to love, to protect, and to lift you up when the weight of this world becomes too much for even the strongest woman alive.â
A resonant, broken cry tore from Tophâs throat at your words, her fingers dug desperately into the fabric of your shirt as the final, tormenting walls of her isolation completely shattered. She pulled you down even more firmly against her chest, burying her face into your shoulder as she finally let go of the terrifying fear of losing herself, completely held by the realization that your love for her was entirely unconditional.
âI don't deserve you baby and I'm so sorry.â Tophâs voice was thick as her shoulders shook slightly as she clung to you.
âI was horrible to you,â She choked out, her rough voice cracking under the absolute weight of her remorse. âI said things I didn't mean and weaponized our love just to cut you down and push you away. Baby, I-..â
She couldn't even finish the thought as a broken, trembling breath escaped her lips. Toph tightened her embrace, burying her face even deeper against your neck as if she were trying to hide the raw, agonizing shame burning through her. Her fingers dug desperately into your shirt, her entire body shaking with the force of her regrets.
âI took the one sacred thing we built, the one place where I'm supposed to protect you, and I turned it into a weapon because I was too proud to admit that I'm breaking.â She whispered, her voice uncharacteristically small and entirely stripped of its usual bravado. âI wanted to hurt you before you could see how weak I felt. And the second you walked away, the guilt just completely swallowed me whole. I hate myself for what I did to you, sweetheart. I hate that I made you feel unloved or made you think I could ever live without you.â
You shook your head, the instinctive denial already spilling from your lips. âYou didn't, baby, you could never. I was just worried-â
âNo, don't downplay it,â Toph cut in, her tone dropping into a weighted register as her hands traveled up the expanse of your back, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin. She missed being able to touch you like this so now she was making up for lost time. âI already feel bad enough.â
Toph tilted her head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the exposed skin of your collarbone before moving up to trail her lips directly over your pulse point.
âDon't protect me from my own mistakes, sweetheart,â She said, her voice tight with raw conviction. âI know exactly how hard those words landed. I felt your heartbeat stutter through the floorboards when I said them. I felt you freeze. I took advantage of the fact that you love me just so I could build a wall high enough to hide behind, and there is no excuse for that.â
She shifted underneath you, her touch remarkably gentle as her calloused hands slid up to rest flat against your chest, right over your heart, as if she needed to physically feel the life she had nearly broken.
âI need you to let me say it. I need you to know that I feel the pain I caused, and I'm not going to let myself run away from it anymore. You shouldn't have to carry the burden of my pride. I am a stubborn, difficult woman, but I love you too much to ever let my fear become your cage again.â
âI hear you, baby,â You whispered, leaning down until your nose brushed against hers. âI hear you, and you're completely forgiven. No more hurting each other.â
A soft, relieved smile finally tugged at the corners of her lips. You leaned in the rest of the way, sealing the apology with a tender kiss that melted away the very last remnants of the horrible week.
Once you pulled away, the rich aroma of the dinner you had cooked finally caught her attention, causing her stomach to let out a loud, traitorous growl that completely shattered the intense moment. Toph blinked, her cheeks flushing a brand new shade of pink as she let out a rough chuckle before pecking your lips.
âAlright, all that sap got my stomach screaming, sweetheart,â She grumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. âAnd this couch is doing no favors for my spine. Hand over the food before I start eating the cushions.â
You laughed and climbed off top of her, wrapping your arms around her waist to help her up into a sitting position against the cushions. âI don't think Lin will appreciate that.â
âYeah well, Lin owes me for snitching!â Toph scoffed, a sharp grin cutting through her exhaustion. âI know sheâs the only reason you even knew where to look for me. The kidâs got a big mouth for someone with a badge.â
âHey, don't go blaming our daughter,â You laughed, nudging her shoulder with your own as you set the warm pan between you both on the hardwood floorboards. âHonestly, Lin looked absolutely terrified that you were going to stay here permanently. She loves you don't get me wrong, but I'm sure she'll be glad to have her apartment back.â
Toph let out a loud snort, stabbing a piece of chicken with her fork before popping it into her mouth.
âYeah, yeah, whatever,â She grumbled, though the playful edge in her voice had completely melted into a relaxed drawl. âLet her have her precious apartment back. Between you and me, her taste in tea is terrible, and the silence in this place is way too loud anyway.â
She shifted closer to you on the hardwood floorboards, her shoulder pressing comfortably against your arm as she swallowed her food. A small mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, her sightless eyes softening as she leaned into your side.
âBesides, the kid needs to learn that she can't just evict me whenever she wants.â Toph added, her voice dropping into a quiet, warm chuckle. âBut I guess if it gets me back into my own bed with my wife, I'll let her think she won this round. Just don't tell her though it'll go to her head.â
You rolled your eyes, that Beifong competitiveness always shining through. If you were completely honest with yourself, you wouldn't change a single thing about her.
âDeal,â You smiled, leaning over to press a soft kiss against her cheek, catching the warmth of her skin. âYour secret is perfectly safe with me. Let's finish up this food so we can finally go home.â
Toph hummed in agreement, her posture completely relaxed against yours as you both shared the rest of the meal right there on the floor.
fluffy fic where toph thinks shes going crazy cuz she swears she hears a second heartbeat when shes with reader
turns out reader is just pregnant with su lmao
also bonus if we get to see little lins reaction to becoming a big sister đœ
The Best Kimd of Surprise
Toph Beifong x Pregnant Reader
WC: 3.8k
Synopsis: Toph hears another heartbeat in the home and swears she's going crazy.
Content/Warnings: Fluff and little lin!
Warm water sloshed in the sink as you rinsed the last of the dinner plates. Beside you, little Lin balanced carefully on the stool you'd dragged over from the breakfast bar, her dark hair slightly mussed from bath time. Both of her tiny hands were buried up to the wrists in the soapy water.
âLook!â She announced proudly.
She lifted her hands, and a mountain of bubbles clung to her fingers. The suds slid down her bare arms, making her giggle. âMy bubbles are bigger than yours, Mommy.â
You glanced over, feigning shock. âI don't know about that. Those are pretty impressive, though.â
To demonstrate just how large her bubbles were, she leaned further over the sink so she could collect as many bubbles in her arms as possible just to lift up all the water and the soap and show you. Water was everywhere, dripping all over the counter and ruining the pajamas you had just changed her into.
You laughed, shaking your head as your hand rested on her shoulder to halt her movements. âEasy there, pebble. The kitchen's already clean.â
âBut I gotta wash the dishes.â She frowned at you as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. âI'm helping.â
Your smile softened, you pinched her cheek and she beamed up at you, her eyes wide with a childlike happiness you'd never get tired of seeing. âYou are helping baby.â
Satisfied with that answer, she rubbed her palms together again, creating even more foam. Once it was large enough for her liking she held up another handful of bubbles. âThese ones look like clouds.â
Your own eyes widened as you matched her excitement. âThey do.â
She studied them carefully. âI think if I blew on them hard enough, they'd fly away.â
âProbably. And then we'd have bubble clouds all over the house.â You tell her.
Lin gasped, delighted by the idea. âCan we keep them?â
You laughed again, reaching over to wipe a bit of soap from the tip of her nose. âI don't think bubbles make very good pets sweetheart.â
She seemed to think about it, her brows knitting together in deep concentration. âThey're better than a turtle.â
âOh?â This was news to you since Lin already had a pet turtle in her room. âSince when?â
âSince today.â
The door opened before you could respond as Toph's metal boots crossed the entryway. Neither of you stopped what you were doing. Lin was too busy making another mountain of bubbles, and you were watching her face scrunch in concentration.
âI made even more,â She declared proudly.
âYou might hold the world record at this point.â You replied, drying your own hands off now that you were finished.
She smiled up at you, her cheeks dimpling and you couldn't help it. You bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek which made her giggle more.
Fresh off work, Toph stood in the threshold between the entryway and kitchen, one hand still wrapped around the strap of her satchel. The exhaustion of the day lingered in her posture, but she didn't move another inch. Her ears perked at the sound of your laughter and Lin's excited chatter, quietly taking in the scene before her.
Lin suddenly gasped. âMama!â
Being the little earthbender she was, she felt Toph's footsteps through the floor and immediately twisted around on the stool. She nearly scrambled down in her hurry, her small feet pattering against the tile as she bolted across the kitchen. Toph barely had time to brace herself before Lin collided with her legs.
A grin spread across her face, replacing the previous exhaustion. âPebble!!â
She bent down, scooped Lin up with practiced ease, and swung her onto her hip. Lin squealed happily, wrapping her wet arms around Toph's neck but she didn't seem to mind.
âHow are my favorite girls?â Toph asked, her voice warm despite the long day she'd had.
âMommy let me help wash dishes!â Lin said proudly.
âDid she now?" Toph asked, amusement shining in her voice. âIs this why you're all wet?â
Lin nodded excitedly, shaking her entire body in response. With Lin balanced on her hip, she crossed the kitchen and stopped in front of you. She leaned down and stole a quick kiss, her lips soft against yours as the tension of the police station began to melt away.
âEww,â Lin complained, burying her face in Toph's shoulder. âToo mushy.â
You laughed softly, your hand coming up to gently rest against Toph's arm. You were about to ask her how her day was when Toph froze, she could hear a tiny, rapid heartbeat coming from somewhere in the home. It was so faint she almost missed it.
Her smile disappeared completely, her lips parting as her head tilted just a fraction of an inch so she could confirm what she was hearing was true.
âMama?â Lin asked, picking up on the sudden, change in her posture.
Toph didn't answer. Her blind eyes were blank, completely dialed into the vibrations running up through the floorboards.
There it was again.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
Her brows knit together, a deep furrow appearing between her eyes.
âIs there someone else here?â She asked slowly, her tone shifting from domestic warmth to the sharp, commanding edge of a protective wife who was anticipating a fight.
Your heart jumped violently in your chest, a frantic thudding that you knew she could feel. You gripped the edge of the counter behind you, the porcelain cold against your palms. âWhat? No. It's just us.â
Toph frowned, her jaw tightening as the heartbeat came again.
âLin, down.â She ordered quietly, carefully setting her daughter on her feet.
âMama?â Lin repeated, her small face beginning to scrunch with worry as she looked between the two of you.
Toph was already moving. Her bare feet slapped firmly against the floorboards as she launched into motion. She checked the living room first, sending a heavy pulse of seismic energy radiating out from her heels.
She yanked open the hall closet and then the bathroom door, finding nothing but empty space. Her movement grew more frantic as she strode down the hallway to the guest room and then the master bedroom, her calloused hands briefly skimming the doorframes as if physical touch could help her make sense of the auditory chaos.
With every single step she took, Toph sent subtle, hyper-focused vibrations through the floorboards, mapping the entire layout of the house in her mind with precision; she had built this house after all. Every piece of furniture, the wooden studs inside the walls, and every empty corner was laid completely bare to her seismic sense.
Yet, despite her thorough search, there were no extra footsteps echoing through the house or someone hiding in the shadows. She even checked under the beds to make sure and found nothing which only perplexed her more.
The only anomaly in the entire structure was that same phantom rhythm echoing back to her. The persistence of the sound made Toph stop dead in the middle of the hallway, her mouth tightening into a hard, deeply frustrated line as her brain scrambled to reconcile what she was feeling with what she knew to be true.
You remained rooted in the kitchen, gripping the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles were beginning to ache. Your pulse was a chaotic mess, a dead giveaway of your panic, but you desperately hoped she would just think you were terrified of a potential home intruder.
âMama?â Lin called again, padding after her on small, hesitant feet. âWhat's wrong?â
Toph whirled around and strode back into the kitchen, yanking open the pantry door with a sharp click. Nothing but sacks of rice and tea leaves greeted her as well as some snacks and canned food. She snapped it shut with a frustrated sound.
Toph turned in a slow circle right in front of the stove, her toes flexing against the tile. No, that wasn't possible. She'd never misheard a heartbeat before. She could tell a liar by a skip in their pulse from twenty paces away. Hell, she has tracked an escaping thief through three feet of solid stone on multiple occasions.
Had she finally lost her touch?
She pressed her bare feet more firmly against the floor, closing her eyes to shut out the rest of the world and still heard it mocking her.
Toph exhaled a heavy, ragged breath through her nose. She laughed once, the sound was short, disbelieving and borderline hysterical. âYou've gotta be kidding me.â
You swallowed hard, the sound incredibly loud in your own ears. âToph, what's wrong?â
Lin blinked up at her mother, concern evident in her voice. âMama? Is a bad guy hiding?â
Toph rubbed a hand over her face, running her fingers over her eyes with a groan. âI think.â She frowned, looking genuinely distressed for a fraction of a second before her usual stubbornness took over. âI think I've finally lost it. The stress from the precinct is finally frying my brain.â
âWhat?â You asked, perhaps a little too quickly, your voice raising several octaves as it became increasingly harder to hide your alarm. âWhy would you say that?â
She gestured vaguely around the room with both hands, looking utterly perplexed. âI keep hearingâ Actually, I don't know what I'm hearing. Itâs like a ghost is playing tiny drums in our house.â
Her expression twisted with pure irritation. "There's another heartbeat in this house, but there's nobody here. Unless someone figured out how to turn invisible and hide in our walls, I'm going senile.â
Your pulse hammered against your ribs like a trapped spirit. Lin looked bewildered, turning her head left and right as if trying to see what her Mama was feeling. âAnother person? Like a tiny person?â
âI don't know, Pebble.â Toph sighed, throwing her hands up in the air and sounding more exhausted than alarmed now. âMaybe I need a vacation or I'm hallucinating from lack of sleep.â
She sent another massive pulse through the kitchen floor, making the sudsy water in the sink ripple. Just as she suspected, the tiny pulse remained, ticking away like a miniature clock.
Toph stood there for several long seconds, her shoulders dropping. She muttered to herself, âI guess I'm getting old. Is this what thirty feels like? Your ears just start making up background music?â
âMama, you're not old,â Lin said, stepping forward to pat Tophâs knee in a sweet attempt at reassurance.
That earned the faintest huff of amusement from your wife. âThanks, kid. Good to know my fan club is still loyal.â
But her attention drifted again. The irritation on her face softened, replaced by a sudden, intense curiosity. Slowly, almost unconsciously, her head turned toward you.
You hadn't moved or spoken. You had barely breathed, holding the air tightly in your lungs as if that could somehow stop the biological reality of what was happening inside you.
The tiny heartbeat fluttered once more, feeling your panic. Toph frowned, because for some reason it seemed to be perfectly tethered to you.
She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her bare soles sliding across the kitchen tile. She stopped just two inches away from you, her head tilting downward. She didn't look at your face; her sightless gaze was fixed entirely on your midsection.
âHold on a second,â Toph whispered, her voice dropping as realization seemed to finally dawn on her.
She reached out, her rough, calloused hand hovering just an inch away from your stomach, lingering there with a rare, fragile hesitation before she finally pressed her palm gently against your apron.
âToph..â Your breath hitched instantly, your mind racing a mile a minute for an excuse, a playful joke, or any kind of distraction that could buy you just a few more days before the romantic reveal you had planned.
But Toph didn't answer your silent plea; she stood perfectly still, her entire being dialed into the minuscule vibrations radiating right beneath her fingertips.
Suddenly, her hand jerked back slightly as if she had touched a blazing stove, her brows furrowing in deep, stubborn denial.
âNo,â She muttered under her breath as she pressed her palm right back against the fabric, enduring a tense pocket of silence before that same tiny, rapid flutter brushed against her senses once more.
Tophâs breathing stopped completely, the abrupt quiet of her lungs making your own pounding pulse feel deafeningly loud in your throat.
âMama?â Lin looked between the two of you, her face full of confusion as she called out to her mother, but Toph was unresponsive.
Her hand slowly lifted from your stomach only to return a second later, her fingers spreading wide against your apron as she caught another unmistakable flutter, leaving her looking baffled.
âThat's..â She stopped, her throat bobbing as she found herself unable to finish the sentence, while you stood before her entirely speechbound.
She pulled her hand away and took a small step back, her sightless eyes wide and staring up at your face as she shook her head once in a desperate attempt to convince herself of the impossible.
âNo,â She said again, her quiet and unsteady voice practically pleading for reassurance. âNo, because that doesn't make sense.â
âBaby,â You started again, your voice cracking.
âBecause I would've known,â She spoke over you, her words tumbling out quickly now as she looked at your face as though the answer might be written there. âRight? I mean, I'm me. I feel everything. I would've known.â
You swallowed hard, giving her nothing as you struggled to keep your composure. Toph blinked, a secondary wave of realization crashing over her as her clouded eyes widened. Very slowly, she looked back down at your stomach as if she could see the baby growing there.
Lin gently tugged on her pant leg, looking up with big, worried eyes. âMama, why are you looking at Mommy funny?â
Toph didn't answer, standing there looking lost for the first time in a very long time. You looked down at her, your own heart pounding.
âI think Mama is in shock, sweetheart,â You said softly, reaching down to gently stroke Lin's dark hair.
Lin's eyes widened, her tiny brows knitting together in immediate concern as she looked back up at Toph's frozen posture. âLike when I fell out of the tree?â
A startled laugh escaped you, the absurdity of the comparison breaking through the thick layer of tension in the kitchen. âNo, baby. Not that kind of shock.â
âOh,â Lin murmured, looking thoroughly relieved but still fascinated by the strange atmosphere.
You looked back at Toph. She still hadn't moved. One hand remained pressed against your stomach, while the other hung uselessly at her side. Her feet were rooted in place, her spine rigid as if even breathing too hard might somehow shatter the moment and make this reality disappear.
Your expression softened, the panic washing away only to leave an overwhelming tenderness. Closing the remaining distance between you, you stepped closer into her space and reached up, cupping her face in both of your hands.
Her skin was still cool from the brisk evening air outside, a stark contrast to the radiating warmth of your own palms. Slowly, gently, you guided her forward until her forehead rested securely against yours, coaxing her stunned mind back to the present.
Toph sucked in a small, sharp breath at the contact, her eyelids fluttering as she leaned into your warmth.
âI didn't want you to find out like this,â You whispered into the quiet space between your lips, your voice thick with emotion. âI had a whole plan.â
For a long moment, she didn't say a single word. You felt her exhale against your face, followed quickly by another as she tried to process the weight of your admission. Down below, her hand was still resting flat against your stomach, still feeling that miniature rhythm, making sure with every passing second that it was actually real.
âYou had a plan?" She asked quietly, her rough voice cracking slightly on the words.
Despite the gravity of everything, a laugh escaping you. âI did.â
Tophâs brow shifted slightly against yours. âWhat kind of plan?â
You squeezed her cheeks gently, a playful smile finally breaking through. âI can't tell you now. It'd ruin it.â
A choked sound left her throat, something caught between a breathless laugh and disbelief. âYou are unbelievable, I can't believe you hid this from me.â
You pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. âI know.â
The tiny heartbeat fluttered again beneath Toph's palm, a rapid reminder of the life growing inside you. âThere's really another heartbeat in there.â
You felt your eyes sting with happy tears, your vision blurring as you looked up at her.
âYeah.â You whispered back, the word barely escaping your throat.
Toph swallowed hard, the reality of it finally washing over her in full. She lifted her free hand from her side and placed it tenderly over yours where it rested against her cheek, leaning her head into your touch. For the first time since she had walked through the front door, Toph allowed herself to finally relax.
âWe're having another baby.â She rasps, the words sounding sacred on her tongue.
Right beside you, the quiet atmosphere was instantly shattered as Lin gasped loudly, her eyes going wide. She looked down at Toph's hand on your apron, then up at both of your faces, her jaw practically hitting the floorboards.
âThere's a baby in there?â Lin shouted, her voice echoing off the kitchen tiles as she pointed her bubble-sticky finger directly at your stomach.
You lowered your hand from Toohs face, still chuckling as you stepped around the kitchen counter to get down to her level. âYes, sweetie, there really is. But itâs very small right now.â
Lin glanced down at your stomach, squinting her eyes as if she could see through the fabric if she stared hard enough.
âBut you didn't eat a baby," Lin stated firmly, her eyes turning serious. âI watched you eat dinner. You ate rice.â
Toph let out a loud snort from where she was standing behind you, her awkward panic melting back into her signature, cackling laugh. âYeah, explain that one sweetheart. How'd the rice turn into a baby?â
âToph, you're not helping.â You warned playfully, tossing the dish towel that was hanging over your shoulder in her general direction.
She caught it out of the air without even turning her head, a smug smirk returning to her face as she shrugged. âWhat? I'm curious now.â
You shook your head, smiling at her antics, but Lin looked genuinely concerned by the lack of clear answers. She glanced between the two of you, her lips pursing in a thin line. It was moments like these where she reminded you of Toph the most. âSo, where did the baby come from?â
Toph went quiet, her smug grin vanishing into a mask of pure awkwardness. You stared at her, waiting for a savior, but she turned her face away to stare blankly at the kitchen cabinets.
âReally?â You said, already laughing at her cowardice.
âNope, I'm not doing it.â Toph muttered, refusing to look in your general direction.
âYou made the rice joke,â You pointed out, crossing your arms.
âAnd I regret everything,â She grumbled, her cheeks turning a light pink.
You laughed harder, which only made Lin frown in deep irritation. âWhy are you guys being weird?â
âWe're not being weird.â Toph answered a little too quickly, already getting defensive.
âYou are.â Lin insisted, not backing down. âYou made your voice funny.â
She opened her mouth to argue, ready to defend her honor to a five-year-old, then stopped as she realized she was losing the battle. âYou're too smart for your own good.â
You bit back another laugh, decided it was finally time to rescue your wife, and gently took one of Lin's hands in yours. âThe baby came from Mommy and Mama deciding we wanted our family to get a little bigger.â
Lin considered that, her eyes darting between you both as she processed the concept. âSo you made one at the store?â
âIn a way, yes.â You answered gently.
