#our nation will be ashamed in the eyes of the whole world

[szyszkasosnowa]

Man of culture... 😳🫡

#I'm a bit nervous tho #'Memoirs..' is one of the craziest Lems #what if Kojima doesn't like it and leaves a negative review on twitter? #our nation will be ashamed in the eyes of the whole world #polblr #oc

[mccardswife]

We've got your back

lionesses x teen!reader

lucy bronze x teen!reader

summary: lionesses x teen!reader, where r struggles with social anxiety and her older teammates support her.

(this was a request, but the request disappeared. but here it is!)

warnings: social anxiety, angst, nightmare, fluff and mentions of panic attack, please remind me if there is more tw! (do not read if you get triggered)

word count: 2826

i hope you like this one, i loved the request and i got really satisfied with the oneshot!

hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————

You zoned out again, probably for the dozen time this week. It is England camp and you know what that means, I love all my england teammates trust me. They are like my family but I have a secret no one knows about, not even my teammates at Arsenal.

I have social anxiety, i feel very ashamed by it. It is so embarrassing that I need to take medications to function, and even when I take them I don't feel like myself.

It was day 2 of england camp. Which means we arrived yesterday. I am roomies with Lucy this camp because Jordan is with her lover (Leah). I love rooming with Lucy, she is like a mother to me. She is very protective but I try keeping my diagnosis a secret from her. Sometimes I even call her mom.

I am 17 now and when i first got called up to the national team I was 15 so the whole team, especially the older girls and Lucy are very protective over me and they helped me when i struggled with panic attacks during my first call ups and my debut for England.

8:00 clock

The alarm went off on Lucy's phone, I did not sleep very well. I had an awful nightmare in the middle of the night, that is all i think about now. I am just so scared that people will judge me for what i say. After conversations with the team last night I regret what i said, you did not say something bad. But you just feel being judged. The most awful feeling in the world.

My mom turned off the alarm and turned to me, I probably looked awful because I slept like shit. "Oh y/nn, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, just did not sleep very well" I said back. I started walking towards the bathroom exhaustively when she came up behind me and gave me a hug. "You know we are here for you right", she said. I just hugged her back saying "I know mom, i love you" and walked in the bathroom locking the door getting ready.

When I was done I unlocked the door and asked Lucy if she was ready to go down for breakfast. You see, we have two bathrooms. So each one of us has their private bathroom. I totally love it.

When we open our door Jordan and Leah stood there already waiting for us, they have the room beside us and we always walk down for breakfast together.

I have never been so scared before but after my nightmare last night I am really scared now, the only one who knows I have social anxiety is my manager at Arsenal, Jonas Eidevall and my manager at the national team, Sarina Wiegman.

It's an obligation for them to know because mental health is very important and because I take medications everyday. That reminds me, I forgot to take it this morning. Shit.

When we walked into the dining room I was sweating and nervous as crazy. I was shaking non stop and couldn't wait for my breakfast so I could sit down alone in peace. Just thinking.

After getting my food, I decided to eat some and oatmeal today. Because the oatmeal here is hella good.

Anyway I walked towards an empty table when I heard a familiar voice calling my name, I turned around and saw the gaffer, Sarina Wiegman.

Shit

"Y/n, could we talk outside for a minute please?". She asked me with a smile but I could tell the concerning look in her eyes when she saw me fiddling with my fingers anxiously.

"Yes, of course" I said with a shaky voice I think the whole team heard because when me and Sarina walked outside of the room I could see in the corner of my eye Lucy and the other girls watching me with questioning but worried looks.

When me and Sarina got outside she looked me in the eye and asked if something was on my mind. I said no. "Are you sure y/nn?, it is important that we know everything".

"Okay fine, I have been really struggling with nightmares and I had a panic attack a few hours before arriving to England camp yesterday" I said with a shaky voice and tears in my eyes.

"Oh honey, it is okay! Totally okay to have ups and downs, everyone here would support you, which got me asking, does anybody know about your social anxiety? And have you taken your medications today?" she asked...

I looked down in shame, no and no I told her.

"I am really sorry Sarina but it is so hard, I don't want to be judged if I tell the others, and be treated differently.

"Honey, it is very important that you open up, I really think it is time for you to open up, and I promise you that none of the girls will judge you, we all love you and want to support you! You will not get treated differently, everyone has their own struggles, do not feel embarrassed by it", she said to me sternly but very soft.

Which is one of the things I like about Sarina, a brilliant manager but first and foremost a amazing women who cares about every one of us as her kids.

Me and Sarina talked a bit more and she told me that because I have been struggling a lot with my anxiety and sleeping I will not start tomorrow, when we play against Ireland in the euro qualifier at Wembley. Which I totally understand, I need to get my shit together and open up because I hopefully think I will feel much better then. Also feel closer with my teammates, not that I am not close with them. trust me I am but recently I have been shutting down and try to isolate from the others, which they now have realised.

Sarina has some of my medications in her office, incase I forget to bring or take mine so we went to her office and I took them, with disgust. It makes me feel different, I don't like that.

"Y/n, is it not your fault you have social anxiety, okay? Trust me, you are not different, okay. Now you need to go to breakfast before training".

She then gave me a hug and I left her office. Have I told you that I love the hugs Sarina gives, it is probably one of the best hugs ever!

I walked towards the dining room again and looked at my phone and saw that I was with Sarina for almost 20 minutes, now Lucy is probably really worried.

I thought about how I am going to tell the team. I am first going to tell Lucy and some of the veterans on the team.

When I walked inside dining room some of the tables were in a middle of a conversation and did not see me, unfortunately Lucy looked up at the door the second it open.

Lucys pov

Sarina called y/n outside and I would be lying if I said I was not worried. I am sitting with the group I always sit with at England camp, Leah, Keira, Georgia, Rachel, Millie, Jordan, Mary and Beth Mead. I have been worried about y/n for a while, I sat deep in my thoughts thinking about y/n when Rach suddenly asked. "Lucy, you good? You've been sitting spaced out for a while".

"Yes I am ok, i am just a bit worried about the youngster, in other words y/nn". As much as i love her I want what's best for her and I really think she is struggling with something, she always seems scared, nervous and it gives me signs of anxiety".

"Yeah that is actually true" Leah said, "Her being on arsenal me, Beth and Jordan pretty much see y/n everyday and she seems very tense". Millie being the softie she is said "We should probably try talk to her later when she comes back".

"Good idea, I say. "but I can't stop thinking about why Sarina wanted to talk to her".

Keira leaned over to me and whispered in my ear "stop being so nervous love, we will talk to her and support y/nn no matter what".

I just kissed her on the cheek and said thank you.

We sat there eating and making small talk when I looked at the clock, y/n has been away for like 20 minutes now. I am kind of starting to get nervous now

But as I thought of her the door opened and there she walked in deep in her thoughts with a hard look on her face. She picked up her food she got earlier and wanted to sit alone, she walked past us but Jordan grabbed her wrist softly asking "You want to sit with us?, there is an empty chair beside Georgia".

Reader´s pov again

I picked up my food I left on an empty table before I was pulled out to talk with Sarina and was walking towards and empty table, but as I was walking past the table Lucy and the other girls were on I felt a hand grabbing my wrist, softly but suddenly.

it was Jordan

"You want to sit with us?, there is an empty chair beside Georgia".

The table consisted of Lucy, Leah, Keira, Georgia, Rachel, Millie the brick wall Bright, Jordan, Mary and Beth Mead.

Deciding not to be rude I said "Yeah sure", with probably the shakiest voice for the 100th times today. I walked over and sat beside Georgia

Then I felt as I was being watch, I looked every one of them in the eye and I asked if something was wrong.

Lucy for the second time today asked "Are you ok y/nn, all of us are pretty worried about you". Beth said "Yeah, the whole team are and we want to know what's been up with you?, what did Sarina want to talk to you about?.

Leah being the skipper she is, saw you felt a bit overwhelmed with all the questions, "Relax, one question at a time" she said with a soft smile on her face.

I want to open up I thought, but at the same thing I don't.. why does it have to be so hard? Am I going to get judged, I know what Sarina told me but still".

"Babe" Lucy said "What is going on in that pretty mind of yours?".

I felt tears starting to drop and my hands shaking on the table while my foot was bouncing like crazy. When I felt Georgia's hand on my shoulder pulling me in for a side hug I lost it.

"I have social anxiety, i have been diagnosed with it for a few months. Only Jonas and Sarina know. I take medications for it, Sarina know that something has been up with me so she asked me if some of you knew, if I took my meds today, which I forgot so I needed to take them with her.".....

It got quiet for a second and I thought I was going to die for a minute, but Lucy walked over and gave me a hug from behind.

"Why did you not tell us?" Keira asked,

"I am really sorry about that, I felt ashamed. Embarrassed for needing to take meds and not being a fully functional human being. I am not normal, I was afraid of getting treated differently"...

"And that you would secretly judge me" I said in a very low voice but the girls heard.

Millie said to me sternly "You are the best human being a person could ask for, we would never judge you ever. We only want to help, we had our suspicions about it because we saw the signs".

Rachel jumped also in and said "We've got your back babe, you are perfect the way you are, no need to be ashamed of a diagnosis that is not your fault.

Mary being the angel she is said "I kind of know how you feel, when I was at my lowest a few years ago it was hell. but I had the best people who helped me through it and now we want to be the people to help you!"

Gosh how I love all of them, they are so supporting and caring but I was still very scared because I have not told them about my nightmares and panic attacks yet.

Lucy or my so called mum asked because she knows me through and through "Is there something more you want to tell us"

"Yes, but please don't be mad", you said in a begging voice.

"Of course we won't me mad love" Keira said in a reassuring tone.

"The nightmares and panic attacks has come back and it is worse now than ever. I had a nightmare last night, that is why I could not sleep. And I have been heavily struggled with panic attacks and nightmare for a long time, because of my anxiety. A few hours before we travelled to England camp yesterday I had the worst panic attack ever. I got it under control eventually by myself after maybe an hour, but felt uneasy for the rest of the day"

"It is ok not to be ok, but this is serious, we all care and want to help you. It sucks that you have felt this way y/nn" Jordan said with the biggest smile, it looked sad but kind.

"I am really sorry about not telling, but I promise I will be more open but you need to understand it is very difficult for me" I said, "And I am sorry mom, it is not your fault. I know you were asleep when I had the nightmare but I could not bear myself to wake you, I felt embarrassed" I said to Lucy.

Lucy´s pov

"And I am sorry mom, it is not your fault. I know you were asleep when I had the nightmare but I could not bear myself to wake you, I felt embarrassed"

Hearing those words come out of my daughter´s mouth broke me. I tried not to let tears fall but it was impossible now. I am her biggest supporter and I always will be. I just want her to know that

"You are amazing, brilliant, caring, loving and all other kind words I could say! I love you so much my babygirl."

Reader´s pov again

"I love you to mom". I said to Lucy.

Leah said sternly to me "You need to go see a therapist, when we come back at arsenal again we will go twice a week and I will go with you then me, Beth and Jordan can switch who would go with you"

"Seriously?" I groaned.

"Yes", they all said sternly in sync.

"Okay then, but Leah, you, Beth, and Jordan don't need to go with me"

"But we want to" the three of them said gladly.

"Thank you" I said looking down...

"Come here y/nn" Georgia said pulling me in for a hug, I love Georgias hugs.

Every one of the girls gave me a bear crushing hug telling me

"We will always be here for you babe, just call or text or do anything. And we will be there in an eye blink for you! We are so glad you told us, now we just need to tell the others."

"Could we please do it later?" I asked nervously...

"Of course" Rachel said.

"When we are back at arsenal we gotta tell our arsenal teammates too" Beth said.

"I know I know..." I said.

"I will always support you kid, I love you so much and I will always do. You are literally my kid just not official. I would love to be your official mom tho, if you'd have me?" Lucy asked.

I looked at her in utterly shock, and the other girls looked at us in awe.

"Are you serious, please be serious?" I asked with my mouth hanging open.

"Of course, as I said I love you like my own family". Lucy told me with tears

I said loudly "Yes, of course I would want you to adopt me, it kind of feel like you already have tho but still omg".

I started crying again but this time happy tears, while I gave my mom a big hug the girls took a photo of us and gave us a hug.

The perfect group hug.

Little did y/n know that Sarina stood outside watching everything that just had happen, you telling the others about your struggles and Lucy confessing how she feel about you.

Sarina really felt like a proud mom now.

"I am really the best momager ever" Sarina said walking away chuckling with the most heartwarming smile on her face ever.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze #sarina wiegman #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #lionesses #lionesses x reader #engwnt x reader #woso soccer #woso community #alessia russo #jordan nobbs #engwnt #woso #mary earps #keira walsh x reader #keira walsh #beth mead #georgia stanway x reader #millie bright x reader #rachel daly #england #engwnt imagine #oneshot #woso imagine #woso x reader

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

I was born on a certain day

The stars are always with us, and we have never forgotten that one of them is named Sirius. There are some stories told about this: there is a rumor that God told the heavens to be named in the ancient days, and the first one to be named was a bright, beautiful star. When the great Creator saw that he had named it thus, he was furious: he withdrew the light of his glory and hid himself away, ashamed of being made a mere reflection of humanity. So he sent down the stars as a warning to us, that he was displeased with this, and that we might refrain from naming stars in future. But, of course, we did not, and there we are.

We are the stars of heaven, and we have never forgotten.

The stars are great, but there are even greater stars. There are stars a thousand times larger than we. The whole heavens is full of them, and they are always with us, ready to shine for a single moment in the dark sky.

This is how it is

This is how it always was

When the stars were young

You, too, were born on a certain day, though you will never know which. You can ask the sun, who keeps the great calendar. It will tell you: it will tell you all about it. And for a little while, you, too, will forget.

The story is older than the moon and stars. The first ones to be named were great, great stars: the father of all the rest. And the father is dead now, buried beneath all the rest. And, of course, the father is not just any star: the stars of his house were those that shone brightest before any other star: Sirius, and the rest. And there is a story, too, about the daughter of that father. Some say it was his wife, but others say that it was his daughter, and still others that it was his lover. And this is a mystery: for many millennia, the star that shone brightest in the sky was known only by its daughter, and the daughter was known only by the star that shone brightest in the sky. It was not until thousands and thousands of years after the father's death that a boy was born who one night found himself staring up at the sky, thinking back on the things that had happened in his life, thinking back on the stories he had been told, and seeing, finally, how they had all been told.

This is the story

This is how it always was

When the stars were young

There are even greater stars now, though they are known only by the people who have seen them. Many times, stars have passed from our memory, and the stars that remain are great indeed. Some stars are so very large that no human being could stand upon the surface of their surface. You, too, are not even in their shadow. You do not even know what the brightest star in the sky might be, though there are rumors that one is nearby, and that the stars of this star might be more powerful than the stars of other stars. This, too, is a mystery, though the people who believe it are only a few thousand years old.

This is how it is

This is how it always was

When the stars were young

And it is said that a time will come, in many many thousands of years, when all the brightest stars will be gathered into the center of our galaxy. You will then be among them. Your eyes will see the whole picture, all the stars, and though you will then think you see them in their entirety, it will be a false and temporary view. For there will be a time of endless darkness, a time of endless war between the people of two mighty star nations: one will be built from a deep ocean, and the other will be built from a great desert. The stars of this world will be different than those of other worlds. For instance, they will never be afraid, and they will never know sadness. They will be kind and good and kind, and always at peace, and in the end they will have achieved perfect balance in an ocean of infinite water: endless peace, infinite goodness, without end and without beginning. There will be nothing at all to fear, and no reason for sadness.

This is a story we are told

We are told it long ago and far away

What is to be is what will be

There is a third star in the sky, but it has never shone, as they have never forgotten. Some say that they are not born. They say that the stars we see are many thousands of years old, and there are stars so much older that they are not even known to us. Yet there are those who tell a different story. Their story is not one we have yet heard, but they are always with us, and in it is a mystery: is it the same thing, or is it something different, or is it only the story we believe? Is it possible that, in all the sky, there is a third star, one whose light was never seen by us? One so bright that all the stars in the sky are dark? Are these the stars we have never forgotten? Are these the stars we will never forget?

This is a story we are told

We do not need to be born

And this is the mystery

That the light will shine in us all

And in time will make us whole

And perfect the whole of the story

We have forgotten, and yet it was told to us in the first

The stars are still young

#almost nowhere

#quotes

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Music For the Soul by Alexander MacLaren

Christ's Coming and Men's Coming

"I came that they may have life, and may have it abundantly," — John 10:10

"If any man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink." — John 7:37

There is a twofold connection between the two comings that I would point out to you, and leave to your thoughts. Christ does not yet come in order that men may come to Him. There are many reasons beyond our reach and ken why for so long a time the Lord of the servants is absent from His household: but amongst these reasons certainly not the least is, that all the world may hear that great pleading voice of invitation, and may come to Him, their Saviour and their Judge. Even as He Himself said, in words the whole sweep and meaning of which we do not yet understand, "This Gospel of the kingdom must first be preached in all nations; and then shall the end come." So that He delays His drawing near, in His long-suffering mercy and tender pity, in order that over all the earth the glad news may flash, and to every spirit the invitation may come. Christ tarries that you may hear, and repent, and come to Him. That is the first phase of the connection between these two things.

The other is - because Christ will come to the world, therefore let us come to Him now. Joyful as the spring after the winter, and as the sun-shine after the darkness, so that coming of His ought to be to all; and though it be the object or desire to all hearts that love Him, and the healing for the miseries and sorrows of the world, do not forget it has a very solemn and a very terrible side. He comes, when He does come, to judge you and me and the rest of our brethren. He comes, not as of old, in lowliness, to heal and to succour and to save, but He comes to heal and to succour and to save all them that love His appearing, and them only, and He comes to judge all men whether they love His appearing or no. " Every eye shall see Him." "To what purpose," said one of the old prophets, " is the day of the Lord unto you? The day of the Lord is darkness and not light." Let that certain coming of the Lord be to you what it ought to be - a mighty motive for your coming to Him. Make your choice whether your heart shall leap up with gladness when the joyful cry is heard: "Behold! the Bridegroom cometh "; or whether you will call upon the rocks and the hills to fall upon you and cover you from His face. Come to Him now, trust Him, " take the water of life freely," and thus " ye shall have a song as in the night, when a holy solemnity is kept," and boldness of heart, and not be ashamed before Him at His coming.

[stella-facem-ducens]

Zutara fic “Our new Destiny”

During the night on the fire nation tiny paradise called the ember island Katara and Zuko the start understanding something, what  happened in ba sing se had a big impact on what the world means to them. It opened the door for happiness but also made them realize the destiny the have is not a destiny chosen by them and maybe it is time to change that maybe it is time to open a new path, a new destiny, a destiny where they are both together no matter what the world says.

big thanks to me betareader @gefionne

link :https://archiveofourown.org/works/46232395

Both Zuko and Katara agreed the whole thing was a fiasco because both of them now have to face a reality they both denied for a long time: the events in catacombs of ba sing se. they need to face this simple fact, the actors were not far from the truth, maybe they didn't kiss but they almost did. Zuko until this day can clearly remember how Katara pressed her gentle hands on his scar. Zuko never allows anyone touch him yet he couldn't stop her touch because it brings him a sense of joy.

-How could he say no to the girl whose eyes hold the ocean and its vast power?"

-How to say no the girl who saw greatness in me, worthy enough to gift me a gift from the gods. The water from the oasis and then betrayed her.

Zuko usually asked himself what would have happened if she actually had used the water on him. surely the avatar would be dead by now or maybe not. Zuko always has theories and enjoys thinking how far Katara can push the boundaries of water bending. no normal master can bring people back from the dead, even with "magic water." maybe she could had revived him without it, but that is ancient history. what it matters is, his dear Katara was willing to trade the gift of the spirit just to make him happy. nobody has never done that for Zuko yet for some reason she did. sadly, nothing can be perfect. there is another truth– a painful truth: Katara chose the avatar and every single time she will always choose him above Zuko and to this day she is still doing it., there are no words to describe the pain Zuko feels, how painful it is for Zuko to watch his beloved waterbender with that avatar. he can barely control himself. so far he has successfully not burned everything.

Each time Zuko sees Katara specially now he asks himself:    

 "Why him? Am I am not worthy of her love ? maybe Azula was right I will never be enough, not enough for my mother, not enough for my father`s love, not enough for her . "

 Meanwhile Katara watches the sky wondering what went wrong, how mad she is with Aang. her best friend stole a kiss from her again. he is always behaving like the world owes him a debt and she is the  . “the avatar`s girl;” that is what everyone thinks of her. she is quite sure the only reason Pakku trained her is partially because she is with the avatar, she is part of the gang even in the eyes of her enemies. she is not just a foe, she is the avatar`s girl, the avatar`s ally. she is never just Katara, the master waterbender. even Zuko had addressed her as the avatar`s girl. Katara usually thinks if she is ever going to be something more. while in deep thought she walks aimlessly until she ends up near the shore. she guesses the destination is fitting water always calls her. maybe that is why she is now sitting on a rock near the ocean. the sounds of the waves relaxed her.

"Hello, Katara '' says Zuko somehow ashamed– or better to say sad. Katara can't decipher what is in the mind of the firebender. it is not only sadness. maybe it could be disappointment too, but she is not sure.

 "Hi, Zuko. what are you…" before she finishes her sentence with the same soft voice– almost as a whisper–Zuko says gently to her

 "Why the avatar?"     

 Katara knows what he means.

 "Why, Mai?" Katara replies.

 both of them try quite hard to answer the question: why them indeed?

