Latest Posts by arckee-dreams - Page 3

Korrasami Week Day Five

Okay, I’m super late. Plus, I have a busy working weekend so... I’ll do my best. But I want to finish these prompts, because it’s been super fun so far!

I wanted to write a meet cute between tennis player Asami and Korra walking Naga in the park, but... I ended up writing this, simply because I’m rewatching book one of Korra. Hope you enjoy :)

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Prompt: au

Tarrlok waits for them at the end of the street, surrounded by a small group of soldiers. They are unnaturally still under the artificial lamplight, and Korra feels the urge to scratch her gray uniform. It''s the same they are wearing.

"Avatar Korra. Councilman Tenzin."

The urge to punch him rises violently. She settles for a nod instead.

"Councilman Tarrlok," Tenzin greets back and Korra imagines the clench of his jaw.

"Greetings," Tarrlok continues stiffly, "I apologize for requiring your presence this late in the day. I am aware of your wife's health, Tenzin, and I know how much you hate to depart from her when unnecessary."

Korra doesn't recognize the jab as one, but something in his sneer makes her prickle.

Tenzin folds his hands under his robes, the vibrant red of the air nomads humming in the night. "I have a duty to uphold to the citizens of Republic City," he says instead of answering directly.

Tarrlok breaks his posture to unfold his crossed hands. He tugs at the hem of his sleeve and a couple of men shift behind him. Korra's eyes divert to them, annoyed.

"Well? Are we going?" she snaps, mostly because she is quite horrible at standing still and waiting.

Tarrlok smiles a little, in a way that implies he's privy to the exact nature of the Avatar's thoughts, "Of course."

Korra turns and starts walking.

The guards arrange quickly in formation, a shield of human bodies built around them to separate and cover. They force a painfully slow pace that quickly grows insufferable.

After an unnoticeable number of turns and corners, Korra notices a purple streak of a non-bender band. It's a woman, kneeling on the ground with an half empty bowl of coins at her feet. One of Tarrlok's men kicks her, scattering her meager possession in the dirt.

Korra hides her fists and focuses on the fluttering of Tenzin's robe.

"Tarrlok," Tenzin motions at him but tilts his head in her direction, "What exactly is the nature of this... ambush?"

"I'd hardly call it an ambush," comes the airily reply, poorly camouflaged in the bubble of a chuckle, "More like a further assessment. A thorough evaluation."

It's nothing, Korra wishes to convey to Tenzin with the skip in her gait but the airbender keeps his gaze fixed in front of him.

"Is it really necessary? Mr. Sato is-"

"Mr. Sato is regularly detained at the station and is waiting to be tried in his cell right now, as dictated by our laws. Along with his fellow Equalists. Those non-benders," he spits the word like the foulest thing.

Korra shivers, thoughts swimming around the beggar woman.

"No," Tarrlok shakes his head, complacent smile scraping his features, "Our visit to the Sato residence concerns his daughter, Asami Sato."

Korra chokes on an angry huff. There's nothing she hates more than wasting time with practiced coquetry and luxurious cutlery.

"What about Miss Sato?" Tenzin's pitch lowers with curiosity. Korra wonders if Tarrlok can pick up the different inflection.

"She was summoned for her father's deposition at the central. She denied every involvement with him. She claimed she had no idea of his funding to the Equalist movement. And that he had been faking his bending all his life without her knowledge."

His cold scorn travels down through the cobblestones, "Living under the same roof, and she has no clue? Hardly believable. But Captain Beifong had the brilliant idea of letting her go right after the deposition. She said the girl passed that lying detection technique of her," he leans against an appeasing tone, "But you surely understand that I can't trust a judgment based on guesses and sensations. Especially when the safety of all citizens is involved."

Tenzin ruffles at the accusation, "Lin didn't become chief because of lucky guesses."

"Captain Beifong," Tenzin winces at the emphasized title, "Was a good chief. Probably one of the best. And she'll be dearly missed."

Korra's body jerks, "What do you mean?"

Tarrlok startles and the surprise on his face reeks of falseness, "Oh, nothing nefarious young Avatar. That was poor phrasing on my part. I apologize," he offers a dismissive gesture, "She presented her letter of resignation this morning. And her desk was empty by the end of the shift."

"Was it a voluntary gesture? Or did you force her hand, Tarrlok?"

Startled by her mentor's direct outburst, Korra feels the air turning tense with an unreleased tension.

"Mere semantics, Tenzin. You know better than most how important that is, especially in politics- Ah, here we are," he trails off to inspect the profile of the mansion unfurling from the cloak of darkness in front of them. Tarrlok crosses his arms and the group halts at the implicit command.

"What really matters here, Tenzin, isn't Lin Beifong. It's that her resignation came right after Miss Sato's interrogatory. That seems suspicious."

The formation of guards shatters as the cold gleam of Tarrlok's eyes reflects on the front gate.

+++

It's Asami Sato herself that greets them at the door. The absence of servants ruffles Korra's assuredness in a motion she can't comprehend. Nonetheless, Asami's lean figure withstands the rough profiles of Tarrlok's armed guards.

The marble of the foyer echoes under Korra's steps.

"Miss Sato," Tarrlok's voice diffuses, "I apologize for the intrusion. But we just have a few follow up questions for you."

"I'll lead you to my father's study, then. If you'd follow me."

The click of closing doors strikes like thunder.

Hiroshi's personal study is a mosaic of notebooks with torn pages and missing covers, a capsized sofa and decorated drawers emptied on the carpeted floor. A couple of guards linger in the hallway while the others pile in silently. When she counts them, Korra notices two more are missing, remained behind at the front gate.

"Don't mind the chaos, please," the heiress waves at the room, freeing a pinned lock from the top of her head, "I haven't found the time to clean yet. Otherwise, make yourself comfortable."

Tarrlok is the only one who picks up an upturned chair to sit. Korra remains standing beside Tenzin and when Asami circles back to her own seat, she has to drag one leg off the floor to move the chair.

"Then you don't mind if I let my men have another look? Just to be certain we had gained all intel the first time."

Asami's nod is so curt it might be a wince.

Korra feels words blurting from her mouth too late to stop them, "What about your servants? Can't they clean up the study?" she carefully avoids mentioning Hiroshi directly.

For the first time, the heiress green eyes pause on the Avatar, her gaze flickering up and down Korra almost casually. It's a moment before she gives her answer.

"Not many wishes to have the name of a criminal employer staining their resume. Especially one who faked his own bending for years."

A pool opens in Korra's stomach and she struggles to picture ornate dishes and perfected dance routines.

Tarrlok crosses his legs, lifting one foot, "And you?"

"Are you asking if I'm a criminal or a non-bender?" Asami's face is pale and drawn.

"Isn't it the same?" Tarrlok says and Korra watches him nod solemnly "Being a non-bender means having a tainted soul, since the gods didn't see fit of giving to those the natural gift of bending. If a soul is rejected by the flawless gods then how can they be accepted by the flailed society of mindless humans? An inner source of evil so great to be scorned by our deity..."

Korra hates the sound of those words, but no matter how much she wishes to spit, she's always forced to choke on them.

"The sins of a father aren't easily washed away."

Tarrlock's smiles dies on the ripple of his lips as he unfolds his legs.

A rueful smile dawns on the heiress, "Though I can assure you, I'm nor a criminal, nor a non-bender."

"We're here to determine that, Miss Sato," as Tarrlok's words cuts, a tearing sound pierces the air and Korra doesn't need to turn to see a guard slashing the cushions of the sofa.

Tenzin's hands remain hidden between the folds of his tunic, "Miss Sato," he speaks for the first time, "You already denied your affiliation with Hiroshi Sato to Chief Beifong. Do you still claim that to be true?"

Asami's eyes flickers to Korra for a brief moment, before turning back to meet Tenzin. She nods.

"Verbal confirmation is preferred, if you'd please," Tarrlok's voice loses tge dripping formality, the honeyed coat of false pleasantries fallen apart.

"Yes," Asami's timbre curls, "I had no idea of my father's involvement, nor about his nonexistent bending, even if him leaving Future Industries makes much more sense now. I never questioned his earthbending. It seemed pointless to use it in a house you didn't want to be destroyed," her eyes shoot around in the room, "So the only place he really displayed his abilities were the workshop or the fabric. I loved helping him with his inventions."