Her mouth formed a tiny 'o' as it all began to make sense now. She looked down at your flat stomach again, curiosity getting the better of her as she slowly reached out and pressed her palm flat against it. When nothing happened, she pulled her hand back, looking disappointed. âWhy can't I feel it?â
âBecause the baby's still tiny,â You explained, smoothing down her hair. âToo tiny to kick or move around yet.â
Lin pouted, her bottom lip jutting out. âBut Mama heard it.â
âYeah,â Toph stated in a far off tone like she was still processing the simple fact. âI did.â
Lin looked up at her, captivated. âCan you hear it right now?â
Toph's hand found your stomach again, moving entirely on instinct. She didn't even seem to realize she was doing it, her calloused fingers spreading gently across your waist. Her face grew soft and distant as she dialed into the vibrations beneath her palm, a small smile breaking across her lips. âYeah. Still there.â
Lin's own excitement shown in her eyes. âWhat's it doing?â
Toph laughed softly through her nose, her shoulders relaxing completely. âHonestly? Going really, really fast.â
âWhy?â Lin asked curiously, she was taking this better than you had expected.
âNo clue.â
You smiled, leaning your weight into Tophâs side. âBecause tiny babies have fast heartbeats, sweetie.â
Lin nodded solemnly, treating this as the most reasonable piece of information she had heard all evening. Then, she looked up at you with a fleeting trace of worry. âIs it staying?â
You blinked, caught off guard. âThe baby?â
She nodded quickly. âOr does it go back where it came from?â
Your heart warmed at the innocence of the question. âNo, sweetheart, the baby's staying. It's a permanent addition to our family.â
Lin thought about that for a long moment, her brain calculating the vastness of the future. âSo, I'm gonna be a big sister forever?â
The sweetness of it made both you and Toph melt. âYeah,â You whispered, your chest aching with affection. âYou are.â
She let out a loud, ecstatic squeal that echoed off the walls. Before either of you could brace yourselves, she launched forward, throwing her small arms around your middle as carefully as her tiny body could manage. âI'm gonna teach the baby everything! How to wash dishes and make bubbles and stack rocks and draw badger-moles!â
Toph made a small, strangled noise in the back of her throat, her free hand coming up to gently ruffle Lin's dark hair. Her own hand remained rested on your lower back, her smile impossibly soft as she held you both close.
âI think,â She said, her voice thick with emotion and amusement all at once, âthe kid already has the big sister thing figured out.â
You could already feel tears prickling your eyes because she really did.
What do you think of a Toph x Pregnant Reader story where both already have families with Lin and Suyin? But when Reader's baby is born, it turns out years later to be a lava bender, and Toph is incredibly excited, even if she doesn't show it.
Let's say the reader is a fire bender. Toph and the reader were always playfully arguing about which bender the baby would be: Fire or Earth. Imagine their surprise when they both get a mix of both!
Could you please capture Toph and the reader's reactions, as well as Lin and Suyin cheering them on completely?
By the way, I love your writing and I think you're one of the few people who write Toph for the character she is and don't make her completely unchangeable
A Path Of Ger Own
Pairing: Toph Beifong x Wife Reader
WC: 5k+
Synopsis: You have to break the news to your daughter's that you're pregnant and it doesn't go very well. Basically the request.
Content/Warnings: Fluff.
Sitting down and breaking the news to your very grown, very adult children that you were pregnant was not the easiest task. Lin was twenty-two, climbing the ranks at the police department in hopes of one day taking over for Toph. Su was seventeen, though she acted like she was the same age as Lin with the way she bossed you and Toph around the house.
You had just finished dinner, and now you were all sprawled across the living room. Some horror movie Suyin had insisted on was playing as she curled against her mama, who was already beginning to drift off to sleep beside her. Toph didn't see the point of grand reveals. After raising two kids, she'd simply told you to get it over with and just tell them.
But you were stressed, hormonal, and you had no idea how they were going to take the news.
You had talked yourself out of it several times that night. Even now, sitting on the opposite couch and watching your family piled together, it still didn't feel like the right time. But you were going to start showing soon, and they deserved to know.
Taking a quiet breath, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. Su was the first to react. Her head whipped toward you so fast it was almost comical, as though you'd just committed a crime she might never forgive.
âMom!â She groaned dramatically, throwing her hands into the air. âIt was just getting to the good part.â
Toph let out a sleepy grunt from the other end of the couch, one arm still draped around Su's shoulders. âKid, if you wanted the good part, you picked the wrong movie. It sounds terrible.â
âHow would you know?â Su countered, turning in her mother's hold. âYou've literally been asleep for the last twenty minutes. I didn't even get to explain the plot to you yet.â
âI wasn't sleeping.â Toph lies easily. âI was resting my eyes.â
âYou snored.â Su deadpans.
Toph titled her head, never one to accept defeat. âI was listening.â
Lin, seated in the armchair with a book balanced in her lap, lowered it just enough to glance between the three of you. âCan we settle the debate later? Mom paused it for a reason.â
The room quieted and three pairs of eyes settled on you. Your throat suddenly felt dry now that you were the center of attention. You opened your mouth once then closed it again.
Toph tilted her head in your direction, sensing the hesitation immediately. Even half asleep, she knew you better than anyone. âBaby?â
Your fingers tightened around the remote until your knuckles ached from clenching them so hard.
âThere... um..â You swallowed. âThere's actually something your mama and I wanted to tell you.â
Suyin straightened like she was bracing herself for something awful. Lin closed her book completely, setting it aside without taking her eyes off you. Neither of them spoke, and somehow the silence that settled over the room felt heavier than the horror movie ever had.
When you didn't answer fast enough, the guesses started.
âAre you sick?â Su asked, her voice wavering more with every passing second. âBecause... you haven't really been eating, and the other day I heard you throwing up in the bathroom.â
Lin's head snapped toward her sister, her expression hardening. âMom's been sick, and you didn't think to tell me?â
âI didn't know it was a big deal!â Su added defensively. âShe told me she was fine, so I believed her.â
âYou should've told me anyway.â Lin shot back angrily. âI have a right to know.â
âAnd make you panic over nothing?â Su argued, and she had a point out of the two of them Lin was more likely to freak out.
âIt clearly wasn't nothing.â Lin pointed out with huff.
Their bickering washed over you, neither of them noticing the guilty look spreading across your face. They weren't angry with each other, you knew thaf more than anything. You could see both of their sides and that was the problem.
Toph sighed from beside Su, rubbing at her face before sitting up properly. âHey.â Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried enough authority to stop both daughters mid-argument. âKnock it off.â
The room fell quiet again.
Lin's shoulders were rigid, every muscle in her body tense as she looked back at you. Su had gone pale, her foot bouncing anxiously against the floor.
âMom,â Lin said more softly this time. âAre you okay?â
Your heart squeezed.
You hadn't expected this. You'd spent the entire day worrying they would think you were too old to have another baby, that they'd be embarrassed, annoyed, maybe even offended that their parents were starting all over again.
Instead, they'd skipped right past every possibility and landed on the one that terrified them most. Losing you to something awful.
You fiddled with your pant leg in an attempt to distract yourself from the anxiety rising in your belly. You coukd feel Toph's energy from the other side of the room, silently telling you to spit it out already before the girls really start to think somethings wrong.
âNo,â You answered, your voice barely above a whisper. âI'm not sick.â
Neither of them relaxed after hearing your words. Su leaned forward on the couch. âThen what's going on?â
You let out a nervous laugh, though it came out shakier than you intended.
âI've been throwing up becauseâŠâ You glanced at Toph, who simply shrugged as if to say See? Told you this would've been easier if you'd just said it. âI'm pregnant.â
The room got eerily silent as you waited for your daughter's honest reactions.
Lin was the first to speak, her brows slowly pulled together as if she'd heard the words perfectly but her brain had decided to reject them anyway. âWhat?â
âI'm pregnant,â You repeated, unable to stop the small, nervous smile tugging at your lips.
Your children stared at you as if you had suddent grown two heads and Toph folded her arms across her chest, looking far too pleased with herself.
âTook you long enough,â She muttered. âI've been waiting all day for you to spit it out and tell them already.â
Neither daughter acknowledged Toph's comment. They were too stunned to formulate words and you understood this was alot for then and gave them the necessary time they needed to work through it.
âYou're serious?â Su whispered.
You nodded. âI went to the healer a few days ago. We wanted to be certain before telling you.â
âBut-â Su opened her mouth and closed it again, pointing between you and Toph in disbelief. âYou're-you're having a baby?â
Toph snorted from beside her. âPretty sure that's what pregnant means, honey.â
Lin finally found her voice. âHow?â
Toph turned toward the sound with the flattest expression imaginable. âWhen two women love each other very much-..â
âOh, spirits, I know how babies are made,â Lin groaned, dragging a hand down her face. âThat's not what I meant.â
A grin spread across Toph's face, she'd never tire of teasing her children. âThen ask a better question.â
For the first time since you'd paused the movie, a laugh escaped you. The tension eased, if only for a moment.
âWhat did you mean, sweetheart?â You asked gently.
Lin rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly looking far less composed than she had a minute ago.
âIt's just,â Her eyes darted toward Su, silently pleading for help, but for perhaps the first time in her life, her younger sister had absolutely nothing to say. âYou guys aren't exactly getting any younger.â
âOuch.â You replied dramatically, placing a hand over your heart.
The joke landed, earning a snort from Toph and the ghost of a smile from Su, but beneath your playful tone you had to swallow the lump rising in your throat. You knew Lin hadn't meant to hurt your feelings. She never would. Still, hearing your daughter's first reaction boiled down to your age stung more than you cared to admit.
Lin noticed the shift almost as soon as it happened. âMom,â She started quietly. âI didn't mean it like that.â
Your eyes stung with tears that you refused to let fall. âI know.â
âNo, I don't think you do.â She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she searched for the right words. For someone who spent every day giving orders and handling impossible situations at work, this conversation had left her fumbling.
âIt's not because I think you're too old to have another baby,â Lin said carefully. âIt's because you're my mom.â
The room stayed silent, letting her continue.
âI grew up watching you take care of everyone else.â Her gaze flickered toward Toph before settling back on you. âYou barely slept when Su was little. You worked yourself into the ground making sure we had everything we needed. You always put us first.â
She paused, drawing in a slow breath. âAnd now you've finally gotten to a point where things are easier.â
You listened without interrupting, your heart thundering in your chest as her words warshed over you.
âI'm twenty-two,â Lin continued. âSu's almost an adult. You don't have diapers anymore. No midnight feedings. No toddlers climbing all over the furniture. You and Mom were finally getting your lives back.â
Her voice softened.
âSo when you said you were pregnant.â She shook her head with a quiet laugh. âMy first thought wasn't 'that's weird.' It was..â She looked down at the floor for a second before meeting your eyes again. âAre they really starting over?â
Your eyes burned, Before you could answer, Su finally found her voice. âI kind of thought the same thing.â
Everyone looked toward her, She hugged one of the throw pillows against her chest, suddenly seeming much younger than seventeen.
âI wasn't thinking about your age.â She grimaced. âWell, maybe a little.â
âThanks,â You deadpanned.
Suyin winced, âSorry.â
A tiny smile tugged at your lips, encouraging her to continue.
âI just,â She sighed. âI guess I always imagined it'd just be us. Me, Lin, you, and Mama.â Her fingers tightened around the pillow. âEverything's gonna change now.â
There it was, not judgment or embarrassment. It was fear of the unknown, that the family she'd always known was about to become something unfamiliar.
You crossed the room before either of them could say another word. Kneeling in front of the couch, you reached out and took one of Su's hands before extending the other toward Lin.
âThis baby isn't replacing either of you.â You tell them firmly, your voice conveying just how serious you were.
âYou don't stop being our children because another one is coming.â Your thumb brushed over Su's knuckles. âThere isn't a limit to how much your mama and I can love.â
Toph gave a quiet hum of agreement from the couch behind you. âIf anything,â She added, âyou're both getting promoted.â
Su blinked. âPromoted?â
âYeah.â A grin spread across Toph's face. âCongratulations. You're a pair of big sisters.â
Lin let out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. âI've been a big sister for seventeen years.â
âNow you're gonna be even bigger.â Toph says simply.
âMama.â Lin started, shaking her head.
âWhat?â Toph shrugged innocently. âI thought it sounded inspirational.â
Su groaned, burying her face in the pillow. âThat was so bad.â
âIt was,â Lin agreed.
Toph looked thoroughly pleased with herself anyway. You shook your head, smiling despite the tears gathering in your eyes.
âThey're both still in shock,â Toph said, tilting her head toward you. âGive 'em a minute. They haven't figured out they're happy yet.â
Neither Lin nor Su denied it and for now fhat was okay.
It was a quiet night at home. You sat at the kitchen table with what Toph had affectionately started calling your latest culinary crimeâa steaming bowl of extra spicy ramen loaded with shredded chicken, a plate of green grapes on the side, and a cup of hot jasmine tea. Six months into the pregnancy, your cravings had only become stranger. Some days you wanted pickles dipped in honey. Other days it was smoked fish with sweet pastries. Tonight, for reasons neither of you could begin to understand, your stomach had decided scorching noodles, juicy grapes, and tea belonged together.
Toph sat across from you with her own much less offensive dinner, her nose wrinkling every time another wave of chili-laced steam drifted across the table.
âI don't know how you're eating that,â She muttered, leaning back in her chair. âMy eyes are watering just sitting here.â
âIt isn't that spicy.â You shrugged, holding the chopsticks up to her lips. âYou want a taste?â
Toph scooted her chair further away from you creating more distance. âHell no!â
You lifted another tangled bite of noodles with your chopsticks, blowing on them before taking a contented mouthful. âYou're just dramatic.â
âSays the woman eating lava.â You only smiled around another bite, reaching for a grape afterward as though the combination made perfect sense.
Toph tilted her head in your direction, a grin slowly pulling at the corner of her mouth. âThat's disgusting by the way.â
âGood thing it's not for you then.â You laughed, rubbing your hand absentmindedly over the curve of your stomach. The baby gave a small kick beneath your palm, earning another thoughtful tilt of Toph's head.
âI think this one's finally breaking the earthbender streak,â You said, smiling to yourself. âWe're finally getting another firebender in this family.â
âAbsolutely not.â Toph didn't even hesitate. She rested one elbow on the table, her bare foot lightly touching the floor beneath her chair. Though she couldn't see your belly, her seismic sense had become almost second nature throughout your pregnancy. Every tiny stretch, every roll, every energetic kick echoed through the vibrations she felt. âShe feels like an earthbender.â
You raised an eyebrow. âFeels like an earthbender?â
Toph nodded, âMhm.â
âAnd what exactly does an earthbender fetus feel like?â You asked honestly.
Toph pointed toward your stomach with complete confidence. âStubborn.â
You laughed. âThey're all stubborn.â
âNot like this one.â Toph folded her arms. âThis kid plants herself in one spot for half the day, then decides she's gonna elbow every organ you've got because she doesn't feel like moving around them.â
âShe's making room.â You defended playfully.
Toph didn't miss a beat. âShe's declaring territory.â
You snorted, amusement shining in your eyes. âI think she's a firebender.â
Toph paused mid bite. âOh?â
âThink about what she's done to me.â You gestured toward your dinner even though you knew she couldn't see you do it. âI've spent six months inhaling anything spicy enough to make normal people cry.â
âYou've always liked spicy food.â Toph pointed out, not yet believing your argument.
âNot enough to put chili oil on noodles that already came with chili oil.â You tell her, swirling more noodles around your chopsticks.
Her shoulder dropped a fraction. âFair point.â
You looked positively smug.
âAnd she runs hot.â You tugged lightly at the collar of your shirt. âEveryone else is cold while I'm opening windows in the middle of winter.â
Toph waved you off. âPregnancy does that.â
âI also burned breakfast yesterday.â You responded, grasping at straws now as toph completely dissected each argument.
Toph laughed, the sound warm enough to fill the kitchen. âNow you're just saying stuff.â
You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your stomach again as another kick landed against your ribs.
âThere,â You declared triumphantly. âDid you feel that? That was a firebender kick.â
Toph's expression didn't change. âNope.â
âIt was.â You insisted.
âEarthbender.â
You narrowed your eyes at her, you could do this all day. âFire.â
She turned her head in your direction, her sightless eyas meeting you head on. âEarth.â
âShe kicked because she agreed with me.â
Toph barked out a laugh. âShe kicked because she heard you talking nonsense.â
âOh, so now she understands conversations?â You huffed, a pout forming on your lips.
âI've been talking to her for months.â Toph's voice had dropped into something quieter, more intimate.
You still wouldn't let up even when the tone she was using made your heart skip a beat. âSo have I.â
âYeah,â Toph said with a grin. âAnd every time I tell her she's gonna be an earthbender, she settles down.â
You gasped. âThat's because she's waiting for me to defend her.â
Toph pushed her chair back before walking around the table, stopping beside you. One hand rested gently over yours on your stomach, her smile softening despite the playful argument.
The baby shifted beneath both your palms, slowing down just enough for the ache in your lower back to ease.
âThere,â Toph said, her voice nice and smug as her point was proven once again. âSee? She's already calmed down just by my presence.â
You rolled your eyes. âI felt a little spark.â
âYou imagined it.â Toph says, rubbing soothing circles across your belly.
Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned back in your chair, enjoying the feel of her hand soothing both you and your child. âYou refuse to admit I'm right.â
âBecause you aren't and that's okay baby we all make mistakes.â
You leaned your forehead against her shoulder with a quiet laugh. âI can't wait until this baby's born.â
âMe neither.â Toph whispered, her voice full of affection.
âSo I can prove you wrong.â You added, ruining the tender moment.
Toph smirked, brushing a kiss against the top of your head.
âOr,â She said, âYou'll spend the next twenty years raising the most stubborn little earthbender this family's ever seen.â
âAnd if she's a firebender?â You asked, glancing up at her.
Toph's grin only widened. âThen I'll know she got her attitude from you.â
You were stretched out on one of the lounge chairs beneath the warm afternoon sun, content to let the breeze drift lazily through the gardens of Zaofu. It had been far too long since the entire family had gathered in one place without politics, police work, or world-ending disasters pulling everyone in different directions.
Suyin had insisted everyone visit for the week, and somehow she had even convinced Lin to step away from her responsibilities with the precinct and watching over the new Avatar.
The peace, however, didn't extend to the training courtyard.
Your youngest daughter, Rin, fourteen years old and stubborn enough to rival both of her mothers, was training alongside her older sisters while Toph paced the edge of the arena. Retirement had never suited her. She still carried herself with the same confidence that had once commanded an entire police force.
Time had left its mark in subtle, beautiful ways. Fine lines framed her mouth whenever she smiled, delicate crow's feet gathered at the corners of her pale green eyes, and her dark hair was now streaked generously with silver that hung in a long braid that rested against the middle of her back. Age hadn't diminished her in the slightest. If anything, it had made her more striking. There was a quiet strength to her now, earned through decades of protecting her family and helping shape an entire city.
âAgain,â Toph called, planting her feet firmly into the ground. âQuit thinking so hard.â
âI am trying!â Rin growled, her legs faltering in the stance Toph had her in.
âI know you're trying. So stop and just do as I say.â Toph barked, her arms folded behind her back as she scrutinized her daughter's posture through the soles of her feet.
Rin groaned loud enough for everyone to hear. âThat doesn't even make sense!â
âIt does if you stop overthinking every little movement.â Toph snapped back just as fiercely. Out of all of her children, Toph and Rin collided the most. She had your fiery spirit down to a tea.
A loud clang echoed across the courtyard as another sheet of metal refused to respond.
From beside you came an exaggerated sigh. Suyin flopped into the empty lounge chair, wiping sweat from the back of her neck before reaching for the pitcher of iced tea sitting between you.
âRin looks about five seconds away from crying because she still can't metalbend,â Su admitted quietly, all traces of her usual teasing gone. âI hate seeing her like this.â
You looked toward the training grounds. Rin stood rigidly in place, shoulders tight, jaw clenched so firmly you could see the muscles twitching from where you sat. Every failed attempt seemed to chip away at her confidence a little more.
âShe's a late bloomer,â You said gently, though the reassurance felt painfully familiar.
The words carried a weight of guilt you couldn't hide. You knew exactly what it was like growing up surrounded by impossible expectations. Lin had become one of the greatest metalbenders in history. Su had mastered styles most people spent decades learning. Every lesson Rin attended came with comparisons she never asked for.
She wasn't trying to become better than her sisters. She was simply desperate not to fall behind them.
âI remember feeling like that,â Su confessed, watching Rin from across the courtyard. âNot with metalbending... but with Mom.â
You glanced toward her, your eyes softening.
âI spent years thinking I'd never be enough for her.â She added, the impossible standards that came with being a beifong will always be a burden your children will carry despite raising them not to care what others think.
You reached out for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. âYou were.â
âI know that now.â Su smiled faintly, a distant look in her eyes. âRin doesn't.â
Another metallic groan rang through the courtyard. Toph crouched beside Rin, saying something too quiet for either of you to hear.
Rin nodded and you watched as she took a breath. Your daughter planted her feet into the earth perfectly only for the metal panel not to move at all, not even a twitch.
Just when Toph was about to comment something that would definitely make things worse the teenager finally snapped.
âI'M TRYING!â Rin shouted, tears stinging her eyes as she slammed both fists toward the earth.
The courtyard trembled under her rage, At first it looked like an ordinary earthbending strike. Then the stone beneath Rin's feet cracked apart and orange light burst through the fractures.
âMom?" Su whispered.
The cracks widened and split open like spider webs. Heat rolled across the courtyard in suffocating waves as glowing molten rock forced its way through the training floor, turning solid stone into rivers of brilliant orange.
For one impossible moment nobody moved. Lin stared wide eyed and Su's jaw dropped. Even you found yourself frozen in complete disbelief before your maternal instinct kicked in and you were on your feet and across the yard before you could blink.
âShe's a Lava bender.â Lin breathed, fascinated.
The realization struck everyone at once. Rin hadn't failed to metalbend, She had just discovered an entirely different talent.
Unfortunately for all of you, She had no idea how to stop it and it terrified her.
âMama!â Rin cried, stumbling backward as another stream of molten stone spread across the arena. âI-I can't control it!â
Panic flooded her face and your heart hammered in your chest. You couldn't reach them, not with the lava pooling. You were a fire bender yourself, but it seemed the more terrified she became the more it spread amd you couldn't cool it all.
Every frightened breath only made the lava surge farther, swallowing chunks of the training grounds. âI can't stop!â
âRin.â Toph's voice cut cleanly through the chaos. The single word carried decades of authority. âYou're okay, just focus on me.â
Rin's frantic breathing faltered, she listened to her mama, tears streaming down her cheeks freely now. âI'm scared..â
âI know.â Toph sighed, her voice low, still keeping the same calm.