 "Mai has always been there. when I was young, she was my only friend– well the only friend the fire lord Ozai considered worthy of being with me. she is the child of an incredibly powerful and wealthy man. his coins founded several campaigns in the earth kingdom. it’s no wonder why he was given the province of Omashu. did you know he calls himself the king of Omashu?"

 before Katara could actually reply to the absurd notion of that pitiful old man trying to be as worthy as Bumi, Zuko continues, "so I guess for me , she is the right chosen."

 quickly Katara stops him. she is starting to get angry. how dare he  ? like he is not allowed to choose– to make his own decisions?

 "She should be here, Zuko. Mai should be here," Katara says, her voice showing some hints of anger the whole situation.

 "You were banished. why was she not there with you in the south pole, helping you? why did she only accept you when you were giv back the title of crown prince? 

 "it makes me angry– quite angry— Zuko! she said she loves you, yet she is nowhere to be seen. her only good deed was helping you in the prison and I wonder why."

 Katara continues, "I think it is for selfish reasons. she feels guilty. Guilty of allowing Azula to go so far into madness and not saying anything sooner; guilty about you and how little effort she put into your needs; how she doesn't understand you anymore and at the same time not truly caring about the reasons why you are different. the worst thing is that she told you she loves you but she didn’t mean it. she feels guilty because she was lying to you, but destiny binds you together. she is going to be fire lady because it is her destiny… in her mind, she is your destiny."

 Zuko feels his hands burning– ready to burn everything around him. Katara is right; this is another thing the world has told Zuko: it is his destiny. how many things in his life are what people told him what to do because it is right for him? is he that worthless? He cannot know what is right and what is wrong. but Zuko is also pissed off at the hypocrisy. Katara is as guilty as him.

 "Katara , you are no better than me. I saw you so many times fighting for the world , but you never truly chose this path.

 " You were the one who woke up the avatar from the iceberg . the world threw you the duty to protect him. Has anyone asked you : do you want to protect the avatar? or like a boat without an engine , you just drift from one choice to another and let the world decide what you must do ?

 " You fought me in the north pole, you saved the avatar , yet again you get no credit just because the avatar pulled a deu s ex machin a and the ocean spirit possessed him... you know what is worse, that should not have happened at all ?

 "The battle for the north pole was already lost for my people , had the avatar actually done his job and stop ped Zhao before he reache d the oasis .

 do you truly think my army can win in a city made of ice with waterbenders at every corner ? the rational thing to do is a siege first .

 "Zhao threw my people to the lions and wished for the best : and that is to kill the moon. you protected the avatar long enough , until he could fix his own mistakes . his mistake was the fall of the north pole and you prevent ed it when you saved the avatar . "

 Zuko takes a deep breath. this whole conversation is making a dent in his mental stability.

 "Why does the world deem it fit to take away your accomplishments and give them to somebody else?

 "You saved the avatar`s life once more in ba sing se you saved him twice already, first in the south pole and then in the caverns , but nobody didn't thank ed you .

 "No matter what you do, they will never thank you because for them is your duty . it is something you have to do . is not something you want to do"

 Suddenly Katara starts to laugh but at the same time starts crying, a cry born from despair and sadness. unable to support herself, she hugs Zuko, pulling him as close as she can, her face on the firebender`s chest. after a short moment Katara speaks again, not pulling away from the chest that brings her warmth. like gentle flame.

 "You were my first true choice in this war,” Katara says. “I chose how to use the water. that is why I felt so betrayed: my only true choice, a choice with a deep impact.

 "I chose wrong, and you know what the worst part is? I would do it again, again and again . I saw kindness in you and my choice brought you back to me . I wouldn't trade that . "

 Zuko is shocked. he can't believe what he just heard. she chose him, she, the prodigy, a master, the most beautiful girl he has even seen, chose him. not knowing how to respond to her words, Zuko just hugs her like if his life depends on it.

 "I don't regret my biggest choice either,” he says. “I would speak up against my father and the general thousands of times. it is wrong sending warriors just to die. my people deserve better than that." Zuko gently pulls Katara away but just a little and watches her intensely. finally, he has an answer for why he chose Mai.

 "Katara, I want to make another mistake. a mistake I will never regret. though my reign may be incredibly more complicated because of my choice.

 "Mai is not my fate or destiny. because my destiny and  . I am going to stop the war and, in the process, save my nation: not only from my father but also from the other nations.

 "I refuse for Mai to be my destiny. my destiny is what I choose to do, and I chose saving my nation. my destiny is helping you. I will no longer be bound to the wishes of others because thanks to you and my uncle I now understand what is wrong and what is right," Zuko says proudly.

 "so Katara, the master water bender, the most prodigious of them all, may I request this:

Can your destiny be to betray the avatar "

 Katara watches Zuko intensely, trying to understand the deep meaning of his words. once again, just like in the catacombs, she makes the same choice.

 "My destiny is not be the avatar’s girl,” she says. “my destiny is help to people in need, to help this nation that needs all the help it can get, because nobody else will help them.

 "my destiny is be with the fire nation and you when the war is over .

 I am going to betray the love Aang has for me . I want to be with you.

 "I am going to betray the world, betray my father who will never allow me to be with a fire nation boy, betray my grandmother who will be disappointed in me for falling in love with a wonderful fire prince . I will betray my brother who wish es for me to be with the avatar .

 "I will again trade the world for you, my amazing , powerful bender . "

 She continues, "You know, a while ago somebody once said I was meant to be with a powerful bender, and you are one of the most powerful."

 At that moment both of them have no idea what to do, what to feel, what the future now holds for them after such a passionate kiss., a cute smile forms on Zuko's face; he clearly has an idea.

 “You know the room of the fire prince has an amazing bed, much better than yours. so what if today you sleep in my room? we are both tired after everything and I think we need a good night’s rest,” says the fire prince with a cocky smile, making his beautiful katara turn crimson just like his nation’s banner: a deep red.

 “Zuko , what the hell ! ”

 “I am serious, Katara. I don’t wanna, you know, do it; I just wanna cuddle with you. I know we won’t be together right now because of what you told to the avatar: there is no room for a relationship as long as the war continues, but still I wanna sleep next to you, cuddle with  you  be with you”

 Unable to respond to such words filled with love, especially because of that damn smile, the master bender has a weakness: Zuko`s smile.

 “Okay , Zuko , but let me get night clothes first.”

 Zuko watches Katara go away. as soon she is out of his sight, Zuko rushes into his room and makes it perfect: a perfect bed, no dust anywhere. Zuko must make it perfect; there is no way in hell he is going to mess this up, nothing and nobody will keep him away from this happy moment.

 Katara quietly tries to not wake up anyone. she slowly opens the door and without saying anything she lies in his “not a boyfriend for the moment until the war is over” bed.

for zuko it is an extremely awkward moment. neither of them know what to do. maybe questions flood his mind: should I ask her if I can cuddle with her or should I invite her into my bed first? lucky for both of them, they decide to go with their instincts. they gently lie next to each other and without a warning Katara feels how quickly Zuko embraces her. It appears Zuko’s dear Katara was extremely tired. she fell asleep almost immediately while Zuko wonders what’s next, what would happen if in the morning their team member opens the door of his room? Zuko is quite sure he is going to be the first to wake up after–all he rises with the sun.

should I wake up Katara as soon as I wake up or should I let her rest? Zuko wonders. suddenly the voice of Katara flashes into Zuko’s brain, something she said a while ago:

 “I love your smile , Zuko . it looks amazing on you and I like spending time with you .”

 Her words help him decide: he is going to let her rest and quietly wait until the door of his room opens so he can show everyone his smile and how Katara is happy when she is spending time with him.

#zutara #fanfiction #fic

[tsuki-sennin]

Two years have past since the end of the war with the Bugnarok Empire. Under the guidance of its new King, Jeremy Brasieri, the Bugnarok are now recognied by the other five kings as their own sovereign nation. However... centuries of pain cannot be undone so soon. Not when the world faces ever greater peril.

And... after that... Freaky Friday x 3.

Spoilers, I guess...

-Oh.

-He dead.

-Kamejim's an alien, huh?

-Ohhhhhhhh, that's a lot of bugs.

-Well, his majesty King Gira certainly looks older.

-Everybody seems to be resting on their laurels.

-Rita would be ashamed.

-"Oh... I see... Well, that's not the least bit surprising."

-What the hell happened to our worldwide government?

-"Please stop crying, it's not your fault! D:"

-The aliens are coming! We've been compromised!

-"I do, yeah!"

-Dugden Dujardin...

-"Right, here's the deal. You're all gonna hand your planet over to me.

-THEY THREW THEM IN JAIL?

-WHY THO

-RITA YOU RUN THE JAILS HOW-

-"Hey buddy, you lied to me, y'know?"

-Ohhhhhhhhh

-Holy shit

-This guy is just Bug-type Evolt.

-Oh my God.

-Y'know, I can't say I expected intergalactic genocide from this show.

-"Wow, you're right! I am mocking you."

-I have to say, the green screen halos add a lot to how surreal and terrifying he is.

-Hey, wait a fucking second, that's America on that earth model!

-All that with a flick.

-He nearly destroyed all of America.

-Racules you motherfucker

-Gira says "Up yours, Dugdump."

-Whoaaaaaaaa, who is that?

-J

-Jesters.

-Gorma...

-Man's got his own roster.

-Jimmy, of course, was here the whole time.

-I suppose God's sitting this one out.

-The Tyrant King returns.

-Ohsama Sentai! King-Ohger!

-Lovin' the new hair, Yanma.

-Kaguragi seems just about the same as he always is.

-Ran, on the other hand... Absolutely serving.

-Oh, short hair Rita. Love it.

-Rita's one gray eye...

-We are so back. ...even though really it hasn't been that long.

-"Freeze, stinkbug."

-Oh great, Jimmy slipped away.

-Oh

-Oh my god.

-What kind of fucking PC needs global power siphoning?

-HIMENO CAUSED A WILD FIRE

-KAGURAGI CREATED A FARM TANK

-RITA WOULDN'T FUCKING TAKE A VACATION

-Yes, kings are back, I saw last episode.

-Intergalactic clown bugs.

-We traded Dezzy for this jhkhkl

-Gorma's already come up with a perfect scheme~!

-Kaguragi's a flasher I see.

-Oh wait, no Himeno???

-Goddamn, Kaguragi's living it up.

-Yanma, you're in the middle of a tundra, why the hell did you take Rita's shoes off?

-There is literally no episode premise better for an ensemble cast like this than a Freaky Friday plot.

-Ohhhhh, I noticed that Rita covered Yanma's eye. It must be blind.

-The actors are absolutely nailing each other's mannerisms, holy crap.

-I'm glad Kaguragi and Jeremy are enjoying themselves :)

-Himeno's still absolutely serving in Kaguragi's body.

-"Yanma... please... hurry up, I need it."

-"Dude, c'mon, you're already making yourself home in my body, at least-"

-"GIVE!"

-My current theory as to why Rita covers their mouth so much is because they have an oral stim they view as particularly embarassing. I imagine it must've hurt a lot when Gira laughed so hard.

-It is so weird hearing Rita's voice speaking so casually.

-Apparently Ran's not built enough for Kaguragi's liking.

-"Oh, trust me, Mantis Lady! You gotta knead your dough and feel the burn to make a nice, extra crispy bread."

-Gorma Jumpscare.

-Gorma Rosalia...

-Ninpo! Body Swap Art!

-"Beat me, and you'll be heading right home."

-Ohgai Busou!

-Oh, right, just because the minds switch around doesn't mean the authorization does.

-Nin!

-Oh, Rita smiled, that's nice :)

-"Jeremy, you're thinking a little too generously..."

-And this is Gira saying this, so you know this is gonna be a geopolitical nightmare.

-Jesus Christ Himeno jkjhjkmnhl

-Well at least Kaguragi's employing a bit of aid.

-SEBAS WHAT

-"No fighting."

-C

-Cross-brained fox.

-"I'm arresting each and every last one of you bastards!"

-Yanma, Yanma, Yanma, Yanma!

-Aw, Jeremy :)

-Not the least bit surprising that Gira and Jeremy are taking this the best.

-"Whaaaaaaaat? Nooooo, nooooooo, I don't think the Bugnarok are responsible for this, nooooooo!"

-Huh

-I have to disagree Jeremy, that was insanely quick, considering.

-Heat stroked out.

-Having a bit of a wild day.

-"Suppose we've spent a bit too much money on healthcare..."

-There's a certain elegance in Kaguragi's interpretation of Kamakiri Ohger.

-That's a really cool way of tying the body swaps into the fight scene though, I won't lie.

-They mad.

-Bang!

-That's our Jeremy.

-We won! Technically!

-Now to remove the Ninja

-OH FUCK

-Ohhhhhhh, you're one tricky son of a bitch, aren't you Gorma?

-Oh man, shit's getting real now.

#Rejoice O Swarming Evil! You're My King! #ohsama sentai kingohger #king ohger #kingohger #ohsama sentai king ohger #king ohger spoilers

[sjjnyc]

The Desert Continuum + thoughts on having a fluid identity and lifestyle

I bought The Funambulist's Issue #44 about the desert because I felt like, while living in a landscape I didn't grow up in, it would be helpful to learn various desert perspectives. I really love the idea of a "Desert Continuum" described in the excerpt below because it raises my awareness that there are other desert communities around the world. Duh! I know.

"What we can do however is to loosely trace these porous boundaries and, from it, observe the drawing of a desert continuum (see the map on next pages) that links Dakar to Ulaanbaatar by way of Karachi, Volgograd, Gaza, and Nairobi—considering cities, rather than mountains or other salient points, has to be understood as arbitrary geographical references here. Just as we talked in our issue on The Ocean about the political commonalities that islander nations could experience through the Ocean despite living thousands of kilometers apart, we can envision such a commonality throughout this continuum."

- excerpt from the Introduction

After growing up on an island near the Atlantic Ocean, I felt like a dear caught in headlights moving to the arid West. I didn't think I would even be here this long. I'm kind of not surprised I found myself in this region of the country during my Saturn Return; I was born in Denver, Colorado in 1991 and grew up in Denver, Aurora and Colorado Springs until the age of twelve, so it makes sense that I would find myself back here during my first Saturnian rite of passage.

Besides living in Brooklyn with my great-grandmother for almost two years (when I first moved to New York City and for my grandmother, when she returned after two decades away), I mostly grew up on Staten Island. It makes sense that I and other people would place myself in this distinct place, but then I have familial migrations, histories, lineages and personal callings going in all sorts of directions, so it's hard to place me somewhere.

I have not shared the story of why I came to Arizona in 2019 in the first place; I didn't want to come here. And I didn't want to stay in New York City either, because like a lot of folks I have a love-hate relationship with the city. I've moved around a lot since I was a child, whether I was staying at different family member's houses, moving to another neighborhood, another city, another state, another borough. On the outside I look like an adventurous nomad, but my whole life has been constant uprooting and uncomfortable home situations.

I root in water, my body and taking care of myself

I root in water, my body and taking care of myself. Sometimes people don't understand the first part, they don't understand my watery energy and predominate watery expression- and what tends to happen is that I become judged and pathologized, and something that needs to be balanced and fixed. I'm not shy in letting folks know I have problems and things to work on, but honest to God it is so interesting how sometimes the first thing people do is pathologize my relationship with water. Or my hyper focus and expression of water explains xyz issue in my life. At first, I started internalizing these reactions, but I think all of this reflects what's going on with other people.

I live in an aquatic universe yall (with other beings, many who have lived here way before I was a twinkle in somebody's eye); I don't need to second guess myself, accept other people's funky energy about how I express myself, feel ashamed or feel like I need to abandon myself/my aquatic heritage in order to make sense, be relatable and belong.

It was water who reached out to me. I was on my way to being a farmer while my water art practice quietly emerged in the background. But Water, while living in urban New York City, came forward into my consciousness and life in an unexpected way. Most of my life is guided by Water, and it's intelligence draws or attracts people into my life who inspire me and who I (need to) learn from. And after almost thirty-two years on the planet, I find myself a part of the Desert Continuum, but I don't know if I belong, or if I'd ever call the southwest home, even though I absolutely love New Mexico.

Desert Libraries in Mali, The Invention of Nubian Deserts and The Impact of a Life (and Death): Colonial Encounters and Aboriginal Desert Practices

The Desert Issue is included in my make-shift water library (Timbuktu is not mentioned in the magazine, but thinking about water libraries made me think about desert libraries (#nobinary) so I included a link about desert libraries in Mali), and since I'm moving once again, I had to pack up my water library and put it in my grandmother's garage. You can review the digital version here; it needs to be updated!

Mali is a part of the Desert Continuum / Photo Source: Libraries of Timbuktu

Ancient desert libraries / Photo Source: Timbuktu Hopes Ancient Texts Spark a Revival

I only managed to read two stories anyway: the displacement of Nubian people from living near their ancestral waterway, the Nile River, and the life and death of desert Aboriginal artist and community leader Mr. Ward. These essays were difficult to read; it's like I can't read the other contributions just yet because I'm still sitting with these two stories, each one having stirred my spirit and left some kind of imprint.

All Image Sources: The Funambulist Magazine #44

I'm really big on life not being a quiz. With all the technology many of us are afforded, I think it's helpful to relieve ourselves of having to know and remember everything and feel free to look something up or ask someone when we don't know something. In saying this, there are probably places I know about that I don't even know are deserts.

When I think of Egypt I know about the pyramids, but it never really registered that Cairo is a desert city. Also, outside the US I have been paying attention to Desert Mob, Central Australia's largest First Nations art and cultural event and exhibition held in Mparntwe or Alice Springs. I happened to find the organization on Instagram. At least for me in my personal experience, it is really nice to see the art and cultural practices people in different desert communities are creating and participating in. Even though I don't know anyone well in Egypt or Central Australia, these places, being a part of the Desert Continuum, develop my consciousness and clarity more around desert identities and lifeways.

PROMPT: This prompt is more for people who live in arid and semi-arid environments: who are your favorite desert artists? Or whose work would you like to learn more about? Another prompt is to take a portrait of yourself in the place you call home and share it if you want!

[zuko-always-lies]

Sozin’s Comet Part 1:

Fire Lord Ozai: When the comet last came, my grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin, used it to wipe out the Air Nomads. Now, I will use its power to end the Earth Kingdom. (Cut to Zuko and the camera slowly zooms in on him. He is shocked as his Father's cruel revelation.) Permanently. (Cut to the front view of Ozai as he grins from ear to ear and walks across the table) From our airships, (Cut to the Earth Kingdom area of the map and the camera slowly zooms out as Ozai's shadow covers the East side of the continent) we will rain fire over their lands. A fire that will destroy everything. (Ozai walks across from one side of the map to middle of it) And out of the ashes, (he opens his arms to the side) a new World will be born. A World in which all the lands are Fire Nation and I am (Cut back to the front view of Ozai as he raises his arms high) the supreme ruler of everything! (the generals burst into applause.) Zuko: (Cut to the sideview of Zuko's scarred eye as he looks down) I wanted to speak out against this horrifying plan. (Cut to an area behind Zuko's head as it slowly zooms in on the back of his head. The generals are still applauding and Ozai basks in the excitement.) But I'm ashamed to say I didn't. (Cut back to present day Zuko) My whole life I struggled to gain my Father's love and acceptance. (Cut to show the whole Gaang looking at Zuko who is sitting on a rock) But once I had it, I realized I lost myself getting there. (Katara raises her hand to her forehead in despair) I forgotten who I was.

(Katara drops down to the ground on her knees. Sokka grabs Suki by the shoulder in an assuring gesture.) Katara: I can't believe this. (shakes her head) Sokka: I always knew that the Fire Lord was a bad guy but his plan is just pure evil. (Suki shakes her head) Aang: What am I going to do? Zuko: I know you're scared. (he stands up and walks towards Aang) And I know that you're not ready to save the World. But if you don't defeat the Fire Lord before the comet comes, (Cut to Zuko who is looking very serious) there won't be a World to save anymore. (Camera slowly zooms in on Aang who looks stunned and blur. Cut to commercial break.) Act II (Scene returns with Aang facing the group.) Aang: Why (points to self) didn't you tell me (turns around and walks off screen) about your Dad's crazy plan sooner? Zuko: (takes a step forward) I didn't think I had to. I assumed that you were still going to fight him before the comet. No one told me you decided to wait! Aang: This is bad. (places both hands on head in despair) This is really, (shakes his head and drops to his knees) really bad. (Cut to a close up of Aang whose face is full of worry and despair)

ATLA’s narrative, the Gaang, and implicitly Zuko unanimously agree that Ozai is the person who bears full responsibility for deciding he wants to set the entire Earth Kingdom on fire.

#Ozai #Azula #Zuko #The Gaang #It turns out the big bad #is fully responsible for the evil plan #big surprise there #Ozai comes up with every aspect of the plan but the number of people who think Azula did that #is just astonishing #Also Ozai's plan isn't very different than what the U.S. historically did to Japan and North Korea #and is likely to be just as ineffective in securing total victory as was burning down nearly every building in North Korea

[starstruck-shima]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬. (𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢)

“Even gods can’t help but stop to catch a breath.”

Notes: fem reader.

There were many things I wondered about.

After so many years of living, so many eons of asking questions without answers, I simply stood in the middle of a dandelion field, surrounded by crystal flies--Like a fool.

As I gaze upon the starstruck sky, what would lie ahead of me now? I was but a directionless being, with nowhere to go. My kin were gone, separated by walls that spared no mercy, not even to the birds. Now, all that remains of such were merely ruins of old. Its as if I’ve completely lost my purpose--no longer a protector of Mondstadt, no longer worthy of the long lifespan I was blessed with--Just a being of pure element, lost and astray.

