Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Yes, Dad. I will. It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize for it,” Asami said with forced patience, phone cradled between her ear and shoulder as she looked somewhere to park. “I’ll handle them. Okay. Bye. Love you, too.”

She ended the call and let out a long sigh, her head already pounding. With a tired grunt, she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to massage the tension away before it settled there permanently.

Great. Another fire to put out.

The new town center Future Industries was funding was supposed to be her big project of the quarter—a sleek, modern space with green roofing and multi-use workspaces. Only now, their original contractor had apparently bailed at the last minute, and no one had bothered to inform her. Typical. She’d been too swamped with client meetings and blueprint approvals to double-check the logistics, something her father had always told her to “leave it to the men.”

So, of course, he’d already hired a replacement without even looping her in.

At least, she supposed, that was one less thing on her plate.

As she turned down the street, the steel skeleton of the new building loomed into view. Dust blew across the concrete, swirling in the air as a few workers buzzed around the site. She parked behind a blue pickup truck—scuffed, well-used, and somehow charming in its ruggedness—and stepped out of her sleek company car. Immediately, a gust of wind hit her, carrying dry air and powdered cement. She blinked rapidly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Wonderful. She was already regretting wearing heels.

Asami adjusted the lapels of her tailored red blazer and stepped through the temporary fencing, expecting to have to scold someone for slacking off. But instead… everyone was already working. Efficiently. The sound of power tools hummed steadily, interspersed with measured shouting between crewmates. She blinked.

That was new.

The last crew had been late to every shift and chronically behind schedule. She’d had to micromanage them just to get anything done. How they even got a contract with Future Industries was beyond her, but… well. Good riddance.

This pace, this energy, was more to her liking.

She scanned the area for anyone who looked like they were in charge but didn’t immediately spot anyone in a vest with a clipboard. So, she cleared her throat.

“Excuse me? Where’s your foreman?”

One of the workers, a wiry man in his forties, jerked a thumb toward the far corner of the lot without looking up.

Asami craned her neck to follow his gesture. Her eyes landed on someone crouched near a column, holding one end of a retractable measuring tape against a beam. Broad shoulders. Brown skin glinting with a thin sheen of sweat. A tool belt slung low on her hips. And wait.

A woman?

Asami blinked, momentarily thrown. She gathered herself and started walking.

As she approached, the woman reeled the tape back in and muttered to herself, focused and unaware. She wore the same hard hat as the others, a carpenter’s pencil tucked behind one ear, and grease stains smudging the edge of her navy tank top. Her exposed arms were solid muscle, not bulky, but strong. Earned. Her hands looked calloused, like she worked with them every day.

There was something striking about the effortless and confident way she moved, like the space bent around her. And when Asami got closer and spoke, “Hi. Are you the foreman?”

The woman jolted upright like she’d been caught off-guard, fumbling the tape measure, which snapped back with a metallic whip .

“Geez,” she muttered, placing a hand over her chest. “Warn a girl next time.”

Then she turned, and for some reason, Asami’s breath caught, and the world stopped spinning.

Her face was flushed from the sun, cheek smudged with dirt, a rogue strand of thick brown hair sticking out from under her helmet. There was a raw, unfiltered energy about her, an ease in her skin, and the kind of presence that made everything else dull by comparison.

And her eyes. They were the brightest, clearest blue Asami had ever seen. Like sunlight breaking through the deepest ocean. She didn’t understand why she was taking the time to observe this woman’s features in such detail; she’d never been the type. Normally, she looked, assessed, and moved on. But something about this woman made her eyes linger.

Asami quickly realized the foreman was staring back at her, mouth slightly parted, a faint pink rising on her cheeks. Maybe she’d been working under the sun too long. Asami’s gaze flicked to the sky, then back to the woman’s flushed skin. Did she need water? They should really install a water station on-site. Another thing for the checklist.

“So, what do you need?” the woman asked, snapping Asami out of her thoughts with a voice that was warm but slightly raspy. It held just a hint of impatience, like she wasn’t in the mood for formalities. “I’ve got a lot to do here, so...”

Asami cleared the lump in her throat, pushing aside the strange twist in her stomach. She stepped forward and offered her hand, saying simply, “I’m Asami Sato.” That should have been enough. Her surname usually spoke for itself.

The foreman eyed her hand for a second too long, then took it. Her grip was firm and rough, her palms calloused with work, but there was a surprising gentleness to the way she held on. Asami felt the faint heat on her cheeks return. Definitely the sun, she told herself. It was getting hot out here. She’d have to check if the workers had enough shade.

When they let go, the woman nodded in recognition. “Ah. You’re Hiroshi’s daughter, right? The one in charge of this project?”