Rin's eyes left her mother as the heat intensified around them. âIt's spreading!â
âLava does that.â She said plainly.
"I don't know what I'm doing!"
Toph stepped closer without a trace of hesitation, stopping only a few feet from the glowing river separating them.
âYou don't,â She agreed calmly, another pulse of lava rippled outward. âBut you know what?â
Rin shook her head desperately.
âNeither did I.â Toph rested one bare foot against the stone as she continued to calm Rin down.
âWhen I invented metalbending, you think I knew what I was doing?â Toph asked, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. âI made it up as I went.â
Rin let out a shaky laugh despite herself.
âYou don't need to be your sisters.â Toph tells her gently, âJust be you Rin, that is all I have ever wanted.â
Lin stepped forward. âShe's right.â
Su joined her, cupping her hands around her mouth. âYou hear us, Rin? You're doing something none of us can!â
âYou've already done the impossible,â Lin called out to her sister. âNow breathe.â
âYou've got this!â Su added. âWe're not going anywhere!â
Rin swallowed hard, the fear was still there, but so was her family.
Toph nodded once, feeling the tension leave her daughter's shoulders. âFeel the stone beneath the heat.â
Rin closed her eyes, her heart was hammering in her chest and she listened to the earth and focused on the things around her she could control, which was her breathing.
âThe lava isn't your enemy,â Toph said steadily. âIt's still earth. Slower. Heavier. Listen to it.â
Rin sucked in another breath, zeroing in to the sound of her mother's voice.
âThe same way I taught you to feel every stone under your feet.â
The molten rock quivered ans the ground groaned beneath her feet as she followed her mother's careful instructions.
âGood.â Toph hummed, âNow guide it.â
The glowing current hesitated at first under her unsteady hands. Then, inch by inch, the lava began to retreat. The brilliant orange dulled as it cooled, hardening back into black volcanic stone that spread across the ruined courtyard in jagged patterns.
Nobody spoke until the final ribbon of molten earth solidified. Rin opened her twaeful eyes, her shoulders shaking as terror still flowed through her. âI did it?â
Toph's grin was impossible to hide. âNo.â She walked across the newly formed stone and pulled her youngest daughter into a fierce hug. âYou did something even better.â
Rin buried her face against her mother's shoulder, sobbing into her chest as her body shook with each wretched cry.
âYou found your own path and I'm so proud of you.â Toph tells her affectionately.
Behind them, Su whooped loud enough for the entire city to hear while Lin, usually so composed, actually laughed before wrapping both of them in a crushing embrace.
You remained where you were for only a moment longer, your own eyes misting over as you watched your family gathered together in the center of the courtyard.
Rin had spent years believing she was falling behind her sisters. None of you had realized she had simply been walking toward a destiny that belonged to her alone.
Later that night, after the laughter from dinner had faded and the rest of the family had retired to their own rooms, you and Toph finally escaped to the quiet of your bedroom.
Moonlight spilled through the open balcony doors, painting silver streaks across the polished floor while the distant sounds of Zaofu settled into a peaceful hush. The air carried the scent of fresh rain and flowering vines from the gardens below.
Toph stepped out of the adjoining bathroom, a towel draped loosely around her shoulders. Damp strands of silver-streaked hair clung to the back of her neck as droplets traced lazy paths down her shoulders before disappearing beneath the collar of her sleep shirt.
Decades had softened some of the sharper edges of her face, leaving gentle lines thst were reminders of every laugh she'd shared, and battle she had survived against all odds. She was older now, but no less formidable and it was moments like this where you really got to appreciate her.
She paused in the doorway, feeling your gaze piercing through her from where she stood. âI can feel you giving me that look.â
You glanced up from your spot on the edge of the bed, trying and failing to suppress the grin spreading across your face. âWhat look?â
âThe one that says you're about to become insufferable,â Toph said.
âI have no idea what you're talking about.â
âYou do.â She crossed the room, stopping directly in front of you. âI can practically hear the smugness radiating off you.â
You tapped your chin, âI was just thinking.â
âDangerous pastime.â
You laughed, leaning forward. âI was thinking,â You began, dropping your voice to a sweet, mocking tone, âthat I was technically right.â
Toph folded her arms, her head tilting slightly. âAbout what exactly?â
You tipped your chin up, amusement warming your voice. âRin's a firebender.â
Toph let out an exaggerated scoff, rolling her eyes. âNo.â
You blinked innocently. âPretty sure lava glows and burns things, last I checked.â You spread your hands wide, leaning into her space. âSo..â
Toph reached out with practiced accuracy, flicking your forehead hard enough to snap your head back. âSo, she's not a firebender.â
âViolence isn't an argument,â You grumbled, rubbing the sore spot while shooting your wife a glare she couldn't see.
âIt is when you're wrong,â She shot back instantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
You snorted, shifting your weight on the mattress. âYou've spent fourteen years insisting she'd end up just like you.â
âAnd she did.â
âDid she?â At your quiet question, Toph's posture shifted. The playful defiance softened, and her shoulders dropped. The fierce confidence that usually defined her gave way to a quiet, vulnerable stillness.
âShe's an earthbender,â Toph said softly, her voice carrying a warmth reserved only for her family. âShe just found a road neither of us expected.â
She stepped closer and sank onto the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under her weight. Her shoulder brushed yours, a steady, grounding presence.
âLava isn't fire, and it isn't ordinary earth, either.â She stated, as if convincing herself as much as you.
âI know,â You replied gently, dropping the teasing act entirely.
Toph shifted further up the bed and leaned back against the metal headboard, staring blankly ahead with those unseeing pale eyes, though you knew she was processing every vibration in the room. âShe's in a category of her own.â
The pride in her voice was impossible to miss. It was a tone she rarely used, reserved only for monumental moments and this certainly counted as one.
You shifted closer, resting your head lightly against her shoulder. âI've never heard you sound so impressed. And you've trained hundreds of earthbenders, baby.â
âMhm,â She murmured, her hand finding yours on the blanket and squeezing it briefly.
âBut today..â
âToday,â Toph finished for you, her voice dropping to a low, reverent whisper, âI experienced my daughter discovering something that can't be taught.â
Silence settled comfortably between you, the ambient sounds of Zaofu humming faintly outside the window.
âI thought she was going to panic herself into passing out.â You admitted with a quiet laugh, you could still feel some of the residual adrenaline in your chest as your daughters terrified face flashed in your mind.
âThe only thing going through my mind was that if she didn't stop she was going to melt half the city,â Toph commented dryly, her grip on your hand tightening.
You lifted your head from her shoulder, looking at her profile in surprise. âYou looked awfully calm out there.â
âI wasn't.â Toph shook her head, her jaw tightening as she stared blankly at the wall. âI was terrified.â
The confession was so unexpected that it left you momentarily speechless. Toph rarely admitted to being scared of anything.
âI couldn't let her hear that,â She continued, her voice dropping to a rare, gritty vulnerability. âIf I'd panicked, she would've panicked harder.â
âWell, you fooled me,â You sighed. âYou knew exactly what to say to ground her.â
âBut I didn't through.â She muttered, a self-deprecating smirk flashing across her face before vanishing. âI guessed and surprisingly it worked.â
You smiled, leaning your temple against hers. âIt was a very good guess, Toph.â
She squeezed your hand again, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she wrapped her arms securely around you. âI've learned a few things after raising three daughters. They don't need me to have every answer. They just need to believe I do.â
A soft knock interrupted the quiet of the room. Three hesitant, uneven taps vibrated through the wood.
Rin looked almost guilty for disturbing you, one hand was gripping the edge of the door while the other nervously twisted the sleeve of her nightshirt.
âAm I bothering you?â The uncertainty in her voice caught both of you off guard. Your youngest was many things- stubborn, determined, loud when she wanted to be, but hesitant was rarely one of them.
âNever.â You said warmly, softening your expression to let her know she was always welcome.
Toph patted the empty space on the mattress beside her. âGet in here, kid.â
Rin slipped into the room, letting the door click shut before padding softly across the floor. She climbed onto the bed with far less of her usual confident swagger, moving hesitantly before settling right between the two of you without a word. For a long moment, she simply stared down at her palms, turning them over as if expecting to see the glowing lava materialize out of thin air.
âI-.â She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. âI keep thinking about today.â
Toph stayed quiet, dropping her hand to the mattress to feel the subtle vibrations of Rinâs uneven breathing, giving her the space she needed to speak.
âWhat if I lose control again?â Rin asked softly, her shoulders hunching inward. âWhat if next time I hurt someone?â
You wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders, drawing her small frame close against your side. âYou didn't hurt anyone today, sweetie.â
âBut I could have,â Her bottom lip wobbled, the raw fear finally breaking through. You both knew she couldn't hurt a fly. But Rin was only fourteen and you understood how scary this must be for her especially given how she discovered it on accident.
Toph shifted, reaching over to rest a heavy, steady hand on her daughter's knee. âThat's exactly why we train. Lavabending's no different from anything else. It's new, and it's scary. And until this morning, you didn't even know you could do it.â
Rin looked up, searching Toph's blind, pale eyes for any sign of deceit. âSo... you don't think I'm dangerous?â
Toph gave a quiet, affectionate huff, a proud smirk breaking across her face. âKid,â She said, reaching over to rough up Rin's hair until it stood on end. âI think you're a Beifong.â
For the first time since she'd poked her head through the door, a genuine laugh broke through Rin's anxiety. The nervous tension finally melted from her shoulders as she leaned heavily into both of you, letting herself just be a kid instead of carrying the weight of being extraordinary.
AN: Yall be having auch great ideas . Tysm anon for sending this in.
summary: when borrowing steveâs car ends in an accident that leaves it completely wrecked, youâre left shaken and terrified of how heâll react. except when he finds you, itâs painfully clear he couldnât give a fuck about the damage.
word count: 2.1k
warnings: car accident, totaled car, panicked sobbing, slight bleeding minor injuries, blood on face/hair, guilt, hurt/comfort, comfort, reassurance, overthinking.
âHeâs going to kill me.â
The words spill out of you before you can stop them, thin and shaking, ripped straight from your chest.Â
You barely recognize your own voice. Youâre staring ahead, eyes unfocused, fixed on nothing and everything at once. Not the spiderwebbed windshield. Not the hood crumpled inward, steam ghosting up into the air.
All you can see is Steveâs face when he finds out. When he sees the car. His precious car.
âOh, sweetheart,â the older woman says gently. âTry not to worry about that right now.â
You shake your head, breath hitching. âNo, you donât understand. Heâsâfuckâheâs going to lose it.â
Because not even twenty minutes ago, youâd been driving just fine. Careful and hyper-aware, even, because it was Steveâs car. His stupid, perfect red BMW that he loved more than most people, the one he washed by hand and showed off whenever he got the chance to.
The road had been clear, thatâs until a cat darted into your headlights, and your body reacted before your mind could, wrenching the wheel to avoid itâsending the car headfirst into the tree instead.
If it werenât for the passing car that saw the whole thing, for the woman and her daughter pulling over without hesitation, you donât know what you wouldâve done.
Steveâs car, though, was completely fucked. And that thought keeps looping in your head, loud and relentless, drowning out everything else around you.
The woman âwhoâs name you learned to be Mrs. Dunneâsighs and gives your shoulder a careful squeeze before stepping away. âIâm going to call for help, all right? My daughterâs a nurse. Sheâll look at you.â
She hurries across the road toward the phone box, sensible shoes crunching against gravel.
Youâre still trying to slow your breathing when the car door opens again.
âI need a number,â she says gently, already leaning across the seat. âWho owns the car?â
Steveâs name sticks in your throat, except you canât even pull the words out. You point instead. âGlove compartment.â
She finds it quickly â a worn little address book, containing numbers and detailsâ and flips until she nods. âGot him.â
âHey,â a voice says nearby. âIâm Vickie.â
You look up to find a girl. She canât be much older than you, short hair pulled back, a canvas bag slung over one shoulder.
âCan I take a look at you?â
âIâm fine,â you say immediately, the lie automatic. Then your mouth trembles. âI meanâIâm not fine. But I donât think Iâm that injured.â
Vickie gives a small, understanding huff of a smile. âOkay,â she says gently. âStill gonna check you.â
She guides you toward the back seat of the carâwhich is much less damaged than the front, one hand hovering near your elbow like sheâs afraid to startle you. The air smells like antiseptic and gasoline, sharp and overwhelming your senses.
âI swear I wasnât speeding,â you blurt, words tumbling over each other. âThe road was clear, and then there was a cat, it just ran out in front of me and I didnât even think, I justââ
âHey,â Vickie says softly, crouching in front of you. âPause. Breathe first. Then talk, alright?â
You try. The breath stutters anyway.
âThatâs okay,â she murmurs, already pulling gloves on. âWeâll take it slow.â
She tilts your chin carefully, eyes scanning your face. âYouâve got a split lip and a cut on your temple.â Her voice stays calm. âAny dizziness? Nausea?â
âI feel sick,â you admit. âBut I think thatâs just because of⊠everything.â
âThat makes sense.â She presses gauze gently to your forehead.
You hiss despite yourself, tears spilling hot and fast. âSorry.â
âDonât be,â she says quickly. âGlass scratches bleed a lot. It always looks worse than it is.â
âIt is worse,â you choke. âSteveâs going to see this and heâs going to lose it. Oh, Godâthe carââ
She stills, eyes lifting to meet yours. âSteveâs your boyfriend?â
You nod, but it only makes the lump in your throat worse. The words spill out before you can stop them. âItâs his car. His brand new BMWâwhich he, by the way, saved up forever for it. He literally paid an insane amount of money for it and shows it off every chance he gets.â
A laugh slips out despite the fear and guilt coursing through you, and you hate it. âIâm dead. Iâm actually so dead.â
Vickie gives a small, incredulous smile. âI donât know your boyfriend, hon,â she says, smoothing the tape down with careful fingers, âbut cars can be fixed. People canât. I really donât think heâs going to care about the car when he sees you like this.â
âHe will,â you say immediately, shaking your head. âHeâs gonna take one look at it and justâGod. I shouldnât have borrowed it. I shouldnât have touched it at all. I shouldâve just walked, Iâfuck.â
âWell, my mom already called him,â Vickie says softly, not stopping her work. âAnd she called your friends too. Heâs already on his way.â
Your chest tightens at that, panic blooming fresh and hot. âNo. Oh my God.â You drag a hand under your nose, trying to breathe around the pressure. âYou should go, both of you. Youâve done more than enough, and I really donât want you here when heâwhen he sees it.â
The image wonât leave you alone: Steveâs face hardening, his furious rage leading him to probablyâ rightfully soâ break up with you. Your stomach twists at the thought, nausea rolling up hard enough to make you swallow.
Vickie shakes her head before youâve even finished. âYeah, thatâs not happening.â
From across the road, her momâs voice carries over, firm and unmistakable. âNone of that, honey!â
Mrs. Dunne walks back toward you, arms folding like she means business. âWe are not leaving you stranded and scared on the side of the road. Not for a second.â She softens just a touch as she looks at you. âWeâll stay right here until your boyfriend or one of your friends gets here. Thatâs that.â
âThank you, Mrs. Dunne.â you smile warmly at her despite the worry churning in your guts.
Time stretches thin and horrible. Every passing car makes your heart jump. Your thoughts spiral tighter and tighter, replaying Steve handing you the keys earlier, the grin on his face, the way heâd said, Be careful, okay? like it was a joke, like nothing bad could ever happen to youâ
A sharp screech of tires cuts through the air.
You flinch hard, breath catching painfully in your throat as a truck skids to a stop on the side of the road, door flying open before itâs even fully parked. Steve steps out, and the look on his face steals the air from your lungs completely.
Youâve never seen him look like that. Not angry, smug, or teasing.
Terrified.
His eyes scan the wrecked car, the tree, the road, wild and frantic, until they land on you. His face goes slack with shock and then heâs moving fast, running like the ground is on fire beneath his feet.
Vickie and her mom both straighten. âWell,â Mrs. Dunne says softly, already reaching for you. âThatâll be him.â
They each pull you into quick, careful hugs, murmuring reassurances you barely register.
Then they step back, giving you space, watching until Steve reaches the door and drops to his knees in front of you like his legs have given out.
âOh my God,â he breathes, voice breaking. âHey. Heyâlook at me. Fuckâare you okay?â
The Dunnesâ car pulls away slowly, tires crunching over gravel, taillights glowing red before disappearing down the road. The quiet that follows is almost worse as you try to register Steveâs frantic words.
He keeps saying your name, softly at first, then a little louder, but it barely reaches you through the ringing in your ears.
âHey. Heyâlook at me, okay? Baby, câmon.â
You canât.
Your eyes stay glued to your shaking hands, to the dark flecks of blood dried beneath your nails. Your chest heaves in sharp, ugly bursts as the sobs finally tear loose, choking and uncontrollable.
âIâm sorry,â you manage, words tripping over each other. âIâm so sorryâI didnât mean to, I swear, it just happened so fast and I tried to stop andâand I know how much you love it and I shouldnât have taken it andââ
âHey.â His voice cuts through, âHey. Stop.â
Your voice cracks completely. You hiccup on a breath as the words choke out, panic spiraling tighter.
âI know it was stupid,â you ramble, tears blurring everything. âI know itâs your car and itâs new and you worked so hard for it and I ruined it and I didnât mean to, Steve, I swear it was an accidentââ
ââlook at me,â he says, low and steady.
Steveâs hands come up suddenly, firm and warm, cupping your face on both sides. His thumbs press just under your cheekbones, forcing your head up despite your instinct to pull away.
Your eyes flicker up at last, red and glassy, breath stuttering.
âBreathe, baby,â he says immediately, softer now. âJust breathe with me. In and out. Come on.â
You suck in a shaky breath.
âGood. Out. Yeah, thatâs it. Again.â
You follow him, lungs burning as you inhale and exhale in uneven pulls, his thumbs brushing lightly under your eyes, grounding you.
âThatâs it, good job,,â he murmurs. âYouâre okay. Iâm here.â
Your body trembles again as he studies your face, eyes moving fast, cataloging every mark and every scrape.
âNow,â he says, voice firmer, sharper, like heâs trying to anchor you to reality. âAre you hurt?â
You swallow hard, your throat tight, and the words come out all wrong, tripping over themselves. âNoâbut your car, itâsââ
Steveâs jaw snaps tight, his hands gripping your face just tight enough to make your skin tingle.
âDid I ask about the goddamn car?â His voice cuts through the trembling air, sharp enough to make your heart drop.
You freeze, the panic climbing higher, and he leans closer, pressing just slightly, like heâs trying to pin you in placeâbut itâs not dominance, itâs urgency.
âI asked if youâre hurt,â he says again, softer but no less intense. ânot the car.â
You look up at him, and it hits you as your stomach drops. The expression on his face, the tension coiled in his body, the raw, frantic light in his eyesâit isnât anger. Itâs terror. Pure, unfiltered, all-consuming fear of losing you.Â
His hands tremble as they cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tracks of your tears, and for a second, you see the world mirrored in his eyesâa world where nothing matters but you, and every fierce, frantic care he holds is yours alone.
You shake your head slowly, trembling. âNo,â you whisper, voice barely audible over your racing heartbeat. âMânot.â
He exhales hard through his nose, âDoes your head hurt? Your temple?â he says gently now.
You sniff, shaking your head again. âNo. It stings, butâthere was an old woman and her daughter. They saw the accident. The daughterâs a nurse. She helped me.â
Steve nods. âI know. She called me.â
Before you can say anything else, he pulls you into his chest suddenly. His arms wrap around you in a bone-crushing hug, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing you so tight to his chest it knocks the air from your lungs.
âJesus fucking Christ,â he breathes into your hair. You cling to him, fingers twisting into his jacket as the last of the sobs shake out of you.
âDonât ever do that to me again,â he murmurs, voice thick. âYou hear me? Donât scare me like that. I thought something much worse happened to you.â
In truth, the moment heâd gotten that phone call, his heart had dropped straight through the floor. He hadnât thought about the car. Not even for a second. Heâd pictured you bleeding, broken, or worse; not breathing.
Heâd borrowed a truck, hands shaking so badly he could barely turn the key, every worst-case scenario slamming into him one after another.
He pulls back just enough to look at you again, forehead pressing briefly to yours. Then he kisses you, quick and desperate, like he needs to feel you over and over again.
You blink up at him, voice small. âSo⊠youâre not mad about your car?â
His expression softens instantly, the tension melting out of his features. âMad?â he echoes. âNo. God, no.â
He shakes his head, a small, breathless laugh escaping him. âI donât give a damn about the car. I can replace it, sweetheartâhell, I can buy another one tomorrow if I wanted.â
You laugh against his chest, still sniffling. âI donât think youâre that rich, Steve.â
He snorts, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. âOh, come on. I might not have a Scrooge McDuck vault full of coins, but I can definitely scrape together a replacement BMW. You? Not so lucky.â
You pull back a little, squinting at him through your tears. âAre you seriously laughing right now? I just totaled your baby!â
âIâm laughing at the ridiculousness of you panicking like this,â he says, voice shaking with relief and amusement. âYou looked like someone had just told you the world was ending.â His hand slides to your cheek, thumb warm against your skin. âBesides. Youâre my baby. Not that damn thing.â
Your throat tightens all over again, heart warming up at his sweet words.
âNow, come on,â he murmurs, shifting closer, careful as he helps you to your feet. âLetâs get you checked out at the hospital.â
You hesitate, glancing down at the gauze. âBut Vickie already wrapped me upââ
âI know,â he says softly, squeezing your hand like he needs the contact as much as you do. âI just need to hear it from a doctor, alright? Humor me.â
You nod, letting him guide you toward the truck, his arm never leaving your back, like if he does you might disappear.
steve harrington masterlist
a/n: likes, comments, and reblogs are all highly appreciated <33
One moment, you were standing in the sitting room of your chambers with a hand resting at the small of your back, watching Zuko argue quietly with a stack of reports he had promised himself he would finish before sunset. The next, your breath caught so sharply that the world seemed to narrow around one sudden, hard band of pain low in your belly.
Your fingers tightened against the edge of the table.
Zuko looked up instantly.
âY/N?â
You tried to answer, but another contraction hit before you could get the word out. It was stronger this time, deeper, the pain rolling through your body in a wave that left your knees unsteady. Zuko was beside you at once, one hand at your elbow, the other at your waist.
âSit down,â he said, already guiding you toward the couch.