It was there when I first felt the wind glaze over me so softly, and it was the first time I met you. At that moment, I felt a moment of rebirth. You were so kind, glazing upon me with such hazy eyes, and I felt so out of place. You, the ever glowing saint, an archon of the new world, and me... a soldier with no master.

I couldn’t even muster up words, for I was ashamed. Ashamed of what you’d think of me. So I did the bare minimum, for a being with heavy debt to Mondstadt itself. I ask for my punishment. “I lower my head to you. Please, set me free.”

His response however, shattered my expectations. With little to no hesitance, his reply flew like the wind. “That is for you to bring upon yourself.”

W-what? My eyes felt like saucers, as my throat ran dry. What did he mean by that? Freedom, retribution, I deserved none of that. The sin I hold upon myself by serving Decarabian is too much for a simply apology. It’s a burden I must carry.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” I rise my head to the call of my name. “--Former soldier of Decarabian’s. But most importantly, a lover of Mondstadt.” His hands outstretched to mine, and for some reason, it was as if I was naturally drawn to him. I knew his name, I knew who this was. Barbatos. It seemed that it wouldn’t take long for me to realize that no matter what form he took, he was still the same inside.

Archon, elemental being, bard. No matter what, Barbatos was Barbatos, and he gave me the ability to see truly for the very first time. That my freedom was in my own hands. 

“Then, with the freedom you’ve given me...

Let me vow to protect Mondstadt, for as long as I live.” It was going to be a very, very long time. I knew that. But I shall do this with the freedom I have granted myself. For the good of the four winds, of the nation I loved, and Barbatos, this is the vow I will stand in for as long as the wind howls.

...And that was how I ended up with this total drunkard of a god for the rest of my days.

Should I have begged even more for my execution? Probably. But would Barbatos still spare me? Most likely so.

“Dandelioooooonnn~~” his words were slurred, like he was riding a merry go round of booze. “Why won’t you let me touch you? Hey, come here~~”

“--That is unnecessary,” our friends watched as we bantered, me dodging Venti’s barrage of physical affection, and Venti... still trying no matter what. The traveler, who sat opposite of us, could only stay bewildered at the story, and the stark contrast of its two main heroes today.

“S-so, this is the fierce warrior who was granted the mercy of Lord Barbatos?!” Paimon’s mouth was agape. She stops for a breath, before carrying on. “You m-mean, (Y/n) once KNEELED to Venti?! Not only that, but the Barbatos in that tale feels so different than the Barbatos now!”

“It’s like watching an old married couple.” The traveler adds on to Paimon’s speech, still in disbelief. “So, that was how you met?”

Pushing away Venti’s hands, I try my best to keep a straight face. “Yes. The tales you hear the townsfolk tell to their children are partially true. however. the one Venti and I have told you tonight is how it really went down.” I chuckle at the thought. Who knew our first meeting had such an impact? “Though I’m glad it’s been teaching the kids a good life lesson or two.”

As my eyes trail back to Venti, I was hit with a softness, the same softness I felt after my adrenaline rushes were over, and when I knew everything was safe. I was pretty sure the traveler noticed my fondness too, but it’s alright. It’ll be our little secret. “Say, traveler. Let me let you in on a hymn of the bards of Mondstadt.”

“No matter how far the wind blows, everything stays,” I shift a bit at Venti’s weight, finally letting him rest on my shoulder. He reeked--though that was to be expected. “Right where you left it. Everything stays, but it still changes.”

I hope the traveler knew what I was talking about. In any case, the feel of Venti’s hand in mine, and the way he looked at me with such gentle eyes even whilst intoxicated proved such phrases to be true. We’ve gone through change, we’ve become different people. Once a warrior, once a rebel, now simple folk of Mondstadt, learning how to love like the people do. Once on different sides, fighting for the same freedom, and then--as the same wind blows, our relationship with each other slowly differed.

“So~” Paimon started to speak again, this time in a mischievous tone. “How did you two fall in love?”

Unexpectedly, I threw out a hoarse chuckle. Love. Such an unexpected experience that had befallen me. The truth was, I never expected it--at least not during my days of serving Decarabian. But as the times past, and when nations grew, I began to realize quite the consensus. The Mondstadt I protect now is still the same, yet things are different now. I didn’t need to devote myself to endless servitude, to slice monsters in half--because there was barely the need for it nowadays. Mondstadt’s people are capable of protecting themselves, and perhaps that was what Venti wanted me to believe.

“And then, perhaps that was when he grabbed the opportunity and freedom to woo me.”

“Ho ho, and it worked!” I roll my eyes at Venti’s sudden jab. Geez, what a childish god. “She used to be so serious. “I will protect Mondstadt!” “I will devote my life to it!” “No threat will ever pass you, Barbatos!” And then she’d run off to the wind, flipping her hair and acting all cool.”

“--But give her a flower and a song and she’s all red like an apple! Ahahahaha!” I wince at the embarrassment, quickly shutting his mouth. The traveler and paimon seem amused at the sudden revelation, and this was when I realized that it was probably best to do some damage control before my dear lover would be sleeping on the couch tonight.

Bidding the two and the bartender at Angel’s Share a farewell, I shoulder Venti, making sure to guide him deftly through the streets of Mondstadt. As we pave through the mostly empty surroundings, I start to feel warm--almost proud of the new Mond of today. How long as it been since the people were granted freedom? Since I had been able to stop and see the fruits of the labors its people who fought for it grow? It’s a nostalgic feeling, really.

“Heya, (Y/n).” It seemed that Venti noticed my silent musings. I hum a response, with no expectations whatsoever. If it was a question about how far we were from home, surely that--

“Marry me.”

I nearly ran into the pavement there and then. Marriage? To Barbatos? To Venti? To the man I knew as my lover? Wait, of course the person you’d get married to is most likely your lover. Then, why am I still so flustered? Why is it that with this man, everything felt so different and new? How is it that he could make such a mess of me, yet make me whole?

“Hey, why are you so quiet?” He pouts, adorably I might add. I still stumble to catch my breath. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind... “We’ve been together for so long, we’re pretty much just giving rings to each other. Come on~”

“Geh... When you put it that way... can’t you take this seriously?”

I felt a sudden drop--a different feeling place itself on him, and all of a sudden, he vocalizes many, many words. “I have! I’ve consulted the church, I’ve looked at all kinds of rings and other things you might prefer for proposals, and I’ve been thinking about it even in eons of slumber! I want us to be happy, (y/n), but most importantly, I want you to be happy, so regardless of your acceptance, it’s fine if we stay by each other’s sides, right?”

My breath hitched. Tears were threatening to prickle my eyes. Of course he’d be  so thoughtful, yet so playful too... don’t tell me. “I don’t want you to propose to me while you’re drunk, Barbatos... but you’re actually sober, aren’t you?”

“Ehe.” He chuckles, before getting on one knee, a small crystal core presented on the palms of his hands. “So, is that a yes?”

I couldn’t contain my smile. No matter how red my face was. A chorus of giggles rang through the night sky, and as Venti hovered over to my head to place the crystal core on my hair, I accepted his proposal.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #venti #genshin venti #venti x reader #genshin impact venti

[dwellordream]

“If parents and commentators were sometimes concerned about the safety of middle-class girls in city streets, however, they were increasingly concerned about the moral implications of ‘‘good’’ girls taking to walking the streets in such numbers. Fears of precociousness not only encouraged parents to postpone discussions of menarche, they also created a reactionary challenge— too late—to girls’ social freedoms. European observers had commented on the relative freedom of American girls from the routine restraints imposed on European girls for much of the century.

In his 1840 opus Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville noted the early emancipation of the American young woman from maternal control. ‘‘She has scarcely ceased to be a child when she already thinks for herself, speaks with freedom, and acts on her own impulse. . . . The vices and dangers of society are early revealed to her; as she sees them clearly, she views them without illusion and braves them without fear, for she is full of reliance on her own strength, and her confidence seems to be shared by all around her.’’

With the expansion of northeastern cities following the Civil War, and the increasing presence of middle-class girls unregulated in the streets, a range of commentators began publicly to reconsider that confidence. One of the first broadsides in a newly intensified public debate about the character of ‘‘the girl’’ came from Britain and the pen of a journalist and clergyman’s daughter. Eliza Lynn Linton’s essay was notable in part because of its description of a modern type, not limited to one class.

‘‘The Girl of the Period’’ was published as a pamphlet in Britain in 1868, sold forty thousand copies from a single publisher, and first ignited a controversy there. Linton’s British ‘‘girl’’—in future debates known simply as the ‘‘G.O.P.’’—was loud, brassy, and disrespectful. She had traded in purity and ‘‘delicacy of perception’’ for the slang and the conspicuousness of the demimonde. Linton went on: ‘‘The Girl of the Period is a creature who dyes her hair and paints her face, as the first article of her personal religion—a creature whose sole idea of life is fun; whose sole aim is unbounded luxury; and whose dress is the chief object of such thought and intellect as she possesses.’’ 

Linton’s ‘‘G.O.P.’’ was ‘‘far too fast and flourishing’’ to listen to her parents, ‘‘indifferent’’ to duty, ‘‘useless’’ at home, and dedicated to the pursuit of money. Henry James, who later made the character of the American girl a subject of his fiction, reviewed Linton’s pamphlet in the Nation. He began by denying its relevance to the United States.

‘‘The American reader will be struck by the remoteness and strangeness of the writer’s tone and allusions. He will see that the society which makes these papers even hypothetically—hyperbolically—possible is quite another society from that of New York and Boston. American life, whatever may be said, is still a far simpler process than the domestic system of England.’’ In contrast to Linton’s portrait ‘‘of youthful Jezebels with plastered faces and lascivious eyes,’’ James offered the ‘‘large number of very pretty and, on the whole, very fresh-looking girls’’ of Boston or New York, ‘‘dressed in various degrees of the prevailing fashion.’’

James’s use of the term girl to refer to wholesome and respectable teenage females was an early instance of its contemporary usage. No sooner had James denied any comparison, though, than he began to warm to the task of finding similarities. He found American girls excessively devoted to the idea of being well dressed, which had ‘‘a sacred and absolute meaning.’’

A girl of fashion ‘‘is undeniably a very artificial and composite creature, and doubtless not an especially edifying spectacle. . . . She has, moreover, great composure and impenetrability of aspect. She practices a sort of half-cynical indifference to the beholder (we speak of the extreme cases). Accustomed to walk alone in the streets of a great city, and to be looked at by all sorts of people, she has acquired an unshrinking directness of gaze. She is the least bit hard.’’

James’s novel The Awkward Age (1899) took up the consequences of the ‘‘exposure’’ in public of British girls for their marriage prospects. As much as James admired the independence of ‘‘the American girl’’ (always to be considered as part of American elite), his hypersensitive self was shocked by the toughness of her exterior. Several years later another literary figure entered the debate over the impact of modernity on middle-class American girls.

Louisa May Alcott acknowledged Linton’s influence in the preface to her book An Old-Fashioned Girl (1872), a tale of a simple, affectionate country girl of fourteen who goes to live with a sophisticated and unhappy friend, a fashionable girl of the city. ‘‘The ‘Old-Fashioned Girl’ is not intended as a perfect model, but as a possible improvement upon the Girl of the Period, who seems sorrowfully ignorant or ashamed of the good old fashions which made woman truly beautiful and honored, and through her, render home what it should be,—a happy place, where parents and children, brothers and sisters, learn to love and know and help one another.’’ 

Readers first meet Alcott’s heroine Polly when Tom, the brother of the family, arrives at the train station to pick up his sister’s friend and lights in error on a passenger who might pass for a G.O.P. She is in gorgeous array, with ‘‘a flapping of sashes, scallops, ruffles, curls, and feathers.’’ The passenger, ‘‘a breezy stranger,’’ eyes Tom with a ‘‘cool stare that utterly quenched him.’’

Just as he is gathering his forces to initiate conversation, up runs our heroine, ‘‘a fresh-faced little girl, . . . with her hand out, and a half shy, half-merry look in her blue eyes.’’ Like Little Women, published several years before, An Old-Fashioned Girl celebrates the beauty of girls’ devotion to home and family and their rejection of the material, selfish world of the modern city. A comparison of titles, however, suggests an important difference in the implications of the two books for female adolescence. 

In contrast to Little Women, An Old-Fashioned Girl encourages girls to hold on to their status as children, rather than embracing too early the roles and manners of women. The problem of the urban sisters Fanny and little Maud in Alcott’s novel is their precociousness. Fanny explains to Polly, ‘‘You are fourteen; and we consider ourselves young ladies at that age.’’ Alcott, in contrast, describes Polly as a ‘‘fresh-faced little girl.’’

In fact, the family’s grandmother suggests that her own granddaughters scarcely were ever children. ‘‘’You mustn’t mind my staring, dear,’ said Madam, softly pinching her rosy cheek. ‘I haven’t seen a little girl for so long, it does my old eyes good to look at you.’’’ Her own granddaughters, she explains, are ‘‘not what you call little girls. Fan has been a young lady this two years, and Maud is a spoiled baby.’’ 

Even Maud, at the age of six, has the accoutrements of maturity in the form of calling cards, crimping pins, and a ‘‘box of dainty gloves.’’ Alcott explains that Maud ‘‘belonged to a ‘set’ also; and these mites of five and six had ‘their’ parties, receptions, and promenades, as well as their elders, and the chief idea of their little lives seemed to be to ape the fashionable follies they should have been too innocent to understand.’’ Alcott is so concerned with demonstrating the folly of precociousness that she turns fifteen- or sixteen-year-old Polly’s interest in the attractive son of the family into an object lesson.

‘‘Polly shut her door hard, and felt ready to cry with vexation, that her pleasure should be spoilt by such a silly idea; for, of all the silly freaks of this fast age, that of little people playing at love is about the silliest.’’ Alcott’s fear of precociousness cuts such a wide swathe that she admits little distinction between the pairing off of six-year-olds and the infatuation of teenagers. 

The explanation for the precociousness of girls is their involvement in a new peer culture, facilitated and expanded by attending school. When Polly asks Fanny why she spends so much time getting dressed just to go to school, Fanny responds, ‘‘All the girls do; and it’s proper, for you never know who you may meet. I’m going to walk, after my lessons, so I wish you’d wear your best hat and sack.’’ In Alcott’s novel the custom of walking, encouraged to provide girls with appropriate exercise, appears as a vapid excuse for socializing, especially in contrast with the health of children’s play.

Polly scorns it. ‘‘To dress up and parade certain streets for an hour every day, to stand talking in doorways, or drive out in a fine carriage, was not the sort of exercise she liked. . . . At home, Polly ran and rode, coasted and skated, jumped rope and raked hay, worked in her garden and rowed her boat; so no wonder she longed for something more lively than a daily promenade with a flock of giddy girls.’’ It is the strength of urban peer culture which leads to the unhealthiness and unhappiness—and the unlovableness—of the bored and fashionable Fanny. 

Other commentators as well attacked the danger of precociousness in the rearing of girls. Washington Gladden, liberal clergyman and promoter of the social gospel, was persuaded in 1880 to provide advice for girls in St. Nicholas to complement an earlier article for boys. He censured ‘‘a too early initiation into the excitements and frivolities of what is called society. It was formerly the rule for girls to wait until their school-days were over before they made their appearance in fashionable society. At what age, let us inquire, does the average young lady of our cities now make her debut?’’ Like Alcott, Gladden dipped down into the early years to see the onset of preciousness. ‘‘From my observations, I should answer at about the age of three. They are not older than that when they begin to go to children’s parties, for which they are dressed as elaborately as they would be for a fancy ball.’’ 

If Gladden focused on the social folly of children forced into early maturity, for Mary Virginia Terhune the practice was evil: ‘‘We sin in allowing the fears, hopes and flutters of nubility to obtrude, even in imagination, upon this most susceptible stage of the formative period. There is vulgar violence in the excitation of coy tremors and coquettish projects in the mind of one who is as yet incapable of comprehending the meaning or tendency of the novel emotions.’’

Employing the earthy, agrarian metaphors which were one way of objectifying girls’ maturation, Terhune expounded, ‘‘Premature bloom is imperfection, too often deformity. Forced fruits lack the flavor of the summer’s prime, the beauty and richness of seasonableness.’’ If Henry James felt that girls were becoming hard from their exposure in the city streets, Terhune and others feared that they were becoming blemished or prematurely soft—a different kind of distortion of the ‘‘girl crop’’ that was everyone’s property.

The allure of city streets was only part of the story, though. Critics cautioned that weakening family ties helped to push girls into the streets. In Alcott’s accounting, and in the ongoing debate over the Girl of the Period, the declining authority of parents played an important role in the dissipation of girls. Alcott’s fashionable fictional family is headed by an absent father and an invalid mother.

Mr. Shaw is ‘‘a busy man, so intent on getting rich that he had no time to enjoy what he already possessed.’’ He has a habit of lecturing his son ‘‘and letting the girls do just as they like[].’’ Mrs. Shaw is ‘‘a pale, nervous women,’’ an invalid, defined by needs rather than by her ability to give. The family might meet for dinner, but after eating ‘‘they all [go] about their own affairs.’’ Whatever else was to blame, there was no question that the ‘‘girl problem’’ was in part the problem of urban parents losing control over their daughters. 

When Washington Gladden addressed the problem of girls, he titled his article ‘‘A Talk with Girls and Their Mothers’’ because he felt the problem lay with both. The commandment that children should obey their parents, he asserted, was disregarded by both mothers and teenage daughters. ‘‘The girl of thirteen regards herself as her own mistress; she is already a woman in her own estimation, and has a right to do as she pleases.’’

Despite his strenuous support elsewhere for longer and more vigorous walking for girls, Gladden could not countenance the freedom of girls in the city streets. ‘‘This habit of running loose, of constantly seeking the street for amusement, and even of making chance acquaintances there, is practiced by some of the girls of our good families, and it is not at all pleasant to see them on the public thoroughfares, and to witness their hoydenish ways. . . . The delicate bloom of maiden modesty is soiled by too much familiarity with the public streets of a city, and a kind of boldness is acquired which is not becoming in a woman.’’

Gladden’s worry for the ‘‘delicate bloom of maiden modesty’’ reflected a legitimate concern for how girls’ culture was being influenced by urban freedom. An article published in Ladies’ Home Journal in 1884 took a different tone in reporting on ‘‘an epidemic’’ of disappearances of girls: ‘‘One doesn’t bring up a chubby baby girl to bang upon a grand piano, outdress other girls and graduate with nuns’ veiling and sixteen hired bouquets, to have some dark night bring a rascal and a rope-ladder to steal her away just when she is getting big enough to do the marketing and darn her father’s socks. . . . The sympathy of the entire world goes out to the bereaved owners of these pretty girls, spirited away.’’ Despite its glib and knowing tone, itself a radical break from the earnest, idealist rhetoric which usually accompanied such discussions, the article had a strong message for mothers:

‘‘The fact is, the mothers of to-day do not exercise enough maternal authority and vigilance over their daughters. . . . Female chums call for them to spend the night, and who they meet while absent from the home circle mothers never know.’’ The pull of ‘‘chums’’ drawing girls away from their mothers’ households was a far cry from the idealized intergenerational domestic world promoted by advisers. A signed article republished from the Congregationalist in 1889 explored the distance between domestic ideal and urban reality.

Mrs. J. G. Fraser titled her piece ‘‘Our Lost Girls’’ and subtitled it ‘‘A Mother Sadly Regrets That She Can Not Have the Training of Her Daughter.’’ Fraser exclaimed, ‘‘Alas! just as our daughters are entering their teens, or before, we discover that we have lost them. Where have they gone?’’ Her answer was clear. ‘‘It is a fact that the average girl is restless unless she can visit or receive visits from some young lady friend most of the time.’’ Such chores as a daughter might have ‘‘are hurried through with unseemly haste, to the end that she may leave home as soon as possible.’’ 

Informed by the dictates of domesticity, Fraser knew what her maternal role should be: ‘‘Sympathetic companionship, little seeds of counsel dropped wisely here and there, a knowledge of what the girls are thinking about and what they are interested in; a wise ignoring of some girlish follies—all these are needed.’’ But there was one problem in applying techniques of domestic influence.

If they could help it, girls were probably not at home to listen to their mothers’ advice. Fraser uttered a complaint with a contemporary ring. ‘‘Our homes should not be simply boarding houses where our children eat and sleep, but dwelling places where they are to spend most of their time out of school hours.’’ If they were to sustain the culture of the ‘‘old-fashioned girl,’’ mothers must take their daughters back from the streets and from the friends they promenaded with there. 

Girls who appeared in public and walked the streets were historically ‘‘public women,’’ prostitutes. What distinguished the debates of the 1870s and 1880s was that they were not about prostitutes but instead about a more broadly defined and owned group of daughters. Not distinguished by class or profession, the G.O.P. was not a fallen ‘‘other’’ but instead a creature of modernity, created by the industrial city.

When Henry James, Louisa May Alcott, Ladies’ Home Journal, and St. Nicholas wrote about girls, they were talking about their own daughters, or nieces, or grandchildren, or the daughters of their friends and colleagues. Mrs. J. G. Fraser, of course, most literally seems to have been writing about her daughter. In contrast with later discussions about ‘‘the girl problem,’’ these late-Victorian debates were explicitly not focused on working or shopgirls. Instead, such discussions hit closer to home, often debating the impact of modern culture on Our Girls, as an advice book published in 1871 was entitled.