Korra gets the feeling Asami didn't want the last words to surface, but her opportunity is lost in her own flinch when another shelves gives under one man's searching with a loud thud. A cascade of books tumbles down to the floor.

Tarrlok motions over the desk and one of his men brings forward a bag.

"Then I suppose you would have never seen this before."

They all watch as Tarrlok subjects Asami to stumble through the tight bindings of the bag. After the last knot gives, a contraption of some sorts emerges from it, a match of split wires and twisted metal parts that cross in a sort of gauntlet. One end is blackened, resembling a burnt.

Once again, there's silence.

"What's that?" Korra twitches and feels at once all the weight of her impatience and inexperience in the flicker of Asami's eyes. She barrels through stubbornly, running head on as usual.

Tarrlok offers the same little smile as before, "That, young Avatar, is one of Hiroshi Sato's inventions. Apparently, it can grant the illusion of earthbending." he snatches the bag off the table, "Like bending could be lowered to a feeble and flimsy creation of a mortal who tries to play god."

The gauntlet gleams, harbouring hidden mysteries. Korra's gaze slowly trails down the wiry junctions, fractured design of a sinewy form. She tries to grasp the feeling of using it under her fingertips, if it buzzes with electricity. Her imagination circles back to the energy that flows and tingles in her body every time she bends.

How utterly amazing. "How does it work?" Tenzin asks and Korra basks in the inquisitiveness. No matter how resilient and traditional her master appears, Tenzin is surprisingly open minded faced with progress.

"My team of analysts were fascinated by the sheer genius behind this invention," Tarrlok palms the gauntlet, seduced despite his hate for the inventor, "Through carefully placed electrical charges planted in the ground, whoever wears this is able move entire sections of rocks. Something about repulsion and attraction between charges, I believe? It doesn't matter, engineer is a useless field of knowledge to benders."

Korra's uneasiness takes a tumble, "I disagree, Councilman," she struggles on the appellation, "It is important to draw and grow wisdom from different sources. If the knowledge has a single root, it inevitably withers and decays. Studying and understanding other elements and other disciplines, like in this case, is a key element to fairness and strength."

She smacks her lips together, feeling the tangy taste of stale on her tongue.

"A single discipline is doomed to failure, for its weaknesses will turn into cracks over time. Learning from others, even if criminals, will help us find the cracks in our society in time to heal them."

When she pauses, Tenzin clears his throat and it feels like a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Korra is right, Tarrlok. It's the same ideal Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko followed when they decided to build Republic City. One we should respect, even in regards of non-benders."

Asami's stare burns, a trail of blazing emeralds. Korra dares a smile back at her, one so quiet that feels more intimate than a simple reassurance.

Tarrlok scoffs a dry breath, "Ah, this sounds like important Avatar talk. And who am I to disagree with the Avatar herself?" his voice intones like a disagreement, "I suppose, it's fair to give recognition where it's due. Now a criminal, but lest anyone forget this, Hiroshi Sato was one of the most brilliant minds of Republic City."

Alive and remembered as dead.

"And I bet genius isn't the only trait that runs in the family."

The broken leg of the chair grates dully on the carpeted floor, "Very well," Asami concedes and rises, circling around her desk. In the corner, the sofa bleeds white feathers.

Asami makes her way through the sea of debris without stumbling. She picks a fallen photo and puts it back on the mantelpiece of an extinguished fireplace. She turns the frame to face the wall and Korra notices a crack in the middle.

Korra shifts on her feet to accommodate a small circle around the Sato heiress. Tarrlok lounges in his chair, only half turned towards the middle of the room.

Inhaling deeply, Asami spreads her hands open in front of her, palms up. She flicks her wrist and a ball of fire ignites over her fingers.

It's one Korra has never seen before.

A streak of purple dances between the rings of fire, an intense colour that envelops the whole flame around his contours. The ball rustles for a moment before the heiress directs it into the hearth.

"Shall we go outside?" Asami says, "I'm not really keen on letting my house burn again."

Again? Korra wants to ask, but Tenzin waves away her questioning flinch.

The purple now burning deepens the creases of Tarrlok's displeasure, "I hope you don't mind if my men carry on with their research."

Korra watches a purple shadow stretching in the emerald of Asami's eyes.

+++

Tarrlok's examination is humiliatingly forceful.

The black sky is repeatedly stabbed by purple arches of fire until the roaring of the flames succumbs to a shiver. Asami lures fire into the world with a violent crackle as her limbs twist in graceful vaults. Fallen autumn leaves sizzle beneath her dance, but she doesn't slip once nor loses control of her flames.

Tenzin and Korra stiffen in the open air, avoiding Tarrlok's steely glare.

"Why firebending? Doesn't she have Earth Kingdom heritage?" Asami's green eyes vibrate in Korra's mind.

Her master's robes look coal among the violet flashes, "I have to guess it comes from her mother's side of the family. Yasuko was a firebender."

"She was?"

"She was." Tenzin's sigh is drawn and hidden, "Yasuko was a firebender, but maybe most importantly, she was a talented singer. Loved by many for her beautiful voice and soul. Her concerts used to fill each row of the theatre. It was quite difficult to find a ticket for one of her shows."

Asami claps her hands and a surge of purple arches over her body.

"She used to hold small parties at her home after these concerts. Small gatherings, with food, wine and music."

Asami's punch surges into a plume of fire as Korra tries to reconcile the heiress' defiant silence with the warmth of a mother figure.

"Then, one night, the Agni Kai Triad attacked the estate during one of these parties. Yasuko was killed by one member of the triad who sought money and power," glowing embers of ash billow the hem of Tenzin's robes, "Asami was barely a child when it happened. And now to be robbed of the last of her family..."

Korra's thoughts chase the bulky profile of her own father Tonraq, locked in an image of his arms hugging a petite figure made of warm smiles and cold hands. Her own mother was segregated to the realm of memories, alongside with Yasuko.

Her circle of thoughts is soon shattered.

The liquid sounds of the night are muted by a new sparkling, a crackling that follows a new faltered rhythm. Asami's hand sparks blue as her fingers draw a slow movement in the air.

And lightning strikes a distant star, a flickering point that blinks down at them.

"Is that all, Councilman?" as she wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead, Asami's voice sounds small, a ruffle of emotion that surfaces for the first time. Plaintive. Young.

Tarrlok grits his teeth and stares ahead, lips thin.

"Almost. Could you remove your gloves?"

Korra's eyes lowers to Asami's gloved hands, which she hadn't noticed.

The black looks smudged against the pale fingers that inch into view. A guard accepts the gloves with stony silence and at Tarrlok's nod, he burns the cloth on his palm. The smoke burns black with traces of grease.

"Please continue, Miss Sato. I apologize for the interruption."

Asami replies to his jab with another crackle and a purple shield of fire, hands waving in a circular motion. She extinguishes the flame with a tired heave but her next motion is still fluid, a shuffle of feet that burns with purple sparks in its wake.

Conceding to a sudden instinct, Korra's orange fire joins the next flash of purple, the flames fading next to each other.

Asami's gaze sharpens – Korra's mind muddles over the word that describes it, because it feels they could change colour suddenly, maybe turn into the green hue of the forest. But, she's not a poet.

The intrigue in Asami's eyes drowns Tarrlok's irked scoff, "I'm not here to assist to a display of your skills, Avatar. But if you insist, I could ask Miss Sato if she'd like to spar with you."

The idea shakes Korra's core.

"I believe that's enough, Tarrlok," Tenzin interrupts, "You wanted to verify the nature of Miss Sato's bending. I think this will suffice to quench your doubts, once for all."

He turns away from him, "Miss Sato. Thank you for your time. I appreciate it."

Asami bows deeply to him in reply.

Tarrlok stiffens his stance but accepts the idea of a retreat. He bows stiffly to Asami, "Thank you, Miss Sato. And please, in the unlikely event that damage has occurred, you may claim compensation from our police department."

"I'm sure everything's in perfect order," Asami says and Korra's knuckles pale. The Water Tribe Councilman turns on his feet and follows the cold stomping of his men.