âI think,â you gasped, trying to breathe through the ache, âI think itâs time.â
The color drained from his face.
For one brief second, he simply stared at you as though the words had not made sense. Then his whole body shifted into motion. âThe midwife,â he said, already calling for the guard at the door. âSend for the midwife. Now.â
The guard bowed and hurried away.
Zuko helped you sit, his hands careful but slightly unsteady now that the reality of it had settled over him. âHow bad is it?â
You gave him a look that would have been more effective if you were not in labor. âYou really want an answer to that right now?â
His mouth twitched once, but the worry did not leave his eyes. âI want to know if I should be panicking.â
You huffed a short laugh, then winced as the next tightening seized you. Zuko immediately knelt in front of you, both hands braced over your knees.
âBreathe with me,â he said, voice low and steady. âIn. Out. Good. Again.â
You clung to his shoulders and obeyed as best you could. The pain was already building in long, relentless waves now, making it hard to think of anything beyond the rhythm of your breath and the heat in your lower back. The chamber had seemed calm only moments ago, all warm lamplight and evening shadows, but now it felt charged with urgency.
The midwife arrived with two attendants and an armful of cloths, warm water, and quiet confidence. She took one look at your face and the way you were gripping the arm of the couch and nodded once.
âYour labor has begun,â she said. âWe should move you to the bed.â
Zuko was already helping you stand before she finished speaking.
The walk to the bed felt absurdly long. Every step made your body tense harder, and by the time you reached the mattress, another wave of pain was crashing over you. You let out a sharp cry, and Zukoâs hand was immediately at your back, rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades.
âIâm here,â he said.
âI know,â you breathed, though the words came out strained.
He looked at you with a fierce, helpless kind of devotion that softened the edges of your fear. He had seen pain before, battle before, loss before. But this was different. This was you. This was the child the two of you had waited for, and the reality of your suffering seemed to strike him with every contraction.
The midwife guided you through the early labor with calm efficiency. She checked your progress, adjusted your position, and spoke to you in a steady voice that gave you something to cling to when your thoughts began to fracture under the intensity of it all.
The pain came in waves,some long and deep, some sharp and brutal enough to steal every sound from your throat. Your body shook with the effort of it. Sweat gathered at your temples. Your hands clutched Zukoâs, then the sheets, then Zuko again. He never once left your side.
At first, he tried to stay composed, offering reassurance as though he could somehow carry part of the burden for you just by being calm.
âYouâre doing well,â he said, wiping damp hair back from your forehead. âYouâre stronger than this.â
You gave him a raw, breathless look. âThat is a very rude thing to say to someone in labor.â
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. âIt was meant to be encouraging.â
âI know.â
Then another contraction broke over you, stronger than the last, and the smile vanished from both of your faces.
The hours blurred.
There were moments when you thought you could not endure another minute, when the pain felt so consuming it seemed impossible that your body could hold any more of it. Your fingers cramped around Zukoâs hand. Your back ached. Your throat went hoarse from crying out through the worst of it. The midwife urged you on, and Zuko kept speaking your name like a prayer.
âLook at me,â he said at one point, his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your skin. âJust look at me.â
You forced your eyes open and met his gaze.
âThere you are,â he whispered. âStay with me.â
You nodded weakly, though even that felt like work.
âIâm trying,â you managed.
âI know.â
His voice broke on the last word.
That nearly made you cry harder than the pain did.
The room was warm and dim, the fire in the hearth reduced to a low glow, the windows shut against the night air. Outside, the palace was beginning to settle into its evening quiet. Inside, there was only the sound of your breathing, the rustle of linen, the midwifeâs instructions, and Zukoâs voice whenever you needed to hear it.
You lost track of time completely.
Then, suddenly, the midwife looked up with sharper focus.
âYouâre close.â
You turned your head weakly toward her, panting. âClose?â
âVery close.â
Zukoâs hand tightened on yours. âWhat does that mean?â
âIt means,â the midwife said, brisk but not unkind, âthat the first child will be with us soon.â
That thought, more than anything else, gave you new strength. You had been moving through the labor in fragments,surviving one contraction, then the next, then the next,but now there was a point to the pain. A beginning. A first meeting. A child waiting to arrive.
You drew in a shaking breath.
âTell me what to do,â you said.
The midwife nodded. âWhen the next contraction comes, I need you to push.â
Zuko moved closer, one arm behind your shoulders, the other holding your hand in both of his. âYou can do this.â
You gave him a tired look. âYou sound far too certain.â
âI am.â
Another contraction rose fast and hard.
You cried out as it took hold of you, every muscle in your body locking with the force of it. The midwifeâs voice cut through the pain, guiding you. Zuko braced you with all the strength he had, his forehead pressed briefly to your temple.
âThatâs it,â he murmured. âYouâre doing it.â
You pushed.
Pain flared white-hot and bright, making the world narrow to the bed beneath you, the hand in yours, the fire in your lungs. The midwife encouraged you again. You drew in what felt like your last breath and pushed once more.
And then, with a cry that broke the room open, your first child was born.
The sound of it was immediate and shocking and beautiful.
For one stunned moment, there was silence except for your ragged breathing. Then the midwife lifted a small, red-faced baby into view, and the room seemed to change shape around that tiny life.
âItâs a boy,â she said warmly.
Zuko made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.
You were too overwhelmed to speak. Tears were already spilling down your cheeks as the midwife cleaned the baby quickly and brought him to you. He was impossibly small, his fists balled tight, his mouth open in protest at the sudden offense of being alive. Yet the moment he was placed against your chest, his cry softened to a tremulous whimper.
You stared down at him, breathing hard.
A boy.
Your son.
Zuko looked like he had forgotten how to stand. He kept one hand on your shoulder and the other near the child as if he was afraid to touch too soon, afraid the moment would break if he moved too quickly.
âHeâs beautiful,â he whispered.
You gave a shaky laugh through your tears. âHeâs furious.â
Zukoâs mouth curved despite himself. âHe looks like you.â
You gasped in outrage. âThat is not true.â
âIt absolutely is.â
The baby made a tiny sound against your chest, and the room seemed to go quiet around him. Zuko bent over the two of you, his expression so tender it made your throat tighten all over again.
Then the midwifeâs voice returned, careful but urgent.
âWe are not finished.â
You looked up at her in dazed confusion. âWhat?â
Her expression was calm, but there was clear surprise in it too, as though she still could not quite believe what she was seeing. âThere is another.â
Zuko straightened so fast he nearly lost his footing. âAnother?â
You stared at the midwife, then at Zuko, then back again. âAnother?â
She nodded once. âAnother child. The second twin.â
For a second, all you could do was lie there, stunned beyond speech.
Zuko stared at the midwife as though she had just told him the sky had split open. âTwins?â
âYes.â
âWe did not know we were having twins.â
âI can see that.â
You let out a weak, incredulous laugh that quickly turned into a groan as another pain began to build. The irony of it would have been funny if your body were not demanding your full attention.
Zuko looked at you with wide, helpless eyes. âIâm sorry.â
You shot him a look that would have been sharper if you had more energy. âFor what?â
âFor,â He glanced at the baby boy against your chest and then back to your face, clearly flustered in a way that would have been endearing under any other circumstances. âFor there being two.â
Despite everything, you laughed again.
âYou are not responsible for this,â you managed.
âI feel I should be.â
âThat is very noble of you, Fire Lord.â
He let out a breathless laugh of his own, then immediately returned to bracing you as the next contraction hit.
This one felt different. Shorter, maybe, but more focused. Your body had already begun the work, already done this once, and now it seemed to know exactly what to do. The pain returned in fierce, quick waves. The midwife instructed you again, and Zuko never once let go.
âYouâre nearly there,â she said. âPush when you can.â
The baby boy stirred softly against your chest, and that tiny weight gave you a strange and fierce kind of strength.
You pushed.
The pressure built and broke, built and broke, until at last a second cry filled the room.
Smaller.
Softer.
Just as fierce in its own newborn way.
The midwifeâs face lit with delight. âA girl.â
You closed your eyes in relief so overwhelming it nearly took your breath away.
A girl.
Your daughter.
The midwife cleaned her carefully, and when she finally placed her in your arms, the baby made the tiniest offended sound before settling against your skin. She was warm and small and wrapped in white cloth, her face scrunched up with all the indignation of someone who had not been consulted about the transition into the world.
You laughed weakly through your tears.
Zuko looked completely undone.
He stared at the baby girl, then at the baby boy still sleeping against you, and slowly sank onto the edge of the bed as though his legs had forgotten how to hold him.
âWe have two children,â he said, his voice barely audible.
You looked at him, exhausted and glowing with tears. âWe do.â
He blinked hard, then looked back at the babies. âWe had no idea.â
âNo idea.â
His hand hovered over the girlâs tiny fist, and when she curled her fingers around one of his, he made a sound so soft and broken that it nearly made you cry again. He kissed your forehead, then the boyâs head, then the girlâs.
The midwife, smiling now with the quiet satisfaction of a miracle completed, stepped back to allow you a moment.
That moment lasted just under an hour.
By the time the door opened again, the room had settled into a fragile stillness. You were propped against the pillows, exhausted beyond measure, with one newborn sleeping on your chest and the other tucked in your arms. Zuko sat beside you like a man who had been struck by something too beautiful to survive unchanged. His hand rested protectively over the baby boy, while his gaze kept flicking between the two children as if he feared they might disappear if he looked away too long.
The door opened quietly.
General Iroh entered with the measured calm of a man who had spent a lifetime knowing how to read a room. He was no longer serving in the army, of course, but retirement had not dulled the old discipline in him. He carried the dignity of a retired general naturally, with silver in his hair and warmth in his eyes, and the moment he saw the three of you, his expression softened.
Then he saw the babies.
He stopped.
For a full second, the retired general did not move at all.
When he finally spoke, his voice was very soft. âI had a feeling I should come quickly.â
Zuko looked up at him, still dazed. âUncle.â
Iroh stepped closer, his eyes moving from one tiny face to the other. âTwins?â
You smiled faintly. âThat was our reaction too.â
Iroh let out a quiet laugh, then smiled down at the babies with unmistakable wonder. âA boy and a girl.â
Zukoâs throat worked once. âWe did not know there were two.â
âSo I gathered.â Irohâs eyes filled with warmth as he leaned in a little farther. âThey are beautiful.â
You looked down at them too, your heart still too full to be measured. The boy had already begun to sleep, his tiny chest rising and falling softly. The girl was quieter still, one hand curled near her cheek, her tiny mouth relaxed now that the battle of being born was over.
Irohâs gaze lifted to Zukoâs face. âHave you chosen names?â
Zuko glanced at you first, a question and a promise in the look.
You gave a small nod.
His expression changed, growing even softer. Then he looked down at the baby boy and said, âIroh.â
The old general went very still.
For once, he seemed unsure what to do with emotion, so he simply closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head. When he looked back up, his smile was gentle and deeply moved.
âThat is a great honor,â he said quietly.
Zukoâs eyes flicked to the girl. âAnd Mira.â
âMira,â you repeated softly, testing the name against the tiny shape in your arms.
It fit perfectly.
Iroh smiled at once. âBeautiful.â
The room fell quiet again, but this time it was not the silence of labor or fear. It was something softer. Full. Peaceful.
Zuko leaned down and kissed your forehead with a tenderness that still made your chest ache, then touched each baby with a reverence so natural it seemed to belong to him. Fire Lord or not, ruler or not, in that moment he was simply a father looking at his children for the first time.
He looked at you then, and his expression broke your heart open.
âWe have two children,â he said again, almost in disbelief.
You smiled, tears glistening on your lashes. âWe do.â
He covered your hand with his, warm and steady and trembling only slightly. âAnd they are ours.â
You squeezed his fingers back, too tired to say much more than the truth. âYes. They are.â
General Iroh stood beside the bed, smiling down at the sleeping twins with the kind of quiet happiness that made the whole room feel blessed. Outside, the palace remained vast and full of duty. Inside, everything had changed.
You looked at your son, then your daughter, then at Zuko, and felt your body finally begin to settle into the deep, worn-out peace that comes only after labor is over and love has arrived.
Two children.
Two tiny flames.
And the Fire Nation, for one brief and perfect moment, had never felt warmer.
Six years had passed since the night the palace had been filled with two first cries, and somehow the Fire Palace had still not learned how to keep up with your children.
Mira and Iroh were everywhere at once.
One moment they were racing through the main corridor in matching red Fire Nation outfits, little boots thudding against polished stone, their laughter echoing off the high walls. The next, they were turning a corner too fast and nearly colliding with a pair of startled attendants, only to spin away at the last possible second and continue their run as if the palace itself existed only to be conquered by two small, determined children.
âMira!â one of the guards called after them, trying very hard not to smile. âIroh! Slow down!â
âNo!â Mira shouted back over her shoulder, her braid bouncing behind her.
âWeâre winning!â Iroh added, as if that explained everything.
You watched them from the open doorway of your chambers with a hand pressed to your mouth, trying and failing to hide your amusement. Zuko stood beside you, arms folded, wearing the same helpless expression he always wore whenever the twins decided the palace was a racetrack.
âThey learned that from somewhere,â he muttered.
You glanced at him. âFrom you, obviously.â
He gave you a look. âI did not run through the palace like a storm every morning.â
âNo,â you said, smiling sweetly. âYou only glare through it like one.â
That earned you a reluctant snort, and then the two of you were both looking out after the twins again as they disappeared toward the garden.
It was no surprise where they were headed. Mira loved the gardens most of all. She liked the quiet spaces, the ponds, the soft rustle of leaves, the animals that did not ask her questions or tell her to be careful. Iroh loved the roses you had planted years earlier, and when he was not curled up with a book somewhere in the shade, he could usually be found reading beneath one of the flowering trellises with the serious concentration of a scholar twice his age.
Mira, though, had recently developed a particular devotion to the ducks that lived in the garden pond.
Not just the ducks.
The baby ducks.
You had caught her sneaking bread crumbs from the kitchen more than once with the solemn explanation that the ducks were âvery hungry and also very small, which is basically the same thing as being babies.â
Zuko had pretended to be stern about it.
He had lasted three minutes.
âGo ahead,â you told him softly, noticing the direction of his gaze. âSheâll be disappointed if you do not.â
He exhaled through his nose. âI know.â
You turned back toward the room to fetch the shawl you had left on the chair. âYou can follow her if you want.â
His brows lifted. âMe?â
âYes, you.â
He looked mildly suspicious. âWhy do I feel like this is a trick?â
âIt is not a trick.â
âIt sounds like a trick.â
You smiled to yourself. âIt is a chance for you to do what you always do when one of them wanders too far ahead.â
âAnd that is?â
You looked over your shoulder, very innocent. âPretend you are not worried.â
Zuko held your gaze for a long moment before surrendering with a small, helpless shake of his head. âI hate how well you know me.â
âYou married me.â
âUnfortunately for me, yes.â
You laughed softly, then kissed his cheek before heading back inside to set down your book. By the time you returned, Zuko was already heading down the corridor after the children, though he had his hands behind his back and his pace was calm enough to suggest he was simply taking a walk rather than quietly checking on the two small disasters that were currently unsupervised in the gardens.
You followed at a slower pace, content to let him go ahead. There was something lovely about watching him like this, years after the war, years into the life you had built together. Fire Lord Zuko was still a man of duty and focus and an almost frightening level of control when he needed it. But fatherhood had given him something gentler too. Something that appeared most clearly in moments like these, when he thought no one was watching.
The garden was warm with afternoon light when he arrived.
Mira was already at the pond, crouched near the edge with one small hand extended and a careful little pile of crumbs in her palm. A cluster of ducks floated nearby, and two tiny ducklings, round and fluffy as puffed rice, paddled closer with curious urgency.
Mira made a delighted sound and sat back on her heels.
âThere you are,â she whispered, as if she might frighten them away.
Zuko stopped several feet behind her.
The sight hit him all at once.
The pond. The ducks. The baby ducks. The soft green of the garden. The sunlight breaking through the leaves. And Mira, so very small and focused and earnest, with her bright face turned toward the water.
For one brief, startling moment, the present slipped sideways.
He was a boy again.
Small. Wounded. Lonely in a way that had no language. Standing beside a pond with his motherâs hand warm in his own, watching her toss crumbs to the ducks while she laughed softly at his serious questions about why the ducklings stayed so close to their mother. He remembered the sound of her voice. The careful way she had knelt beside him. The gentleness she had hidden so well from the rest of the world and given only to him.
He remembered her smile.
The memory struck so unexpectedly that Zuko had to look away for a second.
Mira turned then, catching sight of him. âPapa!â
Her whole face brightened.
Zuko walked toward her slowly, and she stood to greet him, nearly wobbling on her feet in her excitement. She held out the rest of her crumbs like a very serious offering.
âI am feeding them,â she announced.
So he knelt beside her and looked into the pond. The ducks bobbed closer, unbothered by the presence of the Fire Lord as long as he was not interfering with dinner.
âYou are,â he said. âThat is very kind of you.â
She beamed. âThe babies need help.â
Zuko glanced at the ducklings, then at Mira. Her red outfit had gotten a little dusty at the hem from her running, and a leaf had somehow caught in the sash at her waist. She looked exactly like what she was: your daughter, bright and fierce and full of opinions, with the stubborn little chin he had definitely inherited from himself.
And yet for one beautiful instant he saw his mother in her too.
Not in her face. Not in her eyes.
In the gentleness.
In the way she crouched very still so she would not startle the birds.
In the way she watched them with complete and total tenderness, as though the small, fragile lives before her mattered more than anything else in the world.
Zuko swallowed.
Mira looked up at him. âPapa?â
He reached out and brushed a thumb across her cheek. âWhen I was little,â he said, âmy mother used to feed the ducks here too.â
Mira went very still.
âReally?â
âYes.â He glanced toward the water. âShe brought me to the garden once when I was about your age.â
Miraâs eyes widened in delight. âYou were little too?â
He let out a small breath that might have been a laugh. âVery little.â
She considered that seriously. âDid you run?â
He gave her a flat look. âNo.â
âDid you race your sister, aunt Azula?â
âNo.â
She frowned. âThat is very sad.â
The corner of Zukoâs mouth twitched. âYes, well. I had other things.â
Mira leaned closer, fascinated now. âWhat did you do?â
Zuko looked back at the pond, the memory still vivid enough to sting. âI watched my mother feed the ducks. She told me not to be afraid of them, even though I was certain one of them was judging me.â
Mira gasped. âThe duck judged you?â
âI think so.â
âThat is mean.â
âI agree.â
She looked deeply offended on his behalf. âWhat did Mama do?â
His eyes softened. âShe laughed.â
Miraâs small face grew thoughtful. âDid she laugh at you?â
âNo,â Zuko said quietly. âNot at me. With me.â
That seemed to make her pleased in the most serious way possible. She turned back to the pond and carefully dropped the last of the crumbs into the water while the ducklings paddled eagerly closer.
Zuko watched her hands, watched the tiny concentration on her face, and felt the old ache of memory turn warm instead of sharp.
âYou remind me of her,â he said before he quite meant to.
Mira looked up, startled and proud all at once. âI do?â
âYes.â
âBecause I feed the ducks?â
âBecause you are gentle with them.â
She straightened a little, as if she had just received a very important title. âI am gentle.â
âI know.â
A pleased smile spread across her face. Then, from somewhere farther into the garden, came the faint rustle of pages turning.
Zukoâs eyes lifted.
Under the roses you had planted years ago, beneath the arch of a flowering trellis, Iroh sat on a low bench with a book open in his lap. He was tucked beneath the shade in complete contentment, his hair falling into his eyes, one leg bent up beside him. He was so focused on the page that for a moment he did not notice either of them.
Zuko stared.
The sight of him was nearly as startling as Mira had been.
Not because Iroh was doing anything unusual. It was the resemblance that caught him. The quiet. The stillness. The way he held himself so carefully in a world that had not always been careful with him. The way he looked down at a book with all the same thoughtful concentration your face carried when you were reading in the garden.
And then, as if the spirit of the moment had chosen to be cruel, Iroh pushed a strand of hair behind his ear and tilted his face toward the sun in exactly the same absent, peaceful way you sometimes did when you were trying to pretend you were not enjoying the afternoon.
Zuko stared a little longer.
Mira noticed at once. âPapa?â
He blinked.
âWhat?â she asked.
He looked from his son to the roses, then toward the spot where you would soon appear if he knew you at all, and something warm and helpless settled in his chest. âYour brother looks very much like your mother.â
Mira followed his gaze and brightened. âHe does!â
âHe does,â Zuko repeated, almost to himself.
At that, Iroh finally looked up from his book and spotted them.
âPapa!â he called, closing the book carefully before rising to his feet. âMira said she was feeding the ducks.â
âShe was,â Zuko said.
Iroh came toward them with an easy, careful grace that reminded Zuko so much of you that it nearly hurt again. He was older now, of course, six years old and growing into himself, but there was still something gentle in him that you had always adored. He stopped a few feet away, book tucked under one arm, and looked from his father to his sister with a knowing little smile.
âDid she feed the baby ducks?â
Mira puffed herself up. âYes.â
âDid they like it?â
âYes.â
Iroh nodded solemnly. âExcellent.â
Zuko looked at his son for another long moment, the memory in him shifting, changing shape. Iroh stood with one shoulder angled toward the roses, one hand still resting on the book, his face thoughtful and calm and just a little dreamy. He was not a mirror of you exactly, but something about him,the softness, the quiet attention, the way he noticed before he spoke,made Zuko think of you immediately.
Maybe because it was you who had taught him that gentleness was not weakness.
Maybe because it was you who had made the palace feel like a home.
Maybe because some children simply carried the shape of the people who loved them most.
âIroh,â Zuko said after a moment, âdo you like the roses?â
His son looked up, slightly surprised by the question, then nodded. âYes. They are pretty.â
Zuko glanced toward the bush beside the trellis, where the deep red flowers were in full bloom. You had planted them yourself years earlier, saying the garden needed something that looked like fire without burning. He had thought it poetic then. He thought it more poetic now.
Iroh moved closer to the roses and ran his fingers lightly near one bloom without touching it. âMama likes them too.â
Zuko felt something shift in him again.
âYes,â he said softly. âShe does.â
Iroh looked up at him, his face open and thoughtful in a way that so often reminded Zuko of you. âI think she planted them because she wanted them to be here forever.â
The words landed quietly but deeply.