These girls might even be considered to belong to an urban elite. Louisa May Alcott’s Fanny differs from her country friend because she is a girl of fashion, whose parents can afford to buy her the new offerings of urban dry goods stores. When Kate Tannatt Woods excoriated the rude and showy ‘‘Manners in Public’’ of a certain young concertgoer, she characterized her explicitly: ‘‘Sallie Ducats, whose father is a celebrated statesman, and whose mother bore a grand old name prior to her marriage.’’

The conduct of Sallie (spelled in the French fashion) and her friends sets a bad standard for other girls: ‘‘Their heavy steps and bustling noise disturbed the entire [concert] audience. . . . This was not all. They removed their wraps with much parade and noise, raised their seats and let them fall again, and then, after some further maneuvers, produced some bon-bons which they proceeded to eat with evident relish. During the entire concert they whispered, giggled, looked about, and made comments on people about them.’’ Woods concluded by asking: ‘‘What is to be done when young women belonging to our so-called ‘best families’ are guilty of such conduct?’’

…When pundits debated the status of the American girl, they were not likely to be referring to domestic servants or factory operatives; they were more likely to be referring to American schoolgirls, despite their distinct minority status. The debate over the conduct of the American girl gained an edge of urgency because of the class standing of the girls now out in public. At the same time, that urgency helped to create a more broadly defined and collectively owned group of girls.

If advice givers needed to vouch for the respectability of schoolgirls, however, they could still remain disturbed by some of the after-hour implications of school attendance, especially at the more suspect public schools. The Ladies’ Home Journal’s glib answer to the question ‘‘Why Girls Disappear’’ blamed mothers but indirectly it blamed school, too. ‘‘School-girls here have been seen year in and year out being joined on a certain corner by rakish-looking boys who carried their books.’’ 

Another article in the same magazine the next year lambasted the dangerous influence of the roller-skating rink on schoolgirls as well. Under the title ‘‘Flirting Girls,’’ the writer noted that ‘‘school girls in great numbers frequent these pleasure resorts and emulate each other in picking up the greatest number of gentlemen acquaintances. So large is this class of chance acquaintances, that the girls in our public schools already recognize these men by a slang term, a humorous but pitiful term, when one thinks of the underlying fact. These ‘pick-ups’ are not obtained in the skating rink alone but are made on the sidewalk with a bow, a smile, a word, or in a horse car or at a baseball match or at the theatre.’’ The outcry of concern over the modern girl focused on middle-class girls, and the impact of a range of social developments—school among them—which were breaking down the authority of parents, the strength of the home, and the domination of traditional morality.”

- Jane H. Hunter, “Friendship, Fun, and the City Streets.” in How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood

#cities #gender #victorian #history #american #class #jane h. hunter #how young ladies became girls

[passable-talent]

Part 7 of the Dai Li series please!!! Excellent work again, as usual- I'm DYING XD

guess how long it took for this request to come in?

eleven minutes!! thats a new record!!

and so we return... ANOTHER whole month later!

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 |

“I need you to tell me what happened to Iroh.”

Zuko kept your gaze, his eyes almost wide. You didn’t look away, couldn’t let yourself. A few heartbeats passed, and he looked away, shame clear on his face. 

“He was put in jail,” Zuko said, closing his eyes. “I visited him often, but when I went to help him break out during the eclipse, he was already gone.” Slowly, his gaze returned to you. “I wish I could tell you I knew where he was.” It made sense, what he was saying, and you knew he wasn’t lying. You had hoped something else had become of Iroh, that day, that maybe he’d escaped after securing yours, but some part of you knew that he was likely jailed in the Fire Nation, if not dead. 

Broken out, though. He had made it out- just like Zuko. Maybe, someday, they’d see each other again. 

But for now, you were satisfied. Zuko, though responsible for Iroh’s imprisonment in an odd way, was ashamed of it. And you wouldn’t hold against him actions that he was paying for. Your heart beating, yet stinging like a raw wound, you fell back into his chest, spending any long moment you could in his arms, the sky darkening around you and revealing its stars. 

The days before Sozin’s Comet just felt odd. 

Four days from the comet, you went to a play, which didn’t mention you at all. That pissed you off- you were instrumental to their escape from Ba Sing Se! Who the hell else would’ve protected Katara from Azula if not you? Not to mention Zuko died in it, which surprised all of you, most of all, Zuko. 

His upset from the night before bled into the next morning, when he attacked Aang. The terror in your chest, when you saw the fire struck toward the avatar again, was thick and visceral. You never thought you’d see him attack Aang again, not after Ba Sing Se, and you didn’t understand what had happened that made him so violent, so suddenly. 

But when you attempted to come to Aang’s aid, and stood between the avatar and the prince, you caught his gaze. That malice that you’d seen in Ba Sing Se, that you’d hated so much, that you expected to see now, in a prince gone mad- it wasn’t there. 

Zuko wasn’t doing this out of hatred for Aang. 

It stunned you enough that the prince slipped past you, continuing his attack. You watched as a spectator, until they dove into the attic, your mind swimming. What could Zuko be thinking?

Okay, so he was confused at Aang’s complacency. Real interesting decision making process there, Zuzu, attacking him to resolve such an issue. 

Three days from the comet. You run a drill- which didn’t make much sense as an actual plan, you had to say, but not many of these other teenagers had the benefit of actual military training like you. Your job was to draw fire with Sokka and Suki- and, though Sokka didn’t admit it, to be an earthbender who could throw up a shield at any time. It was fun training, which you hadn’t really gotten to be a part of for a while. 

Two days from the comet, and Aang is missing. 

Which is really, really, really bad. 

Like, sure, the kid wasn’t exactly super ready to face Ozai, but he’s still the avatar, right? That’s still got to count for something. And he’s missing, leaving a very gifted and still extremely underqualified gaggle of teenagers to face the Fire Lord. 

So you went to the Earth Kingdom. Zuko took you to an old friend named Jun, who seemed to go way back, back to before you’d met Zuko. She seemed like she’d be helpful, but then revealed even more deeply unsettling information- Aang was gone. Which was much, much worse than missing. 

So, facing the Fire Lord without the Avatar. How fun. 

And yet, there was a glimmer of hope, in the form of an old, smelly sandal, which really made you wonder why the hell Zuko still had it. And, really, now that you thought about it, how Zuko even got it. The Shirshu could definitely catch a scent from that- anyone with a half working nose could. 

One day from Sozin’s comet, and most of it was already gone, spent chasing a shirshu across the Earth Kingdom. Appa was the best, letting you sleep on a massive paw, and though he was itchy, it was much better than taking the time to set up your beds. Though, your rest didn’t last long- quickly you were ambushed, a ring of fire surrounding you. Four men looked down upon you, and though you didn’t recognize three of them, you did know King Bumi, and assumed that the others must be friends, if he were in league with them. 

“Well, look who’s here!” Bumi said, a snorting laugh following his words. You saw relief and joy on Sokka and Katara’s face, and so you knew that your assumption was true. It seemed like, for the first time in a few days, you were about to catch a break. 

“What’s going on? We’re surrounded by old people.” A smile cracking your face, you had to be grateful for Toph, and her outlook on the world. 

“Not just any old people. These are great masters, and friends of ours!” She bowed to an old man with long white hair. “Pakku.” 

“It is respectful to bow to an old master,” he said, returning her bow, “but how about a hug, for your new grandfather?” You raised an eyebrow as the siblings reacted with surprise, but not too much, like that was a normal thing to say, if exciting. Following their conversation, though, you picked up enough details to figure out a bit of the history that they must’ve had. 

“And this was Aang’s first firebending teacher!” Katara explained, and Sokka went on to explain the name of the third. 

“Master Piandao,” he said, and you smiled brightly, even if it was to yourself- this was truly a lucky day. 

“So, wait, how do you all know each other?” Suki asked. 

“All old people know each other, don’t you know that?” Bumi said with another snorting laugh. 

“We’re all part of the same ancient secret society,” Piandao explain, causing your gaze to shift to the matching uniforms they each wore. “A group that transcends the divisions of the four nations. 

“The Order of the White Lotus,” Zuko interjected, and you looked sideways at him, wondering how he knew that. He had a smile on his face- he looked hopeful. 

“That’s the one!” Bumi answered.

“The White Lotus has always been about philosophy, and beauty, and truth,” Jeong-Jeong began, and as you crossed your arms over yourself to protect them from the wind, you were glad that such a society exists in such a war-torn world. “But about a month ago, a call went out that we were needed for something important.”

“It came from our Grand Lotus,” Pakku said, diverting his eyes to Zuko. “Your uncle. Iroh of the Fire Nation.” While Zuko’s expression softened, yours brightened- Iroh was as trustworthy as you had always known him to be. You were glad to know that he kept peace just as much as he preached it. 

“Well, that’s who we’re looking for,” Toph said. 

“Then we’ll take you to him.” Reaching Jun and her shirshu, it felt sure that you were going to see Iroh again. But when you followed her for a day, the inevitability of it dribbled away. Yet here, again, your hope renewed, that you could see him again, and be reminded that there was at least one adult in the world that you could really, deeply trust.

“Wait,” Bumi shouted, shoving himself to the midst of the conversation, “There’s someone missing from your group. Someone very important... where’s Momo??”

“He’s gone,” Sokka said, clearly deeply troubled by having Bumi’s nose pressed to his face, “and so is Aang.”

“Oh well, so long as they have each other, I’m sure we have nothing to worry about!” Bumi said, prompting you to wonder what the king had seen and experienced to allow news such as a missing avatar to not startle him. “Let’s go!” 

It was a surprisingly far walk to the Order’s camp, in which the old masters caught up with their friends, and filled each other in on details. You kept quiet, having not personally known any of them. 

The sun came up as you reached the camp, and Zuko entered his uncle’s tent, to wait. You sat outside with Toph, but decide not to practice your seismics- whatever was happening between Zuko and Iroh deserved to stay between them. 

A nice stew was your breakfast, the gaang all sitting around its pot, with Iroh sitting at the head of the group. You’d sat between Zuko and Toph, one leg propped up on its foot with the other extended in front of you. Iroh had given you a long hug when he saw you- delighted that you had continued your path alongside the avatar, and secretly even more delighted that Zuko’s path had also lead him back to you.

“Uncle, you’re the only person other than the avatar who can possibly defeat the fatherlord,” Zuko said, and though you heard his mistake, you only smiled into your stew. 

“You mean the Fire Lord.” Because you could count on Toph to do it for you. 

“That’s what I just said,” Zuko snapped, but it was merely his temper, not true anger. “We need you to come with us.” Iroh seemed to consider for a moment. 

“No, Zuko, it won’t turn out well,” Iroh began, and you lifted your head, ready to hear true, unfiltered Iroh wisdom. 

“You can beat him,” Zuko insisted, before looking sideways across the rest of the group. “And we’ll be there to help.” You gave him a smile, but ultimately turned your attention back to Iroh.

“Even if I did defeat Ozai,” he began, “and I don’t know that I could, it would be the wrong way to end the war. History will see it as more senseless violence: a brother killing a brother to grab power.” Slowly you brought another bite of your stew to your lips, but once you had, your chopsticks slowly maneuvered around your fingers, finding a way to fidget as you considered. “The only way for this war to end peacefully is for the avatar to defeat the Fire Lord.” You let out a quick breath, recognizing the sense in his words, but feeling worry reveal itself. Wasn’t Aang... gone? Off world?

“And then... would you come and take your rightful place on the throne?” Zuko asked.

“No,” Iroh said, quickly, like he’d been prepared for such a question. “Someone new must take the throne- an idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor.” He was speaking directly to Zuko, and you understood before he’d had to say it. “It has to be you, Prince Zuko.” 

In all the time you’d known Zuko, you had known him as a lot of different things. Refugee. Waiter. Friend. Crush. Traitor. Enemy. Prince. Fire Nation. And in all that time, you’d realized his lineage, as the eldest child of the Fire Lord, and certainly most sane. Yet, in all that time, you’d never considered what he was poised to become: the Fire Lord himself. 

In that moment, you nearly felt the need to bow, or scoot away, as though you were reminded of his royalty, the true meaning of the term ‘prince’. Wasn’t the bloodline of the Fire Nation royals considered to have been made royal by the spirits? 

Inferiority didn’t even begin to cover it, but you’d worry about that another day. 

“Unquestionable honor?” He asked, looking away from his uncle. “But I’ve made so many mistakes.” At long last, days after you felt like you had finally forgiven the prince, you were put in a position where you could accept or deny the way he had hurt you in the past. But you weren’t just an earth kingdom citizen, not anymore. You were world-travelled, a soldier, a warrior, a friend to the future fire lord and the avatar alike. You knew the mature and good and right thing to do. And in that moment, it wasn’t to hold above him the things he’d done to you, but instead to recognize the way he’d overcome them. You shuffled closer to him. 

“Yes, you have,” Iroh admitted, his gaze briefly meeting yours. “You’ve struggled, you’ve suffered.” Gently, you took one hand from your bowl, and laid it on his, where he’d left it on his knee. He didn’t look at you, but his fingers slid around yours slowly. “But you have always followed your own path. You have restored your own honor. And only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.” 

“I’ll try, uncle,” he promised, and you knew he would make good on it. 

“Well, what if Aang doesn’t come back?” Toph asked, and you once again thanked her for saying the things you couldn’t seem to get past your tongue.

“Sozin’s comet is arriving, and our destinies are upon us,” Iroh declared, using his chopsticks for emphasis. “Aang will face the Fire Lord. When I was a boy, I had a vision that I would one day take Ba Sing Se. Only now do I see that my destiny is to take it back, from the Fire Nation, so the Earth Kingdom can be free again.”

“That’s why you’ve gathered the members of the White Lotus,” Suki said, her words prompting you to look around at the dozen other old masters, who would be more than capable of pulling your mighty home city from the grasp of a few Fire Nation soldiers. 

“Yes,” Iroh agreed, turning his gaze back to the prince. “Zuko, you must return to the Fire Nation, so that when the Fire Lord falls, you can assume the throne, and restore peace, and honor. But Azula will be there, waiting for you.”

“I can handle Azula,” Zuko said, malice written across his face, but this time for your first real enemy. 

“Not alone,” Iroh insisted, “you’ll need help.”

“You’re right,” Zuko admitted. “Katara, Y/N. How would you like to help me put Azula in her place?” A devious smile spread over Katara’s face.

“It would be my pleasure,” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile as their gazes turned to you. 

“She’s had it coming,” you said, cracking your knuckles of your free hand into your thigh. 

“What about us?” Sokka asked, from between Toph and Suki, “What’s our destiny today?” 

“What do you think it is?” Iroh asked, halfway to his next mouthful of stew, and for a moment you saw Mushi again, being cheeky back at the Jasmine Dragon when he suggested you do something that would put you in Zuko’s path. 

“I think that,” Sokka began, considering, “even though we don’t know where Aang is, we need to do everything we can to stop the airship fleet.”

“And that means, when Aang does face the Fire Lord, we’ll be right there if he needs us.” Toph’s attitude, as though she would take on the comet herself, and win, filled you with a sense of hope. You could win the day. 

You rested your back against Appa’s saddle, leaning over the side to say your goodbyes to the Order. 

“So if I’m going to be Fire Lord after the war is over,” Zuko said, once again reminding you of such an insane fact, “What are you going to do?” 

“After I reconquer Ba Sing Se, I’m going to reconquer my tea shop!” You couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the place you’d fallen in love with Zuko, back before the world had fallen down around you. You could imagine going back there, when it was all over. “And I’m going to play Pai Sho every day!” His happiness, his hope, was infectious. 

“Goodbye, General Iroh,” Katara said, and you leaned down on your elbow, as though you could give him one last hug before you left. You already had- but that didn’t curb the impulse. 

“Goodbye, everyone. Today, destiny is our friend. I know it.” You could believe him. For that moment, you were filled with strength, and the feeling that though the day would be hard, it would be won. It had to be. 

Appa kicked off from the ground, and you crawled to the front of the saddle, closer to Zuko. 

“Hey, Zuko?” You asked, taking a deep breath. 

“Yes?” he didn’t look away from Appa’s path, but turned his head toward you. 

“When this is all over, I...” you swallowed, hard, but kept yourself from putting it off any further. “I’m ready to love you again. I think I already do.” 

And then, in that moment, for Zuko, there was a thousand more reasons why he needed to win the day. 

-🦌 Roe

stay tuned (aka request) for the series finale... 

edit: | part 8 |

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[beggingwolf]

oooh... 37/53

37. Coming Out Fic and 53. Mutual Pining

so, anon, I was trying to ficjam with the lovely @idontlikeem/@malk1ns on this one, and she, uh, basically did all our exposition for us:

part of why geno was so anxious to get to the us is--he's sick of having to date women for appearances. he is gayyyyyy and while okay he's not super interested in being a poster boy, he's sick of hiding from the people he's close to and living in fear of the law.

so he's out, for a given measure of the word. everyone in the league knows, mostly. and he's spoken often of how incredible it is, to be relatively open about who he is, and he'd never want to go back into the closet full-time again, not for anyone or anything. like, sure, it's not public-public, and maybe it never will be, but...he can exist in his world without hiding. it's pretty good. even if his captain IS gorgeous and straight and totally unobtainable.

meanwhile. sid, who's been under a microscope since age 7, can't even fathom what it might be like to be open with anyone about who he is and what he wants. but he's heard geno say so often, he won't date someone who's fully closeted, he isn't saying anyone has to come out but it wouldn't be good for him, he just can't do it.

so sid, uh. comes out. in the middle of his media availability on getaway day, after they win the 2016 cup, he just. says it. and then gets up and leaves. disappears to canada. geno, who in this world doesn't really go back to russia all that much, because while he's still politely and publicly straight enough to play for the national team, and he's wealthy and important besides, he doesn't really like being there and having to sneak around, is still in pittsburgh when this all happens. he tries to get to sid, but sid basically high-tailed it out of the arena, chartered a private flight, and left.

because after all, sid can't be with geno unless he's out, right? and he's never given less than 100% at anything he's done.

he just. maybe didn't think this one through. and so he panicked. and left before he could actually, like. talk to geno?

(thank you, Lis, for your contribution 😂)

Coming out is hard. It's so hard, and it's sometimes hardest when you know you're going to be treated by others with more kindness than you've treated yourself.

Sid's sexuality was an anomaly at first, and then a secret. He'd been weird, and then he'd been ashamed, and then he'd been willing to do anything for hockey. He liked girls just fine, so it was an easy trade off. He didn't need men in that way, and a few decades of locker room banter and crass language had given him a very comfortable track to ride along in. That part of Sid was strange, fucked up, queer in the oldest sense of the word, and Sid... Sid had already sacrificed a lot for hockey.

What was one more thing?

Then Geno came along, and he'd been uncompromising. Sid had been pulled into a meeting with Mario and ownership—he was going to be the next captain, they'd told him, and Geno was going to come out whether the team liked it or not. It was going to be Sid's job to make sure the team liked it.

"Can you handle that?" Mario had asked Sid seriously, and there was a weight in his eyes, a you need to do this.

Nausea churned in Sid's gut, threatening to come up his throat, but he'd nodded.

Anything for the team. Anything for hockey.

And then he'd had to look at Geno and know, know all by himself until ownership finally came to an agreement with Geno and laid down the facts to the whole team and staff before a practice. Geno was going to be out. Anyone who had a problem with that could take it up with ownership or Sid.

Sid had stood there, his mouth dry, and Geno had given him a small smile.

Panic raced through Sid so quickly it hurt.

The first year had been rough. It had been hard to see Geno looking guys up and down, finding them at bars, slowly becoming comfortable enough in America to start taking them home.

Sid had gone back to Nova Scotia that summer, gotten a girlfriend, and done his best to get over it.

A decade later, Sid doesn't flinch when Geno takes guys home. It hurts in a different way, though. At first it had been a sharp, frantic pain—a no, what is he doing, he can't do that—but over the years it's changed into a dull ache. Sid knows what Geno's fingers look like wrapped around a man's bicep flirtatiously. Sid knows what Geno does when he expresses interest, how he leans in and has a way of making himself seem fair and sweet even if he towers over a guy.

The ache lives in Sid's gut. It feels like want.

Geno'd had a boyfriend for two seasons. He'd been Russian. He'd moved in with Geno four months into the relationship, all the way from Moscow. Geno had brought him to the arena, and Sid had stuck out his hand for a handshake and caught Geno watching him.

Sid had checked the tightness at the corners of his lips, trying to make sure his smile was sincere. He has Geno's back, he... it's his job to make Geno happy and safe here, and—

When they'd broken up, finally, Sid had coaxed Geno out for sushi, with the buffers of Tanger and Flower to sit in the booth with them so Sid couldn't do anything stupid.

He'd been able to delay it but not quench it. The dam breaks after the Cup—finally, they get it again, Sid gets it again, it wasn't a fluke the first time in '09, and after the concussion, after all the trades, they get the Cup again—and Sid remembers the feeling of Geno under his arm as they held the Cup.

Sid is drunk enough on the feeling of it that it suddenly doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter that he'll get kind words from the front office and Mario and his teammates and Geno. It doesn't matter that they'll all love him and he'll still hate a part of himself, and when faced with all their love, it'll be only him who hates himself, he'll be the only reason he—

It trips off of Sid's lips, and he goes on autopilot as he moves to extricate himself from the scrum. He can't look at Jen's face—the horror that will be there, the knowledge that there are no plans nor preparations for this, nothing like the intricate maps drawn up for Geno—so he keeps his gaze on the ground and all but runs away.

He's on a plane back to Halifax within two hours.

He turns his phone off. It's stupid. It's cowardly. Sid is a coward, and he's stupidly brave, and it sort of feels like the world is ending.