"Let's go, Korra," Tenzin bows again and leaves the Avatar to follow him.

Korra lingers in the garden, not brave enough to leave. But not brave enough to speak, either.

Asami smiles a little for both of them, "Meeting you has been an honor, Avatar."

The words stir Korra and suddenly she finds herself wishing she didn't have to leave so soon, "Uh, me too Asami. I mean, Miss Sato, uh... I..." the smile that pulls at her lips doesn't feel reluctant anymore.

"Asami will do."

Korra sticks her hand out, "I'm Korra."

Despite the firebending, Asami's palm feels rough, and a little cold in the middle. It feels nice.

"Uh, I hope," Korra stumbles, falters, "I hope this isn't the last I see of you?"

Asami's smile doesn't dim, but Korra can tell something makes her sadder, uncomfortable. For some obscure reason, her voice, when it finally comes again, is thick and palpably sad.

"Have a good night, Korra."

"You too, Asami."

When she reaches Tenzin and glances back, Korra sees Asami hasn't moved from her spot in the garden. She raises a hand in the night.

On the dark side of the Sato estate, one window burns purple.

+++

Alone in her study, Asami slumps down in her chair, mindful of its broken leg.

She tugs at one palm, looking for the edge of the hard rock she had molded into a thin plate to follow the dips and the curves of her hand. They come loose with a satisfying click from both palms, and she shivers at the cold air that nicks at her skin. She inspects the flints with a careful eye, looking for imperfections or chinks on their surface.

She idly strikes the two plaques against each other and they resonate with a sizzling crackle. A purple flame surges alive between them.

Korrasami Week Day Four

I wanted to try something a little different with this one. Hopefully it’s okay. Also, I fell behind with the schedule, busy day. Don’t know if I’ll get next up in time, but I’ll do my best. As usual, enjoy :)

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Prompt: longing

"Hello?"

"You have reached Air Temple Island, this is Master Meelo speaking. How shall I assist you today?"

"... that sounded vaguely threatening."

"I'm merely being professional, ma'am."

"Yeah. I bet you could land any job at a front desk. I could put a good word for you if you want. Uh, is Korra there?"

"Please, state your business with the Avatar."

"Business? Meelo, it's me, Asami."

"Pretty lady!"

"Uh, that's me. Could I speak with my girlfriend, please? Is she busy?"

"I dunno. Why would you want to speak to her when there's a real bender right here? Don't you prefer the company of a powerful airbender?"

"You know she's the Avatar, right? She's as powerful as-"

"Pf, I fought and won against a giant mecha of metal once. I saved Republic City from an invasion."

"... that you did. But I'm sure of my decision Meelo. Thank you for the offer, though."

"Your wish shall be my command, then, wonderful lady... Korraaaaa! Your pretty lady is on the phoooooone... We shall meet again soon, beautiful woman, and in the meanwhile do think of me fondly if you can..."

"I'll... I'll do my best, I guess."

"Give me that phone, Meelo, thank you... Hello? Asami?"

"I'll let you know Meelo has more game than you, oh mighty Avatar."

"Ugh, he's just a nuisance."

"A nuisance way smoother than you. I remember our first dates when you struggled with forming barely coherent sentences. Nevermind a whole conversation."

"I was nervous because I wanted to impress a beautiful girl."

"Your nervous rambling was so cute."

"And you're an absolutely awful person."

"Aw, I love you too, Korra."

"You say you love me, but next thing I know you're running after a dashing airbender, much younger than both of us. Mh, I didn't peg you to be like one of those ladies, who only have eyes for younger flesh."

"Ah Korra, you know me so well."

"He's definitely a keeper, though. But wait until you hear about his most famous airbending technique. A brave and challenging pose, one that requires an impressive display of skill and a, let's say, a complete bodily effort. He puts every inch of himself behind this technique."

"Mmm."

"Really impressive."

"..."

"..."

"You should stop making fun of poor Meelo, Korra."

"As soon as he stops making advances at you..."

"Don't worry, dear. He knows I'm happily taken. And I have no intentions of letting go."

"Sounds right. You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, 'Sami."

"I think I might have a slight idea."

"Is everything okay?"

"Surprisingly enough, we only had just minor problems. Guess I got used to the urgency of your Avatar related problems. But even if they're small, when you pile them all together-"

"Even the smallest inevitably becomes an annoying inconvenience. Yeah, I get that feeling. Tell me more, if you want?"

"Ranting isn't sexy, Korra."

"Everything about you is sexy, Asami. Even when you complain about misogynistic ancient business men. I love watching them flail as you tear them apart with your words and your looks."

"Looks like somebody took a page from Meelo's guide for flirting."

"Please, I'm not that desperate. And it's not my fault my girlfriend is so hot I can't help my mouth. Oh, don't get me started on that adorable snort of yours-"

"Korra!"

"But I digress. Tell me more about your day?"

"Nothing unusual. Roadblocks between construction projects, whiny workers, complaints... I didn't imagine Zaofu to be so conservative, being a place born from refugees. Oh, we discovered some kind of building? Buried underground? They're not exactly sure what it could be, but it's slowing things down at the construction site. We can't risk damaging what could be an artistic treasure."

"Could it be spiritual-related?"

"Unlikely. It looked like a storage building more than anything else. Maybe a library of some kind... But you're just trying to make it spiritual-related, right?"

"The Avatar is the bridge between spirits and humans, after all. And I'm always happy to give a hand."

"Mh, and since you'd be here we could make that trip to Omashu?"

"You know I've always wanted to go with you there."

"I'm sorry, dear. No matter how much I wish you could come here, I'm afraid it will end up being a boring warehouse, instead of a mysterious temple. But I'm flattered you would make that up for me."

"Hey, if I can't even take advantage of the Avatar status every once in a while to see my girlfriend, what kind of girlfriend would I be?"

"The best kind."

"Mmm. And who's taking a page from Meelo's book, now?"

"Oh, shut up. How are things otherwise in Republic City?"

"Thankfully busy."

"Thankfully?"

"This way I don't have the time to miss you any more than I already do. It would drive me crazy."

"I thought I was supposed to be the workaholic one in this relationship. Promise me you won't pick up my bad habits, dear."

"I promise only if you promise to actually work on those bad habits. You're cute when you're sleeping, but hunched on your desk? Not so much."

"I promise I'll do my best, dear. Now, what about Republic City?"

"Oh, yes. Everything has been quiet lately. I'm mostly running errands with Tenzin, helping here and there. I even went to a couple of press conferences with Zhu Li, too. She definitely has a better handshake than Raiko. Less sweaty, for starters."

"Did you end up going to that gala held in your honor?"

"Yeah. Bolin and Opal came with me, so we ended up having fun. And the food was nice, too. Even if everyone wanted to meet me only to tell me what an honor it is to be meeting me."

"They only want to thank the greatest Avatar ever. You can't complain if people love you and keep throwing parties for you."

"Says the lady who built a giant version of me in the middle of the city."

"You deserved it, Korra! A statue is the less we could do. Especially after everything you had done for the city. First Amon, then Unalaq and Zaheer. And Kuvira... You are amazing, Korra, both as a person and as the Avatar, so it's only fair people recognize it."

"Should I expect to see a new statue next time I visit the Beifong's?"

"... it depends if the people prefer Huan's art to my project, I guess."

"You're incorrigible."

"Yeah, well. And I miss you."

"I miss you too, Asami."

"It's only a few days. As soon as things start to run smoothly I'll take the first airship back to Republic City. I'll even pilot one myself, if I need to."

"I have no doubt. But take as much time as you need, Asami. I'll be here, waiting for you and being proud."

"Isn't it a little weird, uh?"

"Being proud of you?"

"No, I mean. Me being the one who's away and you staying at home in Republic City. It's usually the opposite with us."

"I can't fault people for wanting to exploit my girlfriend's genius. You're the best at what you do."

"Still, I can't help but miss you."

"Hey, how about when you come back we have dinner together? Down by the bay? At that water tribe restaurant you like?"

"Only if you promise we can go for a ride on a turtle-duck boat after."

"Then it's a date."