Zuko let out a breath through his nose, then turned away for just a second to steady himself. Mira, already losing interest in the emotional turn of the conversation, had returned to the pond and was now trying to convince one of the ducklings that it should come closer because âPapa says ducks are friendly unless they are judging you.â
Iroh sat back down on the bench, picked up his book again, and pretended not to listen while secretly listening to everything.
Zuko looked at both of them,the daughter kneeling by the pond, the son beneath the roses,and thought, with a sudden ache of gratitude, that he had never expected his life to become this soft.
This full.
This quiet in the middle of all the noise.
And then, as if summoned by the thought alone, you appeared at the garden entrance with a shawl around your shoulders and an expression of mild suspicion that told him you had already been gone too long not to come looking for your family.
âThere you all are,â you said, glancing from Mira to Iroh to Zuko and then narrowing your eyes slightly. âI was beginning to think someone had stolen my children.â
Mira looked up at once. âWe were with Papa.â
You smiled. âThat explains the trouble.â
Zuko stood and crossed toward you, his expression already softer than it had been all afternoon. âYou need to see something.â
You looked at him, amused. âThat sounds ominous.â
âIt is not ominous.â
You arched a brow. âYou say that a little too quickly.â
He reached for your hand and tugged you toward the pond first.
Mira straightened eagerly. âMama, look. I fed the baby ducks.â
You bent down at once, smiling at her, and Zuko watched the way your whole face changed with that simple act of attention. âYou did?â
âYes,â Mira said proudly.
âVery well done.â
Mira beamed.
Then Zuko guided you farther across the garden toward the roses, where Iroh sat with his book and looked up the moment you approached. Your sonâs face lit in that quiet way of his, and Zuko saw it again,that same resemblance he had noticed a moment ago, the same thoughtful softness you carried so naturally.
You followed his gaze, then looked back at him. âWhat is it?â
Zuko glanced between you and the children, then finally said, âI watched Mira feeding the ducks, and it reminded me of when I was little. My mother used to do that with me.â
Your expression softened at once.
âAnd then,â he continued, nodding toward Iroh, âI saw him here, reading under the roses, and he looked just like you.â
You turned toward your son, who had gone a little pink at being noticed, and your hand rose to your mouth in a quiet smile.
Zuko looked at you, then back at the children, and finished softly, âI just thought you should know.â
For a moment you did not speak.
Then your eyes warmed, and when you looked at him again, the emotion in your face nearly undid him.
âZuko,â you said softly, âthat is the loveliest thing you have said all week.â
He gave you a long-suffering look. âThat is not true.â
âIt might be.â
âIt absolutely is not.â
But you were already smiling, and the children were already tugging at both of you from opposite sides,Mira asking if the ducklings could be fed again, Iroh asking if he could finish his chapter before dinner, both of them filling the garden with their own small, bright lives.
And Zuko, standing between the roses he had once only dreamed of and the children who had somehow become his entire world, thought that maybe this was what peace looked like.
Not silence.
Not perfection.
Just this.
A garden full of laughter, a son who reminded him of you, a daughter who carried his motherâs gentleness, and a wife who looked at him like he had given her the moon.
He found your hand and squeezed it once.
You looked up at him, smiling.
And in the middle of the Fire Palace garden, beneath the roses, with ducklings bobbing at the pond and your children racing ahead through the sun, Zuko finally felt the past and the present settle together into something whole.
Hii! Could you please do a one shot with Sokka, very angsty. Hurt/no comfort. I want to cry here. More or less an scenario where theyâre married, have two kids(little) and the girl is just really sick and not getting any better and Katara just says that itâs really bad and heâs kind of in denial that sheâs going to die, but at the same time he knows what he has to do since heâs a father and has to âprepare his childrenâ for the worst, because he knows how hard it is to lose a mother at such young age.
I donât know if Iâm being way too detailed or something.đđ Hope you see this!! Have a nice night or day idkđđ
Before The Grief Arrives
â°â†pairing: Sokka x female! reader
a/n: WHEWWWW i can'ttt with this im so sad
summary: As your illness worsens and the reality of losing you begins creeping into the household, Sokka struggles to hold his family together while quietly unraveling under the anticipatory grief of imagining a future without you in it.
wc: 4.2k
contains: major illness, anticipatory grief, emotional hurt/comfort, parenthood,exhausted Sokka, fear of loss, denial, heavy angst, family themes, sickbed scenes, emotional breakdowns, mentions of death, grief before death, no comfort
Sokka hadnât slept properly in weeks.
Not really.
Heâd doze off sitting beside your bed sometimes, waking up instantly the second you coughed too hard or shifted beneath the blankets.
Other nights, he stayed awake completely. Watching your chest rise and fall in the darkness. Counting breaths without meaning to.
Like if he stopped paying attention for even a second-
Something horrible would happen.
The worst part was how quiet the house had become.
Not physically.
The kids were still loud. Still running through hallways and laughing too hard and asking a million questions at the worst possible times.
But your laughter was missing now.
Your voice.
The warmth you carried into every room without even trying.
And Sokka felt the absence of it constantly. Especially on the days you couldnât leave the bed at all.
---
âDaddy, the babyâs crying again!â
Sokka nearly dropped the bowl in his hands.
âI know!â he called back immediately, exhaustion bleeding into his voice despite his effort to hide it.
The soup on the stove was already starting to burn. Your 5 year old son, needed help with his schoolwork.
The laundry hadnât been done in days.
And your youngest baby girl had apparently decided sleep was optional now that the household had descended into chaos. Sokka hurried into the next room, scooping the infant up before she could fully spiral into screaming.
âOkay, okay,â he murmured tiredly, bouncing her against his chest. âI got you.â
She immediately grabbed fistfuls of his tunic, little face scrunched up unhappily.
âI want mama.â
The words hit like a knife every single time.
Sokka swallowed hard.
âI know, sweet pea.â
âMama sing?.â
His chest tightened painfully. Normally, you wouldâve already been there.
Picking her up.
Kissing her forehead.
Singing softly while swaying around the room until she calmed down.
Now?
Now you barely had the strength to sit upright some days. And Sokka was trying so hard to fill spaces that didnât belong to him. âI can sing,â he offered weakly.
His daughter looked deeply offended by the suggestion. Despite everything, a tired laugh escaped him. âWow,â he muttered. âTough crowd.â
But his voice cracked slightly halfway through the joke.
Because he was so, so tired. Not physically. Or not only physically.
He was tired in that horrible deep way grief exhausted people before the grief even fully arrived.
Later that evening, Katara came by again. Sokka already knew the look on her face before she even spoke.
That careful gentleness.
That hesitation.
It made his stomach twist violently. âSheâs weaker,â Katara said quietly once the children were distracted in the other room.
âNo.â
The answer came instantly.
Automatic.
Kataraâs expression crumpled slightly.
âSokka- â
âNo,â he repeated harsher this time. âYou said the medicine was helping.â
âIt was,â she said softly. âBut now- â
âShe just needs more time.â
Katara went silent. And somehow that silence said everything. Sokka stared at the wall instead of her because if he looked directly at his sister, he might completely fall apart.
âSheâs not dying,â he whispered.
Kataraâs eyes filled immediately.
And that-
That terrified him more than anything. Because Katara always fought back.
Always argued.
Always reassured people.
But now she just looked heartbroken. âSokkaâŠâ she whispered helplessly.
He stood abruptly.
âNo.â
It was the only thing he could say anymore.
No.
No, this wasnât happening.
No, you couldnât leave him.
No, his children couldnât lose their mother.
No.
No.
No.
---
That night, your son crawled quietly into Sokkaâs lap while he sat beside your bed. You were asleep again.
Too pale against the blankets.
Too still.
Sokka hated how still youâd become lately.
âDaddy?â
He looked down immediately, softening despite the exhaustion pulling at every part of him. âHey, buddy.â
Your son leaned sleepily against him. âMama still sick?â
Sokkaâs throat tightened. âYeah.â
âShe gonna get better?â
The question hollowed him out instantly. Because he didnât know how to answer anymore. Every day he woke up telling himself you would recover. Every day he watched you struggle harder just to breathe comfortably.
And somewhere deep down, beneath all the denial and panic and desperate hope
He knew.
He knew the truth.
He just couldnât survive saying it out loud. Not fully. Not yet. Your son looked up at him again, waiting patiently.
Trusting him completely.
Spirits.
Sokka felt sick.
Because he remembered this feeling.
Sitting beside his dad after their mother died. Watching adults exchange sad looks instead of honest answers. Being old enough to know something was wrong but too young to fully understand why nobody would explain it properly.
He remembered the confusion.
The fear.
The awful realization afterward that everyone else had known before he did.
And now
Now he had to somehow protect his own children from that same pain while knowing he couldnât actually save them from it. Sokka wrapped an arm around his son carefully. ââŠMamaâs very sick,â he said quietly.
His son frowned slightly. âBut Auntie heals people.â
âI know.â
âThen why isnât mama better yet?â
Sokka stared at the floor.
Because sometimes people still died. Because healing wasnât magic. Because life could be cruel and unfair and terrifying no matter how badly you loved someone.
But how could he explain any of that to a child?
ââŠSometimes,â he said slowly, voice rough, âsometimes people stay sick for a long time.â
His son was quiet for a moment.
Then softly
âLike grandma?â
Sokkaâs entire body went still.
Their grandmother had died the year before.
Old age.
Peaceful.
Natural.
Nothing like this.
But his son didnât know the difference. Sokka felt tears sting his eyes instantly. ââŠYeah,â he whispered painfully.
The little boy curled closer against him.
âAre you sad?â
The question almost made him break completely.
Because yes.
Gosh, yes.
He was drowning in it. He was sad and terrified and exhausted and angry at the world for even making this possible. But he was also a father.
And fathers were supposed to hold things together. Even when they were falling apart internally.
âA little,â he admitted weakly.
His son nodded like he understood.
Then after a second
âIâm scared.â
That did it. Sokka shut his eyes hard, pulling the little boy tighter against his chest immediately. Because there it was.
The thing heâd been trying so desperately to avoid.
The fear had reached the kids now too. And there was nothing he could do to stop it anymore.
âI know,â he whispered shakily.
His sonâs tiny hands clutched at his shirt.
Sokka buried his face briefly against the top of his head because suddenly breathing felt difficult. He didnât know how to do this. Didnât know how to prepare children for losing their mother when he still couldnât even imagine surviving it himself.
You were everything warm in his life.
Everything steady.
You made every place feel like home.
And now he was supposed to picture birthdays without you?
Mornings without you?
Your daughter growing up without remembering your voice clearly?
The thought nearly made him physically ill.
âDaddy?â
Sokka looked down quickly again.
His son hesitated before asking quietly, âIf mama dies⊠will you still be here?â
The question shattered something inside him.
Immediately, Sokka pulled him closer. âSo long as Iâm alive,â he whispered fiercely, voice breaking completely now, âIâll always be here. Okay? Always.â
His son nodded sleepily against him. But Sokka couldnât stop crying silently after that. Because he remembered being that small.
Remembered how terrifying the world felt after losing a mother.
And now his children might have to learn that same grief far too early too.
Later, after finally getting both children asleep in your room beside you, Sokka sat alone on the kitchen floor.
Not the chair.
The floor.
Too exhausted to make it any further. The house was dark and quiet except for your weak coughing from down the hall.
Sokka pressed both hands over his face shakily. He hadnât eaten properly in days. Hadnât shaved.
Could barely remember the last full conversation heâd had with anyone that wasnât about medicine or food or trying to keep the children calm.
And worst of all
He was starting to resent himself for every moment he wasnât beside you. Because every second felt important now.
Precious.
Temporary.
What if you woke up asking for him and he wasnât there?
What if you needed him?
What if-
A broken sound escaped his throat before he could stop it.
summary: A private late-night moment between you and Aang turns into chaotic embarrassment when Sokka barges in at the worst possible time, leaving Aang flustered but still instinctively protective of you.
wc: 1.1k
contains: Soft romance, established relationship intimacy, cuddling, playful kissing, light sexual tension (no explicit content), embarrassment humor, Sokka comedic chaos, protective behavior, blanket âcover-upâ moment, affectionate teasing, Gaang dynamics.
The temple was finally quiet.
For once.
No missions.
No meetings.
No training.
Just you and Aang alone in your room late at night while the rest of the Gaang settled down for sleep somewhere else in the temple. The windows were cracked slightly open, cool mountain air drifting through the room while candlelight flickered softly against the walls.
You were curled against Aangâs side underneath the blankets, practically melted into him at this point. Not that he minded.
Aang loved being close to you.
Actually, loved was probably an understatement.
At the moment, he was laying back against the pillows shirtless, one arm around your waist while the other lazily traced shapes against your skin absentmindedly.
You were half laying on top of him, wearing one of his loose wraps that kept slipping off your shoulder every few minutes and nothing else underneath-
Aang was definitely struggling to focus because of it. You noticed every single time his eyes drifted.
âYouâre staring again,â you teased softly.
His ears turned pink immediately.
âI canât help it.â
You laughed quietly before leaning up and kissing him again. That ended any chance of coherent thought immediately.
Aang kissed you back fast, one hand sliding up your back as he pulled you closer against him instinctively.
Warm.
Soft.
Comfortable.
The kind of kissing that had no real goal other than enjoying each other. At least at first. Because after a while, it deepened naturally.
Aangâs kisses got slower, heavier, his hand tightening slightly at your hips every time you shifted against him.
And honestly?
You werenât helping.
Especially not when your fingers slid over his body gently. A quiet sound escaped him immediately. You smiled against his lips. âThat got your attention.â
âYou always have my attention,â he murmured.
You kissed him again before he could keep talking because comments like that made your heart melt every single time. Aang responded instantly. He slowly moved his hand to the hem of the wrap. Slowly removing it. One hand moving up your ass, carefully while he kissed you deeper now, completely relaxed beneath you.
The blanket that was around you both had slipped lower somewhere along the way, exposing more of your naked body, but neither of you cared.
At least-
Until the door suddenly swung open.
âAang, I need to ask you someth- â
Silence.
Horrible.
Awful silence.
You froze instantly.
Aangâs eyes widened in absolute horror. Sokka stood in the doorway staring directly at the two of you.
At Aang shirtless.
At you half laying on top of him.
At the very obvious makeout session he had just interrupted.
ââŠOH COME ON!â Sokka yelled immediately.
Aang reacted on pure instinct. He grabbed the blanket so fast it was honestly impressive, yanking it up around you protectively until you were completely covered.
âSO KNOCK!â Aang shouted back immediately.
âI DIDNâT KNOW YOU WERE DOING THIS!â
âWell maybe you shouldâve!â
You buried your burning face into Aangâs shoulder instantly while Sokka pointed accusingly.
âWHY ARE YOU BOTH ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN I WALK IN?!â
âGET OUT!â
âI LIVE HERE TOO!â
âNOT IN THIS ROOM YOU DONâT!â
You could physically feel Aangâs embarrassment radiating off him.
His face was bright red.
Ears glowing. One arm wrapped tightly around you while he kept the blanket firmly pulled up around your body protectively.
Which honestly made your heart flutter a little despite the embarrassment. Sokka looked personally victimized.
âI can never unsee this.â
âTHEN LEAVE!â Aang snapped.
âYou guys are unbelievable!â
âYou opened the door without knocking!â
âBecause I didnât think I was interrupting this!â
Aang groaned loudly, dropping his forehead dramatically onto your shoulder for a second. âYouâre the worst.â
âYouâre making out in the middle of the night!â
âItâs OUR room!â
Sokka pointed dramatically.
âI have trauma now.â
âYouâll survive!â
At this point you were laughing too hard into Aangâs shoulder to even help.
Which made Aang look at you in betrayal. âThis isnât funny.â
âIt kind of is,â you admitted through laughter.
Aang groaned again while Sokka kept rambling dramatically.
âIâm serious, from now on there should be a warning sign on this door.â
âGET OUT!â
Finally, mercifully, Katara appeared behind Sokka.
âWhat are you yelling abou- â
She stopped instantly after seeing the scene. Aang looked ready to evaporate on the spot. Katara sighed immediately. âSokka, seriously?â
âIâM the problem?!â he cried.
âYes! Knock before entering peopleâs rooms!â
âI DIDNâT THINK THEYâD BE HALF NAKED!â
Aang immediately pulled the blanket higher around you protectively again.
âStop looking at her!â
âIâm trying NOT to!â
Katara physically grabbed Sokka by the arm. âOkay. Weâre leaving now.â
âI can still see him shirtless!â
âSokka.â
âIâm traumatized!â
The door finally shut behind them.
Silence.
Then
Aang dropped his face into his hands.
âOh my god.â
You immediately started laughing again. Aang looked at you, still completely red. âThis is your fault too.â
âHow?â
âYou distract me!â
âThat is not a real excuse.â
âIt is to me.â
You smiled softly despite yourself. Even flustered out of his mind, he still had one arm securely around you underneath the blankets. Still holding you close. Still protecting you first before even processing his own embarrassment.
Your expression softened immediately. âYou covered me up,â you murmured quietly.
Aang blinked.
Then his face softened too.
âOf course I did.â
The sincerity in his voice made your chest warm. Even during absolute chaos
He thought about you first.
You leaned up, kissing his cheek softly this time. Aang immediately melted again despite everything.
âYouâre cute,â you whispered.
âIâm humiliated.â
âYouâre still cute.â
He huffed softly, trying not to smile.
Then after a second
ââŠDo you think Sokkaâs gone?â
You listened for a moment.
ââŠProbably.â
Aang narrowed his eyes suspiciously toward the door.
âI donât trust him.â
That only made you laugh harder while he pulled you closer again, still stubbornly keeping the blanket wrapped around you both.
Synopsis: After the battle against Taga, you are left unconscious, caught between the physical world and the spirit realm. As Katara struggles to heal the damage, Zuko refuses to leave your side.
The island felt wrong.
Not dangerous in the usual wayâbut ancient. Heavy. The air itself seemed to hum with something older than bending, older than memory. Around you, the massive stone ribs of long-dead Lion Turtles curved toward the sky, their remains forming a silent, sacred graveyard.
At the center of it all, a shallow pool reflected the pale light above.
That was where you lay.
The battle against Taga had endedâbut not cleanly. Not safely.
Katara knelt at the waterâs edge, her hands glowing with a bright, steady blue. The spiritual energy of the place amplified her bending, the water around her swirling gently as she worked. One by one, the others stirredâSokka groaning, Toph shifting beneath the stoneâbut Katara didnât look away from you.
Zuko did.
At first.
He staggered upright, breath uneven, but the moment his eyes found you lying motionless in the water, everything else disappeared.
He didnât check his injuries. Didnât speak.
He just ran.
Water splashed beneath his boots as he dropped to his knees beside you, pulling you carefully into his arms. âHeyââ His voice caught, rough and unsteady. âHey⊠look at me.â
There was no response.
The mark Taga had left was still faintly visibleâa cruel, burned imprint across your skin. Too familiar. Too much like the one Zuko carried himself.
His grip tightened.
âKatara,â he said, quieter now, like he was afraid of the answer. âIs sheâ?â
âIâm trying,â Katara replied, her voice strained with focus. âThe spiritual damage is deep.â
Zuko lowered his forehead to yours, his hands trembling despite himself. For all his control, all his trainingâthis was different. This wasnât a fight he could win with fire.
âCome back,â he whispered.
The water around you shimmered, responding to Kataraâs bending. Slowlyâagonizinglyâthe mark began to fade. Your breathing, once shallow and uneven, steadied just enough to give hope.
But your eyes stayed closed.
Katara finally let out a shaky breath, her hands lowering. âThe damage is gone,â she said softly. âBut⊠the rest is up to her.â
Zuko didnât move away. If anything, he pulled you closer, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressed firmly against your back as if he could keep you anchored just by holding on.
Thenâ
You shifted.
Barely. Just enough that your body leaned instinctively toward him.
Zuko froze.
Your skin was cold.
Too cold.
Fear flashed across his face, sharp and immediate. He tightened his hold without thinking, pressing you against him. âNo,â he muttered under his breath. âNo, youâre not doing this.â
âZuko,â Aang said urgently from nearby, having just pushed himself upright. âUse your bending. Keep her warm.â
Zuko didnât argue.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breatheânot fast, not panicked, but steady. Controlled. The way Iroh had taught him.
Fire wasnât rage. Not anymore.
It was life.
A soft warmth began to build beneath his skin, not wild or destructive, but steadyâlike sunlight. He focused it carefully, letting the heat spread through his arms, into you, surrounding you without burning.
âIâve got you,â he murmured.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Thenâ
A soft gasp escaped your lips.
Zukoâs eyes snapped open.
Relief hit him so hard it almost knocked the breath out of him, but he didnât lose focus. If anything, he steadied further, keeping the warmth constant, careful.
âThatâs it,â he said quietly. âStay with me.â
Your breathing grew stronger. Less fragile.
And then, slowlyâyour eyes opened.
At first, unfocused. Distant.
Then they found him.
Zuko didnât move, like even the smallest shift might break the moment. âHey,â he said, softer now, his voice almost gentle enough to disappear into the air. âCan you hear me?â
ââŠZuko?â you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper.
His composure cracked.
âYeah,â he breathed, a small, disbelieving laugh escaping him. âYeah, Iâm here.â
He leaned his forehead against yours again, eyes closing briefly. For once, he didnât try to hide the emotionârelief, fear, all of it tangled together.
âI thoughtââ He stopped himself, exhaling slowly. âYouâre okay.â
You shifted slightly, still weak. âColdâŠâ
âI know.â His arms tightened around you instinctively. âIâve got you.â
The warmth around you deepened, steady and controlledâbut stronger now, driven by instinct more than thought.
It took a moment for you to realize.
âZukoâŠâ you murmured, a little more clearly this time. âYouâre overdoing it.â
He didnât respond right away.
ââŠZuko.â
That got through.
He hesitated, then slowly let the intensity drop, the heat settling into something gentler. Enough to warm, not drain.
âYou almost didnât wake up,â he said quietly, like that explained everything.
You managed the faintest smile. âAnd youâre still exhausting yourself.â
A small, tired huff escaped himâsomething close to a laugh. âYouâre unbelievable.â
Only then did you notice the others.
Katara watching with relief softening her exhaustion. Aang sitting forward, worry easing from his face. Sokka and Toph both clearly trying not to look too concernedâand failing.
