#day20

As your two little girls would plop onto your bed, clambering over you and Michael. Rousing you from your sleep. Little hands gently shake you both awake. 

Loud whispers fill the air. 

Then a squeal and giggle would bubble out. As Michael’s hands would tickle them, bright laughs and wide smiles stretch across their faces. 

While you’d clasp to wrap your arms around one of them, peppering their cheeks with sweet kisses. 

Not every morning was like this. 

But when it was. 

It was something you cherished deeply. 

Savouring the warmth and sweetness of the mornings. You couldn’t be upset when this was how you woke up. 

Showered with love as soon as your eyes peered open. 

“Dad, come on! Jane’s hungry,” Ellie whined trying to pry Michael from bed. 

Who only slumped further into bed, feigning resistance. 

“No I’m not! Ellie’s hungry,” Jane protested. Her head rested upon your chest, your arms wrapped around her, secure and comforting. 

She listens to the rhythm of your heart. 

Just as she had done since she was a baby. 

During the early months that she had come home with you. 

There were some nights where she couldn’t sleep, restless as she cried through the night. Even when she was changed, swaddled, bathed, burped or fed. 

Nothing seemed to soothe her. 

Not until you had rested her head upon your chest, her ears listened to the steady rhythmic beats. Lulling her to sleep. 

It was a sound she craved. It was a comfort. 

Grounding. 

It seemed she shared the same trait as her dad. Who also sought out the soothing cadence of your heartbeat in the quiet hours of the evening. 

Eventually Michael slips from beneath the covers, as Ellie takes him by the hand, Jane slips from your hold as she trails after them, hand clasping Michael’s free one. 

It brought a smile to your face to see them. 

To think you had a family. 

A home full of warmth. 

Full of unconditional love. 

It was all yours to bask in. 

Created from the love you and Michael had cultivated. 

And you loved him all the more for it. 

Dragging yourself away from your bed, you enter the kitchen to find Jane reaching up for Michael to lift her. 

“I want to help,” she said stubbornly. 

Ellie sat on the bench stool, her legs swinging as she sipped on a glass of juice. 

Michael arched a brow, as Jane pointed to the cupboard. “Can I grab Mommy’s cup?” 

He smiles at her, nodding his head. As she murmurs a soft, “Yes.” 

Reaching down he lifts her securely, letting her open the cupboard to reach one of the top shelves. 

“Ok, now be careful, it’s one of Mommy’s favourites” 

You smiled sweetly as you watched them work together, walking over to sit next to Ellie, placing a kiss atop her head. 

Jane nods, understanding the seriousness. The responsibility of the action. 

Determined to succeed. 

She reaches out as her hands wrap around the mug, it was a gift that Michael had gotten for you, to celebrate your very first Mother’s day. 

Back when it was just, you, Michael and Jane, with little Ellie on the way. 

It was a simple design, handpainted, but so beautiful. 

Just little painted forget-me-nots dotted upon the ceramic. 

Forget-Me-Nots, meaning enduring love. A bond that does not fade…

You cherished it greatly. 

So watching your little girl, handle it with such care and thought. 

Brows furrowed as her concentration doesn’t waver, not even as Michael carries her over to the coffee machine, as she helps him make your coffee. 

Her tongue sticks out in thought, as it often did when she was deep in focus. 

It made your heart swell with love. 

As soon as the coffee was made, Michael placed the mug before you, as Jane beamed, “Here you go, Mommy!” 

“Thank you sweetheart,” you smiled, taking a sip of the drink. Sending Michael an appreciative glance before looking back at Jane, “It tastes delicious” 

She grins widely as she nods in satisfaction. 

Michael shifts her to look back at him, he glances between Ellie and Jane as he asks, “Now I was thinking pancakes for breakfast, what do you girls think?” 

Both nod eagerly, “With blueberries,” Ellie requests. 

Michael nods, “Of course, is there any other way to make pancakes”

This was how you loved to spend your mornings. 

No longer in silence. 

But in the glow of the warmth your family emitted. 

Awoken to sweet kisses and hugs so tight it had you seeing stars. 

Before starting to cook, Michael leaned across the bench to press a sweet kiss to your lips, murmuring softly, “Love you”

“Love you too,” you mumbled back. A light glimmering in your eyes. 

“C’mon Dad! If I don’t eat I’m going to faint,” Jane sighs dramatically. 

He leans back to look at her amusedly. 

“We can’t have that can we?” 

Jane and Ellie giggle as he begins to make pancakes for you all. 

No matter how long it took for you to get here. 

No matter the hardships you had to face to get to this point. 

You were so grateful that this was how your mornings now looked. 

No longer able to picture them any other way. 

With all you loved most. 

Held dearest to your heart. 

Right before your very eyes. 

You wanted this moment to last. 

To save it in the confines in your heart, to be savoured forever. 

Even as the days would pass, as your girls would grow up. You would always cherish the smallest of moments. 

Just like this morning. As mundane and simple as it was. 

It was far more precious than the purest of diamonds, than the rarest of gems.

Because this was purely yours and Michael’s. 

A result of your love.  

Nothing could compare.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the mini chapter inspired by domaystic. (Like I mentioned I just can't resist writing a little more for this sweet family, they have got a grip on my heart, even if the overall series is over) - also I am just obsessed with Emma Bridgewater mugs, so that was the mug inspo! Let me know what you thought ✨ Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕 As mentioned this occurs after Chap.40: Days Wrapped Up In Your Embrace Feel free to find the Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist here 🩺 Or check out my overall Masterlist here

Through the eye holes of his mask, she burned so strong and fierce, even in her depleted humiliation. Her mis-placed bravery poured up through her defiant words.

He would see her humbled, revealed for the weak woman he had found her to be. Without her bending, she would be nothing.

Deliberately, Amon walked behind Beifong. He was glad of the gloves that kept him from feeling the soft skin of her neck or the depth of the wrinkles on her forhead.

He reached inside her form, stifled her chi, and watched her gape up at the sky.

Rather than let her collapse, he steadied her on her knees as his faithful brought forward the rest of his… incentives.

She gasped, and tried to stand up. But he kept his hand on her shoulder, and extended his powers to keep her in place.

The woman was gagged, but she was able to keep the baby silent.

The youngest one, he didn’t bother with threats. The child was clearly terrified.

Once purified, he seemed to faint.

Beifong shouted some meaningless word.

The next one up in size seemed to have inherited Beifong’s glare, even if they weren’t actually related. While he was a bit unclear on the details, it no longer mattered.

He looked back at Beifong.

So much water was running down her face, he couldn’t tell if she was crying.

“Tell me.”

“Amon, don’t do this!”

The second child collapsed over her brother’s still body.

“Amon!”

The oldest child raised her shoulders and stared back at him calmly, even though Beifong continued to scream behind him, her voice breaking.

The child’s bravery did not outlast her purification.

The last airbender was clearly trying everything he could to stir the air around himself. But it could not break the chains around his wrists and ankles. It could not disturb the hold Amon had over his body.

Amon turned and looked at Beifong one final time.

“Tell me.”

With a lurch, she broke his hold on her, but that only gave her the freedom to crash forward on her face, still screaming incoherently.

The man on his knees strained against Amon’s power, but had only a fraction of the will. Silently, his bending fled, banished from the world.

Amon turned his back on the people who once had called themselves “masters.”