Korrasami Week Day Three

Oh, this one hasn’t undergone through much editing. Enjoy :)

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Prompt: vacation

"You sure you got everything?"

"Don't worry, me and Pabu are ready to rock the beach! Those waves won't even know what hit them!" Bolin exclaims, flexing his arms over his head. Pabu climbs his torso to reach his forearms, sporting a small straw hat that matches his.

Mako sighs silently and folds the last of his towels against his leg. He places the cloth inside his bag, on top of all his other belongings. His brother doesn't miss the suspire.

"Relax, Mako. It's just one weekend."

Mako zips the bag before replying, "With Korra, I've learnt not to take anything for granted."

Bolin's enthusiastic reply slides into pursed lips, "You're not wrong... I mean, even Wu is tagging along," he trails off and shakes his head vehemently, "Oh, come on, Mako! It's been a long time since we went on vacation together. Me, you, Korra, Asami, Wu and my sweet Opal. I won't let your gloomy attitude ruin it! I know this time everything will go smoothly!"

Bolin's ramble accompanies them outside their home, to the front porch.

His brother has a point. It's not easy for them to coordinate holidays and outings so most of the times they are reduced to shared brief lunches or late nights together, where exhaustion grips at them from all sides. A whole weekend feels like a small blessing and he hopes they'll make the most of it.

"Last check, did you pack everything? What about the sunscreen? You grabbed that, too?"

Bolin's protests die immediately on his mouth, lips tightening in a cheeky smile as the earthbender rushes back inside. Just to be on the safe side, Mako lazily rifles through the contents of his own bag one last time. He prays this will be the most action he experiences during the weekend when a weird crunching noise distracts him.

"Good morning, Mako!"

Korra's cheerful call comes from a small van parked in front of him. The Avatar is leaning outside the window of the passenger seat, perched on the thin sill. Next to her, Asami smiles at him from the driving seat, green eyes shaded by a pair of googles.

He hoists his bag higher on his shoulder and waves back at them.

+++

"Next time," Wu pants and swallows heavily, face pale as a sheet, "We're riding badgermoles."

"So we have to listen to your singing? I’d quite prefer this, thank you very much." Korra replies, leaning back in her seat with a lazy stretch. Opal smiles at the back of her head, sharing the sentiment.

After all, Asami's van had easily welcomed the six of them with all of their belongings, and leaving space for Opal to stretch her legs between the seats.

"An air bison?" Wu groans again and Opal smiles sympathetically at him.

"Sorry, Tenzin had banned me from all the air bison’s stable, after I sort of helped Jinora sneak out in the middle of the night," Korra yawns and rubs at one eye, "And Opal here is still a student, and therefore prohibited to use air bison transportation for," she quotes with her fingers, "Such frivolous activities. But, on the bright side, I don't think this method of transportation is that bad."

"You think that only because it has the Future Industries' logo on its side," he moans back, both arms wrapped around his stomach.

Korra shrugs, "It's not my fault my girlfriend is a genius," she replies, leaning over the clutch to kiss said girlfriend on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, Wu," Opal hears the smile in Asami's apologetic tone, "But it won't be for much longer, now. We're almost there," she replies as she takes another turn down a deserted street.

The engineer drives smoothly down the lanes, slouched in a comfortable posture, even as the roads become smaller and less frequented. She looks serene in her seat, arms lazily gripping the wheel. Because of the many turns they had undertaken, Opal had lost any sense of direction. Instead, she takes her time to admire Asami's navigational skills: the driver hadn't looked at the map once, not since their departure from Republic City, but she hasn't hesitated once.

Opal takes a look at the other passengers to distract herself from Wu's retching sounds. Beside him, Mako leans against the side of the van, arms crossed and eyes closed, probably in sleep. Opal suspects he's just trying to ignore Wu's moaning. Most surprising of all, Bolin's snoring loudly in the seat next to her, passed out only after few minutes of traveling, lulled to sleep by the van's rocking motions. Pabu has disappeared at the beginning of the drive in the back of the van to keep company to Naga.

Curious, Opal leans forward between the two seats in the front, careful not to jostle her slumbering boyfriend.

"Asami," she begins, "How come you never told us about your beach house before?"

The Sato heiress catches her eyes through the rear view mirror and offers a slight smile, "I don't know, Opal. I guess I never considered the idea of going there again until Korra mentioned a beach day."

Korra makes an humming noise from the side, to which Asami's smirk only grows. Opal isn't privy to the silent exchange, but the secret traded knowledge doesn't bother her because of the exclusion.

"When was the last time you came here?" Opal asks again, head lolling on her crossed arms with the elbows resting on both the front seats.

"I was very little. I think I came here last with my mother," Korra lays a hand on Asami's tight. Smiling fondly, both at the memory and at the touch, Asami waves away the gesture, but not the feeling, "We wanted to go together, but my dad had to remain behind for a last minute emergency at the factory. He insisted we went without him."

Asami's smile never falters.

"Though he never said anything, I think he wanted to get rid of this house after my mother’s death. Sell it, probably. Even though I don't know what made him change his mind in the end- That's the place, by the way."

"Well, I, for once, am sure glad he didn't sell it," Korra whistles lowly, admiring the blue and white mansion that enters their windscreen.

But the rueful chuckle that escapes Asami's lips makes Korra's hand cease its circular movement on her leg.

"It's nothing, don't worry," for the second time, Opal feels like she missed a beat of the conversation, "I just realized I don't have any memory of my father in this house."

Korra's other hand rises to Asami's cheek and brushes away a strand of ebony hair.

After a moment, Opal adds her smile and her hand on Asami's shoulder.

"Then," she says, feeling like a real airbender behind those words, "What are we waiting for? Let's go make some new memories."

+++

When they reach the beach, with the sea lapping gently at the shore, the first thing Korra does is heave her girlfriend over her shoulders and drop her in the water.

Asami comes back to the surface spluttering and complaining about sunscreen and sunburns.

+++

Later, after a raucous round of water fighting with Opal and the two brothers, Korra marches back to the beach, where an unaware Asami is peacefully reading a thick book, body splayed on a towel.

Korra drops unceremoniously on her, sprawling over her back like a starfish and dripping freezing water over her warm skin.

Asami shrieks, and Korra laughs.

+++

The six of them engage in an animated match of volleyball, one that ends in the water.

They have to explain the game to Korra, first, who has never played before in her life.

Surprisingly, Wu reveals himself to be a pretty decent server, scoring a few points with only one shot. But the skill doesn't balance his refusal to play any ball that's saved further than this, claiming of not wanting his hairstyle ruined. Opal is the fastest on her feet, jumping at any given occasion to land most of the smashes.

Mako stumbles awkwardly through a couple of smashes, but Bolin makes an amazing defender against the sturdier hits. His strength hinders his fast movements, so his team ends up relying on Asami's timely saves. Except for those, Asami reveals herself to be a terrible player, somehow lacking the proper coordination for simple passes.

They all breaks down in giggles when Asami accidentally hits Korra in the face with a terrible serve.

+++

"What do you mean you can't sandbend? Aren't you an earthbender?"

Bolin smiles awkwardly at Wu, "Yes, but that's not the same thing."

Wu wrinkles his nose from behind his round sunglasses, his face being his only visible part. Bolin and Opal are working together to bury him completely in the sand, as their original plan of building a sand chair had failed miserably. At random intervals, Mako kicks a spray of sand in their direction, helping them bury the former king.

"Why not?" Wu asks again, "It's practically the same thing. Sand is just earth, split into grains and located at the ocean's side."

Bolin's face flickers to a miffed expression, "It's not the same thing, because I can't sandbend, but I can earthbend."

"Do you know the reason it's not?"

"Of course," Bolin pauses in his digging to hunt for words, "It's because... because."

"You don't know?," Wu presses, "Aren't you an earthbender?"

"I am!" a wave of embarrassment washes over Bolin, "And what about you? Why don't you know the difference?"

Wu sniffs at him, "I'm not an earthbender."

"But you're the Earth King. You should know this stuff," Bolin points out simply.