So she knew who she was. That helped Asami get her confidence back. “Yes. And I’m also the lead engineer,” she added, then cringed internally. Why had she said that? It wasn’t like she needed to prove anything to this woman. Still, she hated the way the words had slipped out.

The woman raised a brow but didn’t comment. “Nice to meet you, Lead Engineer Sato. I’m Korra Imaq, the foreman and lead carpenter of the site,” she replied with a cocky smirk. 

Heat bloomed in Asami’s cheeks once more at the jab. If she wasn’t so embarrassed, Asami would’ve thought that Korra’s name was beautiful. Instead, she scoffed, rolling her eyes. As the only two women in the site, Asami thought she’d have someone to get her back and make a new friend. Looked like she was wrong. Walking toward a table, she went straight to business, placing a manila folder on top of it. “I see. Ms. Korra, I have here the contract as Future Industries’ new contractor for Republic City’s new town center. My apologies for the last-minute call, and thank you for accepting our project on such short notice.”

Korra followed her and stood across her on the other side of the table. She opened the folder and studied the contract. Thoroughly. After a while, Asami tapped her toes on the ground, patience wearing thin. How long would this woman read the contract? They were not going to undercut them. They were Future Industries, for God’s sake.

Her disdain must’ve shown in her face. Korra glanced up from the papers, still sporting a smirk on her face. “Alright. Contract looks good. You’re lucky we don’t have any other projects and everyone’s available. Don’t worry, Miss Sato. We’ll build this center before you know it,” Korra winked, before turning around to tend to whatever she was doing before Asami approached her.

“Uh!” Asami was incensed. The nerve of this woman! As a professional, she should’ve let it go. Should’ve walked away and reported back to the office like nothing happened. But something in her twisted, just slightly. And before she could stop herself, she said, “Well, I’d appreciate it if you took this project a little more seriously, Miss Korra. This center is important to a lot of people.”

Korra paused mid-step, half-turned with a coil of measuring tape still in hand. Her brows lifted, then furrowed just enough to make it clear she’d heard the edge in Asami’s voice. “Did I say something that made you think I wasn’t serious?” she challenged.

Asami lifted her chin, refusing to waver. “You just seem awfully casual about a multi-million yuan project.”

Korra looked irritated now. “Casual doesn’t mean careless. I just don’t see the point in making everything feel like a funeral.” Then she tipped her head slightly, like she was assessing something deeper than blueprints. “Don’t worry, Ms. Sato. We’ll get it done. You’ll see.”

And just like that, she turned back around and walked off toward the scaffolding like the conversation hadn’t dug under her skin in the slightest.

And it was only the first day.

—

The week went by with some kind of a routine. Every morning at seven, Asami would arrive at the construction site. She and Korra would exchange updates on the day’s progress, sometimes barely tolerating each other, other times exchanging clipped comments laced with barely-veiled tension. After that, Asami would leave for the office at nine, where paperwork, meetings, and model revisions filled the rest of her day. It was simple. Predictable.

Or at least, it should’ve been. Except it wasn’t.

The first few days were… tense.

Not in the way that involved yelling or direct conflict—no, that would’ve been easier. Instead, it was a careful, simmering kind of tension. The kind where words were chosen too precisely. Where every interaction felt like a subtle game of who could sound more polite while being slightly condescending.

They reviewed blueprints every morning. Korra would lean over the plans like she owned them, pencil in hand, brows furrowed as if she were the engineer.

“You sure about this load-bearing wall?” she’d ask casually, tapping the page twice. “Just feels a little over-reinforced.”

Asami would smile through gritted teeth. “It’s not over-reinforced. It’s structurally sound and built to last, unlike guesswork.”

That earned a snort from Korra, but she didn’t argue. She just adjusted her gloves and went on barking instructions to the crew like nothing happened.

One time, Korra pointed toward the half-finished beams. “We’re starting the joists tomorrow, so if anything changes on your end, just let me know.”

Asami crossed her arms. “And how exactly am I supposed to do that? Send a raven?”

Korra blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “Or, you know… you could just text me.” Before Asami could fire back, Korra held out her phone with a raised brow. “Number?”

Asami hesitated, eyeing her like she was trying to decide if this was a power play. But eventually, she rattled it off. Korra typed quickly, then smirked when Asami’s phone buzzed a second later.

[Hey, it’s Korra 🛠️]

Asami stared at the message, then back at her.

“Now you have mine, too,” Korra said, her grin annoyingly smug. “Just in case.”

Asami rolled her eyes, but she didn’t delete the message.

Other times, it was the smallest things. Korra arriving ten minutes early to “double-check” the material inventory—Asami’s job. Asami staying late to “review the on-site execution”—Korra’s job. Neither of them mentioned it outright, but the message was clear.