He goes out on his boat the next day with Taylor. She'd shown up at his back door while he was making a smoothie, tapping on the glass and frowning at him until he'd let her in.

"I brought cookies," is all she said, which meant his mom had coped by baking.

The lake's still. It's too early for the pleasure boaters to be out with their speedboats and tubing gear. The water laps gently at the hull, and Sid leans back in the driver's seat.

"Geno called," Taylor says.

"Don't," Sid says.

"Sid."

"Stop. Please."

Taylor stops. She picks at the nail polish flaking off of her toenails before reaching for one of the premade protein shakes Sid had tossed into the built-in cooler hidden in the seats. They don't speak again until Taylor asks Sid about his Cup day plans, which is such an olive branch that Sid feels even more ashamed—he's practically a decade older than her and he's acting like this, Christ—and chats with her about a few ideas. She wants to hire a friend to make the cake. He's fine with that. He's fine with anything.

When they land just after noon, Taylor jams her hat back onto her head and turns to look at him.

"Mom wants you over for dinner."

Sid yanks the rope tighter as he fastens the boat to the dock.

He's a coward, but he's his father's son, and if he can't face his family head-on, then he really did come out for nothing, because he'll need even more courage to face Geno.

There are a lot of hard conversations to be had. His mother cries as she asks him how long he's known, and Sid has to sit there and watch the color leech from his father's cheeks.

His dad hugs him so hard before he leaves that night. The quiet I'm sorry almost breaks him, but Sid makes it home and into bed without losing it.

It's the hardest thing he's done since his concussion. It's harder, in some ways. The concussion was something done to him.

He's doing all this to himself, and, well—

His Cup party is alright. It's good, even. It's always better when the Cup's within reach, and no one brings up the media scrum, not until Sid's four beers deep and the sun's only just starting to set and he can just laugh it off.

That's when he sees Geno, just a few feet away, turning away from Taylor with a smile on his face and locking his gaze on Sid.

Sid freezes.

Geno just smiles wider and takes a step closer. Sid's heart... Sid's heart feels like it takes in a deep breath for the first time in a long time. Maybe forever.

"Hi, Geno," Sid says.

#ficlet #tag game #uh oh scoob I think the author is projecting again!

[haliyam]

interim (iii)

zeke x reader/oc

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Hello! This came out longer than I meant it to be, but I enjoyed writing it. I admit that the chapter couuuld have gone without the middle bits, and I trimmed out a lot already, but this is purely self-indulgent fanfic and I love writing about the Warriors/the candidates, so I hope you enjoy it too.

Reminder that the Reader/OC is a cis-female Eldian character with a set background/surname, but please feel free to set the substitution for the Reader to your chosen First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension if you’re reading through the browser! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your chosen First Name.

Chapter 3

If Zeke is going to shut his door in your face as soon as you try to enter, he gives no indication of it. Eyes to the ceiling, fingers barely grasping his doorknob, he doesn’t even look at you as you take one step closer, then two, only urging you to hurry up with a flick of his fingers. As if anyone else is still awake. With nothing for it, you step inside.

Zeke’s room is lit a warm yellow from the lamps standing next to his desk and sitting at his bedside table. It hasn’t changed much, save that he’s replaced his old bed with a much larger one. That makes sense, even though you hadn’t imagined he could get any taller as a child. The only other addition apart from his much fuller bookshelf is a pack of cigarettes on his desk. 

You can’t help but pick it up. “You smoke now?”

Closing his door behind him, he snatches the pack from your hands and walks past you, tossing it back by his desk lamp on the way. “Problem?”

You shrug. You’re surprised, but you suppose that sort of thing doesn’t really matter when you’re a Titan shifter. 

He pulls out the chair by his desk and takes a seat, crossing his arms at you with a brow quirked. Somehow, he manages to be intimidating in his pajamas—though that could very well be your guilt. “You wanted to talk,” he says. “So talk.”

The indifference in his voice makes your throat catch, but you steel yourself. “I’m sorry,” you say, one hand scratching at the other’s wrist. It seems your courage fell apart at his door. “I’m sorry I didn’t write for the last five years.”

“Why?”

“Because—because I should have.” You wrap your arms around yourself, tucking your hands under your elbows. “We were friends. You and Pieck were—are,” you hope, “my closest friends, and… and I left you hanging like that. Even knowing every year that the others hadn’t returned, how worried you must have all been… I didn’t write. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Zeke says slowly, irritated. His lip curls, and you feel nauseous. “Why did you stop writing back?”

Your nails dig involuntarily into your arms. “I was a stupid little teenager. I was upset.”

He scoffs, like he can’t bear the sight of you. “What did that have to do with me? ...With us?”

You swallow, eyes downcast, though they briefly flicker to his. “Am I secure here?”

Zeke glares at you. “Of course you are.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

His gaze softens just a little before the walls shoot back up. “Yeah.”

You nod. And then, after a long moment, you reluctantly begin. “Willy sent me to boarding school once I caught up with the necessary schoolwork. It was… well, you know. Boarding school was an entirely different world.” He does know - you had written them until the end of your first year. “And then summer came. Willy wanted me to spend it with them at home, and I did. The first week or so. But he had business to attend to, as always, and Mila invited me to her tour for the Foundation instead. Willy thought it would be nice for us to bond, and I thought…” You gnaw on the inside of your lower lip in embarrassment. “I thought she was finally giving me a chance.”

“Lucy,” Zeke murmurs. You can’t tell if it’s pity or disappointment, and you don’t want to know. You’re staring at his lamp, as if doing so long enough will burn out the memory from your mind.

“We visited Marley’s new southern nations at first. It was strange to be treated so well again.”

Zeke shifts in his chair. He has his cigarette pack in his hands now, fingers idly folding and unfolding the lid. “What did you expect? You’re Lucy Tybur.”

“I meant by Mila.” When he falls silent, you continue. “And then we visited Ulodana.”

Your eyes meet at that name. No reminder needed for that—Ulodana was the first country to which the regime deployed its new Warriors only months after they inherited their Titans. By then the rest of the unit had been informed of your true identity, and it was the brass’s idea to bring you along as a spectator. Imagine what more the motherland might achieve if the War Hammer were to join the fight, then-Commander Bruning had whispered to you, the mushroom cloud of Bertholdt’s transformation setting your eyes alight. 

“The nations in the south had had time to recover. Grow accustomed to Marleyan rule. But Ulodana was still... bleeding. For the most part, we stayed in the cities which had already begun to rebuild; ones with budding military bases and an increasing Marleyan population. But Mila insisted on bringing us further from the coast—places you and I had last seen as smoking rubble. The people there were… They were still so afraid. Many of them…”

You gulp, pressing your lips between your teeth to regain your composure as you remember the survivors. You can still see them, hear them, smell them. Feel their hands in yours. Mila had pulled you aside and scolded you when you first shed tears before them, saying it was not you who had a reason to cry. And she had been right.

“So many of them were Eldians; others non-Eldians too poor to join the earlier evacuations. They still saw us coming that day, and with no aid forthcoming, they thought the Foundation had returned to deliver the finishing blow. They were terrified, Zeke.” His fingers fall still around the pack as you say his name, but he wears no expression, only studying yours even when he reveals nothing. Even Mr. Ksaver had been unable to read him when he was like this, so you know better than to try. 

“Mila spoke with the people there, comforted them. It was jarring to see her so kind, but she was. And even then, it was hard. They aren’t exactly the regime’s priority, and the promise, even the swift arrival of aid with the Foundation’s help, could only do so much.”

Zeke’s gaze stretches far beyond the walls of his room, but he brings it back to you when you pause. “So,” he concludes, “you hated us for doing that to them.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple. You saw what Lady Tybur wanted you to see.”

Appalled by the lack of sympathy in his voice, you square your shoulders at him. “Mila didn’t conjure those victims out of thin air, Zeke!”

“That’s right, Lucy.” Zeke rises out of his chair back to his full height, reminding you that he only lets you glare down at him. “The Warriors destroyed their military, their cities, and their homes. And if there were civilians who were too slow, Bertholdt and I destroyed them, too. The ones you saw just weren’t lucky enough to die.”

He advances toward you as he speaks, stopping near enough to barely graze your chin with his chest, and it takes all of the girl from back then to stand your ground. But you can only bear so much, and the sound of the boy you once trusted entirely so remorseless as a man has restrained grief ringing in your ears. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How should I say it?” Zeke asks closely, head tilted toward you. Even with the reflection of his lamp shining into his glasses, his eyes, half-lidded with what must be disinterest, bear no light in them. “Should I be crying like you, acting like you know what it was like?”

“I’m not crying.” You fix another glare at him, but it doesn’t last long. Your vision is blurry and your cheeks are wet with runaway guilt, and you wipe them with the back of your hand. “I’m sorry, all right?” you raise your voice, speaking forcefully through your shaking voice. 

“I… I thought I’d seen everything here in Liberio, but that place was hell. And Mila said to me… She said it was greed back in Marley that kept things this way. The regime’s… but ours, too. To free the Eldians in the Marleyan internment zones, you… we... made things worse for everyone else in the world. I ate it up. I couldn’t bear to face those people knowing I had been a part of that, no matter our promise. It was easier to turn against the idea of you.”

Zeke is no longer looking at you. You feel like the earth swallowing you whole would feel better than the pressure crumpling at your chest, but there’s no way to go but forward. 

“So I did. Held onto that for months and had nightmares about Ulodana for twice as long. By the time I realized how pathetic, how stupid I was… I was too ashamed to write back.” 

The steel that has constituted Zeke’s bearing since your arrival has withdrawn. He seems exhausted, resigned as he sets his eyes upon you again. You watch each other for what feels like eternity, in the place where you first became friends, both trying to feel out whether a sliver of that bond between clean hands still remains between the two of you now. 

Whatever it is he decides, he asks, “If you knew better... why didn’t you visit? We all heard about Lord Tybur making trips here over the years. He never stopped sending his gratitude to my grandparents and Mr. Finger, either.”

You huff, not at him but at the thought of your older brother, even as you sniffle. “Willy wouldn’t let me. I became… too willful.”

 Zeke raises his brows at that.

“When I figured out Mila’s true intentions, I realized just how much the Tyburs were at fault. They hid it all from me when father died, but… I learned everything. Our relationship with the regime most of all.” 

You’re grateful when he doesn’t ask you to elaborate, because despite everything, you don’t want to tell him the whole truth about the Tyburs. If there’s anything that might make him hate you for good, it might just be that. You know that certainly did it for you in spite of Lara’s good intentions.

“We knew. My ancestors knew about Fritz’s vow and still refused to speak out for Eldians, didn’t protest the development of the Warrior program when it happened. I mean—” Your hands rake through your hair, stopping only when they’re caught in the end of the half-ponytail you’ve been wearing. “Child soldiers? We always knew Marley was vicious, but we—Marley—sent children to Paradis on a recon mission, alone! I didn’t realize it until I saw my niece. She’s eight now. A baby. At that age we were slogging through the mud, learning to assemble weapons, to kill! What kind of monsters would allow…” 

Your hands slide down your face and cover your mouth as your head shakes on its own. You’ve said this all before, to Willy, to Lara, to Pieck, and you’re exhausted. You both know the answer to that question, anyway. 

“The Tybur family doesn’t get involved except to play the benevolent Eldians to the world’s devils, all to soften Marley’s image to the world. It doesn’t care that Eldians abroad are even worse off than we are here because of our Titans. It doesn’t care that Marley draws that debt on Eldia’s name,” you murmur, voice fluttering with emotion again, “not its own. Willy didn’t appreciate how angry I was and wanted to keep me at the estate until I could calm down.”

You only realize you’ve been rambling when all you hear is the cracking of your knuckles beneath your thumbs at your sides and the low hum of the lamps around you. Biting your tongue, you venture a glance up at Zeke, who has his back to you on his way back to the desk, hand in his hair. You don’t know if it’s worse than seeing what he must think.

“But I really am sorry,” you take a step, another after him when he doesn’t turn to look. “You all deserved more. I… I understand if...”

Zeke whirls just before you touch the hem of his shirt, seized instead by a thought. “Why let you choose to study here, then? Magath’s summons?”

At this point, you practically leap at the chance to respond, hands raised slightly. “No. It was Lara. She convinced him to let me, when she saw how much I’d studied. Actually studied, you know,” you chuckle, nervously when he acknowledges it with only a tilt of his head. “And by then I had learned enough of Mila’s game to pretend I had given up.”

“Oh.”

You barely just catch the disappointment in his tone.

“And I missed you,” you scramble to add, obviously. “I missed you all so much. I swore to be on my best behavior just so I could come back.”

A hint of warmth fills Zeke’s deep blues, but he glances away with a familiar eyeroll. “Good save.”

You frown. “I mean it. I just didn’t know it had to be said. You were my first friends. I didn’t exactly make many in boarding school. They were too different.”

“So you were just lonely.”

“Not just lonely,” you say, prepared to launch into another passionate speech about how much you ached to see your friends again, how much of your pride you sacrificed to pester Willy to let you go with the promise of Liberio’s impressive own medical program, when you catch the slight amusement tugging at Zeke’s mouth. “You—are you—” you sputter, embarrassment seeping in cold, before you manage to close your mouth. “You… are awful.”

Zeke smirks. “Even if I forgive you?”

It’s infectious, and you have to resist the urge to both laugh and cry at the very concept of his forgiveness. Eyes wide, you watch him carefully. “Do you?”

He crosses his arms again, sitting back against his chair. “I can put you through more hoops, if you’d like.”

“No!” you gasp, the heat of indignation taking over the chagrin, only to sigh when you realize you’ve given yourself away. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you. You have all the right to be angry.”

“...I was a pretty angry teenager too,” Zeke shrugs. “Then a spoiled little girl had to come and keep disturbing me because if she couldn’t get any sleep, then neither could I.”

Your jaw drops. “That is not how that went. Besides,” you raise your head, every inch the Tybur, even as you slowly make your way to the edge of his bed and take a seat, “that girl was the reason you have any friends at all. I… I bet you missed her.”

“Sure. Now where did you put her?” The full familiarity in his voice has you smiling now, or maybe it’s the grin he openly wears. “Only figured out it was you when I realized there could only be three Eldian runts Magath would ever care to acknowledge.”

You stare at him for a beat and then make to push yourself off the bed. “Anyway, I’m going to sleep now that I’ve apologized.”

“Aw, come on,” Zeke laughs, reaching for your arm, and you squint at him as you dramatically tear it from his grasp. Still, you fling yourself back upon the edge. He leaves his desk to occupy the space next to you, one knee drawn up over his sheets. “Honestly? I was more surprised they’d let anyone in Magath’s office with such a messy armband.” He reaches over and adjusts the pale one wrapped around your arm, pulling out the edges folded in. “You know you don’t need to wear this at home, right?”

For some reason, your breath catches as the heat of his fingers gently press through the cloth of your sleeve. You recover with a cough and a quick oops. “Force of habit. That was the one thing boarding school was stricter about than the military.” You smile at him, leaning away from his touch. “Thanks.”

Zeke suddenly withdraws his hands, now watching you instead of the sleeve. “...Yeah. Just make sure you check it before you leave the house tomorrow,” he says sternly. Not a tone you’ve ever heard from him in private.

Regarding him strangely, and desperate to bring you both back from this alien tension between you, you sit up straight and stiffly raise your hand to your shoulder in salute. “Yes, Warchief.”

Zeke responds with a blank look in his eye, mostly, save the tinge of humor kindled by the upward tug of your lips. You can tell he’s about to kick you out of his room.

“I’m kidding.” You lower your arm, sensing the return of that comfortable familiarity. “I haven’t congratulated you on your official promotion, either.” 

His mirth fades. “Do you hate me for it?”

“No. No,” you stress, as though he has no reason to ask. “You’ve done what you’ve had to.”

After a long inhale, Zeke sighs as he nods. This time, it is he who fills the silence. “Uh—I’m sorry again about your father. So he was the...”

“Yeah.”

He gives you a once-over, as if to search for Titan marks. “Are you…?”

“No, I’m not.”

The slight bitterness in your voice draws Zeke’s gaze back to yours. You shrug before he can say any more of it and try to put it out of your mind. Those are, after all, matters for the Tybur estate. You’re here now, and Zeke has forgiven you. In spite of everything else, the thought makes you giddy with relief, and you rear your head toward him with a smile. 

“So… is there anything you want to tell me?”

Zeke wonders who might have been chosen to inherit the War Hammer instead of its most obvious candidate, but mostly he’s glad it isn’t you. It’s a selfish thought he keeps to himself, but the idea of you living past your twenty-sixth year is one that does not fill him with dread.

Thirty-nine. He’s thinking about how you’ll live to be thirty-nine when your voice interrupts what he imagines you might look like by then. Your tone says you’re fishing for something, so he opens his mouth, meeting your gaze to tell you you’re not quite as much taller than Pieck as you think (he has one joke), nor is subtlety your strong suit, when the whole of you seems to come at him all at once. Your now messy hair, crinkled eyes, that expression he used to find both funny and irritating on your mouth—except the obnoxious grin that subsumes it as he lets the silence pass is suddenly... adorable. 

Huh?

Sitting back, Zeke abruptly presses his palm to your face and promptly pushes it away. “Don’t press your luck, Blanchard.”

You smack his hand off, face flushed as you cry out, “Rude!”

He’s already laughing, using your indignation to overcome the urge to gulp down the breath caught in his throat when you suddenly lean back on his bed and raise your foot. You kick it into his side with a strength he absolutely remembers, sending his ribs knocking against his footboard with a groan. “Ow! You—get out of here and let me sleep already!”

You smile to yourself as you lower your legs to the floor, feet searching for your house slippers. “I chose not to go for your face, you know.”

“Are you seriously studying to be a doctor?” Zeke mutters, rubbing at his side. “You haven’t changed at all.” 

You chuckle through a yawn, hand over your mouth as you ease yourself to your feet. “Okay.”

He rights himself quickly when you’re crossing his room toward his door already. “Lucy, wait.”

You stop, lean against his desk with a small smile like it’s your room. “Hmm?”

Zeke pretends to shake his head at your audacity, letting you grin a little longer before he asks, “Do you want to meet the new Warriors tomorrow?” You blink, and he starts to regret the question. “I just figured—”

“I’d like that.” You open your mouth, ostensibly to say more, when both of you hear movement from down the hall. Footsteps by the stairs. “I should go. See you tomorrow.”

He waves, content to watch you hurriedly leave his room. When he hears the door to yours open and click shut, he goes himself and catches his grandmother still sleepily making her way out into the low lit corridor. Her hands are searching for the stairway light switch.

“Grandma?” he asks, coming over to set a supportive hand along her upper back. “Why are you up so late?”

“Zeke,” she smiles in greeting, yawning. “I was just going to get some water.”

“Let me. I’ll get new glasses for you and grandpa, so go back inside.” When his grandmother thanks him, he heads for the stairs, bounding down the steps with sudden enthusiasm. 

Your words will stay with him long after you’ve forgotten them, and perhaps not for the better—but for the moment, Zeke feels inexplicably light. 

--

So do you when you awake the next morning. Of course you’re still sorry for all you did, or didn’t, do, and you know you deserved all the guilt, the anxiety, being on tenterhooks about your friendships for all that you left Zeke and Pieck hanging. But now that their forgiveness is a certainty, you feel utterly content. Now you can start making it up to them. 

Then again, you are so pleased that you could lie in bed all morning and hardly feel guilty. 

But you have miles to go, so you roll out of your blankets and get yourself ready for the day. Briefly, you wonder if Zeke has gone ahead again, but you find the answer you wanted as you open the door to the dining room downstairs. 

He’s chewing on a piece of bread as he waves at you, the last bite in his hand. “Morning. Breakfast?”

He really has forgiven you, and everything can go back to the way it was. “Morning,” you beam, though you decline as you pass him on the way to the kitchen. “No thank you. I ate too much last night.” You pour yourself some water instead. “Did you have some of the blueberry pie?” 

“Yeah. The Galliards always make quality stuff.” He dusts his uniform off as he stands and heads for the sink with his plate. “Though I could tell who cut it because she left the side with the slightly burnt crust in.”

“It’s crispy, and you know that’s my favorite part,” you huff, leaning against the counter next to him and handing him your empty glass. “That was part of my apology.”

Zeke grins, eyes to his task. “Yeah, yeah.”

You refrain from elbowing him and move to start cleaning his crumbs off the table and the floor. “Where are Mr. and Mrs. Yeager?”

“Market day. Oh—bring a book. We can drop in on the candidates come lunchtime.” He glances over his shoulder. “Or did you have other plans today?” 

“I wanted to pass by the university and find the general book list for the first years, but after the line I went through yesterday... I’m not in the mood. I’ll bring a book.”

“Good.”

The two of you head out once the dining room and the kitchen are spotless. The sky is overcast this morning, so the zone takes its time waking up for the day, even with others already on their way to work. 

It starts to properly stir on your way to the gate. The view of the zone coming to life is something you once enjoyed watching on break days, especially compared to the lonely silence of the estate and eventually to the rigid rush of boarding school, but you don’t get to see all that much today—Zeke purposely avoids the larger avenue coming to the gate and leads you through side streets and alleys instead. Something about avoiding the morning rush. 

You don’t mind. You’re still waking up, too.

--

Eldians have no real hope of rising through military ranks, save those sacrificed among the Warrior unit, so Zeke’s office is quite impressive. He has his own mahogany desk, an entire bookshelf packed with volumes, yet more books and maps stacked against the wall, and his own gramophone. Not to mention the view outside the window behind his desk. He even has a cabinet to the side for his own alcohol, tea, or coffee—the latter of which he offers to you once you two arrive.