Wu's complaints pitch his voice into a whine, but Bolin can now recognize when Wu is taking the teasing in stride, laughter bubbling behind his words, "Former king, thank you very much. And I-"

Bolin sighs, tuning out the political spree Wu inevitably launches into. He had seen in first person the effects of Kuvira's tight reign on the Earth Kingdom, and so it's natural for him to wholeheartedly agree with Wu's decision in stepping down on the throne. He has the feeling that the world had seen enough of monarchs, at least for a little while.

He just wishes he wouldn't launch into an half hour speech every time they mention it.

Bolin trades shrugs with Opal as he lets his gaze divert to the side. His eyes fall on Korra's form, laying curled up on her side, head in Asami's lap. They're huddled on their towels next to their failed sand chair, Asami sitting up to read her book. One of her hands is busy carding through the Avatar's damp hair in a rhythmic motion. 

Korra looks on the brink of sleep, with that thousand mile stare she does every time she struggles to stay awake. And Bolin knows the warmth brought by the touch of a lover so he understands Korra's wishes to remain awake as long as she actually can.

He feels lucky to be among the few who have the privilege of seeing the Avatar so relaxed. In the past years Bolin had known her, Korra had faced many adversities, always giving to the world more than it deserved. Bolin often wondered how much more she could give before it demanded too much.

Seeing her pliable and serene slots a pebble in Bolin's chest, one that warms in a pleasant way.

When he rises his eyes, he meets Asami's smile with one of his brightest.

It doesn't take long for Asami to join the conversation, offering her input on sand. She explains the many applications it has found in modern technology and how Future Industries has hired a team of skilled sandbenders to create prosthetic limbs with sand particles, resulting in lighter and stronger models.

He doesn't need to imagine the widening of Korra's smile.

+++

The moon shines over them, splintered in speckles of white over the black pool of the sea. The lapping waves peal like thunder.

Strolling on the beach, Korra gently leads Asami by the wrist, eyes soft. And Asami follows her until she feels the water lap at their waists and tickle their bellies.

Korra wraps her arms around her shoulders, guiding her further in the sea of darkness.

They sway to the rhythm of the waves, stealing slow and tender kisses from each other.

Asami presses the side of her head to Korra’s chest without a word, burying her face in Korra's neck. Her hands circle her waist and Korra feels like her heart is about to burst from love. She presses a kiss to the crown of Asami’s head in turn, cradling her closer in the embrace and heating the water around them with firebending, so Asami won't feel cold.

They stay entwined in the dark for long, moving only to kiss or caress another silver of skin.

Korrasami Week Day Two

This idea spiraled into a direction I hadn’t predicted. Hope you’ll enjoy. Cheers :)

—————-

Prompt: physical touch

Korra is six and likes to run her arms over Naga's fur, especially when they are huddled up in front of the fireplace and there's a storm howling outside.

Naga's white wool feels fuzzy on her bare skin, a ticklish sensation that leaves patches of shedding fur during the summer. She doesn't like it. Naga's thin hairs stick to her fingers, making it difficult for her to brush them away.

She prefers to be wrapped in a warm hug by her mother instead, and let Senna slowly run her fingers over her arms. They travel on the inside of her forearms before rising upwards, until they tickle her elbows and the nape of her shoulders.

Korra is eight and she's holding onto her father, standing outside the perimeter of the White Lotus Compound. She doesn't know what's waiting for her behind those metal doors, but she knows her father's touch intimately. Tonraq's huge hands envelop hers completely, leaving his thumb free to brush over her wrist.

She wonders if one day her hands will become like his, callous and hard and impossibly warm even in the snow. She recalls her mother's touch always feels cooler and dry on her skin. She wonders if that's the reason her parents often hold hands, to share warmth and coolness between each other.

The training white tape itches the first time she wraps it around her hands, but she's grateful she has taken the time to tighten it when she punches a wooden pole.

Korra is eleven and stubborn and angry. Master Katara had told her how Aang and her used to go penguin sledding together but the elders won't let her out of the compound in search for an otter penguin. So she decides to sneak out on her own to look for one.

The wind bites at her ears so she wraps one arm around her middle to keep warm. She conjures a small ball of fire on the palm of her hand, focusing on the burst that flows insides her. Her arms tingle in its wake and Korra relishes in the feeling.

Korra is twelve and Ikki's hands feel soft and wet as she grabs her wrist. The child is small and rosy cheeked, bundled up in a pile of furs. Her mother and Master Katara smile and coo at the two of them, while Korra grimaces a smile, wishing she could go back to practice waterbending instead of holding a baby's chubby fingers.

A year later, Korra feels a painful snap as something gives in her arm. She breaks an earthbending stance to curl on the ground, wailing in pain. Master Katara's face is bathed in light as she expertly bends a basin of warm water into a little disk, barely bigger than her wiry hand. The water coats Korra's arm and washes away the tears and the splitting pain, leaving behind a deep coolness in her bones that warms quickly.

Korra is fourteen when she dreams of rough hands that bind her legs together and force a piece of cloth inside her mouth, leaving painful bruises on her arms. A tight hold hauls her out of the bedroom window in her home and pushes her inside a cramped box that reeks of sweat and tears.

It feels like a nightmare on her waking skin, but it shakes her insides like a memory.

Korra is seventeen and her arms burn deliciously under the strain of Naga's pulling reins as the two of them escape the compound in the silent night.

The traditional Air Nomads robes itch her skin, but not as much as the Fire Ferret's uniform does. She always struggles with the protections. The ones with the Future Industries logo are softer, but made of a sturdier material. She feels the urge of scratching nonetheless, if only to chase away the annoyance with the dazzling smile and the emerald eyes.

The eerie mask of Amon glints under the shadow of Avatar Aang's statue. Her arms feel leaden, legs like wood as the chi blockers easily block her attacks. And when Amon takes her bending away, a coil of energy springs forward in her loose limbs, followed by a powerful surge of airbending that leaves her body singing.

Aang's touch is frigid like a ghost's, but warm like a cup of noodles.

Korra is seventeen and the cold of the sea bites at her fingers as they travel towards the South Pole, but Mako's pockets are warm. His hands run almost as hot as hers.

In the dull nights passed on the ship, Korra paces the tight hallways and feels like a caged animal. Asami's light is often lit in her cabin, the girl pouring over documents and numbers until late in the night. Korra watches her rubbing her hands together before offering to make some tea. When their hands brush over traded words and tea cups, Korra notices how cool Asami's feel.

Korra laughs and spills a bowl of popcorn over her shirt as Bolin nudges her from his seat during a thrilling scene of his last mover. The four of them are sitting in the last row of a darkened room with a huge image of Bolin staring down from the screen. The popcorn feels sticky on her bare skin and while trying to clean herself, she ends up making a mess all over Asami's silk shirt. The heiress laughs delightfully as she splutters an apology.

The energy of the spirit portal rumbles under her fingertips and for a moment she fears she won't be able to grasp it, let alone bend it.

Korra is eighteen when she loses the connection to her past lives. Her body shakes emptily, a low drumming that spreads to her core. Each touch is a numb print on her skin and for the first time her hands feel cold.

As she prepares to board the airship with a renewed skip in her steps, she chases down the excitement she feels at the dawn of a new adventure. She lets it collect in her belly and blames it when she can't fall asleep during the first night. Her shoulder is brushing Asami's under the covers, the two of them sharing a bed because of the cramped numbers of bedroom on the airship. Asami's feet are cold as her hands.

Korra is in Zaofu when she dreams about the same sets of rough hands, and the same bruising hold from her childhood nightmares.

The dream shakes her insides like the present.

Hazy and mellow, ready to slip into unconsciousness after the failed kidnapping attempt, Korra imagines Asami's shaking hand hovering over the top of her head. The image evokes a similar memory, one that involves her meditating into the spirit world under Asami's watchful eye.

The sand bites her cheeks as she watches Asami dabs at her sweaty forehead. Her hands are nimble and skilled even with a rusty welding torch, hanging precariously from a swing she had rigged up from scraps.

The same hands pry her fingers loose from the white knuckled grip she has on the phone after her surrender to Zaheer.

Korra is eighteen when poison travels up her limbs. It seeps into her arms and legs, spreading from the frozen circles of her shackles. It burns and burns and aches and burns, leaving a trail of boiling under her skin.

But Korra roars and rises over the pain.