You gave them a small, reassuring smile.
âIâm okay,â you said.
Zuko didnât let go.
Not when you leaned back against his chest. Not when your breathing finally evened out. Not even when the tension in the air began to fade.
His arms stayed around you, steady and certain.
Grounding.
As if, for a moment, he needed to remind himself you were really there.
And this timeâ
You werenât slipping away.
Credits: I used a cai bot as my base so but i cant remember which one im so sorry. But if you find them, all credits go to them.
Note: Just the same as my other post. I just posted this here cause i refuse to share my personal info with Cai or other chatbots to verify my age and i think its a bit wasteful to let the stories go. So im posting them so the wont be lost, but the its purpose is just for myself. Sorry if my english lags its not my first langue.
SUMMARY: You were born a non-bender, but Aang tries to make you feel included.
WARNING(S): fluff, angst
WORD COUNT: 5,197
PAIRING: Adult!Aang x reader
A/N: Hope you like it! Comments and feedback are always welcome.
MASTERLIST
The first time Aang got you out of the house to teach you, he was all smiles.
Bright and hopeful, excited to share something that mattered to him. You donât think youâd ever seen him look that happy, especially by the fourth attempt.
Airbending.
The others thought you might pick something up eventually. Water, earth, maybe even fire, but nothing ever came of it. And deep down, you knew nothing ever would.
You werenât a bender.
You werenât going to wake up one day and move the ground beneath your feet, or shift water with your hands, or throw fire. It wasnât something you could learn. It wasnât something anyone could promise you. You weren't born to be able to bend.
But Aang didnât let it go.
And you didnât have the heart to take that from him, no matter how much it pained you.
So you let him pull you out of the tower youâd been calling home for years now and take you to the Southern Air Temple.
Youâd been there before, back when it was you, Katara, and Sokka, following him around while he showed you around. Youâd seen far greater things, but the temple in ruins always settled heavily in your heart. It felt different now. More overgrown. Quieter.
Still beautiful though.
And you knew how much it meant to him.
You ran your hand along one of the columns as you walked, the stone cool under your fingers. You wondered if he ever thought about what this place used to be. If being here made it harder or easier.
âOkay,â Aang says, clapping his hands together as he turns to you. âAirbending. My area of expertise.â
His grin widens. And just like that, he looks like himself again.
You cross your arms loosely, raising a brow at him. âConfident?â
He moves past you, then circles back, positioning himself a few feet away. His posture shifts without him thinking about it. He looks lighter on his feet, shoulders relaxed, arms loose at his sides.
âI have to be,â Aang says easily. âIâve only been doing this my whole life.â He steps back a little, giving you space. âBesides, you've made it through three trials. You haven't given up.â
âThree failures,â you correct.
âThree attempts,â he says, like it matters.
You sigh, finding your sandals more interesting, the dirt beneath them crunching with every press-down you make. You're pulled out of the hole you begin making up in your mind when Aang claps loudly again. The crack had made you flinch.
âOkay! Airbending isnât about forcing anything,â he starts. âThatâs why itâs hard to explain. You donât grab it like the earth beneath your feet, or push it like fire. You⊠move with it.â
You nod, even if you donât fully get it.
He gestures for you to stand straighter. âFeet apart. Don't stand too stiffly. You donât want to lock yourself in place.â
You adjust, trying to copy him.
âGood,â he says. âNow, donât think about making something happen. Just focus on whatâs already there.â
âThe air,â you say.
âYeah.â He gives a small nod. âItâs everywhere. You donât need to have a source like water or earth. You just⊠connect to it.â
You take a breath, slower this time.
Behind him, the wind moves through the open temple, brushing past the columns, slipping through broken archways. You can feel it on your skin, faint but constant.
âOkay,â he says. âFollow me.â
He steps into motion, slow and controlled. His arms move in a wide circle, like heâs tracing something invisible.
You mirror him. At least, you try to. Your movements feel heavier. Less natural. Like youâre thinking about every step instead of letting it happen.
âLoosen up,â he says gently. âYouâre resisting it.â
âIâm not trying to,â you mutter.
âI know...â
You exhale, forcing yourself to relax your shoulders. Your arms follow his again, slower this time, less rigid. You shift, trying to follow what heâs doing again.
âBetter?â
âYeah. Thatâs good,â he says. âNow justâŠmove your arms. Slow at first.â
You copy him, lifting your hands and pushing them forward in the same motion he just showed you.
Nothing happens.
You try again.
Still nothing.
Aang doesnât say anything right away. He just watches on, further heightening the fact that you were aware he was observing your every move.
âTry not to think about it too much,â he says after a second.
You let out a small breath. âThatâs kind of hard not to, especially when Iâm trying to make something happen.â
âI know,â he says. âBut if you focus on making it happen, it wonât.â
You glance at him. âThat doesnât sound very helpful.â
He laughs. âItâs true, though. Donât think on it too much.â
You shake your head a little, but you try again anyway. This time slower.
Less stiff, more loose.
Going with the flow.
For a second, it almost feels right.
Almost.
âNow shift your weight,â he adds. âDonât stay rooted. Airbenders donât stand still if they can help it.â
You step lightly to the side, copying the way he moves. Heâs already adjusted, already onto the next move before you've barely finished the previous action.
Youâre a step behind. Always a step behind. Never able to keep up with the rest of them.
âOkay,â he says. âNow guide it.â
Your arms move through the air, and for a second, you almost think you feel something pulse within your palms.
But itâs gone before you can figure out what it might be.
Probably nothing to be honest.
You drop your hands with a huff. âYeah. Still nothing.â
Aang steps closer, not an ounce of discouragement on his face. âThatâs okay. It takes time. With more practice, you're bound to get something out of it. It gets easier. Trust me.â
âFor you maybe,â you say. âYouâve been doing this since you were a kid.â
âYeah, but that doesnât mean you canât learn something from it.â
You give him a look. âAang, I canât move a leaf, I couldn't shift the water from the stream, I couldn't move the stupid pebble that Toph had me attempt to move. Zuko even tried having me light the fire for the camp we set up. We almost froze. I can't move anything!â
âNot yet,â he corrects. Oh, how you wonder where he gets his patience and his calm from? Something you were surely running out of.
You sigh, but thereâs no real frustration behind it. Yet, anyway.
He hesitates for a second, then moves behind you. âCan I?â he asks.
You nod. His hands hover near yours before settling lightly over them. Gentle, warm to the touch.
âLet me guide you,â he says.
You feel him push your arms through the same motions as before. Slower this time. More steady.
âBreathe,â he adds quietly. The warmth of his words tickles your ear.
You try to match his pace, his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
The air moves around you, brushing past your arms, your face. You can feel the wind, how it responds to him. The subtle breeze he lets swim in and out through your hair.
âFeel that?â he asks.
âYeah.â
You almost laugh at the sensation, but you keep going. Letting your hands move with his instead of trying to lead on your own.
For a second, the motions feel easier. Like youâre not working as hard to exert them, act them out.
There's barely anything happening. Most of which is done by Aang. But the air in front of your hands stirs.
You pause.
âDid youââ
âI saw it,â Aang says quickly, a little quieter now. âKeep going.â
Your focus breaks.
And just like that, itâs gone. You let your arms fall.
âOf course.â You huff in defeat.
Aang doesnât move away right away. âYou felt it, though, right?â he asks.
âBarely.â
âItâs still something.â
You turn your head slightly, glancing back at him. âIt only worked because you were helping. Iâm not even sure that was me just now.â
âMaybe,â he says. âOr maybe you just needed to stop trying so hard.â
You donât answer that.
After a second, his hands drop away from yours. You miss the warmth of them in an instant. The lack of his touch makes you want to pull him close again.
âDo you want to try again?â he asks. Chin dipping to try and get your eyes to meet his own. They don't. He looks down at the ground before waiting for your response.
You look at your hands, then back at him.
âMaybe later, if thatâs okay.â
"It's okay. We can take a break."
-
The hill you found and settled on feels nice and cool underneath your touch as the sun dips.
Long shadows stretch across the mountains, swallowing the land around them, making it quieter. Emptier. At peace.
You and Aang sit side by side, and you disturb a patch of grass by pulling grass stems from the ground. You'd guess your anxiety was to blame for impulsively messing with perfectly good grass. Aang had lain back, eyes darting up at the sky. His thoughts wandering, you'd guess as much, seeing as his fingers stopped tapping against his stomach.
For a while, neither of you speaks.
The wind moves gently through the open air, brushing past softly, reminding you of the reason for being there in the first place. You figured Aang could've been reminded of home. Of everything he lost, but who were you to speak for him?
Aang exhales slowly.
âItâs weird,â he says.
You glance at him. âWhat is?â
He doesnât look at you. Just out.
âThe sky. The temple, all the antiques we keep finding. Everything.â
His fingers curl slightly against the grass as he sits up.
âI used to think the temples would always feel full,â he admits. âLike, no matter what happened⊠I could come back, and itâd still feel like home. Still⊠alive.â Thereâs a pause. âBut it only reminds me of how everyone I've ever known...is gone.â
That lands heavier than anything heâs said all day.
You donât interrupt. You just listen.
âTheyâre gone,â he continues, voice quieter now. âThe monks. My friends. Gyatso. The stories they all used to tell, the way we used to celebrate, the food we would eat⊠even the stupid games we played.â A soft, broken laugh slips out of him. âIâm the only one left who remembers any of it.â
Your chest tightens.
âI donât even know if I remember it right anymore.â He finally looks down at his hands. "I keep thinking that if I die, my culture dies with me. What if I forget something important?â he whispers. âWhat if it all just⊠disappears with me? No one but me can carry on my past. My whole life rests in my hands.â
There it is. His fear. It hits you harder than you expected. Because for once, this isnât about being the Avatar.
This is just a boy, a man now, sitting in the ruins of his home, terrified of being the last voice of his people.
You donât think. You donât weigh your next words. You just⊠say it.
âThen Iâll carry it with you.â
Aang freezes.
You donât stop.
âIâll learn it,â you add quickly, heart racing now. âAll of it. The stories, the traditions... Whatever you remember, Iâll remember too. I wonât let it disappear.â
Heâs staring at you now.
Completely still. Like heâs not sure he heard you right.
âAnd if youâre worried about it endingâŠâ You hesitate, then push through it anyway, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
âIâll give you a legacy.â
The silence falls heavily on you both. You look out into the valley, feeling the wind settle.
And the second it leaves your mouth, you second-guess your words.
Oh.
Oh no.
Your breath catches. âI-I didnât meanââ
Aangâs expression changes.
âYouâd⊠What?â he asks softly.
You shake your head quickly, heat rushing to your face. âI didnât mean it like that, I just mean, I mean I did, but notââ you let out a nervous breath, stumbling over yourself. âI just meant Iâd help. However you needed, Iââ
âYouâd give me children?â he interrupts.
That stops you. Your mouth opens agape, then shuts.
His voice is so quiet you almost miss it. You look at him properly now. Really take in the man before you. Give him children? You'd be stupid not to want a family with him.
Something in your chest settles warmly.
âYeah,â you say, softer this time. âIf you wanted me to. The only thing I could really give back.â You release a nervous laugh.
Aangâs eyes search yours, like heâs trying to find any sign of hesitation. Doubt. Anything that screamed that you were just trying to make up for what you lacked in, but you weren't
There isnât any. Because you meant it. Even if you didnât take into account how much you did until just now.
âYou donât have to do that,â he says, but thereâs no strength behind it. No real push. No malice. Just a hint of genuineness.
âI know,â you reply. A beat. âI want to, though.â
That hits him harder than anything else.
You see it in the way his breath stutters slightly, the way his shoulders drop just a fraction, like something inside him is loosening up for the first time all day.
âYouâd reallyâŠâ he starts, then stops, swallowing. ââŠyouâd learn everything?â
You nod. âEverything youâre willing to teach me.â
For a moment, he doesnât say anything. Then his hand reaches for yours. Slowly, hesitant. Like heâs still asking permission to touch you, when he has every right to. When you donât pull away, his fingers tighten slightly around yours.
âThat means a lot to me, Y/n,â he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I never even considered the idea of having children right now.
You smile, just a little. âI figured. It looked like your heart stopped for a second there.â
A soft huff of breath leaves him. almost a laugh, but not quite.
The wind returns, gentle once more, curling around the two of you as if it felt the heaviness settle between you. Like it had listened in.
Aang glances down at your joined hands, then back up at you.
For once, he doesnât try to turn it into a joke right away. He just looks at you.
Like heâs still catching up to what you said and what it means. Not just the words, but the fact that you meant them. That you said them so easily, like it wasnât something huge you placed in his lap.
It was.
You can tell by the way he keeps holding your hand, squeezing every now and then, like letting go would break up the moment too fast.
âI donât know what to say,â he admits after a while.
You let out a small breath through your nose. âYou donât have to say anything.â
âI feel like I should.â
âYou donât have to.â
His mouth twitches a little at that, but it fades just as quickly.
âI justâŠâ He looks away for a second, out at the valley below, at the fading light and shadows. âIâve spent so much time thinking about what I lost that I never really thought about what could still happen. What I could still have.â
Your thumb brushes lightly over his knuckles before you can think better of it. Aang notices. His shoulders loosen again, but not enough.
âYou make it sound simple,â he says.
âItâs not simple.â
This turns his attention back on you.
âItâs just not impossible either,â you say quietly. âThereâs a difference.â
He studies your face for a second, and you can almost see the thoughts moving behind his eyes. Aang was never very good at hiding what he felt, but this is different. He's less open. More careful. Like heâs afraid of letting this conversation go in the wrong direction. Of making you angry.
âYou'd really give me children?â he asks again.
Not because he didnât hear you the first time. Because he needs to.
You nod once. âYeah.â
âAnd learn all of it?â
âYes.â
âThe stories, the customs, the food, the prayers, the weird gamesââ
You smile a little. âYouâre really trying to sell it now.â
That earns a breath of a laugh. Then he goes quiet again.
âEven if you canât bend?â
There it is. You had a feeling it would come back to that.
You look down at your lap for a second before answering.
âEspecially then.â
Aang frowns. You take a breath.
âI canât give back from the lack of bending,â you say. âI know that. I know Iâll never be part of your culture in the same way you were born into it.â You pause, picking at a blade of grass near your knee. âBut that doesnât mean I canât love it because it matters to you. It doesnât mean I canât help keep it alive. This could be one of the only things I can give back.â
His face changes at that. Softens. Something about those words gets through to him in a way the other words of the gang couldn't. Maybe it's because he knows youâre not saying it to make him feel better.
Youâre saying it because youâve already decided.
âI donât want you to think this is all youâre good for,â he says after a moment.
You look at him, caught a little off guard.
âWhat?â
He turns toward you more fully now, his hand tightening around yours.
âThe only thing you could really give back?â he repeats softly, using your own words. âDonât say it like that.â
Heat crawls up your neck in half embarrassment, and half of something else.
âI just meantââ
âI know what you meant.â His voice stays gentle, but thereâs something firmer in it now. âBut you make it sound like you have to make up for something.â
You open your mouth, then close it. Because there isnât a clean lie waiting to spill past your lips. Aang notices that too.
âYou donât owe me a legacy,â he says. âAnd you donât owe me children just because you canât bend.â
Your throat tightens a little.
âI know,â you say, but it comes out softer than you intended.
He watches you for another second, then shifts closer, close enough that your heads are leaning against each other.
âYou donât have to try and even the score for what you think you're lacking in,â he says. âNot for me.â
His words land hard. Too hard.
Because some part of you had thought exactly that, even if you didnât want to say it out loud. That if you could never stand beside the others in the way they did, through bending, through power, through something useful, then maybe you could still give him something that mattered.
Something lasting.
You stare down at your lap for a second, blinking against the sting behind your eyes.
âI didnât mean for it to sound like that,â you say quietly. âIâm not trying to make up with children for my lack of bending with you.â
âI know.â He says it immediately. Reassurance following his understanding. âI know youâre not.â
It helps. His words. A little.
You breathe out slowly.
âI just hate that I canât help out sometimes,â you admit. "Heck, even Sokka is out there being a hero... But what can I do?"
Aang goes still. Because he finally understands whatâs underneath all of the hurt you've bottled up inside of yourself.
The discouragement after every attempt. The way you'd look away from everyone's eyes after every attempt. The way you'd say itâs fine, when it clearly wasn't.
He shifts again, this time dipping his head enough that he can see your face better.
âWhat can you do?â he repeats quietly. And it's just him, sitting with the question instead of brushing it off.
You donât answer right away because youâve already answered it a hundred times in your head. Nothing, was always your response. He frowns as though the crease in your forehead gave you away.
âYou think being a hero is just about bending?â he asks.
You give a small shrug. âIt helps.â
âThatâs not what I asked.â
You glance at him, a little caught. He doesnât look away.
âYou think Sokka is a hero, but he can't bend?â Aang presses.
You hesitate. âYes, butââ
âBut what?â
You sigh, frustrated now. âBut he still does things, Aang. He fights. He plans. He actually contributes when something goes wrong.â You shake your head a little. âWhen things get bad, Iâm just⊠there.â
The words come out flatter than you meant them to. Like youâve said them before. To yourself. Too many times.
Aangâs expression tightens.
âYouâre not âjust there,ââ he says.
You donât argue. You donât agree either. You just look away again.
âDo you remember the canyon?â he asks suddenly.
You frown slightly. âWhat about it?â
âYou were the one who figured out how to settle the feud between the Gan Jin and the Zhang tribes,â he says. âYou made them work together to get us out of being eaten by those canyon crawlers.â
âWasn't that youââ
âAnd the village near the volcano?â he continues. âYou were the one who convinced the villagers that they needed to evacuate.â
You shake your head. âThatâs notââ
âAnd when Appa got hurt,â he adds, quieter now, âyou stayed with him the whole night. You looked over him, you lost sleep over it too.â
You go still because you do remember that memory.
You remember thinking it didnât count. That it wasnât enough.
âThatâs not fighting, though,â you say, softer now.
âNo,â Aang agrees. âItâs not.â
He leans in just slightly, not crowding you, just enough that you canât ignore him.
âBut itâs helping.â
You swallow.
âItâs paying attention,â he continues. âItâs seeing things the rest of us miss because weâre too busy trying to win something.â
His voice softens. âAnd it matters.â
You look at him again because heâs not trying to make you feel better.
Heâs not reaching just to say something nice. He means it.
âBut when something actually happensââ you start.
âYouâre there,â he says, cutting in gently this time. âYou donât run. You donât hide. You stay.â
Your chest tightens.
âThatâs not nothing.â
The wind shifts around you again. You look down at your interlocked hands.
âIt doesnât feel like enough sometimes,â you admit.
Aang nods. âI know.â
That catches you off guard.
âI get that, trust me,â he adds. âIâve felt that too.â
You blink at him. âYou?â
âYeah.â A small, almost self-conscious smile tugs at his mouth. âBeing the Avatar doesnât automatically make you feel invincible.â
You let out a quiet breath. That⊠comforts you more than you expected it to.
Aang studies your face for another second, then reaches out again. This time, slower, more deliberate, as he nudges your right cheek with his left hand, before pressing a gentle kiss on it. You donât pull away.
âI'm sorry if we made you feel that way. You donât have to be like the rest of us to matter,â he says.
You let that sit. It doesnât fix everything. But it settles the war that was waged inside you anyway.
âYou really believe that?â you ask.
He nods.
âI wouldnât be sitting here with you if I didnât.â
That makes you look at him again. A small, uneven smile pulls at your lips.
âYouâre really bad at letting people wallow in their self-pity,â you mutter.
He smiles back, softer now. âYeah,â he says. âIâve been told that.â
You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head.
"Why do you keep talking like bending is the only part worth carrying on?â
That shuts you up again.
Heâs not angry. If anything, he sounds a little sad. A little frustrated that you still canât see what heâs trying to tell you.
âMy people werenât just airbenders,â he says. âThey were monks, teachers, healers. They made toys for kids and baked fruit pies and played games and told stories theyâd told a hundred times before.â A small smile pulls at his mouth. âThey were annoying sometimes. And stubborn. And really nosy.â
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. Aang smiles a little wider when he hears it.
âMy culture didnât live in bending alone,â he says. âIt lived in how we treated people. What we believed. How we lived.â
He looks down at your joined hands. âAnd youâve been trying to understand that part of me since the day we met.â
Your heart settles.
âSo no,â he says softly. âYou wouldnât be giving me the only thing you could offer.â
You swallow.
âAangâŠâ
âYouâd just be giving me more of you.â
His words are so simple they almost hurt. You donât know what to do with them. So for a second, you do nothing. Then your hand tightens around his. His eyes flick down to it, then back to your face.
You shake your head a little, a laugh leaving you, thin and shaky. âYou always know how to make me feel stupid in the nicest way possible.â
That finally gets a real laugh out of him.
âYouâre not stupid.â
âMm.â
âYouâre not.â He presses firmly, gently.
You look over at him. âI heard you the first time.â
âGood.â
The breeze picks up around the two of you, cooler now that the sun has dropped. It lifts a few strands of your hair and brushes the fabric on his sleeves.
Aang leans back on one hand, still facing you.
âI think Iâd like that,â he says after a while.
You blink. âWhat part?â
He smiles, small and careful. A beat. âAll of it.â
Something in you eases. Not all the way, but enough to let you breathe easier.
âEven if I can't bend?â
He tilts his head, brows furrowing in feigned shock. âYou can't bend!â
You let out an offended noise and shove at his shoulder.
He laughs, catching your wrist before you can do it again.
âIâm kidding,â he says.
âYouâre not.â
âOkay, maybe a little.â
You roll your eyes, but youâre smiling a lot brighter now, and he is too, and the heaviness from a minute ago doesnât feel quite so sharp in your chest.
He keeps hold of your wrist for a second longer than he needs to. Long enough for the mood to shift again. Just slightly.
His smile fades first, not into sadness, but something more aware. Serious. You felt it too. The tension.
The way he raised his hand and his thumb brushed once, almost absentmindedly, over the side of your face.
âAang,â you say softly.
His eyes avert from your lips, falling on your softening gaze.
You lost your train of thought, the words you wanted to say falling off the tip of your tongue. Maybe it was nothing. His name just felt easier than everything else sitting between you.
His eyes search your face anyway.
âYeah?â
You shake your head, but not because you want to take it back.