I don’t trust you.
And I don’t need to say it out loud.

And yet, they worked. The building slowly rose from its foundation—walls framed, pipes laid, glass deliveries scheduled. Professionalism was maintained. But underneath all that efficiency was the constant awareness of each other’s presence. Every glance, every silence, every clipped reply.

Asami had worked with difficult people before. She’d worked with sexist engineers, egotistical executives, and arrogant designers, but there was something about Korra that grated differently. Maybe it was because she wasn’t incompetent. She was actually good. Too good. And somehow that made her smugness even harder to swallow.

Still, Asami refused to let it show. Not really. She wore her professionalism like a second skin, smiled when she had to, and nodded when appropriate. But inside? She was constantly bracing for the next eye roll, the next smart-ass remark.

The worst part was that Korra didn’t seem bothered. If anything, she looked like she was enjoying the friction. Like it was a game, she knew she was winning. It was irritating.

Because lately, she noticed something more underneath the passive-aggressiveness. She’d hang back just a little longer than necessary, pretending to check her notes or adjust her bag strap. In truth, her eyes always drifted toward one direction—toward Korra. And she didn’t know why she was doing something so ridiculous. She never did things like this. She wasn’t the type to… stare. But still, she did.

She watched the way Korra moved, how her muscles flexed beneath her shirt whenever she lifted long beams of polished lumber or carried crates of tile with ease. She watched the way Korra laughed with the other workers, like they were all old friends instead of employees. And most irritating of all, she noticed the way her entire face lit up when she smiled.

And the image of Korra taking off her protective clothes, revealing her tank top and her biceps, haunted Asami’s dreams all week. And it was only one time!

By the next Friday, as she drove to the site, Korra was still the first thought in her mind. The very annoying , overly confident, smirking foreman who thought winking at her while lifting tile was appropriate behavior on a worksite.

Asami clenched the steering wheel harder just remembering it. She shook her head. No. Korra wasn’t interesting. She was just irritating. That’s all it was. She was—

“Ugh!” Asami let out a low groan as she stepped out of her car, still mentally stewing. She marched straight into the site and made a beeline for the temporary plans table they had set up near the storage area.

“Be careful, you might get splinters!”

The voice came from behind, just as her palm skidded across the surface. Asami yelped, an uncharacteristic, startled sound leaving her throat. She snatched her hand back instinctively, already feeling the sting bloom beneath her skin.

She looked down. A small, jagged shard of wood had embedded itself in her palm, just below her thumb. “Dammit!”

“Hey, are you alright?” Korra was suddenly beside her, reaching for her hand without hesitation.

Asami’s breath hitched at the contact, nearly pulling away. But she didn’t. Her heart thudded louder than it should’ve as Korra gently led her to one of the chairs by the table. She sat without protest, too thrown off to argue, as Korra dug into her bag and retrieved a compact first aid kit.

Trying to fill the silence, Asami said, “You’re not going to say ‘I told you so’?”

“What? Why would I?” Korra replied as she crouched down, carefully plucking out the splinter with a pair of tweezers.

“Because you like to do that,” Asami said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Talking to you this past two weeks, I know you like to rub it in my face when you’re right.”

Korra didn’t rise to the bait. She just poured Betadine onto a cotton ball and dabbed it on the wound with unexpected gentleness. Then she reached for a Band-Aid and smoothed it carefully over her palm.

It felt excessive, but Asami didn’t say anything.

“Oh really?” Korra said at last, glancing up at her. “You know me?”

“Yes,” Asami replied, lifting her chin a little.

Korra stood then, arms crossing over her chest. “Okay. What’s my favorite food?”

“What?”

“Or my favorite color?”

Asami stared at her, blinking. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you know me,” Korra repeated, voice flat now. “So answer the questions.”

“I…” Asami’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Of course, she didn’t know. They weren’t friends. They were barely coworkers. And… Korra was right.

“See?” Korra uncrossed her arms and moved to the other side of the table. With smooth, practiced ease, she unrolled a set of blueprints and weighed them down with a metal square. “So maybe don’t act like you’ve figured me out when you haven’t.”

The words weren’t cruel, but they landed harder than Asami expected.

A few minutes of silence settled between them, broken only by the clatter of materials and the low hum of voices as the rest of the crew started their day. Korra eventually picked up where she left off, pointing to one of the beams on the blueprint and discussing the next stages of framing. Her tone was even, professional.

But Asami wasn’t listening. Something gnawed at her. She was wrong, and she hated being wrong. But more than that, she hated what that meant. That she owed someone an apology.

She cut in without thinking. “I’m sorry.”