She buckles and trembles and collapses in her wheelchair, armrest padded with a woolen lining. And when she tosses and turns in her bed, she swears she can still feel the poison burning her veins, despite having seen Su removing it from her body.

Asami touches her hands, following the lines of her palms. Korra can't tell if they feel cool to the touch.

Her arms stop hurting after two weeks, but they feel nothing compared to the aching numbness in her legs. Her thoughts are splintered, riddled with pain that freeze and fracture.

She welcomes the biting cold of the South Pole on her twitching fingers with a tired sigh.

Korra is twenty-one when she discovers the poison hadn't completely left her body. She cuts her hair and trudges forward, feeling the mud dampen her socks through the holes in her shoes. She covers her arms with white training tape.

The air of Republic City hangs ominously over her head, but Asami welcomes her back with a warm hug, hands coming to a rest over her shoulders. She's glad she's left her shoulders bare.

She tumbles and bruises in the Air Temple yard, and it feels good to train properly again. After each session of training, Asami's hand brushes hers while she hands her a tea cup.

Korra keeps her arms covered, not feeling brave enough to bare them.

Korra is twenty-one and Asami's body feels small as she curls beneath Korra's chin. The golden light of the new spirit portal hums and glows. In the darkness, Asami holds onto Korra's hands, clutching at her like a lifeline. They are still holding hands when they step into the spirit world.

Korrasami Week Day One

This was a fun prompt. Hope you’ll enjoy :)

----------------

Prompt: distraction

As soon as Republic City acquires a semblance of stability, she moves out of her home.

Filled with rambunctious benders, it was impossible for the hallways to echo as empty. But Mako and Bolin's loud family has to move out at some point, as they can’t keep living under her roof. Asami understands that. It's the same reason she won't permanently move to Air Temple Island.

She also understands the feeling that sings under her skin every time she sets foot in the mansion (she thanks Raava it's not a malicious one). She's not going to sell the mansion. She's too fond of those walls, despite... despite.

Instead, there's an idea that tickles her brain. It's the urge to do something with her old house, to transform it into something her parents could be proud of - both her parents. Something for the city, like a school or a library.

It's still a work in progress.

But inevitably, she moves out of the mansion.

She brings Bolin along in her hunt for a new apartment - he harbours a secret keen eye for design and Asami exploits it every time she can. Korra and Mako tag along, and the four of them make a day out of it, an afternoon that turns out to be a whole array of apologies to landowners as the pair of them keep destroying furniture and leave burnt marks on the walls.

She settles for a small house located on the side of the bay, one that has the Air Temple's skyline on the background and shingles that come loose after a storm. It's not in peak conditions, but she doesn't mind manual labour.

The roof is the first thing she patches up.

Slowly, each room gets touched by Korra, who spends as much time as possible there even if they aren't officially living together. Not yet.

Most days, Asami comes home to a second pair of boots next to the doormat, and the second toothbrush by the sink attracts a fuzzy feeling. She finds a second dish drying on the rack and a huge white polar dog chasing butterflies in her garden.

The same garden that Korra likes to turn into an impromptu training field.

The same garden her office has a direct view of.

Desk littered with notes, Asami nibbles down on a pencil as she tries to focus on the blueprints of an engine for a new line of mopeds.

Try is the key word here. She struggles to keep her head low on the project, because otherwise she will be rewarded with an unashamed view of Korra working out in the garden. An alluring and distracting view of her girlfriend working out in the garden.

It's not the first time she watches Korra train - they still regularly work out together at least once a week. But the image of Korra in workout clothes never fails to stir a very specific reaction in her belly. A pooling warmth that-

She shakes her head and banishes away those dangerous thoughts.

She erases another line on her pad, noticing a dumb error in the thermal conductivity equation.

If we shorten this pump, make it thinner, than the cooling liquid can move faster, so that heat will be released... release, crouch, jump and release, crouch, jump... quadriceps, those quadriceps. How could anybody have quadriceps like those? Sweet mother of all quadriceps...

Asami comes back to Korra's last squat, one fluid movement that ends in an arch of firebending, flames sizzling in the air.

And that’s not the point. The point is energy, energy she needs to find a way to carry to the core of the engine. Not Korra's impressive pace as she switches from roundhouse kicks to fast and powerful punches.

Even her hands somehow look really hot, wrapped in white tape.

And she knows that Korra's doing it on purpose, parading in front of her window in baggy pants and loose top.

If she wasn't, she would have completed her running laps along the circuit that wraps around the house, instead of turning back halfway to the first corner. It's completely intentional, like the casual waves Korra throws her way whenever she catches Asami's emerald eyes through the windowpane. She can detect a certain brashness in the Avatar's stance, one that's making her feel... things.

Usually Korra's flirting ranges from a 'I saw this rose and thought about you,' to 'Sun's out, guns out!' as she shows off like a dork, making Asami laugh each time.

And if Korra's new flirting is affecting her, well, Asami certainly won't have to admit that.

She rises from her seat to open the window leading to the garden. She remains motionless for a moment, enjoying the view of Korra doing some earthbending poses. She can see every slightly-ragged breath the Avatar easily control during the difficult poses, legs spread wide and shoulders firm.

The window latch clicks as she unlocks it.

"Korra," she calls out, elbows crossed over the sill, "Could you come here for a moment, please?"

Korra breaks the bending stance she's holding and hurries back to her, hopping on the window in a smooth leap, "What is it, Asami?" she asks, smiling like a puppy.

A cute, sweaty, hot puppy.

"How's the training going, dear?" Asami slows her tongue in a low curl around the endearment.

"Oh," Korra huffs and dabs at her forehead, flexing her bicep in the process, "I'm doing just a light workout, nothing too taxing."

"Mmm," Asami hums, hand rising to her chin and tapping at her lips. A smirk settles on Korra's face.

"See something you like?" Korra asks, blinking meaningfully at Asami. But maybe it's just a very inept wink she makes with both eyes. Asami doesn't know, but she feels giddy nonetheless at Korra's earnest flirting.

She bends lower until she's inches from Korra, who now sports a bashful look on her face. For all her bravado, the Avatar quickly resorts back to a fumbling, stumbling, blushing mess. A cute, fumbling, stumbling, blushing mess.

"Are you trying to distract me?"

"Aaah, is it working? Ah," Korra stutters and one of her hand rises to rub the back of her neck.

Asami leans closer and closer, until she feels warm breath tickle her lips and Korra's expression somber. There's the lightest of the pressures on her lips, the promise of something more. Korra struggles to chase that feeling, pushing her torso up with the pure strength of her arms. She's welcomed by empty air as Asami smirks and turns back.

"You should work a little more on those reps," she tosses over her shoulder, "Your earthbending stance seemed a little sloppy."

Korra's pout is almost endearing as her smile.

+++++

Korra is juggling a huge plate of Fire Nation spicy food, a glass of red wine she didn't really wanted and the most boring of the Earth Kingdom's ambassadors, when she notices the look Asami is giving her.

They're attending a gala in one of Republic City most glamorous venue, under President Zhu Li's insistence. If Korra could have chosen, she would have stopped participating to those events long ago.

Alas, being the Avatar meant being in the spotlight. Public appearances were a necessary if not uncomfortable requirement of her life and since Republic City hadn't faced any recent major crises, Korra had to settle for a stuffy gala once in a while instead of holding public speeches about passion and unity.

The only bright spot in those otherwise dull evenings were her friends and family, most of which were usually in attendance, being important political figures themselves. Tenzin and Jinora politely nodding from one corner, Lin frowning over a plate of dumplings and sometimes her father smiling proudly over a dorky thumbs up.

But if she's lucky, then it's Asami who's smiling at her.

She doesn't know how Asami manages to give her one of those sultry looks and a moment later she'll be nodding politely to one of those old investors of Future Industries.

Asami glances her way, sneaking in feather light touches on the inside of her wrists and in the crook of her elbows between one bald man and an overdressed lady easily impressed by the Avatar's presence. She steals Korra's glass from her pliable fingers to take one sip of her drink. And each time, Korra is left to stare at the lipstick imprint on the corner of her glass for the rest of the evening. (She doesn't dare finishing it for fear that a waiter will take it away.)