âNothing.â
His mouth curves faintly. âYou sure?â
âNo.â
He studies you for another moment, then glances out at the valley again.
âYou want to stay here tonight,â he says. âIf you want, of course.â
You lift a brow. âYou mean avoid going back and getting interrogated by Katara?â
âThat too.â
You smile. âTempting.â
âVery. Itâs quiet here.â
You look around. The grass. The temple in the far distance, worn down but still standing strong, like Aang.
âIt is.â
Aang nods, then looks back at you. Letting the quiet air take over as he took in his favorite view. You. Who went back to pulling at the patch of grass you disrupted, he can't help but let his smile grow.
âI love you.â
There it is again. His plain honesty. It always got the best of you. You feel your face heat up, but thereâs no point in pretending you didn't hear him.
âI love you too,â you say, expression timid, but still facing the ground.
His heart beats faster. This was it for him. You were it. All he'd ever want, so long as the universe allowed you and him to last. To be.
His shoulders drop. His mouth softens. He looks younger for a second, and older too. Like the boy and the man heâs still becoming are both sitting right here beside you. Making your head spin and your heart full.
The wind curls between you again. Gentle. Familiar.
And this time, when the silence returns, it doesnât feel empty.
It feels full.
Aang glances at your joined hands once more, then back at you, his expression almost shy despite everything youâve just said.
"So you really want children with me?"
"Yes, Aang." Your grin grows as you stifle a laugh.
âDo you want to start...on our legacy?â he asks.
You smile.
âRight now?â you ask.
Aang freezes. âRight now?â
You shrug, biting back another laugh. âYouâre the one who asked.â
His brain immediately starts short-circuiting.
âOkay, wait, hold onââ he lets go of your hand just to gesture wildly, before stopping again. âI didnât mean like right now, right now, I meant like, someday right now. Future right now. Not, this exact moment on a hillââ
Youâre fully laughing now.
âAangââ
âNo, because thereâsâthereâs steps!â he insists, pointing at the ground like the steps might appear if he believes hard enough. âThere are definitely steps. We skipped all of them.â
âYou asked!â
âI didnât think youâd say yes that fast!â
You tilt your head. âYou wanted me to say no?â
âNo!â he says immediately. âNo, definitely not that either, just, maybe a warning? A little preparation time?â
You grin. âYouâre panicking.â
âI am not panicking,â he says, voice an octave higher than usual. âI am calmly evaluating a very big, important, life thingââ
He stops. Looks at you. Youâre still smiling at him like this is the best thing thatâs ever happened.
âYouâre serious, though,â he says, quieter now.
You nod. âYeah.â
That does it. He exhales, shoulders dropping, all that frantic energy softening just a little.
âOkay.â
A beat.
âOkay,â he repeats, like heâs trying to convince himself heâs got this.
Then.
âNot right now, though,â he adds quickly.
You laugh. âNot right now.â
âGood,â he says, relieved. âBecause I think Iâd pass out.â
âYouâd pass out?â
âImmediately.â
You bump his shoulder. âAvatar, master of all four elements⊠defeated by the talk of children.â
He points at you. âYouâre the one who started it!â
âYou asked!â
âAnd I regret nothing,â he says quickly, then pauses.
You laugh again, leaning your head against him. He relaxes this time, letting your head rest against his shoulder, still a little flustered but smiling anyway.
âWe can start with the easy stuff,â he mutters.
âLike what?â
âLike⊠teaching you those games I used to play here,â he says. âMuch safer.â
You hum. âYeah, probably a good place to start.â
âDefinitely a good place to start,â he agrees.
kyojuro rengoku x pregnant!reader
tags: angst, death
notes: hey, the red words symbolize something. think about it! hope you enjoy, or not... i hope you don't enjoy, cause i certainly didn't! ^_< **also title is song: mind over matter - young the giant
the evening is all soft chores and softer wind, a kettle beginning to whisper, clean laundry folded into stacks. you have the window cracked for the night air, cool and damp with camellia, a thin line of steam escaping from the pot as if the house itself was sighing. you fuss with the table for longer than necessary, shift a bowl an inch left, then back right, then you catch yourself smiling at how silly it is to want everything just so. the lantern light makes honey out of the walls, and your reflection in the window holds your gaze for a second. the fabric of your robe pulled a little more snug than last season, the curve that was not there a month ago asking to be noticed.
his footsteps always sound like relief. even before you hear them, the path speaks of him, gravel answering his stride, his whistle turning into a low hum as he lifts the latch. the door opens on that familiar rush, bright and warm, kyojuro filling the doorway like sunshine, fiery hair damp with mist, shoulders easing the whole house into a grin.
âi am home!â he announces, face beaming.
you breathe, finally. âwelcome back,â you murmur, hands already reaching, taking his haori to hang by the door, smoothing the edge where it always curls. he leans down to kiss your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then your mouth, a quick series of light touches, like tasting dessert before dinner.
âit smells wonderful,â he says, peeking over your shoulder at the simmering pot like a child eyeing festival sweets. âand you look,â he pauses, eyes going soft and glazed in that way that always makes your chest feel full, ââso beautiful.â
you laugh into his collar, the laugh that tries to hide how your heart is thundering. âflatterer,â you tell him, but you hold on for a beat longer than you mean to, cheek pressed to the steady warmth of him. he notices.
âtired?â he asks, voice dipping, hands finding your hips, fingers feeling through the fabric. âhave you been resting enough while i was away, my love?â
âiâve been good,â you say, and the words taste careful. you turn off the flame beneath the pot, let the silence of the kitchen settle. the kettle trills, a clear small sound, and you set two cups out by habit, then only fill one, your fingers idling along the rim.
he sees it, the hesitation that never lingers when he is near. âlove?â he prompts, more tender than the word has any right to be. he takes your hands, warms them between his palms, looks at you the way he looks at sunrise, as if every day is the first time.
you exhale and it feels like stepping into a spring. âthereâs somethingâŠâ you start, and your mouth is clumsy, âi have to tell you... or maybe, show you.â
he straightens a little, the brightness in him gathering, eyes widening with a boyâs eager patience. âthen show me!â he says, immediate, certain, and his smile is the kind that makes you feel so brave.
you guide his hand down, over the tie of your robe, past the curve of your waist, to the newness there; the small swell that answers his palm like a secret finally set free. for a heartbeat he is very still. then he lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and a cry tangled together, astonishment tipping his cheeks pink, every part of him lit from inside.
âoh,â he says, gentle and big at once, âoh.â
you look up through your lashes, shy and wicked and soft all at once. âi was going to wait until i felt a flutter,â you confess, your fingers covering his, pressing his hand a little firmer. âbut i could not keep it to myself any longer. i think, i think it is starting to show.â
kyojuro drops to his knees so quickly the floor hums, and he kisses the place beneath his hand, then looks up at you with eyes glassy and bright. âa life,â he whispers, and then louder, thrilled by the shape of it, âa spark!â and he laughs, that ringing sound that makes the cupboards tremble. he talks to your belly like it is a guest of honor at his table, low and fond and so sincere it steals your breath. âhello there,â he says, âthis is your father, i am very proud to meet you!â and then he huffs like he cannot contain all of it, forehead pressing to the curve, voice rough with joy, âthank you for choosing us.â
you card your fingers into his hair, your own smile pulling at your mouth until it aches. his hand splay wider, protective already, thumb drawing lazy circles as if he could read the future under your skin. he looks up again, searching your face like it holds the answer to every question he forgot to ask. âhow long have you known?â
âa few weeks.â you admit. âi wanted to be sure. i wanted to tell you with dinner and a pretty speech, but i keep waking up and touching it and thinking about your face, and tonight i couldnât wait.â
he stands, scooping you close, lifting you just enough that your toes skim the floor. your robe rides higher, his hands steady at the small of your back, careful as if you are made of spun sugar. âi will make a speech every night then!â he says, close to your mouth, breath warm, giddy and earnest, âi will make this house a sea of thank yous,â and he kisses you slower now, tasting the edges of each word like a promise.
you end up eating later because he keeps losing track, pausing mid-bite to touch you again, to ask quiet questions that tumble out in a stream. are you craving anything strange, do you tire quickly in the afternoons, should we move the bed closer to the window so the air stays cool, would you like softer sandals for the market, do we need more blankets, i can fetch more blankets, i can fetch the whole mountain if you point.Â
you tell him about the mornings, the small dizzy spells, the way the sun feels warmer on your neck. he tells you he has never been happier and that heâs always knew youâd look more beautiful pregnant. halfway through the meal he breaks off to stand and fetch his haori, drapes it around your shoulders with a seriousness that turns your throat to sweetness. âfor warmth,â he says, even though the room is not cold, and he tucks it around you.
after, he clears the dishes even though he keeps bumping his hip into the table because he keeps glancing back at you, distracted, grinning. he insists you sit, he insists you rest, he insists on massaging your calves with clumsy intensity until you are laughing into your knuckles, then quiet again as the laughter gentles into something watery at the edges. he notices that too, kisses the corners of your eyes, tells you there is nothing wrong with crying when the heart has too much light in it.
when the lanterns burn lower he pulls out paper and a brush and begins a list in his big cheerful handwriting, talking while he writes. names for a girl, names for a boy, little ones he met in town last month that made him laugh, a teacher who once showed him how to braid rope. he circles a few, draws tiny flame marks beside the ones he likes best, then looks up at you as if the only answer that matters is yours.
you do not choose yet. instead you reach for his hand, press it back to the place where your body has become a new geography, and he follows the invitation. you lean into his shoulder, breathing with him, matching his pace without trying. the house is quiet, night thick against the window, the kettle cooling slowly on the stove, the list half-finished and waiting.
it happens the way important things always do in your house. not with a roar of thunder, but with the gentlest shift. you are still tucked into his haori, the brush and paper abandoned on the low table, when kaname lands at the window and taps. a sound like a small bone knocking on glass.
kyojuro is already moving before you can stand. he opens the latch and the crow hops inside, a tidy bundle of dark and urgency. the message is short. his face does not change while he listens, but you watch the brightness in his eyes gather itself, that steady purpose you have learned to read. mugen train. reports of disappearances. immediate.
you feel the world tilt and then catch. you nod before he even looks your way, because this is the life the two of you fold yourselves around.
âi need to leave,â he says anyway, careful, as if the shape of the words matters. he takes your hand like he did when he proposed, like heâs doing it again. âi will make it as quick as i can.â
you swallow and it tastes like tea that has gone cool. âof course,â you say, and the steadiness in your voice surprises you. âit is a mission.â you add the smallest smile because he deserves it, because courage is a thing you both feel. âlike any other.â
his mouth wobbles around a laugh that does not quite happen. âi will be all right,â he tells you, the same way he tells you the moon will rise. he touches your cheek, then your stomach, and the second touch hangs in the air between you like incense. âi will be careful. more than careful.â
you move without thinking. a bento, quickly packed. rice still warm, pickles arranged in a silly little flame pattern you know will make him grin. the good cloth, the soft one you hide in the chest for winter mornings, looped around his neck with your fingers working slow because if they move slow, maybe time will too. you find the tiny charm you bought at the shrine two market days ago, the one with the red thread and the faint bell. protection for travelers. you press it into his palm and close his fingers over it until his knuckles go pale.
he leans down and kisses your forehead, your mouth, the line of your jaw where it meets the quick beat in your neck. he talks between kisses like he is collecting them. âi will be back before you know it,â he murmurs against your skin. âyou will not even miss me,â he lies with a smile that tries to soften the truth. he kneels again, as if he can help himself, and speaks to the small bump like it can hear him over the quiet storm of your heart. âi am going to work,â he tells the baby, simple and bright. âwatch over your mother while i am away. i will return. eat lots for me!â
your hands find his shoulders, the shape of him so familiar you could sketch it blindfolded. something braver than you rises to your tongue. âcome back to us,â you say, and it lands in the space between you with a weight you both feel. not me, not just me, never again just me.
his eyes go glassy in that way that breaks into you. he cups your face, thumbs brushing the dampness there that you did not notice until now. âto us,â he repeats, and his voice cracks on the last word like a beam under a sudden load. âi promise.â
the house shifts into urgency then. he buckles his swords with practiced ease, still half turned toward you, unwilling to give you his back even for a moment. kaname waits at the window, patient as a clock. you straighten his haori and smooth a wrinkle that does not matter, and he lets you fuss because it settles your hands. the kettle is cold on the stove, the list of names on the table haloed by lantern glow, your favorite one circled twice and kissed with a tiny flame.
at the door he hesitates. you see it, that brief falter where his body already faces the path yet his heart refuses to leave the threshold. he takes your hand and presses it to his chest, under the scarf, against the hammer of him. âfeel it,â he says, smiling, almost giddy with the need to make a promise into something you can touch. âthat is the sound i will follow home.â
âwe will be waiting,â you tell him, and it steadies both of you. you lift his hand and tuck it back to your stomach, your breath hitching when his fingers tremble. âdo not dawdle. we have a list to finish.â
he laughs, grateful for the ordinary. he kisses you once more, and then he steps away, the scarf tail brushing your wrist like a last goodbye.Â
you stand in the doorway and watch his back grow smaller, the crow a black stitch against the sky, the charm in his hand chiming once, faint. you press your palm to your belly and breathe with the rhythm he left behind, counting it like beads, one, two, three, until the lanterns hum, until the house remembers how to hold the echo of his voice.
the days pass like honey through a sieve, slow and sticky, clinging to your ribs in a way that makes you ache. you keep yourself busy because thatâs what heâd want. because sitting still makes the silence too loud.
the first morning you spend washing the linens, just so you can smell sun in them later. the second, you scrub the floors till they gleam, humming the song he always hums when he sharpens his sword. by the third, the needleâs between your fingers again, thread taut and fine.
you sit by the window where the light hits soft and gold, a basket of fabric beside you. your mind thinks of his haoriâsame flame pattern, same bold red fading into pale yellow. but smaller this time. one for him, one for the baby. the sleeves tiny, meant for hands that donât exist yet.
you picture his face when he sees it. that radiant grin that eats up the room, the way his shoulders shake when he laughs. you can hear him alreadyâmatching with me, are they? what an honor!âand it makes your chest hurt and warm all at once.Â
he is going to be such a wonderful father. that made you tear up.
you pause sometimes, needle hovering midair, eyes drifting toward the path beyond the window. every creak of wood, every rustle of the trees makes your heart lurch. the crow hasnât returned, and no letterâs come. he always writes when he can. always.
still, you smile when you fold the babyâs tiny haori over your lap, smoothing the fabric flat. âheâll love this,â you murmur to the quiet. âheâll say itâs perfect.â
you press the back of your hand to your stomach and try not to count the hours anymore. he said heâd come back to us. and he always keeps his promises.
but the skyâs turning heavy tonight, clouds pool over the horizon, and the lantern flame flickers a stutter too fast, guttering out before you can reach it.
the demon got away. the sun was about to rise.
blood ran hot between his fingers no matter how hard he pressed, seeping stubbornly through the cracks of his grip and dripping to the ground in slow, heavy drops. rengokuâs breaths were ragged, shallow things that scraped through his chest like leaves dragged along pavement. the night air bit at his skin, colder than it had any right to be, and each blink pulled the world a little farther from focus, black blooming in the corners of his sight like vignette.Â
âforgive me,â he managed, voice thin but still steady as he turned toward the boys. tanjiroâs face was wet, inosuke trembled with a fury he didnât yet know how to hold, and zenitsuâs hands shook with pained shame. âyou all did well. you must keep going.â
he smiled for them.Â
âi have to⊠get back to my wife,â he murmured, almost to himself, and the sound of it grounded him more than any bandage could.
his legs wavered beneath him, but he forced them to move. there wasnât time to stay still. his promise still hung in the airâcome back to usâand the thought of breaking it cut deeper than the wound ever could.
rengoku tore a strip from what remained of his haori, binding it clumsily around the gaping wound in his abdomen. the pressure stemmed the worst of the bleeding, but he needed more. gritting his teeth, he staggers through the wreckage of the train, before spotting a small corner that held flame like a lifeline. after placing his nichirin over the heat, he takes the weapon onto his wound, enough to scorch the edges of the wound shut. the smell of seared flesh turned his stomach, but the bleeding slowed, and that was all that mattered.
his vision tilted as he rose to his feet, but he pushed forward, each step precise, each breath measured.
there was a house at the end of this road. a soft light behind a window. a laugh heâd memorized. a life that waited for him and a heartbeat still too small to teach flame breathing.
he would not die here. not in the dirt. not beneath a starless sky.
he would die at home, if he mustâhis head cradled in your lap, his gaze soft on the curve of your belly, the promise the two of you had stitched into forever. the only woman he wishes to see as the world fades, the only warmth he wants to fall asleep beside.
so he walked.
one step. then another.
toward you. toward them. toward home.
the evening is warm enough that the cicadas hum lazily in the trees, their steady rhythm filling the quiet as you work. the fabric sits light across your lap, the almost-finished baby haori fluttering faintly whenever the wind passes through. youâve been stitching for hours, humming under your breath the tune he likes best, the one he always drums his fingers to on the table.
the thread slips clean through the fabric again and again, the motions soothing in their familiarity. every so often you look toward the road, half expecting the bright streak of flame that means heâs home, the sound of his laugh breaking through the stillness. itâs been three days. he always comes back smiling.
you tie off a seam and lean back, stretching your hands, when a movement catches your eye down the path. at first itâs just a shape between the trees, blurred and slow, the orange of his haori flickering through the dusk like a match struck too weakly to catch.
âkyo?â you call, half laughing as you rise. the needle tumbles from your lap into the grass, forgotten. âyouâre backââ
but the words die before they can finish.
heâs closer now. close enough that the light hits him, and what you see knocks the breath straight out of you. his shoulders are hunched, his steps uneven, and thereâs a black-red stain spreading across his chest, dark and wet, a hole where there shouldnât be one. his hand is clamped over it, fingers trembling, his haori torn nearly to shreds.
âno,â you whisper, and the sound doesnât sound like your voice. your feet are already moving, the ground a blur beneath you. âno, no, noââ
he tries to smile when he sees you, the same kind heâs always given, brave and soft around the edges, but it falters halfway. his mouth opens like he wants to speak, and blood glints dark at the corner of his lips. you hear bubbles in his lungs.
the air feels wrong, thick, heavy, too slow to breathe. the baby haori slips from your hand, the tiny fabric crumpling in the dirt as you run the last few steps and catch him just before his knees give way. heâs warm, too warm, slick with blood, his weight heavy against your arms as if the world itself is trying to pull him down.
âi told you iâd come back,â he breathes, voice breaking, eyes still bright even through the pain. âiâi kept my promise.â
and the sight of him, the stubborn flame of him still trying to burn even now, splits your heart wide open.
tiny sleeves smeared with the mud his boots dragged with him, and when his eyes fall on it, something in his face breaks.
a sound bubbles from his chest â half a laugh, half a sob â and he reaches for it with a shaking hand. âyou⊠you made one for them,â he chokes out, tears cutting paths down his blood-streaked cheeks. â... matching⊠with me...â
youâre crying too hard to answer. your breath comes in ragged bursts, chest tight, throat raw as the sobs keep breaking free no matter how you try to swallow them. your fingers flutter over his face, his neck, the edges of the wound, anything, everything, searching for something you can fix. âno, no, stay awake â please, kyojuro, please â we need you, we still need you, you canâtââ
his hand closes over yours, weak but steady enough to stop you. he shakes his head just barely, the ghost of that same brave smile curling his lips. âhush,â he whispers, voice slipping thinner with every word. âdonât⊠donât cry. i donât want⊠the last thing i see⊠to be your tears.â
you sob harder, the sound tearing out of you like itâs been waiting your whole life to escape. âdonât say it like that. donât say it like youâre â youâre not ââ
he doesnât answer, only shifts closer, until his head is pillowed in your lap. his breath shudders as he lifts one trembling hand, laying it over the gentle swell of your stomach. his palm is slick and shaking, but the touch is reverent, tender. âtake care of them,â he murmurs, eyes fluttering closed for a heartbeat, then forcing themselves open again so he can see you. âtell them⊠i would have loved them with everything i am.â
your hands grip his wrist, trying to anchor him there, trying to hold his soul inside his body with sheer desperation. âi canât do this without you,â you sob, rocking forward, forehead pressed against his. âplease, please don't leave me â please ââ
âyou can,â he breathes, words catching on the edge of a laugh and a cry all at once. âyou have to. live⊠fully. for both of us. promise me.â
youâre shaking your head, the word no spilling from your mouth again and again until it dissolves into broken sounds. his thumb drags over your knuckles, a clumsy, stuttering motion as his strength ebbs, and his eyes â gods, his eyes ⊠beautiful.. golden red.âŠ. never leave your face.
âpromise me,â he says again, quieter this time, a plea wrapped in warmth. âbe happy. raise them. tell them their father burned bright.â
and then heâs still. head heavy against your thigh, breath halted, the most peaceful smile still lingering on his lips as his hand stays pressed to the tiny life beneath your skin.
so if you did nawt notice, or you do not care for the attempted symbolism or u don't care(which is totally fine, i lowkey wanted to try and nerd out and fonts r whimsical) each red text symbolizes the blood he started losing when he got wounded, the word "blood" being the lightest, bc that is when it happened, to "bright" being the darkest, because that is when he took his last breath. i also took the liberty to start cascading the red, to kind of mimic a timer, like the one he was on as he raced to come home to you.
hey hey, yall said i can tag u in any kny stories i put out right?
Story idea: Sanemi gets jealous of you being kind to Genya
â brotherly conflict.
pairing: fem!readerxsanemi
genre: angst
Genya sat on the engawa, hunched over and wincing as he tried to wrap the gash on his hand himself. The cloth slipped from his fingers for the third time, and he let out a frustrated sigh.
âHere,â you said gently, crouching beside him. You took the bandage from his hands and began wrapping it yourself. âYouâll make it worse if you keep tugging like that.â
Genyaâs cheeks flushed faintly. He knew who you were, how much you actually meant to his brother. Although the Wind Hashira has never voiced it, Genya knew you held a special place in his heart. âIâI can do itâŠâ
âI know you can,â you said with a small smile, tying the cloth securely. âBut it doesnât hurt to let someone help sometimes.â
For a moment, he relaxed under your care. The stiffness in his shoulders eased, and his eyes softened in a way you didnât often see.
âOi.â
The sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.