Korra blinked, caught mid-sentence. “This post is gonna—Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Asami repeated, meeting her gaze. “I don’t know why I’ve been so hostile to you. The past couple of weeks, I kept telling myself I was just being professional, but… the truth is, I was judging you. I already had this idea of who you were before we even talked, and I treated you like you were one of the businessmen I dealt with before.”

Korra tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. Asami exhaled.

“I’ve been judged like that before. People assume I don’t belong just because of my last name or my gender. And somehow, I did the same to you. I thought you were careless or unprofessional, just because you didn’t act the way I expected you to. So… yeah. I’m sorry.”

There. She said it. Her shoulders felt a little lighter, though the awkward weight of silence lingered in the air between them.

Korra didn’t answer right away. She stared at her for a few seconds too long, and Asami became hyperaware of everything—her posture, her tone, her fingers still resting on the edge of the table. Finally, Korra let out a breath and slumped her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she said. “Apology accepted.”

The words landed heavier than Asami anticipated. A quiet sort of warmth settled in her chest—relief, maybe. Or something else. Either way, she was grateful. “Thank you.”

Korra offered a small, almost sheepish, smile. “To be fair… I judged you, too. Thought you were just another prissy, pretty rich girl who lucked into her job because of her last name.” Asami’s brows shot up, lips parting in protest, but Korra raised a hand quickly. “I know. I’m sorry about that,” she added. “But I’ve seen you show you know your stuff. More than some of the guys I worked with. And I’m wrong about you.”

As she spoke, the muscles beneath her protective vest shifted with her movement. Asami’s gaze flicked toward the motion before she could stop it, and she quickly blinked, forcing her focus back to the conversation. Thankfully, the warmth threatening her cheeks didn’t rise.

“Apology accepted,” she said coolly.

“Thanks.” Korra’s lopsided smile returned as she extended her hand again. “Start over?”

Asami looked at the hand and this time, took it without hesitation. “Start over.”

And just like that, for the first time since the project began, they had a real conversation.

Chapter Text

Asami sat at her desk, surrounded by blueprints, contracts, and unanswered emails, yet none of them were holding her attention. Her eyes kept drifting toward the light blue lunchbox sitting quietly at the edge of her desk, as if it had more gravity than the structural analysis she’d been putting off all morning.

It had been a week since she and Korra agreed to start over, and something between them had shifted. The hostility that once bristled between them was gone, replaced by something softer, something that made Asami feel like she was standing on unfamiliar ground. She wasn’t used to letting people in—never had been. Even Opal, her best friend, had taken years to peel back the layers. But Korra? She’d slipped past her defenses in three days.

It started the morning after their reset. Asami had arrived at the site expecting nothing more than their usual briefing, only to find Korra crouched by the table where she’d gotten the splinter, carefully sanding down the edges. She didn’t make a big deal out of it, just worked with quiet focus, like it was something she’d simply noticed and decided to fix. Asami hadn’t said anything at the time, but the gesture and the warmth she felt stayed with her all day.

From there, their interactions began to change. They still talked about the center’s progress, but now those conversations were interspersed with other little, ordinary things. When Korra teased her about not knowing anything personal, Asami rolled her eyes and asked what her favorite color was.

“Blue,” Korra had answered immediately, grinning like she’d been waiting to be asked. “Come on, that should’ve been obvious.”

And it had been. Her gear, her water bottle, even her toolbox—it was everywhere. Asami couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed sooner.

Without quite meaning to, she found herself offering details in return. Her favorite food. Her favorite book. Trivial things, maybe, but she rarely shared them with anyone outside her inner circle. Korra never shamed Asami for sharing them. She just listened, like those facts mattered.

Still, the moment that stuck with Asami the most wasn’t any of that. It was the morning she showed up late.

She was never late. She was Asami “Never Late” Sato.

Korra had looked up the second she stepped on site and said, “You’re late.” The words were simple, but there was no smirk behind them, just concern. Subtle enough to make Asami pause.

“Um… It’s nothing,” she’d replied, forcing a tight smile as she moved to the table and started unpacking her things. She hoped the comment would pass, but Korra reached out, gently stopping her with a hand on her wrist.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

The unexpected kindness caught her off guard. Her voice faltered as she pulled back and shook her head. “I’m fine. Let’s just get to work.”

To Korra’s credit, she didn’t press. She just nodded and moved on like she hadn’t seen the flicker of something behind Asami’s mask. But later, when they were packing up, Asami found herself hesitating. Instead of heading straight to her car, she turned back to where Korra was rolling up the blueprints for the day.

“It’s just... my dad,” she said, her voice quieter than she meant. “He wants me to go on a dinner date with his friend’s son later.”

Korra paused, meeting her gaze. “Oh.” Then, more gently, “But you don’t want to?”