It's not like they are against public displays of affections. While most of the time they are pretty reserved about their relationship, they never shy away from small touches and fond smiles in public.

But holding hands and swapping chaste kisses is totally a different thing than the looks Asami is giving her. In the middle of a ballroom packed with some of the most prominent figures of Republic City.

That doesn't stop Korra's heart from flipping in her chest.

The red silk of Asami's dress covers the dip of her shoulders in a crimson cascade as light dances in the folds created by the gown. And the shine of her earrings draws attention to the beautiful emerald hues of her eyes. There's a speckle of gold swirling in them, one that Korra knows wanes in the dark.

Asami flips her ebony hair over one shoulder as she covers her lips with her fingers to hide a polite chuckle and Korra swears her gaze flickers to meet hers for a moment. Korra's ears turn red.

"Your last speech in the northern region of the Earth Kingdom was really admirable, Avatar Korra. For once, I..." dull words reach her ears, breaching her mind with the thoughtlessness behind them. She has no idea what the ambassador's saying, his words lost in an ocean of his own egocentricity.

"Yes, really inspiring," Korra's lips thin into an awkward smile as she stumbles through what she deems a gracious dismissal, "However, I am afraid I must take my leave now, ambassador."

"Ah, yes. The Avatar's company is as pleasant as it is sought-after."

Korra bites the inside of her cheek to hide a grimace, "Thank you, my Lord. I look forward to meeting you again in the future."

The ambassador takes an obnoxious sip of his drink, "Oh, and do seek my company if you wish to hear more tips about earthbending, after all I once was a..."

The droning is swallowed by the buzzing of lively guests as soon as Korra steps away.

She nods to some familiar faces on the way to the buffet table, schooling her features into an expression she wishes could convey her desire of not wanting to be approached. She sighs in relief when she is able to reach the punch bowl, a swirling coral colour, the same shade of Asami's lipstick.

"Hiding already?"

Korra wills herself to face another stuffy politician or worse, some stuffy politician's trophy wife, but instead she is greeted by the welcomed sight of a red dress and a radiant smile.

"Asami!" she fumbles, feeling heat collect on her cheeks after her recent thoughts about her girlfriend, "Aren't you supposed to be entertaining your investors?"

"They can survive without me for a moment. I thought I would come and see how my amazing girlfriend is feeling, hiding all the way to the buffet table."

"You know me," Korra says and tries desperately to move her eyeline up from Asami's hips to her face, praying Asami won't notice, "I can never say no to more food."

"Mmm." Lifting her glass to her lips, Asami's expression changes, smirking in the way Korra has learnt to fear.

"You never told me what you think about my new dress."

Korra blushes, floundering and thinking about how good it looks on her.

"Great!" Cheeks flaming, she yanks her chin up and fixes her eyes blindly on an undefined spot over Asami's shoulder.

"So, you like it?"

"You look amazing in red," Korra forces in a strangled voice, "You always do."

"Mmm."

"Asami," Korra barrels forward and there's a breathlessness in her voice she can't mask, "Have you been trying all this time to distract me? Or did I imagine those... those?" she waves a hand in a vague gesture.

"Is it working?" one of Asami's chiseled eyebrow rises.

"...maybe?"

Asami inches closer, forcing her backwards until Korra feels the bump of the table.

"I see," Asami's smirk makes her spine tingle, "So, right now, in this dress... do you think I look... snazzy?"

Korra's embarrassment washes away in a cloud of ruffled groaning.

"Asami..." she moans, eliciting an amused chuckle from her girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, dear. But it was too good of an opportunity to let it pass."

Korra grouses a bit more and Asami presses a kiss to her cheek, careful not to leave a lipstick stain, "Don't think I forgot about your little training stunt this afternoon."

The mood eases into something more familiar as Korra wraps her arms around Asami's waist, welcoming the touch and the fondness, "You're lucky I love you."

"Ooh, you love me," Asami cheekily repeats, hands interlocking behind Korra's neck, "And do tell me, am I being a distraction right now?"

Korra smiles as she brings their lips together.

*peeks through almost closed door*

May I offer you a Clexa fic in these trying times? Both for fandom and world?

If you’d like to read a fantasy-ish Clexa Au about Clarke being annoyed and Lexa being annoying, here’s my take.

Thank you. And please, be kind to anyone in this fandom, especially after... yeah.

Cheers :)

Omg can you write a one shot where Lexa is paid by her college peers to write love letters to their gfs/ppl they want to date. So Finn asks her to write for Clarke and it becomes a constant. Until one day clarke goes up to her and says I know its you

OKAY. So this has been sitting in my asks for like a year. There will be a few (but short-ish) parts to this. And before anyone asks, this is not based off of “The Half of It” ... but here ya go.

---

Letters

PART 1

It was Polis Record’s fault. Lexa’s atrocious week was definitely Polis Record’s fault. Had Titus not been a complete asshat of a manager and dicked the schedule around, Lexa certainly wouldn’t be having this predicament. Had Lexa’s hours not have been cut back, she wouldn’t be where she was. Had Lexa not known that her next paycheck would be half of what it normally was, she wouldn’t be writing a fake love letter to the devastatingly beautiful girl in her Astronomy class. Had Finn Collins not offered her cash to do so, she wouldn’t be writing this letter on his behalf, even though she was the one that’s had an earth-shattering crush on the recipient ever since their Freshmen orientation, four long years ago.

Let’s rewind.

“Titus, are you kidding me?” Lexa huffed at the bald-headed man who was scurrying around the break room like a headless chicken. “You did what?”

“Lexa, listen,” he tried to calm her down. “The schedule will be back to normal before you know it. I had to hire her. There wasn’t another way around it.”

She was mad. No. More than mad, “There was. But you just didn’t have the balls to tell your mistress’ best friend that you already had a full roster of people on your fucking schedule.”

“Can you keep it down!” He hissed. “This is temporary. I’m sorry. I couldn’t dock my cousin, okay? The schedule will even itself back out. You’ll be back to selling these shitty, scratched up vinyls in no time. Ride it out for two weeks, it won’t kill you.”

What he didn’t realize was that two weeks of half-pay because of shitty scheduling could actually kill her. He just didn’t realize that. There was the pressure of doing well in school, that was one thing. But there was also the pressure of doing well enough to keep her GPA high enough to keep her partial scholarship. And then the pressure of her shitty part-time job at the local record store to help make early payments to her student loans so she wouldn’t have to worry about crippling herself into debt once she figured out what to do with a fucking degree in Geology.

“Two weeks,” she warned him as she started to storm out. “This better be fixed in two weeks, Titus.”

Spoiler alert: Two weeks had come and gone, and Lexa was still screwed off of her work schedule.

“C’mon,” Finn pleaded at Lexa’s side. He had managed to weasel his way into the vestibule of Lexa’s apartment building. “I took that writing class with you last year. I know you’re good. I just need one letter. Typed. That’s it.”

She was already on the verge of a massive outburst after her conversation with Titus. The dickwad that he was, managed to screw her hours up for another week, even though he promised he wouldn’t, “This is not a good time, Finn. Seriously.”

“$200.” He stood tall in front of her. “$200 in cash right now, and all you need to do is type up a page of words that will have her vaguely interested in the person who wrote it, and that’s it. $200 right now. If you do this, then I’ll never bother you for anything again.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Listen, I just need a good way in. I can take the rest from there, okay?”

$200 was enough to cover a good portion of what she would be missing out on for the week. $200 was enough to get by. $200 was enough to get her mind to start churning.

“$300 and it’s a deal,” she tried to match his height. She straightened her back and broadened her shoulders as far as she could.

He laughed at the request, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“You’re the one that needs me,” she reminded me.

He let out a huff and pulled another Benjamin out of his leather wallet and clumped it with the other two. “Fine,” he shook his head as he handed her the wad of cash.

Lexa nodded as she took the money. She buried the pang of guilt she felt into her pocket, alongside the earnings she just made and was ready to make way up the two flights of stairs when she felt Finn grab her arm.

“Hey,” he called out. “Wait a sec. I started a letter already, but didn’t get very far. You can just go off of this,” he handed her a folded piece of paper.