“Coffee, please,” you say, on one of the pillowed seats surrounding the coffee table at the center of the room. Sitting back, you throw an arm over the backrest to peer at the bookshelf behind you. “That’s quite a selection. I can’t believe you have your own office now.” You grin, turning back to watch him quietly preparing you a cup. “Zeke?”

“Coming right up.”

His response seems a little muted. When you question him with a tilt of your head, he jerks his in the direction of the gramophone.

Ah, you mouth. Even the Warchief can’t have his own office without being tapped. Par for the course when there are Eldians about, you imagine. That explains why the guards at the front gate delayed you with meandering conversation as soon as Zeke mentioned taking you to his office.

“So what kind of work do you do anyway, Warchief?” you continue far too seriously, absentmindedly flipping through your book for your marker. 

“You know that’s top secret, Miss Blanchard,” says Zeke, who of course plays into it. “Unless you’d like to join the ranks again. You’re certainly welcome to.”

You sigh. You never win when you try him like this. “Commander Magath told you?”

Zeke chuckles, walking your coffee over. “He mentioned hoping you might still be interested in our line of work.”

“Was he mad?” Regardless of your feelings about the regime, you have always remained conflicted about your former drill instructor. There was a time you were certain he wanted you dead, and you won’t forget what he and Commander Bruning put the rest through even more than yourself, but there were flashes of kindness you saw from him that you’ve never witnessed from any other Marleyan as Lucy Blanchard. You still don’t know how to feel about him.

Zeke snorts at such a childish question, pulling out several folders from his desk drawer as he takes his seat. “Should I ask him?”

“Of course not!” 

He chuckles in response, and then starts to ignore you completely for his work. Grumbling incoherently at him from behind your tilted cup for good measure, you turn to your book and begin to read.

--

Your coffee is long finished next to a similarly empty glass of water by the time you start yawning. You’ve read the same page thrice now, and that’s when you know you need to get off your ass and take a little walk around the room. 

Zeke yawns as you start a cross-arm stretch by the door. “You’re so noisy.”

“The nerve of this man, inviting me to his office and then complaining when I breathe.”

He smiles. “Breathe more quietly, then.” Slamming the folder he was reading shut, he follows you to his feet and pulls at his sleeve to check his watch. “Almost lunch time. Want to go check on the candidates?”

Your deadpan stare at his earlier remark remains until you feel just how empty your stomach is. Skipping breakfast was not your best idea, but you prefer it that way before you have to see the poor children who will one day replace your friends. “All right.”

The two of you wind your way through the complex and out to the courtyard, where the sun remains blessedly hidden as you watch the children at the far end doing their loaded running for the day. You hear them more than you see them, panting as they do their best to earn the honor of that red armband on Zeke’s sleeve.

Zeke catches your doleful expression and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I do not miss those days.”

You grimace at him. “My body hurts just remembering them.”

“Don’t remind me. I was dead last in my class before I built any endurance.” 

You don’t comment on the real story behind that. The children are coming closer to your side of the courtyard, though they don’t appear to notice you, and Zeke points them out: Udo, a boy with glasses whose family moved to Liberio from Marley’s new southern territories; Zofia, a girl with a heavy fringe who reminds you strangely of Annie; Falco, a blond boy who—Zeke cuts himself off when the last candidate pushes past them all with a yell. That one is Gabi Braun, Reiner’s younger cousin. 

“Cousin? Extended families aren’t made honorary Marleyans?”

“I was a special case, for obvious reasons,” Zeke answers your real question. “And yeah. Otherwise there would be too many of us, right?”

You frown, starting to fall into deep thought again when a familiar bark makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Hey! No Eldian civilians allowed on base!” 

An older man is jogging over, almost comically shaking his fist at you. It’s as he comes up to the building that he notices Zeke on your other side, and now he peers more closely at your face, head cocked forward. 

“You—” he starts. The years have been kinder to him than to Commander Magath, so there is no mistaking him. As his footsteps slow, his posture shifts from indignation to surprise, and then finally settles on diffidence. “Is that you, Miss Ty—”

“Blanchard,” Zeke coughs.

“Miss Blanchard?” he finishes.

“Instructor Marras.” Among the three who assisted Magath with Warrior training, he was probably the most bearable, if only because he left you to your own devices. He was much kinder when he discovered your true name, which was a shame. “What a pleasure.”

“We didn’t think we’d ever see you again around here,” he smiles widely, briefly acknowledging Zeke. “What brings you back around this end of Marley?”

“This and that,” you say, not quite in the mood to get into it when you can see the children still running. As though he’s read your mind, Zeke steps up next to you and signals toward them. “Isn’t it about time for lunch?”

Marras follows his gesture. “Ah. They got a little mouthy since I’ve been going easy on them, so training has been extended. But,” he says, attention back to his visitors, “you rarely come to check in on the new candidates, and you visit us even less, Lucy!”

Waving at you to wait just a moment, he barks at the children to come over. They’re even smaller than you imagined up close, just like your niece Fine, panting as they clutch their replica rifles for dear life. They do their best to salute Marras, but very obviously find it difficult to keep their composure when they see Zeke. 

“It’s the Beast Titan,” Udo yelps.

“His name is Zeke Yeager, dummy,” Gabi nudges him with what she must think is a whisper.

Zeke raises his hand in a bland wave, “Hey, kids,” but you can’t help your delighted chuckle. Fine is a very reserved little girl compared to these excitable children. Wide with effort and at a real Warrior’s arrival, their eyes all dart to you, and Gabi’s in particular squint at your armband. “I thought civilians weren’t allowed in HQ?”

“And I don’t remember asking if you had questions, candidate,” Marras snaps in his Instructor Voice. The children straighten up at once.

“Sir, sorry, Sir!” Udo and Gabi yell out. Zofia and Falco quietly exchange glances.

“Hello. I’m Lucy,” you cut in with a smile. “I was a Warrior candidate in my time, just like you.”

You can all tell that they’re itching to ask why your armband is grey instead of yellow like Porco’s was until recently, but Marras doesn’t let them. You find yourself grateful to him for once. “It’s thanks to Zeke and Miss Blanchard here that you’ll get an early lunch in spite of all that yapping earlier. So thank them, get changed, and get your sorry asses to the mess hall.”

“Thank you, Zeke! Thank you, Miss Blanchard!” They mix up whose name goes first between the four of them, but Marras doesn’t bother with a correction and nods. The children salute, all of them a mixture of suitably chastised and utterly relieved. 

“Dismissed!”

Nodding and offering you and Zeke grateful little smiles that make your heart melt, the four walk as quickly as they can to storage to deposit their load. Gabi nudges Zofia on the way, challenging her to a race, and the boys bump each other to catch up while Zofia chooses to keep her own pace, simply shaking her head.

Marras sighs, hand over his stomach. “I should get going myself.”

Zeke agrees, “Don’t let us keep you.”

“All right. But you should drop by more often, Miss Blanchard,” says Marras. “I’m sure the Commander would be pleased to see you. He worries. About all of you,” he adds, nodding toward Zeke.

Neither of you replies to that when Marras departs. In fact, you pretend not to have heard it as you both stare into the courtyard. “They seem like sweet children,” you start after a while, “though I don’t remember being that boisterous.”

Zeke breaks the mood with the most disgusting snort as he bursts into laughter. “You? Sure, Lucy. All right.”

You peer up at him, refusing to dignify such a violent reaction with one of your own, even if it does please you to see him laugh so much around you again. “You know what I mean. Maybe I was insolent, but I wasn’t boisterous.”

“Maybe, is it? Well, all I know is I’d grown out of all that by the time you and Pieck were selected.”

“Apparently not enough, Yeager, if you think Marley pays you to tour civilians around HQ.”

You and Zeke whirl in perfect sync to raise your right hands at that imposing voice, except you manage to swing yours right over your ear to pretend you were tucking stray hair behind it just in time to meet Commander Magath’s lifted brow. Behind him stand a surprised Porco and another Warrior candidate, much older than the eight-year olds you just met.

You clear your throat at once, hand falling to your side. “About yesterday, Sir...” 

Magath nods at Zeke in acknowledgment before waving at you. “Don’t mention it, Blanchard. It’s a choice for a reason, and really it was supposed to be the briefing.”

That’s as much of an apology as you’ll get around the others, so you nod. “I understand, Sir.” You lean a little on your right side, trying to steal a peek around the corner. “So Pieck has already gone?”

“Not that you need to know, but yes.”

You try not to flinch at the reprimand. Force of habit. “And Braun, Sir?”

Now Magath peers at you. “His debriefing ends today, if you want to see him that badly. Yeager, I’ll leave that to you since she’s your guest.”

“Yes, Sir.”

With a nod of dismissal at all of you, he continues down across the courtyard, leaving Porco and the candidate behind.

Porco glances between you and Zeke. “Friends again, huh?”

Zeke stares at him. “Problem?”

You don’t know it, but that’s Zeke’s Warchief Voice, one Porco has never heard outside of training. He immediately shrugs. “Just curious.”

“All right. Lucy, we might as well have lunch first before you go see Reiner.”

You nod, and gesture unsurely at the two before you. “Would… you like to join us?” 

“I’m good. Got errands to run for the Commander since Pieck is out and you’re too good for chores,” says Porco, gambling a glare at Zeke in jest. When Zeke chuckles, he sighs. “See you around.” Giving the quiet candidate next to him a light smack on the shoulder, he heads back the way they came.

By now the Warrior candidate looks very confused but also very familiar to you. Luckily Zeke has decided that it’s finally time to introduce you, a former Warrior candidate yourself—and then the boy, who cannot be older than fifteen. “This is Colt Grice. Falco’s older brother, and the new Beast Titan candidate.”

“Oh.” It feels like a weight has settled in your stomach when you realize that it is about time they selected the candidate meant to inherit from Zeke, who received the Beast Titan around a year ahead of the rest. Seeing the children just made you… complacent, think that there was more time. “I guess it makes sense that they chose someone a little older, too.” You smile, slightly guilty about his obvious unease after your reaction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Colt.”

“No, it’s my pleasure, Miss Blanchard,” he says politely, shaking your hand.

“You can call me Lucy,” you insist, and then jab a thumb over your shoulder. “The children left for the mess hall, by the way.”

Zeke raises a hand to correct you. “Colt doesn’t need to know that. He’s not made to babysit them like I was.”

“Really?” you ask Colt, who nods in affirmation. “But that was half the fun.”

“She means half the torture,” Zeke says to Colt, who chuckles nervously at his superior. “No, I figured he could take on other responsibilities. Like letting the barracks know that Reiner’ll be having visitors after lunch, and then meeting us at the mess hall. Right?”

“Yes, Sir,” says Colt, clearly eager to please. He gives you another smile before he runs off.

“Falco’s older brother,” you repeat, when the boy is out of earshot. “This isn’t like Marcel and Porco. Why is Falco in the program?”

Zeke clicks his tongue. “The Grices are nephews of one of my parents’ co-conspirators. They need to prove their loyalty, for their family’s sake.”

“After all these years. Poor things.” Not that you’re surprised. Marley has a long memory, however false. “Did you have a hand in choosing him?”

“Wouldn’t that make the brass suspicious? It was the commander’s choice alone.”

“Huh.”

“They’re good kids, Colt especially. Now come on—” he nudges you forward with his elbow as he passes you, “you should eat before you see Reiner or you’ll lose your appetite for good.”

“...That bad?”

Walking ahead of you, Zeke only shrugs. You don’t know if that should worry or comfort you, so you follow suit.

--

Reiner is in his own room in the barracks, resting, when you visit him. He’s just finished eating his lunch when you arrive, and your shock at seeing him is a perfect reflection of his at seeing you. You last looked upon him as a boy, and though you know he only turns eighteen this year, he is now, most undoubtedly, a man. Almost everything about him is unfamiliar to you. His height, for one, his broad build, the slight stubble he’s neglected to shave for the past few days. His demeanor as he stares at you.

You thought Pieck spoke of growing up in general when she compared the two of you having become completely different, but it’s only now that you understand what she meant. Long ago, try as you might to deny it, the two of you were, with Porco, the most boisterous Warrior candidates in your generation. You left no challenge, even your superiors at first, unanswered; Reiner was certain, no matter his rank among you, that he would inherit before the Paradis operation; and Porco was quick to remind you how stupid and ridiculous you both were. 

But that was many years ago. Porco failed but has remained mostly himself, and you failed and realized the sham that is Tybur pride. Between the three of you, only Reiner achieved his dream—and yet you are more similar with one another than with Porco. Even amid his utter shock, the shame in his gaze as he meets yours, though unfamiliar on Reiner to your eyes, is one you’ve intimately known for some time now.

“Lucy?”

“Reiner,” you greet.

Reiner smiles in spite of himself. You do too. You were never close, but if nothing else, you were still Warrior candidates together. “You’ve... grown.” His voice is deep now, just like Zeke’s, but his is… gentle. Another unexpected development.

“That’s an overstatement, compared to you,” you chuckle. He smiles just a little wider, almost shy, but only for a beat. He remembers swiftly enough when he is, just like you.

“How are you, Reiner?” you can’t help but ask. Wrong question. You quickly follow it up with, “I’m glad your debriefing has ended. You deserve to rest at home, with your family.”

“I…” He appears to disagree, lowering his head at once. For one heartbreaking moment, you wonder if you see a shimmer beneath his lashes, but he only seems curious when he blinks up at you again. “Thanks, Lucy.” His voice is steady. Maybe you were imagining things. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you since you were called home.”

You don’t complain about the change in subject. “Yeah… I always wished I could have seen you all off,” you murmur, even if part of you is glad you didn’t have to witness Pieck’s sorrow firsthand. Seeing it in Reiner at the mention of the operation, though, you add, “Oh, actually—I just got back a couple days ago, not too long after the rest of you. I’m enrolling in the medical program at Liberio University.”

“Oh?” He considers your words. “So you didn’t…”

That is the question of the century about you, isn’t it? At least among the Warriors. But then who else really knows who you are? “No.”

“Ah.” Reiner nods, more times than is really necessary. You know he doesn’t know whether to congratulate you or to apologize. “The medical program, though. That’s… unexpected.”

“Why does everyone say that?” you laugh. “Is it really so strange for me?”

“Uh—no,” he replies with an apologetic rush. You realize just how much you dislike it in his tone. Zeke says you were always last to say sorry, if you did at all. The same went for Reiner. Where is that obnoxious little boy you knew? “It’s better that way. You’ll do great.”

“I hope to,” you admit, but this visit isn’t supposed to be about you. “Anyway, Reiner… I just wanted to see how you were doing. I missed you all, and I’m really glad you’re back home.”

He’s too slow to conceal his surprise this time, or the way he blinks away coming tears. He always was a bit of a crybaby. To a child who desired to live up to her family name, that was a weakness. To a woman who knows better, you wish you could have told him it was all right. “We… I missed you all, too. It was…” he swallows. “I...”

The truth is you were a crybaby too, just not in front of the others, but you can’t help it when you hear the tremble in his voice, so grown and yet still the same. The first familiar thing of his that you’ve witnessed. Flicking a knuckle at your nose, you nod when he trails off. “You don’t have to say anything. Pieck told me the little she could.”

“Yeah?” he asks innocently enough. And then his voice shifts into something just a little tougher. Maybe harder. “What did Zeke say?”

“Zeke? We didn’t really…” It comes to you as you say it. “...talk about it.”

Of course you didn’t. You were busy talking about you, and he quite literally pushed you away when you tried to ask. But that doesn’t seem to be what Reiner is searching for in the first place. Not with that look on his face—another familiar expression, but not because you know it from your own heart. It’s familiar because you saw it just last night.  

“Should I be crying like you, acting like you know what it was like?”

Zeke’s eyes as he said those words were recalling a memory you can never understand, you know now, because it’s the same with Reiner. Whatever he went through in Paradis for years will only ever be a tale to you. Your shared memories ended before you turned thirteen. 

Still, the resentment that you saw in Zeke remains in Reiner’s golden eyes; only this time you don’t believe it’s meant for you.

You reach out to him, clearly elsewhere as his fists clench over his knees, but stop when your hand rests on the edge of his bed. “Reiner?”

“Sorry,” he blurts out when he returns to his senses. Somehow, he seems more tired than he already did. 

“That’s all right. I should let you rest.” When he nods, shoulders still slumped in apology, you put on a reassuring smile. You understand Reiner even less than you did before, but somehow he also feels more like a kindred spirit than you remember. “When you’re well enough to return, maybe we can have lunch with Pieck.”

Reiner visibly hesitates, but he nods in the end. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

You bid each other goodbye, though you tell Reiner to stay seated when he tries to walk you to the door. When you close it behind you, glancing around, you assume Colt has been sent on another errand. Only Zeke now awaits you along the wall outside, one hand in his pocket as he smokes a cigarette, gaze once again far beyond the buildings ahead. 

When he isn’t playing up his irreverence to deflect or get on somebody else’s nerves, Zeke has always been aloof in public. In that way he hasn’t really changed, but you realize now that you were a fool to think things could just go back to normal between the two of you. Not that they haven’t, on the face of it; he seems perfectly happy to return to your old dynamic, and maybe all this strangeness is just in your head, or a natural consequence of growing up. 

Seeing Reiner, though… you realize maybe you were a little too hasty trying to go back. Just like you, just like Reiner, Zeke must have changed. You wonder how; wonder what he could have done, apart from suggesting the debriefing, that would make a now gentle Reiner wear such resentment. You have some idea, but you brush it aside before you can dwell on it. 

“If you want to try smoking,” Zeke chuckles, “all you have to do is ask.”

You blink, cheeks tingling with embarrassment and a sheepish smile when you realize he’s caught you staring. He holds the smoke out for you, but you wave his hand away. “No thanks.”

“So?” He pushes himself off the wall, putting the cigarette out under his shoe. “What do you think?”

You fall into step with him and take a deep breath. “I think maybe he just needs more time to rest. Grieve properly.”

“Generous evaluation.”

“I think it’s more… it’s not my place to say.” 

Zeke regards you with an indecipherable look, but it disappears as soon as you try to capture it. He only shrugs. “Okay. I need to get back to work. Want to stay, or will you be going home?”

You pretend to give it some thought. “I can stick around your office a little longer.”

“Good. Just try to keep it down.”

He chuckles at your eyeroll and starts to head back to the offices with you in tow. You stare at his back as he turns a corner ahead of you until he glances over his shoulder, ensuring you’re still with him. You give him a smile, brows raising with a question he answers with a shake of his head. But he’s smiling too, the one you got to know past that wall of apathy, and you know that he can’t possibly have changed all that much.

Zeke is still your best friend—the only one who knew everything about you, and the one who trusted only you with everything about him. You’re sure of it. 

/////

I mean, obviously, aside from Mr. Ksaver. Do I think Zeke was the guy whose only friends were younger kids he was forced to interact with for his own survival? Yes. His best friend in canon and the only important person he trusted in his childhood/adolescence was his father stand-in, and even if as he grew up I'm sure he became more sociable (and likeable/'admirable' to Marleyan Eldians as a Warrior), Zeke's existence is a lonely one in my eyes because of the way he viewed life and the lives of others. There would have had to be certain circumstances to gain his absolute trust I think, so feel special, Reader/Lucy. Haha. I swear I love Zeke even if I see him as this sad and lonely bastard.

Also, I know it's not obvious, but I don't dislike Porco. I actually like him a lot (except when he's like -that- to Reiner) and he influenced/es Reader/Lucy more than he knows. And I know I didn't mention Bertholdt in this chapter but that would have been a sensitive topic for Reiner, so Reader/Lucy knows to avoid it for now. (I just wanted to make that disclaimer because I love Bertholdt and I miss him a lot.)

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think so far.

#zeke x reader #zeke x oc #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x oc #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke jaeger x oc #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #aot fic #aot fanfic #haliyam #interim #aot fanfiction #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #snk fic #zeke yeager fanfic #zeke yeager fanfiction #zeke yeager fic #zeke jaeger fic #zeke jaeger fanfic #zeke jaeger fanfiction

[seveliyukie]

Yamguchi x Reader (Meeting the team)

A/n: I don’t know how this ended up so long. Not my best writing for sure, but I got it done.

Warnings: Little bit of angst from slightly insecure reader but it ends in fluff don’t worry.

Words: 2k

Disclaimer: I don’t own Haikyuu or any of its characters. All rights belong to Furudate-sensei.

(Story below cut)

“Why haven’t you met the volleyball team yet?” The vice-president of the student council asked you as the two of you walked towards the office to hand in a stack of club forms. “Isn’t your boyfriend part of the team? I heard they have a really big tournament coming up.”

You gave a bashful smile to your upperclassman, “He always insists on picking me up from the student council room since we end club activities around the same time. I guess I never really had time to think about it.”

“Hm, I guess that makes sense. You are the first year representative, so it’s not like you have a lot of free time.” With a contemplative look, she continued, “Still, they seem like a close team, so you should probably at least introduce yourself.”

Before you could respond, you realized you had reached your destination. Putting the conversation on hold, you went in and briefed the teacher in charge of student council supervision on the changes in clubs from the previous year’s. Despite being only a first year, you had been placed in charge of managing club activities while the president focused on other areas of the school. Of course, you had the vice-president to help, but it was a time-consuming task you had thrown yourself into on your first day in your determination to prove yourself.

Once everything was settled, the two of you walked out of the office towards the student council room. The silence gave you time to think about what the other girl had said. Maybe she’s right? They do seem important to him. You thought to yourself.

Seeing your face scrunched up in concentration, your upperclassman laughed, “Are you thinking about your boyfriend?”