Asami shook her head, not trusting herself to say more. The lump in her throat was ridiculous, really. She was a grown woman, successful in her own right. And yet, all it took was one command from her father to send her spiraling once more.

And so she shared.

Not all of it, but enough. Enough to explain why her father’s expectations grated so deeply. It wasn’t that she minded the idea of dating—it was the lack of choice that came with it. The way her father always seemed to have someone lined up, someone with the right family name or business connection. Someone who wasn’t… her choice.

“I just want to date someone I actually like,” Asami finished, her voice quieter now. “Not someone my father decides is appropriate.”

Korra didn’t interrupt and just listened, her hands resting loosely on the table. When Asami fell silent, unsure if she’d overshared, Korra let out a low whistle and leaned forward slightly. “Wow. Asami, I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She reached out and took Asami’s hand again without hesitation.

Asami let her. She wasn’t sure why, but the contact grounded her. There was something reassuring about the way Korra held her.

“Have you ever tried saying no?” Korra asked gently.

Asami shook her head and let out a breath, brushing her hair behind one ear. “No. If I did, he’d get angry. He always gets angry when things don’t go his way.”

Korra frowned but didn’t push. “Okay. What about dating in secret, then?”

Asami froze, blinking at Korra’s words.

She hadn’t even thought of that. It was such a simple idea, but one that had never crossed her mind. Because deep down, the truth was: she was afraid. Afraid of what her father might do, afraid of the consequences, afraid of disappointing him. The fear had wrapped itself so tightly around her that rebellion didn’t even feel like an option. She said so as much.

“Hmm,” Korra placed her chin between her thumb and finger, likely thinking. “Your dates… They’re only guys?”

Her heart skipped for some reason. “Y-yes. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking, maybe they aren’t your thing right now.” Korra leaned back slightly, tilting her head as she studied her. “Well… have you tried dating girls?”

Asami blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?” Her voice came out sharper than intended.

Korra’s eyes widened in panic. “I—I mean—just a question! Cos you, uh… give off strong bisexual energy?”

Asami stared at her, mouth slightly open. She wasn’t even sure how to process that. “Bisexual?”

Korra raised both hands defensively. “Forget I said that. I just—I don’t know! I wasn’t trying to assume or anything, I just— Well, are you?”

“I’m not,” Asami answered, though her voice had softened. “I’m straight.”

Something flickered in Korra’s expression, too fast for Asami to name it. Then it was gone, replaced with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh. I’m so sorry for assuming.”

“It’s okay,” Asami said quickly. “I’m not angry.”

And she wasn’t. But Korra’s assumption bothered her, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. So now, she found the conversation lingering in her mind for days.

A sharp knock on the office door snapped Asami out of her thoughts. She barely had a second to compose herself when it opened, and her secretary, Jing, stepped in with a slightly apologetic look. “Miss Sato, the foreman for the center is here to see you. She’s… adamant. I’m so sorry.”

Before Asami could ask what that meant, Korra strolled in like she owned the place, still in her work clothes from earlier, minus the vest and hard hat. Her dark blue tank clung to her just enough to hint at the muscle beneath, and she wore that same lopsided smile that was rapidly becoming Asami’s least favorite weakness. Her stomach fluttered before she could stop it.

Jing bowed and quickly excused herself, leaving the two of them alone as Korra dropped into the chair across from her desk.

“Hi,” Korra said casually.

“Hi,” Asami replied, sitting up straighter, all thoughts of her dating life thrown out the window. “Um, what can I do for you? I thought we covered everything during the site visit.”

“Yeah, we did,” Korra said, digging into her backpack. “But...” She pulled something out, and Asami’s heart lurched.

“My sketchbook!” she exclaimed, practically lunging across the desk to snatch it from Korra’s hands. She flipped through the pages quickly, eyes scanning every familiar line and corner until she was certain it was all still there. Every design, every loose doodle, every scribbled idea that she hadn’t dared upload to the cloud.

Relief hit her in a wave, and she slumped back in her chair with a sigh. Only then did she realize how frantic she must’ve looked. Her eyes darted back up to Korra, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said, quieter this time. “Really. This is important to me.” She hesitated, fingers still resting lightly on the edges of the sketchbook. Talking about her mother wasn’t something she did often—almost never, really. Not because she didn’t want to remember her, but because it hurt in a quiet, distant way. Like a faded bruise that never quite healed.

But Korra had returned this without question, without flipping through it or mocking the sentimental way she’d reacted. She deserved to know why it mattered.

“It was my mother’s,” Asami said, voice softer now, almost unsure. “I don’t remember her voice anymore, but I remember the way she drew. She used to sit next to me with this sketchbook while I was playing… and I’d watch her hands move, the way she never erased anything, just kept going. I guess I held onto it.” She traced the spine of the book with her thumb. “I use the back pages now.”