Your head snapped up, and there he wasâSanemi, standing a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His presence was heavy, storm-like, and Genya immediately stiffened.
âWhat the hell are you doing, babying him like that?â Sanemiâs tone was biting, his lip curling in disdain. âHeâs not some weak brat.â
You frowned, staying crouched at Genyaâs side. âHeâs injured. Iâm not babying him, Iâm helping.â
Genya opened his mouth, âNii-chan, itâs notââ
âShut it,â Sanemi snapped, his glare shifting between you. âIf he canât take care of a scratch, he shouldnât be here at all.â
Your chest tightened in frustration. You stood, meeting Sanemiâs glare head-on. âHeâs fought beside us. He earned the right to be cared for.â
Something flickered in his eyes at thatâit wasnât just anger. It was something darker. Something messier⊠and you couldnât quite put your finger on it.
Sanemi scoffed, looking away, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. âTch. Donât waste your time. He wonât last long anyway.â
Your heart stung at the cruelty, but when you looked closer, you saw itâthe tightness in his throat, the flicker of pain he tried to bury beneath harsh words. And as you sat back down beside Genya, continuing your quiet work, you felt Sanemiâs stare burning into youânot just angry, but aching.
Genya sat rigid beside you, jaw tight as you tied the last knot in the bandage. You gave him a reassuring smile, brushing the excess cloth flat. âThere,â you said softly. âGood as new.â
Genyaâs lips twitched like he wanted to smile but was too afraid to with Sanemi looming nearby.
âDidnât I tell you to quit coddling him?â Sanemiâs voice cracked like a whip.
You looked up, irritation sparking. âIâm not coddling him, Iâmââ
âYou are.â He stepped closer, steps heavy on the wood, his shadow falling across you both. His eyes burned, sharp and stormy, pinned on you. âYou think youâre doing him a favor, but youâre making him weaker than what he already is.â
Genya flinched. âNii-chan, thatâs notââ
âShut it!â Sanemi snapped, and Genyaâs mouth shut instantly.
You rose to your feet, squaring yourself against Sanemiâs fury. âEnough. Heâs bleeding, Sanemi. Whatâs weak about letting someone care for him?â
He ignored your words as his gaze slid past you to Genya, and his scowl deepened. âPathetic,â he muttered, low and venomous. âCanât even handle a scratch without someone holding his hand.â
Your temper flared, not appreciating being ignored. You placed a comforting hand on Genyaâs shoulder, but before you could bite back, Genya shifted uncomfortably under both your stares. âShe was just helpingâŠâ he said quietly, his voice almost a plea.
Thatâs when you caught itâSanemiâs jaw twitching, his nostrils flaring the moment your hands lingered on Genya. What the hell is his problem?
Sanemi took another step forward, too close now, his glare boring holes into you. âStop it.â His voice was low, rough, almost dangerous. âDonât touch him like that.â
Your breath hitched at the command, your pulse hammering in your ears. You straightened, refusing to shrink back. âWhy?â
Sanemiâs brow furrowed, thrown for half a second. âBecauseâhe doesnât need it.â
âThatâs not the real reason,â you said evenly, your voice steady though your heart was racing. Your eyes locked on his, unflinching. âWhy does it bother you so much, Sanemi?â
His fists curled at his sides. He looked like he wanted to bark something cruel, to shove your words away like he always did. But his throat bobbed, and his jaw twitched.
Genya shifted awkwardly between the two of you, eyes darting nervously. â_______, maybeââ
âStay out of this,â Sanemi snapped, but his voice cracked under the weight of it.
The tension was suffocating. Genya sat stiff as a board, eyes darting between his brotherâs furious scowl and your unyielding glare. He looked like heâd rather fight ten demons than sit here caught between you both.
Your chest softened with guilt. He didnât deserve to be stuck in this.
âGenya,â you said gently, turning toward him. âWhy donât you head inside? Get some rest.â
His brows furrowed. âButââ
âItâs alright,â you cut in, offering him the faintest smile. âIâll handle it.â
Genyaâs gaze lingered on you, then flicked to Sanemi. He looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he pressed his lips together, stood, and slipped inside, sliding the door shut behind him.
The air grew heavier in his absence.
You turned back to Sanemi, your expression firm. âYou didnât have to treat him like that.â
Sanemi scoffed, though his shoulders were still tense. âI told you, coddling him will just get him killed.â
âYou donât mean that,â you countered, stepping closer. Your voice was calm but cutting. âYou lash out because youâre scared for him. I see it. Every word you spit is just fear dressed up as anger.â
His jaw ticked, eyes flashing. âDonât pretend you know what the hell Iâm thinking.â
âBut I do.â Your tone sharpened, a rare edge in your voice. âI know you care about him more than you let yourself admit. And I know you hate that I can show him the kindness you wonât.â
Sanemiâs nostrils flared. He looked ready to argue, but the words caught in his throat. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with all the things he couldnât say.
You didnât move. You stood your ground, your gaze steady. âWhy does it bother you so much when I help him, Sanemi? Why does it make you so angry to see me care for him?â
Sanemiâs glare sharpened, but his lips pressed into a hard line. His whole body shook like he was holding something in, like one more push would make him explode.
âSay it,â you pressed, your voice low but firm. âIf youâve got something to tell me, stop hiding behind your anger and just say it.â
His teeth ground so hard it was audible. He took a step forward, towering over you, his chest rising and falling in ragged bursts.
âYou really wanna know?!â he snarled, voice breaking at the edges. âBecause it should be me, damn it!â
The air went still.
Your eyes widened, your heart skipping at the weight behind his words. For a second, you thought he might keep going, but he bit down hard, his jaw locking, like he regretted every syllable.
Your lips curved. Not mockingâfond. Warm. You tilted your head, eyes softening as you whispered, âSanemi⊠you were jealous. Of your own brother.â
His face flared scarlet in an instant. âTchâdonât say it like that!â he snapped, voice cracking. He turned away sharply, muttering curses under his breath. âYou make it sound damn patheticââ
You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand. âI didnât say pathetic. I said cute.â
âCâcute?!â His head whipped back, glare sharp but his ears were blazing. âThe hellâs cute about that?!â
You gave him a little pout, stepping closer. âNext time you get yourself hurt, Iâll patch you up. No one else. Does that make you feel better?â
Sanemiâs throat bobbed, and for once, he had no snarl ready. He scoffed, looking away as his cheeks burned hotter. âHmph. Like Iâd ever need it.â
You smiled knowingly, her voice playful. âMhm. Weâll see.â
Sanemi grumbled, fists shoved into his pockets, but you didnât miss the way his ears stayed crimson or the way his eyes darted back to you when he thought you werenât looking.
You reached up and tugged lightly at his sleeve, just enough to make him glance at you. âDonât worry, Sanemi,â you said with a little lilt in your voice, wanting to tease him more. âYouâll always be the one I take care of.â
His chest tightened, and though he huffed and turned away with a muttered, âChe⊠youâre so damn annoying,â the tips of his ears betrayed himâburning crimson.
You giggled softly. âMhm. Annoying, but yours.â
Sanemi nearly choked, grumbling incoherently as he stomped a few steps ahead of you, trying to hide the way his lips threatened to twitch into a smile.
summary: he thought he lost you in the explosion involving the ubuyashiki mansionâŠbut little did he know, you were waiting for him at the end.
a/n: i aged ubuyashiki up just for the sake of this one shot
Flames consumed the night, their glow painting the sky in a furious blaze. Where the Ubuyashiki mansion once stood, only ruins remainedâcharred wood, thick smoke, and collapsing embers. The Hashira stood frozen, stunned by the devastation before them. Yet among them, one bore the weight as if the entire world had just crumbled upon his shoulders.
Sanemi stood rooted in place, horror distorting every feature of his face. His heart pounded violently, each beat heavier than the last, until it felt like his chest might shatter. His limbs felt numb and useless, as though his body itself rejected the truth before his eyes. No. It couldnât be. You werenât in there, you couldnât have been. The thought clawed at him, tearing through his denial, but the fireâs cruel glow whispered otherwise⊠and in that moment, Sanemi felt as if the world had ripped you away from him, leaving nothing but ashes where you once stood.
The moment he heard of the attack on the Ubuyashiki mansion, he didnât hesitate. His body moved before thought, tearing through the night in a desperate rush toward you, toward your family. The only thing that mattered was reaching you in time. Whoever dared lay a hand on you would pay in blood, and he was ready to drown himself in it if thatâs what it took to keep you safe.
He thought he was fast enough. He thought he couldâve made it in time. But now here he stood, staring helplessly at the inferno devouring your home. His mind reeled, a frantic storm of disbelief. What the fuck happened? How? None of it made sense. He couldnât breathe, couldnât think. He only knew one thing: he had to see you. He had to know you made it out. Forcing his trembling legs to move, he pushed forward through the choking heat and smoke, every step a desperate prayer to any god listeningâplease⊠please let her be alive.
When he reached the ruins of your home, his eyes darted desperately through the fire, searching for you⊠only to fall upon a man standing immobilized with Lady Tamayo at his side. The energy of a blood demon art bound him in place, letting Sanemi know that this man was a demon. Rage boiled inside him, his entire body trembling with it. His fists clenched so tightly around his sword that his knuckles turned white. Every muscle screamed for release, for violence. The thought of this monster being the reason behind the flames, behind your possible loss, ignited something feral in him. All he wantedâno, all he neededâwas to tear the demon apart piece by piece, to make him suffer for every second you might have endured.
âAre you the one?! What the hell did you doâŠto her?!â He roared in anger as he unsheathed his sword.
But then Gyomeiâs voice cut through his rage, the weight of his words striking harder than any blade. The âmanâ before them wasnât just any demonâit was Muzan Kibutsuji. The Demon Lord himself. The monster responsible for it all.
Sanemiâs rage swelled until it consumed him, blinding him to everything but the truth, that Muzan himself was the reason for this devastation, the reason your family was gone⊠the reason you might be gone too. The thought ripped through him like a blade. He didnât want to accept it, but fear and grief sank their claws deep, whispering the unbearable: that he had already lost you. His chest tightened as memories surged. How you were always at your fatherâs side, refusing to leave him once his health began to wither. Even when your mother tended to him, you stayed with the Master instead, treasuring every fleeting moment. You were always there, giving your time to those you loved.
Tears burned at the corners of Sanemiâs eyes, the heat gnawing at his skin yet none of it mattered. This fucker had taken you from him. He had taken the Master too. Grief twisted into rage until there was only one thing left, one singular purpose: to end Muzanâs life. With every ounce of strength in his body, Sanemi launched himself forward, charging at the Demon Lord with nothing but fury and the desperate need for vengeance driving him.
But you?
You had stayed behind, refusing to leave your younger siblingâs side. Your father had explained his planâhow he would use himself as bait, how the entire family had agreed to lure Muzan into their trap. You had begged him for another way, pleaded for a different outcome, but his resolve was unshakable. And your motherâs too. There was no escaping it since they were determined to face this together, no matter the cost.
You werenât allowed to tell anyone about the plan, not even Sanemi. Your heart ached at the thought that he probably believed you were gone, lost in the explosion. Grief gnawed at you relentlessly, but you couldnât let it show. You had to stay strong for Kiriya, Kuina, and Kanata. You had to fight, to protect them, to stand against Muzan. Your familyâs sacrifice would not be in vain, and you would make sure of it.
But little by little, the crows began to bring news of the Hashiraâs deaths. Your mind twisted with fear, thoughts darting to Sanemi, to Genya⊠they were all out there, facing the Upper Moons and Muzan. You stood firm beside your siblings, forcing yourself to stay strong, but every heartbeat was a struggle, every breath a battle against the dread clawing at your chest. Sanemi could be next. The thought alone made your stomach knot, your mind scream. You had already lost so much of your family⊠you couldnât bear to lose him too.
At last, the battle ended. Muzan was defeated, and the Demon Slayer Corps had emerged victorious. Sunrise broke over the horizon, washing the world in light, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could finally breathe. You won. You all won.
âFather,â you whispered, tears spilling over as you held your younger siblings close. âWe did it. We won. You won.â
But that wasnât enough. There was someone elseâyou needed to see him, to know he was alive. Once you made sure Kiriya, Kuina, and Kanata were safe, your legs carried you forward almost on instinct, heart hammering with every step. Smoke and ash blurred around you, your breaths ragged, adrenaline surging like wildfire through your veins. Nothing existed but the battlefield ahead and the desperate hope that he was still there. You had to find him. You needed to see him.
You froze instantly, your feet rooted to the ground at the scene before you. It was a massacre. Bodies littered the battlefield, some motionless, others writhing in pain. Everywhere you looked, injured Corps members struggled to stay alive as others frantically tried to tend to them. The sight stole your breath, and for a moment, the world narrowed to chaos and blood.
As anxious as you were, your concern centered on two people above allâthe Shinazugawa brothers. Your eyes darted desperately across the chaos, your feet weaving toward clusters of corps members gathered around the injured, praying that Sanemi or Genya was among them. Your heart sank with each passing moment, almost on the verge of giving up, until a turn revealed a familiar flash of white hair.
You rushed forward, your breath catching as your eyes fell on Sanemiâs injured form. His torso was covered in bandages, most of his head wrapped tightly, yet his face remained painfully visible.
âSanemi!â you shouted, your voice cracking, startling the nearby corps members who hadnât noticed you.
He didnât move. Didnât respond. Tears blurred your vision as fear gripped your chest. Falling to your knees, your hands trembled as you gently cupped his bandaged face.
âMy love,â you whispered, voice breaking. âPlease⊠wake up. Please come back to me.â
You couldnât lose him. Not him. You had already endured so much loss in so little time⊠you couldnât bear losing him too.
âIâm here, my love. Iâm okay. Please donât leave me.â
No response. Around you, the murmurs of the corps members confirmed the unthinkable⊠the possibility that he may be gone. Panic clawed at your chest, your breathing quickened, and your body trembled uncontrollably as you pressed your head against his chest, letting your tears fall like a relentless waterfall.
Why? Why did life have to be so cruel? You had dreamed of having a family, a marriage, a future that was supposed to be yours. You had even thought about names for your children. This wasnât how it was supposed to end.
The sudden weight of a hand on your hair made you flinch, and you snapped upright. Your gaze locked with Sanemiâs, his eyes barely open, but wide with unmistakable surprise.
âYouâre⊠youâre here. I-Is this real?â he murmured, voice weak.
Tenderly, you cupped his face in your hands, a trembling smile breaking through your tears. âYes, my love. Itâs me. Iâm right here.â
It took time, but Sanemi eventually healed from his wounds. Learning that he had lost Genya shattered your heart, a pain you knew all too well. You stayed by his side through it all, supporting him every step of the way, a presence that helped him heal both physically and emotionally.
The last Hashira meeting had just ended, and you had stepped back, letting your younger brother take the reins as head of the Ubuyashiki household. Now, you and Sanemi walked hand in hand, the quiet intimacy of the moment grounding you both. He suddenly twirled you around to face him.
âWhatââ
Your words were cut off as he pressed his lips to yours in a deep, consuming kiss. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck. For a moment, the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you suspended in that perfect, fragile space.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart skip.
âMarry me.â
You nearly choked on your own breath. Your eyes widened as he dropped to one knee, cradling your left hand in both of his before moving it gently over his heart.
âI love you so much, my angel. Thereâs no doubt in my mind that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are my reason to keep going, my reason to be better, and I vow to bring you happiness and protect you for as long as I live.â
Your lip quivered as you nodded, tears of happiness welling in your eyes, accepting his proposal. He grinned, pulling you into a tight, desperate embrace.
âI thought I lost you⊠that night, when I saw the explosion and everything⊠fuck, baby, I thought I lost you,â he murmured against your hair.
âI thought I lost you too,â you whispered, clutching his haori tightly.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you there for a heartbeat before slowly pulling back. Lifting your chin gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. âItâs over now, my love. All that bullshit with those damn demons⊠theyâre gone. Now we can finally plan our future.â
You beamed and pecked his nose playfully. âI canât wait.â
Synopsis: You promised to stay behind. He promised heâd come back to you alive. But when youâre suddenly pulled into the heart of the Infinity Castle, everyhting's turned upside down.
Warnings: ohhh I LOVED that teaser y'all, did you see how Obanai literally sprinted to be on Mitsuri's side? That's exactly what I imagined here hehehehe, go have a lil fluff with your soon-to-be husband <3
His instructions were too clear to ignore.
âStay right where you are, got it? If I catch you out there, Iâll beat the shit out of you. Promise it, jerk.â
âFine, I promise. Even though I know youâd never beat me.â
âDonât count on it.â
And even though you couldnât help but pout at his rough tone, you did exactly what he told you and waited for him at your estate. After all, he told you it will be over after this night, that he wonât be a demon slayer when he returns.
âDonât worry, (y/n). Iâll kill enough of them fucking creatures for both of us.â
And you believed him. God, you believed every single word that white-haired maniac said. But somehow, you ended up breaking your own promise.
You went from changing into your sleepwear to finding yourself free-falling without ground in sight within the blink of an eye.
Out of instinct, you hold onto the little knife you always keep on your body for dear life, eyes scanning around the area with no real aim. Youâve never seen a place like this, never felt a more overwhelming aura. After years of slaying demons, the stinging smell in the air alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine. Â
âWhat on earth is that place?â
Like you have to ask that question. Your stomach drops below your knees, you canât help but swallow hard against that tension that builds up deep in your throat. Thatâs exactly what Sanemi was talking about earlier on, the final battle. And youâre falling straight in the middle of it.
Itâs been years since the last time youâve held a sword, years since youâve actually found peace with leaving this part of your life in your past, years since that overwhelming sickness haunted after you. And yet, you have no other choice.
The air is thick with screams, smoke and the stench of blood. Just before you have time to realize it, your body slams into the ground harder than expected, your ankle twisting beneath the impact with a merciless snap. You cry out, barely having time to gather your bearings before a monstrous shriek rips through the darkness.
A demon charges at you with teeth like pointy blades and eyes burning with starvation.
Your fingers fly to your waist, ready to meet the handle of your tiny knife thatâs still better than nothing.
Gone.
Your knife, your only defense, is missing.
Panic swells in your chest as you scramble backward, dirt caking your hands, adrenaline drowning your thoughts. The demon lunges. You squeeze your eyes shut. No, this canât be happening. You canât just die out here, not like this. Did you really lose your knife like a lousy beginner? What would Sanemi think if he saw you here like this? Would he be sad, disappointed even? Both of you met during your times within the corps, he learned to love that wild and reckless side of yours. What would he say, seeing you standing here with your glossy eyes squeezed shut, desperately grabbing onto the air where your knife would have been?
âIâm sorry, SanemiâŠâ
You wait for it. The stinging pain of teeth digging deep into your flesh, the lights in your head slowly but surely getting dimmer.
But it never reaches you.
THWACK.
Instead, a gust of wind explodes past you, slicing the demonâs head clean off. Its body crashes beside you with a wet thud. Did you justâŠdream that? But you didnât do anything, you didnât see anyone earlier. Thereâs no way someone was able to reach you that fast.
And then you hear it - his voice.
âAre you out of your goddamn mind?!â
You crack your eyes open. Sanemiâs standing over you, blade in hand, face redder than the blood soaking the ground while he stares down at you. His white hair is wild, his veins bulging, his lavender eyes glow with a fury that chills you more than the demon ever could. Suddenly, your near-death experience fading into the background.
âI told you to stay put! I told you!â he roars, grabbing your arm and yanking you to your feet, almost lifting you off the ground.
âI didnât-!â you start, but he doesnât let you finish.
âYou promised, (y/n)! What the hell were you thinking?! This isnât some damn training exercise. This is war!â
His voice cracks slightly and with it, so does your heart.
âYou couldâve been killed!â
Youâre about to snap back, because yes, heâs right, but his tone still stings and itâs absolutely not your fault you ended up here - until you see the way his hand trembles on your arm. Heâs not just angry. Heâs terrified. What does all of this look like from his view? Like you decided to go against your promise, like you donât give a damn about his worries?
âI donât even know how I got here,â you reply quietly, hand clutching his wrist in order to stop yourself from shooting back at him.
âI changed into my sleepwear, and the next thing I knew, I was falling. I think someone sent me here.â
Sanemiâs eyes narrow, his eyes dart around the area. The fallen slayers, the chaos as far as the eye can see. Those arenât the demon slayers who agreed on accompanying the hashira on their mission. No, some of them arenât even able to lift up their sword correctly, get whipped from this earth without even putting up a real fight. You can see the moment it clicks, the moment he slowly but surely starts to realize whatâs going on.
"...No," he whispers.
"What?"
âItâs not just you.â
His voice is lower now. Dead serious.
âEveryoneâs here. Even slayers who already quit, the rookies who fight like trash... Some of them shouldnât even be able to fight anymore.â
You swallow thickly.
âYou meanâŠ?â
âThey dropped every last one of us into this hellhole. They want a final purge.â
No. He canât let that happen. Thereâs no way in hell that heâll let a demon even touch you.
âIâm gonna say this once, and you're gonna listen for real this time.â
He steps closer, resting both hands on your shoulders, firm but shaking. You canât help but rest your hands against his chest. Usually, his steady heartbeat is what lures you to sleep at night. But his heart is racing, your nerves are tingling and you know thereâs only one way to make it out alive.
âYou donât leave my side. Not for a second. Got it?â
You nod, but his eyes blaze harder.
âNo. Say it.â
âI wonât leave your side.â
âAgain.â
âI wonât leave your side, Sanemi.â
He pulls you into his chest so suddenly you gasp. His arms wrap around you like armor, almost too tight and yet not tight enough. Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around him, crawl your fingers into his back in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. When he cups your chin and presses his lips against yours, you fail to exist for a moment. He brushes over you like he tries to memorize you like a map, like you might vanish into thin air if he doesnât keep you close. Over and over, his mouth clashes against yours despite the ringing of destruction somewhere far away in your ears, holds you so close to him that you can feel his heartbeat vibrate right through you.
âYou donât get to die here,â he growls into your parted lips. âI gave up everything so you could live, damn it. Iâll carve a thousand demons apart if I have to, but youâre getting out of this with me. You understand me?â
Your fingers curl into the back of his haori. You can feel his heart slamming against your cheek while you press yourself even harder against him.
âThen you donât get to die either,â you mutter into the fabric.
Sanemiâs silence is heavy until a low chuckle escapes his lips.