You blush at the fact that she read you so easily. It was one of your many traits, but you never got used to how easily some people could read you. 

Ruffling your hair as she often did to her kohai, she smiled and pointed in the direction of the gym, “Why don’t you go over there now? We just have to record our hours and tidy up the room a little, and I can do both for you. Go surprise him!” 

Feeling encouraged by your senpai’s enthusiasm, you nod gratefully and run until you hear the tell tale signs of squeaking shoes on the gym floor. With your adrenaline running high, you don’t hesitate going through the door but regret your decision as soon as you feel all eyes turn to you.

A beat of silence passed.

“WOAAAHHH A PRETTY GIRL CAME TO WATCH OUR PRACTICE!” A short boy with spiky brown hair shouted. Stars were practically shining through his eyes.

“Thank you Kami-sama for blessing us with this sight.” A bald boy said with his hands clapped together as if he were praying. If you squinted you could almost see a holy light shining down on him. 

“Pretty!!” The short orange haired boy blurted out. Wait, is that Hinata? You briefly wondered before your view was blocked by a tall figure.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” Your boyfriend asked while shielding you with his frame and grabbing your hand.

“Hehe,” you chuckled nervously. Hopefully he wouldn’t get mad, not that Tadashi has ever really gotten mad at you before. “Surprise?”

A blush spread over the green haired boy’s face. It didn’t take much for him to get flustered. Honestly, the fact that he is dating you still baffles him despite the months you’ve been together. Seeing your slightly nervous smile made his stomach flutter with butterflies. 

“Oi, why is this shorty disturbing our practice time?” An irritated voice came from behind your protective wall. 

You could see your boyfriend’s face visibly pale. Wondering why he seemed more nervous than usual, you peeked around him only to see a tall, cold looking blonde haired boy. He was staring down at you with a sneer as if you were more disgusting than the dirt on his shoes.

Well excuuuuse me.

Feeling the rare rebellious side bubble up in you, you stepped out from behind your boyfriend and marched up to the taller boy. Jabbing your index finger into his chest, you glared fiercely at him, “And who do you think you are to be so rude to someone you just met. It’s not my fault you guys stopped practicing just because I walked in. If you care so much, why don’t you go play by yourself over there?” 

As soon as you finished your rant, you realized what you had just said and who you said it to. Oh my god I just yelled at my boyfriend’s teammate. Tadashi’s probably so embarrassed by me.

A familiar hand stopped you in your thoughts. Looking up, you saw your boyfriend glaring at the blonde boy. The laughter from his other teammates at your outburst suddenly died down as they took in the sight before them. Even blondie seemed confused at the situation.

“Tsukki.” Tadashi said in an eerily calm voice. You had only heard him use this tone once and it was when he had found you being hit on a guy who refused to take no as an answer. “I don’t know what’s been wrong with you lately, but I won’t tolerate you insulting my girlfriend. I don’t care that we’ve been best friends for years. She did nothing to deserve your rude comments.”

A few chokes were heard coming from the other boys but were quickly silenced by the grey haired boy. A shocked expression flashed across the blonde boy’s, Tsukki you reminded yourself, face before it quickly shifted back to an annoyed one. You were prepared for more insults, but instead he just sneered at you again and walked away. 

The atmosphere felt heavy, but your boyfriend simply grabbed your hand once more and gave you a bright smile. You gave him a weak smile in response. A sinking feeling settled in your chest. This hadn’t been your intention. You didn’t want to ruin his relationship with his teammates much less his best friend. 

But why haven’t I heard of Tsukki before if he’s Tadashi’s best friend? You wondered as you were guided by the team manager to a spot where you could wait for the rest of practice to be over. Surely he would’ve wanted me to meet him, right? Unless… he was ashamed to have me as his girlfriend. 

Your thoughts continued to spiral as the practice wore on. As the boys continued playing, you could no longer focus and decided to head out for some fresh air. You wondered if you should just head home. It would be bad if your presence caused even more trouble for Tadashi. He’s been nothing short of the perfect boyfriend for you; the least you could do is not cause tension between him and his teammates.

As you started heading towards the exit, you heard someone calling your name. Turning around, you saw Sugawara, whom you’ve talked to before since he was the vice captain, calling out to you.

“Sugawara-senpai, did you need something from me?” You asked politely. The tears that had been about to spill still lingered but only if you looked close enough. 

Giving you a sympathetic look, he said softly, “Why don’t you wait a bit. I’m sure Yamaguchi-kun would want you to stay.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” You mumbled quietly, almost to yourself. 

“What makes you say that?” 

You hesitated not knowing if you should tell him about your insecurities. When you looked up, you locked eyes and saw only an almost motherly compassion in his eyes. That was all it took for your worries to come spilling out. 

“Tadashi talks about you guys all the time and how much he wants to help the team make it to nationals. And he works so hard every day! I’ve seen him nearly collapse from exhaustion because he decided to practice his float serves. Since you guys are so important to him, I just wanted to meet you all but instead I made a big mess. And, and,” you hiccup a little, tears streaming down your cheeks, “I guess I just thought if I were important to him he would have told you guys about me… but clearly that wasn’t the case because his best friend didn’t even know who I was.”

“Y/n…” A familiar voice called your name. Your eyes widened in shock. When had Tadashi come out… scratch that, when had the whole team come out?

You didn’t have time to question it before you were engulfed by a warm hug. Instinctively, you hugged Tadashi back. You could feel him shaking slightly as he whispered in your ear, “Please don’t ever think you’re not important to me. You’re the most important person in the world to me.”

The tears that had been pricking your eyes turned to tears of happiness at his words. You pressed your face closer to his chest where his heart was beating a mile a minute. 

“Are you done?” A familiar flat voice came from behind your boyfriend.

A sense of dejavu washed over you. Instead of getting angry like last time, you shied away from the blonde haired boy. You peeked up at your boyfriend and was shocked to see him glaring even more harshly at the other boy. 

Not wanting another incident, you stepped out from around your shield. You met his eyes, “I know you don’t approve of my relationship with Tadashi, but you aren’t his parents. I don’t need your approval to date him. Hopefully we can sort out our differences because I’m sure as Tadashi’s best friend you also don’t want to make him choose sides.” 

“Tch,” He grunted. His eyes never left yours as he assessed your sincerity. After a beat of silence, he turned away, grumbling out, “Whatever.”

The hope you had at reconciling with him died as you watched his retreating figure head back into the gym. You didn’t even see the knowing looks on the other boys’ faces as they, too, headed back inside to give you some privacy. Feeling disappointed, you turned to your boyfriend to apologize only to stop when you see an excited look on his face.

“Tadashi…?”

“How did you do that? Wait it doesn’t matter! Thank you for being patient enough to deal with him for me.” He cried with sparkles in his eyes as he glomped you with another hug. 

“But, he just… what?” You spluttered in confusion.

Laughing a little, Tadashi explained, “That wasn’t him dismissing you. That was his way of saying that he accepts and respects you which is more than I was hoping for.” He looked at you shyly, “I was kind of afraid you would leave me since I had a best friend like him. He’s not a bad guy, but he can be a little insensitive to others.”

Slapping him on his chest, you glared, “Excuse me, cut me some slack. Our relationship means more to me than you having a salty best friend.” You paused thinking about how ready he looked to fight his best friend for you and said, “Thank you for sticking by me. I know we’ve only been dating for a few months, but you are my most precious person and I just want to make you happy. I’m glad you don’t have to choose between me and your best friend.”

Something wet dripped onto your cheek and you peered up to see tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Wha- wait don’t cry!” You try to console him but he stops you.

“Y/n. I love you. I love you so much. Will you… will you wear my jersey to the Interhigh Spring Tournament?” The hope shining in his eyes makes your heart melt into goo.

“I would love to Tada-kun. I love you too.” You tell him, bringing him back into a close embrace. The two of you stand there hugging for a while longer simply enjoying each other’s presence.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu yamaguchi #yamaguchi fluff #yamaguchi x y/n #yamaguchi x reader #tsundere reader #jealous tsukki #soft boy yamaguchi

[airiustide]

If I Could (I’d Kiss Your Fingers)

A Water Witch Tale

Summary: Taking place after Katara returns to the Fire Nation to stay with her new family, Zuko wants to give her a gift as a way to show how much she means to him. With Izumi's help, father and daughter pick out the perfect chocolates for Katara. Meanwhile, Katara works on something precious of her own. Part of the The Water Witch Tales 

A/N: I asked myself if I wanted to do a additional piece for The Water Witch of Biei Village or write a Valentine’s special fic? My brain: por que no los dos? I've wanted to write more about this zutara family since ending The Water Witch of Biei Village two years ago. My hearts been set on it and today was a perfect.

also posted on AO3

***

“Chocolates. Chocolates. We’re going to pick chocolates!” Izumi sang, skipping around several staff entering the Fire Lord’s study carrying gold trays of serve ware covered with lids. 

Zuko shoos them in, peering from left to right outside the study until the confectioner himself is the last to enter and Zuko can now close the door behind him. “Quickly, lay them there.” The Fire Lord points to the long table stationed in front of the open balcony doors. He grabs a hopping Izumi by the waist and swings her over his shoulders, eliciting a squeal. “Calm down, love. We’ll get to try them all, I promise.”

“Then we give to Mommy?” The four-year-old grins, panting from all the excitement. 

“Then we give them to Mommy.” Zuko confirms, reflecting his daughter’s smile. 

Zuko had been considering the perfect gift to give Katara after she had returned, after having forced the captain of the airship that was supposed to take her home to the rural lands of the Fire Nation countryside to turn around. It was a moment of joy and tears. Katara proclaimed Izumi her daughter without asking anything in return other than to care for the Fire Nation princess as her own. Any attempt at giving Katara jewels or expensive dresses were turned down. Katara’s humble rejection was sweet but was leaving Zuko a little deflected.

He wanted to impress her. The one kiss wasn’t enough and they talked little of it since then despite Katara’s return being well over a month ago. It was then that Izumi brought up how Katara had never eaten chocolates before, a discussion brought up while the waterbender did the nightly routine of brushing her daughter’s hair. 

It was then the idea sparked in Zuko’s head. Chocolates. No one could possibly turn down chocolates. A simple yet desirable candy.  

Once the trays are laid out, the confectioner snaps his fingers for his staff to remove the lids. Zuko lifts Izumi off his shoulders and sets her on her feet, the little girl’s bright gold eyes looking at the great display of chocolates laid before her in wonderment. “Wow.” She breathes.

“Only the best chocolates in the whole Fire Nation, your majesty. We’ve traveled all this way per your request from Ember Island. May I present my finest work.” The confectioner, Chou, bows. 

Zuko and Izumi approach, stopping at the first tray sitting at the left end of the table. 

“The first I’d like to present is a common treat. The bark is made from milk chocolate, quite sweet, I warn, but much lighter than the typical chocolate.” The confectioner explains.

Zuko breaks a piece for himself and Izumi to try. “Hmm.” The Fire Lord hums, finding his jaw lock from the overly sweet candy. “What do you think, princess?”

“It melts in my mouth!” Izumi exclaimed. “But too sweet.”

“Of course. This here, is a truffle.” Chou points to the second plate. “Though, today we’ll try many of these kinds of chocolates, this one’s a dark ganache blended with a touch of champagne.”

“Mmm.” Izumi sighs, popping the truffle in her mouth. “I like this one.”

“That’ll go in the yes pile then.” Zuko chuckled, nodding for one of the confectioner's staff to put the tray aside. 

The young Fire Lord had to admit, the amount of it all was too much. Some portions had to be given in small doses to prevent a stomach ache. Izumi was so eager to try them all that the first six or so trays resulted in tossing handfuls into her mouth. Not so much because she wanted to eat them all, but because it was so important to her that Katara had the best. 

Cordials, hazelnut, rum, caramel. It was all so delightful. It was not only a means to give a gift to share with someone they loved but the father/daughter time they had lost when Izumi had fallen ill was made up with a simple moment such as this. 

There was still more to go. Zuko deemed it unnecessary to try the rest when his daughter’s face became smeared with chocolate and her eyelids began to flutter. They had already settled on three flavors, some which will be boxed prettily for the master waterbender; passion fruit, mint, and champagne. 

“Good choice, your majesty.” Chou compliments. “The lady will surely be pleased.”

“Hmpf.” Zuko frowned. Chou would not be saying that if he knew that Zuko planned on gifting the chocolates to a waterbender. The Fire Lord was ashamed to admit that his people viewed waterbenders as conjurers of magic, they’re dwindling race created stereotypes and rumors far beyond what the truth actually beheld. “Do not worry, she will. Thank you for your journey to the capital. You will be highly compensated and even more in the future if Katara wishes for it.”

“Of course.” Chou bows, snapping his fingers for his staff to collect the leftovers and head out quickly.

“Someone’s sleepy.” Zuko turns to Izumi, sweeping her in his arms and cleaning the chocolate off her face with the sleeve of his royal robes. She had gained some weight since her lungs healed, no longer the tiny thin figure she once was when he had thought he was on the verge of losing her. 

“Mm...not sleepy, Daddy. I want to see Mommy.” The princess looks over at the neatly boxed chocolates sitting on the long table. She couldn’t sleep yet. She had carefully selected everything for her mother, Izumi wanted to give them to her now. 

“You will after a nap. Then, we will see Katara.” He coos, watching Izumi finally close her tired eyes as he holds her gently in his lap while he proceeds to sit in his cushioned pillow so that he could continue his work.

***

This is starting to feel like a distraction. When Kioko had shown up at Katara’s chambers that morning with an urgent request that required them to head to Caldera’s marketplace, the waterbender felt as though she had no choice but to oblige. She wished to see Izumi, if not for a little bit, before her and Kioko departed but the head healer demanded that they make haste.

“What, exactly, is it we’re looking for?” Katara questioned, looking around the busy streets with the older woman’s arm linked to hers. 

Guards surround them on all sides, a apparent perk the master waterebender wish didn’t come with officially adopting Izumi but Zuko would have it no other way. His argument, that people were against her legal adoption of Izumi albeit Katara knew the real reason- it meant Zuko was not willing to remarry. Every unmarried noblewoman and Zuko’s advisors made that clear with a single glare directed at her alone. It did not matter that Izumi was a living, healthy heir now. No, they needed more security than that, and marrying a Lady within the Fire Nation meant ensuring this. 

Kioko assured Katara that they were jealous nobodies that only dreamed of getting close to the Fire Lord if only to benefit from him. 

“Zuko would give you the world.” Kioko told her once, the two ladies held up in Katara’s room with wine and light chat. “He would bow to his knees for you, if you would permit him, and proclaim everything that is his, is yours.”

That came as a surprise to Katara, yet it made sense considering that she had healed Zuko’s daughter from certain death. She ignored that small whisper in her head that Kioko’s statement meant something deeper. The waterbender brushed it aside.

“I thought we might do some shopping. I haven’t seen my poor husband in months since his travels and I want to present him a gift when he returns next week.” Kioko answered her question.

“Are you not the gift, Kioko?” Katara smirked playfully.

“Oh my heavens. That is only between me and the captain I call husband.” Kioko winked. “We had missed our anniversary this last winter and I wanted to surprise him.”

“Sounds easy. What does he like?”

“Hmm, well, I was thinking I’d fashion up a new robe or maybe purchase new cuffs for his uniform. Oh, and while we’re here, why not get something nice for his majesty” Kioko said the last sentence so fast, Katara barely caught it.

“Zuko?” Katara whirled her head. “Oh. I guess I never did anything nice for him before. He did take me out that one time, after all.” A deep blush surfaced on her cheeks and Katara bit her bottom lip from smiling. She remembers where Zuko's hands were. His sultry voice and his low breath that tickled and teased her skin when he had openly flirted with her. The way his eyes glazed over when she had danced with him. 

Kioko raised an eyebrow at Katara’s sudden silence. 

“Yes.” The waterbender cleared her throat after noticing the head healer was staring at her. “A gift. I see no harm in buying one for him.” 

That’s what you believe. Kioko smiles, knowing full well Zuko was caught in Katara’s web and the poor girl had no idea what power she had over the Fire Lord. He loved her and she, likewise. The old woman hoped they’d realize it soon or else she would have to resort to locking them in the same room together, if it meant finally professing their feelings. 

The problem was, what does a Fire Lord like that he doesn’t already have? Yeah, Katara had enough to buy a pretty solid gift for someone of her status but Zuko was head of a nation. Katara didn’t have anything to her name that would remotely impress him. 

“Child, you’re thinking too hard.” Kioko interrupts her thoughts.

“Am I? I’m not exactly feeling confident here.” Katara panicked. “S-sorry I snapped like that. I don’t think anything here would be to Zuko’s liking.”

“That’s because you’re thinking of his status rather than what he is as a person. His majesty wasn’t as sheltered as you think. He’s traveled the world, he’s encountered struggle and defeat and when the tyrant, Lord Ozai, dies within the third year of Lord Zuko’s banishment and his daughter was seized for his death, Lord Zuko was called back to take his place as a mere child himself, marry, and raise a daughter on his own after his beloved’s death. He’s more humble than he lets on and we have the former general to thank for that.”

Iroh. Zuko often talked about him. “I know he’s like a father to Zuko. I didn’t mean to insult Zuko.”

“You did no such thing, dear. I wanted to remind you that his majesty is more than just a leader. He’s a man and a father first. Look to that when you go about searching for a gift for him.”

Katara halts, a large grin stretching on her lips. “I’ve got just the thing. Kioko, we need to stop at a few places.”

*** 

Where is she? Kioko refused to let Zuko visit Katara’s chambers, stating that the waterbender was busy and that she would meet them for dinner as soon as she was available. Izumi whined that she wanted to see Katara now and her impatience was starting to weigh on Zuko, who had to try and entertain his daughter as best he could until her mother arrived. They had taken dinner to his chambers this time, so that he and Izumi could give the present to Katara in peace. 

Zuko had asked that Kioko distract Katara while he and Izumi snuck in the confectioner and his staff, he had no idea that they would be gone well into midafternoon only for Katara to run back to her room and shut herself away with so much as a greeting. 

“What has Katara holed up in her room?” Zuko asked during dinner. 

“You’re majesty, I’m afraid this is an important time for Master Katara. She will see you and Princess Izumi as soon as she can.”

Something’s fishy. “You aren’t withholding anything from your Fire Lord, are you, Kioko?”

“You’re majesty.” Kioko feigned shock, resting a hand on her chest. “You would not use your position of power to pry personal information regarding your dear daughter’s mother from me, would you?”

Zuko’s good eye widened, his cheeks blushing profusely. “I- No. Of course not.” He grumbles, finding his food unappetizing because the anxiousness was eating at him. Izumi, the same, poked her steamed slug with a heavy sigh. Katara hadn’t gone a day without being next to her. Had they truly grown that attached?

The three are disturbed by the sound of the door opening and the master waterbender entering the room. “Late-” She pants, her wild hair loose over her shoulders and pieces of random fabric stuck to her dress. “Didn’t mean- I’m here now.” Katara smiles while she gains her composure.

“Mommy!” Izumi cried, jumping from her seat and rushing to her mother’s arms. “What took so long? I missed you.” Her voice trembled.

Katara felt guilty. Izumi had already been through enough when Katara left, she didn’t quite think through how a long separation might affect her again. “I’ve missed you too, love, and I’m here now.”

“Come here, come here. Daddy and I have something to show you.” Izumi pulls her mother along.

“Really now?”

Zuko grips the box in his lap, licking his lips to hide his nerves as Katara sat next him, her arm brushing his arm as she places Izumi on her lap. Agni, give me strength, he prays.

“What’s that you got there.” Katara leaned into him sideways, the box shaking in his hands. 

Why was he nervous all of a sudden? Zuko’s throat swelled up, his palms were sweaty. 

“Me and Daddy got you a gift!” Izumi replied.

“A gift? For me? Zuko, I thought-”

“I know.” He said, finally mustering the courage to speak. “But this is different. Please accept it, Izumi and I worked really hard to select them for you.”

They both gave her pleading eyes. Spirits, how can she resist such cute faces. “Okay. Can I open it?”

Zuko hands the box to her and Izumi claps excitedly as Katara pulls the ribbon and lifts the top half of the box to reveal something she’s never seen before. “What are these?”

“Chocolates!” Izumi giggled.

“They’re edible sweets made of cocoa.”

Katara eyes the pieces curiously. Unsure of where to start. “They’re all so different.” She comments.

“Here, Mommy, you’ll like this one.” Izumi picks out a passion fruit, lifting it to Katara’s mouth. 

Her eyes sparkle as she takes her first piece, her taste buds overtaken with a mix of passion fruit, chocolate and white chocolate. It’s decadent but the flavors are pleasant. “Spirits, that's delicious!”

“Hehe. See, I told you she’d like it, Daddy.”

“So this is what you two have been conspiring this whole time.” Katara teased the Fire Lord.

“We only wished to do something special.” Zuko explained sheepishly. 

“Well, this was certainly special.” Katara smiles.

“Why don’t you try the other flavors.” He suggests.

“Only if you guys eat them with me. This is certainly a lot.”

Katara pops one into Izumi’s mouth first. “Your turn.” She says to Zuko. 

His heart throbs in his ears. Before he could protest, Katara presses a piece of chocolate to his lips and he reluctantly opens, enclosing it in his mouth along with Katara’s index finger and his brain short circuits. As he chews the piece he can only assume is mint, refreshing much like Katara’s presence, her fingers still lingering on his lips; they’re gazes stayed only on each other. 

Zuko leans in slightly, drinking in Katara’s face as she bites the corner of her lip. She likes the look he’s giving her- heavy, glazed and adorning. She wants to see more of this, more of him looking like her just like this. “Do you want more?” She asks in a whisper.