She didn’t look up while she spoke. She was afraid to. It felt too revealing, too raw. And for a second, she regretted saying anything at all.

But Korra didn’t interrupt or fill the silence. When Asami finally glanced up, Korra’s expression was soft and understanding. She simply shook her head and said gently, “It’s no problem. I’m glad I saw it before someone else did.”

Then, after a beat, Korra’s eyes flicked toward the desk, toward the untouched lunchbox that had been sitting there since morning.

“You still haven’t eaten?”

Asami blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected the shift in topic, but she was grateful for it. Grateful that Korra didn’t dwell on the grief or the ache she’d accidentally let slip. It was as if she instinctively knew when to step closer and when to step back.

As if on cue, Asami’s stomach betrayed her with a loud grumble. She groaned and buried her face in one hand while Korra burst into amused laughter.

“It’s past one, Sato!”

“I know, I know.” She waved a hand, trying to recover her dignity. “I just get lost in work sometimes and forget.” It was a lie. Today, she hadn’t been lost in work. She’d been lost in Korra.

“Well, I don’t wanna be that guy,” Korra said, still grinning, “but I’ll say it anyway: skipping meals is bad for you.”

Asami raised a brow, tone teasing. “Oh, really? What are you, a nutritionist now?”

“Nope,” Korra shot back without missing a beat, standing up and flexing her arm. “But I didn’t get guns like these by skipping meals.”

Asami tried not to react, but her stomach fluttered again—stronger this time—and she blamed it entirely on hunger. Yes. She was definitely hungry.

Fiddling with the lunchbox, she muttered, “But it’s way past lunchtime…”

Korra tsked and shook her head. “Nope. Not letting you off the hook. Skipping meals can lead to fatigue, lower brain function, and whatever else doctors say. So, let’s eat.”

“And you, why haven’t you eaten yet?” Asami pushed back, wanting to prolong their banter.

“Well, it was kinda busy earlier on site. So I guess we’re on the same boat.” Korra laughed as she unzipped her backpack again and pulled out a second lunchbox, setting it confidently on the desk beside the first.

Yes. I guess I could take a break now , Asami thought.

She opened the bento box, and her mouth watered instantly. The rich, savory scent of arctic hen teriyaki, if she wasn’t mistaken, hit her in an instant. It smelled like a perfect fusion of Southern Water Tribe comfort food and Fire Nation street stall flavor. Alongside the glazed meat was a bed of perfectly steamed rice, lightly pickled radishes, roasted seaweed, and a small helping of stir-fried greens with sesame seeds sprinkled on top.

“Wow,” she said, eyes wide. “Korra, this smells amazing. Did you cook this?”

Korra beamed. “Yeah! Proudly homemade.” She opened her own identical lunchbox and added with a grin, “I’ll have you know, I’m a certified self-proclaimed chef.”

Asami giggled, the sound escaping before she could stop it. “Oh really? Let me judge it first before your head gets too big.”

She broke the wooden chopsticks, picked up a slice of the chicken, and took a bite. Her eyes fluttered shut as the taste bloomed across her tongue—savory soy, the sharp warmth of ginger, a hint of sweetness from what she guessed was fire fruit glaze.

“Mmm,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Korra, this is so good.”

At that, Korra’s smile grew even wider. “See? You won’t be able to eat chicken teriyaki this good anywhere! Chef Korra’s seal of approval is stamped all over this lunchbox! And guess what?”

“What?”

“You’ll be craving Chef Korra’s food from now on,” Korra said with a wink.

That sent Asami into full-blown laughter, the kind that bubbled up from her chest and left her covering her mouth, surprised at how free it felt. She hadn’t laughed like that in… she couldn’t even remember when. Probably not since she was a kid.

Not since her mother died and her father… Well, she didn’t want to dwell on that.

Lunch went on like that. Korra telling story after story, some wild, some ridiculous, some delivered with such deadpan sincerity that Asami nearly snorted rice up her nose. She laughed until her stomach ached and her eyes welled with happy tears. Two hours and at least twenty stories later, they were finally done.

Korra stood and began gathering her things, packing up their now-empty lunchboxes with a sheepish look. “Sorry for staying too long. I didn’t mean to take up your whole afternoon.”

Asami shook her head quickly. “It’s fine, Korra. Honestly... I haven’t had this much fun in ages.” She paused, then smirked. “If I’d known you were this funny, maybe we would’ve been friends from the start.”

Korra tilted her head at that, something glinting in her eyes— something Asami couldn’t quite place. It made her heart beat faster.

“What?” she asked, subtly wiping the corner of her mouth. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

Korra laughed, amused. “No, no. Your face is perfect. Trust me.”