She opened it and read it aloud, “Have you ever felt like you couldn’t breathe? Like the weight of everything you’ve been carrying has amounted to this one moment in your life? Like there’s this burden placed so heavy on your chest that has left your lungs struggling for any ounce of air?”

Finn nodded as the words poured out of Lexa’s mouth. He was more than proud of what he thought was eloquently poetic. Lexa’s look of confusion went missed by him as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Pretty good, right?”

“Finn,” she deadpanned. “It sounds like you just described having the fucking Spanish Flu. I’m not using this. You sound like a serial killer.”

“What?” he yelped. “It’s poetic!”

“It’s a terrifying beginning to what’s supposed to be a love letter,” she deadpanned again. She shook her head as she finally made her way to the flight of stairs, “Give me a few days, I’ll come up with what we need.”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine. But you better make it good.”

She made it good. She made it really fucking good.

Clarke ran her fingertips over the paper as she scanned the words again. She had no idea who had left it for her—she walked into the lecture hall a few minutes early, as she normally did, and saw an envelope pinned to the corkboard with “Clarke” scribbled on it. She looked around, wanted to see if anyone in particular was looking in her direction. It was the usual suspects that always got to class a little bit early. Monty, the one who was always quiet in class but loudest at the neighborhood bar during happy hour. Echo, the girl who always sat in the back row and snoozed as soon as the professor opened her mouth. Finn, the boy who always found a way to have an uncalled for argument with the professor. Lexa, the one who was always in the front row and tended to herself.

Not a single one of them was paying her a piece of mind, so she let her eyes scan the letter one last time before the room filled up.

Clarke,

I was sitting on the lawn behind the library catching up on reading for a class last week. I was skimming through Voltaire’s words:

“Sensual pleasure passes and vanishes, but the friendship between us, the mutual confidence, the delight of the heart, the enchantment of the soul, these things do not perish and can never be destroyed.”

This particular passage struck a chord with me, and it was mostly because when I looked up after reading it, I immediately saw you consoling who I’d assume to be a friend of yours. I’m not sure what had happened, but she looked like she was crying and you showed up with a blanket to sit on, a bowl of fresh fruit, and sat with her and listened intently while she spoke. It was life imitating art, right before my eyes.

Voltaire’s writing is mostly straight and to the point. It isn’t hard to decipher the messages he often tries to relay, but it was most certainly a breath of fresh air to finish that passage to find a parallel to present day. Your actions on that lawn helped me see things a little clearer.

I suppose I just wanted to thank you for that. SO, thank you for being the catalyst for making something in my brain click.

Before I close this letter off, I do have a question for you. And if you feel so inclined to indulge and answer it, you can drop it back into the envelope where you found this one and pin it back to the board.

Has anything happened to you recently that struck a chord? Something that stood out to you, but you haven’t had a chance to dive deeper into it? I’d like to know.

Enjoy your week, Clarke.

Upon tucking the printed note under her laptop, she took another look around the hall, which was now practically full. She moved her computer to the side and pulled a notepad out of her bag. The professor had started her lecture, but Clarke’s mind wandered from the images pulled up on the projector from the Spritzer space telescope as her pen started to move across the page.

Hello,

I believe you’re at an unfair advantage here. You know my name. You know what I look like. Yet I have absolutely no idea who you are. So if you write back to this, I’m hoping you’ll share some insight on the person behind the pen (or keyboard, in your instance).

I’m happy that the interaction you saw helped bring better insight into what you were working on. Coincidentally, the friend that I was with when you saw me is also reading a Voltaire piece for an assignment. I wonder if you’re in the same class?

She’s taking “Romance Studies” as an elective. I tried to convince her that there was no point harping on what was considered to be “romantic” through archaic literary pieces that are now long gone, and replaced with mediocre-at-best Netflix series about teenage love.

It always seemed that with the way things were going in our lifetime… that all “romance” really was, was when two people swiped right on Tinder.

With that said… I guess I can honestly say that your letter is what struck a chord with me. Especially after freshly coming out of that conversation with my friend.

I don’t want to be presumptuous. But it seems that this gesture of yours, whether it was meant to be platonic, or if it was meant to imply a sense of something more, is making me realize that maybe—just maybe—the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic after all.

-Clarke

She was happy with the end result of what was hurriedly committed to the page. Clarke quickly tore it from her notebook and tucked the loose piece of paper back into the envelope. She scanned her fellow students to see if anyone was watching her. She slunk further into her seat and wondered if the recipient was there, sitting in that very room. Unfortunately for her, the lecture that was being given on the Nebular Theory kept the attention of every other person in the hall, so she quickly reached for her computer to start typing notes on the theory’s premise of how every planet in the system was formed.

A tedious hour later, her fellow classmates started packing up and rushed towards the exit door. Clarke took her time shutting her computer down and tucking things away into her bag. She was suddenly aware that the person who wrote to her—the person she now wrote to—could be in the room watching her to see if she had a written response back.

She waited a few more minutes, and finally deemed it safe when the last few people in the room seemed to be chatting with one another or finishing up straightening their notes from the lecture. With a big exhale, she pinned the envelope back onto the board and made a swift exit.

Lexa felt a tap to her shoulder, which caused her to look up, “What do you want?”

“I think it worked. She put the envelope back!” the excitement in Finn’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

“Okay,” Lexa lowered her head to finish writing out her notes from the class. “Job’s done.”

“I’m gonna go get it so we can read it and figure out what to do next,” he giddily let out before darting out of Lexa’s peripheral.

She let out a sigh of distaste when he came back half a minute later and pulled a chair close to where she was sitting. “Finn, you said one letter. I did it. This is on you now. And if you don’t mind, I need to finish up here,” she raised her hand, showing she was still trying to get some of her notes done.

“Fine, suit yourself,” he propped his feet onto the table in front of them while he silently read Clarke’s reply. “Hmm, Voltaire?”

The author’s name caught Lexa’s attention. She suddenly looked up to where he was sitting, “What about him?”

“I don’t know. Clarke said something about him. That’s the bad dude from Harry Potter, right?” Finn brought his attention back to the letter. “What did our letter even say? You never even showed me.”

He handed Lexa the notebook page with loopy and wide writing on it. The edges were jagged, as if Clarke did the whole thing in haste.

“What do you want me to do with that?” Lexa eyed the piece of paper.

“Read it and let me know if you think she likes me,” Finn shrugged. “But also, why didn’t you put my number or something on it?”

“Because it’ll probably take more than one letter for her to even be open to the idea of you,” Lexa chided in her reply. She let her eyes quickly scan the girlish handwriting and folded the paper back up. “She’s definitely intrigued.”

Finn finally set his feet on the floor as he leaned forward and rubbed his hands together, “Okay, great! So what do we do now?”

“We,” Lexa pointed her pen between the two of them. “Do nothing. You can write another letter and see if she wants anything to do with you, Finn.”

“C’mon,” he nudged her shoulder. “I’ll pay ya for another one. Another $300. But we need an exit plan for when we move this from letters to texting or something.”

“Her reply literally just said that we’ve opened the idea to her that letters are romantic,” Lexa shook her head. “Your take on that was to immediately turn this to a texting conversation?”

He grabbed the letter from Lexa, “What? Where’d she said that? It doesn’t say that, Lexa.” He scratched his head.

Lexa let out a defeated sigh, “Finn. She literally said something like, ‘maybe the practice of sharing words on a page isn’t so archaic’ or something. Did we not just read the same piece of paper?”

“See, Lexa,” he smiled as he patted her shoulder. “This is why I need you. Just one or two more. Same price per letter. I just need a little more help and then I’ll be outta your hair. Promise.”

She took her palm to her forehead and rubbed her thumb into her temple. One more wouldn’t hurt. Mostly because the $300 definitely wouldn’t hurt.

“Fine,” she finally let out. “One more. Give me her letter back. I’ll have our reply ready for this same class next week.”

“Excellent,” he grinned as he handed the piece of paper over to her. “You’re a lifesaver, Lexa.”

She felt anything but that. But at least it meant she’d be able to get by for the next week or two, while Titus still screwed around with her hours at the record store.

give her a keese

OKAY THEN

Jar of Hearts ❤️ 

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