“Well, this has been lovely.” Kioko announced, catching the Fire Lord and Master Waterbender off guard, shame written on their faces. “I’ll take my leave. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

It takes a while for the heat to die down in the room and the tension to fade before Katara tells Zuko she has something for him too. “For both you and Izumi, in fact.” She reaches for the pouch attached to her sash and opens it, fishing out two weaved bracelets with charms on them. “It’s not much but I thought of you two and I wanted to make something that would always be with you.”

“Pretty.” Izumi brightens. Katara ties the bracelet to her wrist, three little charms dangling from it; one of the moon, the second the symbol of the painted lady and the third a sparrowkeet. 

 Next was Zukos, which Katara delicately tied to his wrist as well. The first charm was of two dragons tangled in a dance, the second a replica of the carved stone on Katara’s necklace and the third the mask of the blue spirit. 

“It was all done at last minute, so it’s not perfect-”

“It’s more than perfect.” Zuko corrects. “Thank you, Katara.” He wraps an arm around her neck and brings her to him, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Mine is perfect too, Mommy! I want to kiss you too.”

Katara laughs, puckering her lips and letting Izumi peck them. The waterbender then snatches Izumi to her chest, displaying kisses all over the little girl's face as Zuko does the same until she begs for her parents to stop in a fit of laughter. 

I love you. Zuko wants to say. The moment passes, he realizes, watching Katara rock Izumi in her arms with pure love in her eyes. He’ll tell her. Someday. 

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #fanfiction #zuko x katara #zuko #katara #izumi #firelord zuko #zuko and katara as parents #zuko and katara #fanfic #the water witch of biei village #if i could(I'd kiss your fingers)

[yayeetsonny]

Family~Krashlyn x Baby Reader

Prompt: Baby r is super short (shorter than Crystal lol), she is super close with Ali and Ash, they are like parents to her since her home life isn't great and her actual parents suck ass. She’s bummed about a father daughter dance and tries to hide it but Ash and Ali get her to spill. Ash saves the day

Requested By: Anonymous 

TW: Mentions of Neglect, verbal and emotional abuse and Anxiety. Brief depictions Verbal/emotional and brief physical abuse.

Y/N PRO//

I have always been jealous of kids whose parents are actually decent human beings. Jealous of those who have a good relationship with their parents and their mom and dad are actually nice to them and care about them. My parents are all about themselves, they never make time for me and I’m pretty sure if they had it their way they would have abandon me years ago. The only reason they haven’t is because of their precious “Image” They are some pretty powerful people in the business world and they don’t want their reputations ruined by any bad publicity. They see me as secondary to their company, and they are always leaving me alone in the house for long stretches of time. On the off chance they are home they make a point to tell me how pathetic I am and how I’m useless or worth nothing. They admonish me for my grades in school even when I’m doing really well and they call my social anxiety “ridiculous” and tell me I need to “get over it.” 

My life isn’t all bad though. I have made a pretty good name for myself, I’m a pro soccer player in the NWSL for the Orlando Pride and I play on the National team. Even at the tender age of 15, I have been afforded all these amazing opportunities and I have several college scholarships waiting for me. It’s amazing, and I have some of the best people in the world supporting me and my dreams. My Pride teammates of course and my national teammates as well, they’ve all be my anchors through everything but 2 people have always stood out above the rest. My teammates and ‘moms’ Ali Krieger and Ashlyn Harris. They are my biggest role models and the parents I’ve always wanted. I would not be where I am without them. I don’t speak very much around anyone but them but everyone else understands and doesn’t push me to talk.

Speaking of those two I’m currently smooshed in a Krashlyn sandwich as I make my way onto the field for Pride practice.

“Hey shorty! Good to see you!” Ash said 

“Hey baby girl, How was school?” Ali asked 

“Hey guys, good to see you too. School was okay.” I said once they pulled away

“Just okay? Why’s that?” 

They looked at me concerned. They both knew about my social anxiety and how sometimes school was really hard for me. I only shrugged in return.

“Come on Y/N, what is it?” 

They got me to move over to a bench and sit in between them.

I once again only shrugged.

“Please tell us?”

I let out a tired sigh but knew I could trust them with anything.

“ My anxiety was getting in the way of a lot today.” I said, suddenly finding my shoes very interesting. 

“Hey…”

Ali put her finger under my chin and gently lifted my head so we’d make eye contact.

“What have we talked about when it comes to your anxiety?”

“That it doesn’t define me and that it’s okay if I have hard days sometimes.” I mumbled

“And what else?” Ashlyn chimed in

“And that I can always talk to you guys about it and that I don’t need to be ashamed of it. I know, I just don’t want you guys to think I’m weak or-”

“Hey, no. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“We know not everyday is going to be happy, full of sunshine and rainbows. That doesn’t make you any less strong and it most certainly doesn’t make you weak.”

“Thanks guys. I needed that reminder.” I said wiping the tear that had started to fall.

“We’ll always be here to let you know just how great you are.” Ashlyn smiled softly at me

“You ready to practice or do you need a minute?”

“I’m ready.”

I stood up, shook out any extra nerves and Ali leaned down to kiss me on the head.

“You know, kid… you’re really short.” She laughed

“I know.” I giggled

“I’m pretty sure you’re shorter than Crystal.” Ashlyn chuckled

“No way!” 

“Yeah I think so! She’s what… 5’0 feet even? How tall are you?”

“4’9 and 1/2” I mumbled

“Oh man! You are short.” 

“It’s not funny!”

I pouted at them as they continued to laugh at me but after a moment I smiled and joined in.

“Okay, okay. Time to get to work kids.” Ali said

“Yes mom” Ash and I said

We made our way to the center of the field where the rest of our teammates were. Alex Morgan and Carson Pickett among them.

“Hey, Krashlyn! Mini Krashlyn!” Carson Pickett said, excitedly running up and giving us all a hug.

“Hi.” I said 

“Hey guys! Hey mini K, how you been?” Alex asked coming up and also giving us hugs.

The Pride and national team all called me “Mini Krashlyn” or “Mini K” because they know how close I am with Ash and Ali and they consider us “America’s cutest family.” It’s a little silly but mostly really cute.

I waved and gave her a thumbs up.

She smiled at me softly in return

We were interrupted by coach telling us to get to work.

“Alright ladies! Let’s go, you know the drill. Warm up and then get on the line!” 

I rolled my eyes at the thought of doing suicides or sprints first but did as told. After we warmed up I got on the line in between Alex and Ali. Ashlyn was on Alex’s other side and our other teammates filled the rest of the line.

“You ready, kid?” Alex asked

I nodded and smiled in return.

Coach Skinner blew his whistle and we were off. We started out with sprints and then moved to suicides. By the end everyone was panting and trying to catch their breath. Well everyone except for Marta, she looked barley winded.

I just shook my head at her.

She shrugged in return, smirking at me. After a quick water break we moved onto drills. We went through, passing, defending and shooting drills and then a scrimmage before coach called it a day. We said good bye to our teammates before Ash and Ali gave me a ride home.

“You did good today, kid.” 

“Thanks.”

The ride to my house was in relatively comfortable silence with just the radio softly playing in the background but no one seemed to mind. Once they pulled up and stopped at the curb I got out and grabbed my stuff from the back.

“Bye guys. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the ride.”

“Y/N, wait.” Ash stopped me before I could go any further 

“Are you sure, you don’t wanna just spend the night at our place?”

I had told them that my parents were out of town and they knew what that meant. They tried to let me handle things how I saw fit but since I was only 15 they worried about me being alone for too long and sometimes convinced me to stay with them for a few days. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks for the offer though. My parents should be home tonight.”

“Are you sure? They don’t seem to commit to being home on time and we-”

“Ash I’m good. I promise. See you tomorrow.” I cut her off

I could tell they were conflicted about leaving me here but I gave them the best reassuring smile I could and they let it go.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N. We love you.”

“I love you guys too.”

I closed the car door, they waited for me to unlock my door before driving off. When I got inside I dropped my bag on the floor and sunk down next to it. My parents were actually coming home today and I wasn’t really looking forward to seeing them. 

I knew I needed to clean the house a little bit, so after sitting for a while longer I got up and got to cleaning. After a couple hours everything seemed to be the way they liked it, spotless. So I deemed it done and went to put away the supplies. As I was doing that I heard the front door open and rushed to finish putting everything away. I then made sure I looked “presentable” and made my way to the front of the house.

“Hi, mom. Hi dad. How was your trip?” I said as I came face to face with them for the first time in 2 weeks.

“Is the house clean?” My father asked completely ignoring what I said

“Yes sir.”

“It better be.”

My mom did little to even acknowledge my presence, only going as far to hand me her luggage and point upstairs. She then followed my father as he inspected my cleaning job. I rolled my eyes but brought her bag up anyways. I would have taken my dad’s too but he hates when I touch his stuff.

“Y/N M/N L/N!” dad yelled from wherever there were in the house. Oh man, he sounds really mad.

I went downstairs, and after searching for a minute I found them in the guest room.

“Yes sir?”

“What is this?” He asked sharply, showing me his hand that had a white glove with dust on it.

“Dust, sir.” 

“And why is there dust in this room?” His voice was dangerously low.

“I-I’m sorry sir, I did the best that I could.”

“Yeah, well your best isn’t good enough! You worthless waste of space. Clean the whole house again!”

“The whole house? But sir it’s just a little dust, I can-”

I didn’t get to finish because I felt a stinging sensation in my cheek and only after did I realize he had slapped me. I was dumbfounded, he had never done that before, he’d only ever yell at me and break the occasional vase but I never thought he’d actually hit me.

“Don’t ever talk to me like that again.” He growled 

I didn’t realize that I started crying.

“Stop crying before I give you something to really cry about.”

I stood there, stunned. I knew my parents were awful but I never thought either of them would put their hands on me. I wasn’t sure what to do, I wanted to call Ash and Ali but decided against it because I knew that they would most likely want to kill my father for this. I really wish my parents loved me. 

I did what my father said and cleaned the whole house again but this time I paid extra attention to the guest room and when it was finished I decided to go to bed. I could have eaten dinner but I was too exhausted to even try.

The next day…

At school I stayed more to myself than usual and made no real effort to talk to anyone. I was just walking to my next class when a very cheery girl, who looked to be a senior came up to me and in a cheery voice said

“Hey! The father daughter dance is next week on Friday night, don’t miss out!” 

She then handed me a flyer and all but, skipped away. I stood there for a moment wondering how someone could be so… happy, then I looked at the flyer and it read

“Spring Father-Daughter Dance! Next Friday, the 18th at 7! Don’t miss it!” 

I just scoffed at the idea of attending it with my dad, there was no way he would take me or even consider it. I just crumpled up the flyer and shoved it in my bag. Stupid dance, stupid flyer. 

I carried on with the rest of my day continuing to keep to myself. As much as I hated to admit it; I really wanted to go to the dance. I always wondered what a father-daughter dance was like and wish more than anything my dad actually carried enough to go. I knew that would never happen so I just continued to sulk about it until the school day was over.

When I got home I wasn’t surprised to find that my parents were gone, again and they wouldn’t be back for awhile. So I decided to call Ashlyn and Ali. Ali picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Ali, um- well, m-my parents left and they won’t be back for a-awhile and I was wondering if I could stay with you guys? I know we normally just have dinner together on Tuesdays but I just thought that w-we could-”

“Y/N! It’s okay, yes of course you can stay with us. We’ll be there in 15 minutes.” She said cutting off my rambling.

“Okay, thank you.” 

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Of course Y/N. See you soon.”

“See you.”

After we hung up I went to go pack a bag and I couldn’t help but have a bounce in my step as I did. The 15 minutes flew by and before I knew it I was meeting Ash and Ali out front and they were putting my bag in the car.

“You, okay?” Ashlyn asked coming around and giving me a hug

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“How was school?” Ali asked as I got in the car.”

At the mention of school I went silent. I had forgotten about the sour mood it had put me in but now I remembered why and became sad all over again. 

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked you how school was?” Ali turned off the car and turned around in her seat.

“Oh, it was fine.” I said trying not to look at either of them.

“Are you sure? You seem upset about it.” Ash said

“Yeah I’m sure. Nothing upsetting me today!” I said hoping they would believe me.

Ashlyn PRO//

Ali and I shared a worried glance as we watched Y/N avoid our eyes. We knew something was bothering her but didn’t want to push, so we just let it go and see if she would tell us on her own. The drive back to our house was quiet and not in a good way. I really hoped Y/N would open up to us soon, I hated when things got awkward between her, Ali and I.

When we got back to the house Y/N got out, without a word, got her stuff and headed to the garage, waiting for us to open it to let her in. After Ali and I once again shared a worried glance we opened it so she could go in and she did, presumably disappearing to the guest room.

“Do you have any Idea what could be bothering her?” 

“Not a clue.”

“Do you think her anxiety is acting up?”

“No… Well maybe but we just talked about that yesterday. She knows she doesn’t have to hide that from us.”

“Hmm… I’m sure she’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

We talked for a few more minutes before heading inside. We decided to leave Y/N be and get started on dinner. After we were done we called her into the dinning room and we sat down to eat. We knew school was possibly a sensitive topic but since she said it was “fine” we decided to ask about her day anyway.

“So… learn anything new in school?”

“W-we learned about fossils.” She mumbled

“That’s cool! Anything exciting happen?”

She once again looked uncomfortable and I started to think this may have been a bad idea.

“N-nope. Nothing.” 

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay?” I asked

“Ash…” Ali said, putting her hand on my arm.

“What? I just want make sure she’s okay.”

“I’m fine. School was fine.”

“Why do you seem so bothered every time we ask about it then?” 

“I don’t know.”

She looked down at her shoes and I knew her facade was starting to waver. I didn’t want to push but I was starting to become really concerned.

“Hey… What is it?”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Anything bothering you is a big deal.”

“I’m fine.” She said but her voice cracked, giving away how she really felt

“We all know that’s not true. Y/N, please talk to us. It’s okay.” 

“There’s a father-daughter dance next Friday.” She said quietly 

“Oh, babe. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it’s stupid. Not like I have a dad to go with anyways.” She said angrily 

“Hey, no… It’s not stupid, not if it was bothering you and you want to go. Do you?”

“Yeah but it doesn’t matter. My dad would never willingly go.” 

“I’m sorry he treats you so poorly it’s not fair.” I paused for a moment before coming up with an idea. I decided to keep it a secret for now and tell Ali later when Y/N goes to bed.

“It is what it is.” She mumbled

“Well, what if we had a movie night to cheer you up?” I said

“Thanks guys, but I think I’m just gonna go to bed. May I be excused?”

“Sure, kiddo.”

We smiled sympathetically at her as she made her way to the guest room. As soon as the door shut I turned to Ali with a big grin on my face.

“What?”

“I have an idea, but we have to keep it a secret from Y/N.”

“Okay? What is it?”

“We hold our own dance right here. On the same night as the father daughter one!”

“Ash, that’s brilliant!”

“i know, but shhh, we can’t let her know.”

“When did she say it was?”

“Next Friday.”

“Perfect. I have some calls to make.”

After talked more about the plan, we agreed to call all of our teammates, from both the Pride and the national team. I started with Alex since she was on both teams.

“Hey Al?” 

“Hi Ash, what’s up?”

“Well, I’m planning a dance for Y/N. With Ali’s help of course. It’s next week on Friday night. She’s bummed about the father-daughter dance at school and I thought we could throw a better one to cheer her up.”

“Ash that’s so thoughtful. Do you need help with decorations and that kind of stuff?”

“That would be great, yeah.”

“I’m on it and I’ll text everyone and tell them not to spill the beans.”

“Thanks Al.”

“Anytime. Ahhh, she’s gonna love it.” She squealed 

“I hope so. Bye Alex.” I chuckled

“Bye Ash.”

The plan was in motion and I couldn’t be more excited. We just had to keep it a secret for a week. That couldn’t be that hard.

It was very hard.

We had contacted everyone from both teams and the majority of them said they could make it, some were flying in a few days early, to come visit us and to say Y/N was confused and suspicious was an understatement. She had almost caught me talking about it on the phone several times but I convinced her it was something else. But when players started showing up she grew even more suspicious.

Hey Y/N, good to see ya!” Tobin said as she and Christen made their way into our house.

“Hi?”

“You not happy to see us?” She teased

“No, I am b-but Ash said no one was coming to visit.” she said turning to me, narrowing her eyes.

“Well we decided to surprise you, surprise!” Chris said

“So... You, Tobin, kelley, Emily, Lindsey, and Alyssa all decided to surprise me?”

“Yes?”

“Hmmm. Well thanks for coming. I’ve missed you guys.”

“We missed you too!”

The next few days flew by and by Friday everything was set to be perfect. Ali took Y/N out for the day so we could set everything up. Our Orlando Pride teammates, along with the national teammates who had flown in early were helping. Everyone else would be landing in a couple hours.

“Ash where should we hang this banner?” Christen asked, holding up the “mommy-daughter dance” banner we made.

“Right over there, above the fountain.” I said.

We were planning to have it in the backyard so everyone could fit into the space. We compiled a playlist of songs that Y/N loved along with a few that were about a mother and daughter so that we could have to special dance they had at the father-daughter dances. We also strung up some twinkly lights and made sure the yard would be as lit up as possible. While this was mostly my idea Ali and the others really helped me put everything together and I was grateful for all their help.

Ali and I agreed that I would dance with Y/N first and then she would.

“Ash, When are the others supposed to get here?”

“By 5:00. Why?”

“Ali says Y/N wants to come home now.” Alex said

“Shit. What time is it?”

“4:15.”

“Okay, that’s not too bad. But how are we gonna hide all of this?” I gestured to all the decorations and food that was set up.

“I have no idea.”

“Oooo I know!” Tobin said

“What do you got, T?”

“I’ll just convince her to play Mario Cart with me, distract her from looking at the yard, and give you, Ali and everyone else enough time to get ready.”

“That’s perfect! But what about you?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I have a perfect outfit already lined up and it’ll only take me 5 minutes to change.”

“Jeans and a T-shirt huh?”

“Yeah...”

Alex and I chuckled. Of course, classic Tobin.

Time continued to fly by and before I knew it, Y/N and Ali were home and Tobin whisked her away to play video games.

“Wow Ash, this is amazing.” Ali marveled at our handy work.

“Thanks babe, you think she’ll like it?”

“She’ll love it.” She kissed me gently.

5:00 o’clock came around and everyone else started to arrive. Tobin did a good job of keeping Y/N away from the commotion and I told everyone to come in through the side gate.

“You did good, Harris” Megan said, patting me on the back.

“Thanks, Pinoe.”

Everyone started to get ready, taking turns in the bathroom or our room. Ali and I the last to get ready. When I was sure everyone was good, and everything was set I texted Tobin letting her know it was go time.

“Okay everyone! Thank you for coming! Y/N will be out here any minute so get ready to surprise her.”

Everyone left through the side gate to wait until I gave them the signal to come in and I stood right in the middle of the yard, waiting for Tobin to bring out Y/N. I heard the door to the yard open and adjusted my bow tie when I noticed it was crooked.

“Okay kid, don’t peek yet okay?” I heard Tobin say.

“Tobyyy... where are we going?”

“Just one second... Okay open!”

When she did, the look on Y/N’s face was one that I would never forget. Her eyes sparkled as took everything in and when she saw me standing there, she started to tear up. She really started to cry when she saw the banner we made.

“Mommy-daughter dance. Ash... You did this for me?”

“Of course kiddo. I wanted you to have a special night tonight, even if it meant you didn’t go to the dance at your school.”

“This is so much better, thank you!”

She ran to me and jumped in my arms. I caught her with ease and spun her around, peppering her face with kisses as she giggled.

“Anything for you baby girl.”

“Where’s Ali?”

“She is here, that’s actually the other part of the suprise. Ali! Guys!” I called out to them.

Everyone walked through the gate, Y/N gasping as they did.

“Oh my god. Guys?! What are you all doing here?”

“Well... we know this is a mommy-daughter dance but we wanted to be here for your special night.”

“Thank you!”

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Alex said softly

Y/N PRO//

I was overflowing with emotions, I had never felt so loved in my life. I hugged everyone and thanked them for coming before finally getting to Ali. She smiled at me with tears in her eyes and opened her arms, which I quickly ran into.

Ali... how can I thank you?”

“Save a dance for me?” She giggled

“Of course.”

“As much as I would love to chat with you, I think someone is waiting for you on the dance floor.” She said pointing at Ash. I looked back at her hesitant to leave.

“I don’t mind at all. Go have fun, we’ll dance soon.”

“Thank you mama, I love you.” I said before kissing her on the cheek and running off to dance with Ashlyn. That was the first time I had ever called her mama but I thought it was a fitting title and her and Ash are the parents I’ve always wanted

I joined Ash on the dance floor and she signaled to someone to change the song to a slow one. She smiled down at me as she took my hands in hers. Our height difference made it so I was definitely going to be stepping on her toes but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you for all of this, mommy. I was so bummed about missing the other dance but I couldn’t be happier.” I said softly. I saw suprise cross her face at the new name I had given her but she embraced it without hesitation.

“I’m so glad, little one. Your mama and I love you so much. We always will.”

“I love you both more than I’ll ever be able to explain. You guys are the parents I’ve always wanted and the family I’ve always needed.” I said getting emotional.

“Family. Always.”

//

Sorry for any mistakes - N

#uswnt imagines #uswnt #krashlyn #krashlyn x reader #ali krieger #ashlyn harris #alex morgan #christen press #tobin heath #megan rapinoe #carson pickett #orlando pride