Asami froze, not because she hadn’t heard those words before. She had. Plenty of times. People had called her beautiful, stunning, even ethereal, in all kinds of empty ways. But for some reason, when Korra said it, it didn’t feel hollow. It felt real. And that scared her more than she’d like to admit.

Thankfully, Korra kept talking, as if she hadn’t just made Asami’s breath catch in her throat.

“You said you never had this much fun before?” she asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Then… since it’s Friday and we don’t have work tomorrow… maybe you’d wanna come with us? My friends and I are going to Narook’s later. You know, nothing fancy. Just noodles, drinks, maybe some bad karaoke after. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.”

Asami hadn’t expected the invitation. And now that it was hanging in the air between them, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Go out with Korra. And her friends.

It should’ve given her pause, should’ve made her retreat behind the familiar walls she’d spent years perfecting. She usually did when people invited her somewhere outside of work. Especially the ones her father always pushed toward her, sons of business partners with well-practiced charm and empty conversation. She’d perfected the art of smiling politely while saying “I’ll think about it,” even though she never would.

She didn’t like being cornered. She didn’t like being expected to perform the version of herself they all seemed to want.

But for some reason, her answer to Korra’s question slipped easily from her lips.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

The muffled sound of her bare feet padding against carpet echoed softly as Asami paced back and forth in front of her closet, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Her eyes darted between three different outfits, none of which seemed quite right for Narook’s.

She’d been confident earlier when she said yes. There’d been a strange little thrill in her chest, a sense of screw it that made the word slip off her tongue too easily. But now that she was standing here, hours later, that thrill had twisted into something closer to dread.

Behind her, a delighted laugh broke the silence.

Asami turned sharply, shooting a look toward her bed. “Op, what’s so funny?”

Opal was sitting comfortably at the edge, legs swinging as she watched her with an infuriatingly amused expression. Asami had invited her over because she was nervous. If she had to walk into a crowd of strangers, even if they were Korra’s friends, she needed someone familiar nearby. Someone to anchor her. Not someone who’d spend the evening teasing her.

“Oh, nothing much,” Opal said, voice breezy. Her grin widened when Asami raised an eyebrow. “I just haven’t seen you this frantic about an outfit for a date since high school.”

Asami’s cheeks flushed instantly. “I-it’s not a date, Op, and you know it. Besides, Korra’s a girl.”

The words tumbled out in a rush, and yet her heart gave a traitorous little flutter the moment she said them. She ignored it, pushing past the flicker of something she didn’t know, and grabbed another hanger from the rack.

“She just invited me out. With her friends. And even if we’re friends now, I don’t know them , so I’m dragging you along for moral support.”

Opal just hummed in response, clearly unconvinced. With a sigh, Asami shoved a bundle of clothes into her arms. “Fine. Make yourself useful. Help me pick something.”

Twenty minutes later, and after several vetoed outfits, she finally settled on a simple black knee-length dress—comfortable enough not to feel overdone, but elegant enough to make her feel like herself. She tied her hair into a clean ponytail, swiped on a light coat of lipstick, and slipped into a pair of soft ballet flats.

They drove to Narook’s and arrived in no time.

The place was packed, buzzing with the end-of-week rush. Families, coworkers, couples, and groups of friends filled every corner of the restaurant, their voices mingling with the scent of noodles and warm broth. Asami felt herself stiffen as they stepped inside, the din of the crowd grating against her already anxious thoughts. But she pushed through it, scanning the tables.

And then she saw Korra, waving from a far booth that looked surprisingly private, her smile unmistakable even across the crowd.

Asami exhaled, ready to walk forward until she felt an elbow jab lightly into her side. “Ow. What was that for?” she hissed, turning to Opal.

“That’s Korra?” Opal whispered, eyes wide.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing,” Opal replied far too quickly, her tone suggesting it was absolutely not nothing.

Asami didn’t get the chance to press. Her train of thought derailed entirely the moment Korra stood up from the booth to greet them.

She was wearing a tight-fitting blue t-shirt with “Deal With It!” printed boldly across the chest. The color clung to her like a second skin, outlining every muscle in her arms and shoulders and drawing far too much attention to the curve of her breasts. Asami stopped in her tracks, blinking hard. Why was she thinking about Korra’s breasts? she scolded herself.

“Asami! Hi!” Korra’s grin was bright, open, completely unaware of the crisis happening in Asami’s brain. She turned to Opal and offered a hand without hesitation. “I’m Korra.”

Opal took it, and Asami didn’t miss the faint blush blooming on her best friend’s cheeks. “Opal. Asami’s friend. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Oh, you’re not! Trust me, any friend of Asami is welcome,” Korra said, motioning for them to sit.

Asami slid into the booth, Korra taking the seat beside her without a second thought. She was very aware of how close their shoulders were.

Korra gestured to the two guys across from them. “This is Mako and Bolin, my best friends. They’re brothers.”

The one with spiky hair and a guarded expression gave a nod. “Hey.”

The other, broader, and already beaming like they were old friends, waved with both hands. “Hi! I’ve heard so much about you ‘cos you know, Korra talks about you constantly. ”

“Bolin,” Mako muttered under his breath.

“What? She does! ” Bolin insisted, eyes wide as he turned to Asami. “One time, she even said she li—Ow!”

A loud thud cut him off as he yelped and jumped in his seat, both hands rubbing his shin. Asami blinked in surprise, eyes darting between Bolin’s sudden pain and the steely glare Korra was now directing at him across the table.

“Welcome to Narook’s!” Korra said quickly, her tone bright and forced as she shoved a menu into Asami’s hands. “Let’s order.”

Asami stared at her for a beat, then looked down at the laminated menu. It was filled with Water Tribe cuisine—steamed seal dumplings, fried sea prunes, moonfish in ginger broth—none of which she’d ever tried. Or heard of, honestly.

The silence stretched long enough that Korra leaned in and tapped her gently on the shoulder. “See anything you like?”

Asami glanced at her. “Mmm… Since you’re a self-proclaimed chef, what do you recommend?”

Korra lit up immediately, eyes sparkling. “Definitely the seaweed noodles! It’s simple, but oh so—” she brought her fingers together and kissed the air, “chef’s kiss.”

Asami laughed at the gesture, unable to help herself. “Seaweed noodles, it is.”

“Alright!” Korra grinned and flagged down a waitress, rattling off their orders with practiced ease. She didn’t even need to look at the menu.

While she handled the ordering, Asami let her gaze wander around. Mako was watching her again. Not openly, but subtly, like he was trying to figure her out without being caught. When their eyes met, he looked away. She filed it away in the back of her mind. He was suspicious, maybe protective. Duly noted.

She looked to her right and saw Opal deep in conversation with Bolin, hands gesturing animatedly as the two of them laughed over something she clearly missed. A small smile tugged at her lips. That was good. Opal seemed comfortable.

And then her eyes returned to Korra, just in time to see her hand the menu back to the waitress. The other woman’s fingers lingered just a second too long as she took it from Korra, her nails lightly grazing Korra’s hand in a way that felt… intentional.

Korra didn’t seem to notice. She was still mid-sentence, finishing up their order without missing a beat. But something twisted in Asami’s stomach, and she didn’t know what it was, exactly. Only that she didn’t like it.

Before she could unpack the feeling, Mako turned to her with a measured look and asked, “So, Asami. What do you do?”

“Oh,” Asami said, caught off guard. “Korra didn’t tell you?”

“Tell them what?” Korra asked, looking between her friends with mild confusion.

“That I’m the lead engineer for the center you’re working on?” Asami replied, tone lighter now, but still a little clipped. “Since Bolin said you talked about me, I assumed—”

“Oh! I did!” Korra sat straighter. “And-I’m sorry if I did. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound defensive,” Asami said quickly, hands coming up in surrender.

“No, you’re good. I’m sorry—”

A soft throat-clearing interrupted them. It was Mako, shifting in his seat, his ears faintly red. “Yeah. Sorry about that,” he said, voice a little stiffer than before. “Korra… did mention you. I just—uh—I wanted to start a conversation. I’m not really good at small talk.”

Asami blinked, caught off guard once more, but now by the faint blush creeping up his neck. His tone was awkward, almost earnest, and it softened the slight edge she’d initially felt from him. He wasn’t trying to test her. He was just nervous.

“It’s fine,” she said, offering him a small smile. “I get that.”

Before anyone else could speak, the food arrived, carried in by two waiters with practiced efficiency. The rich, savory aroma of sesame oil, grilled meat, and sea salt filled the booth instantly.

Bolin let out a delighted squeal as a massive bowl of bright green seaweed noodles was placed in front of him, steam curling toward the ceiling. Asami’s bowl came next, the scent immediately making her mouth water—sweet and salty with a hint of ginger, the broth dark and glistening around curled ribbons of noodles and crisp scallions.

At the center of the table, they placed a large platter of roast duck, its skin glistening golden-brown and crackling with citrus glaze. A bowl of deep amber sea prune soup followed, its briny aroma sharp and unfamiliar, and finally, two more bowls of stir-fried noodles loaded with mixed vegetables and watercress—one for Korra, one for Opal.

“Spirits, this smells amazing,” Opal whispered, already reaching for her chopsticks.

“Thanks,” Korra told the waitress, flashing that now-familiar lopsided grin.

Asami didn’t miss the way the waitress faltered, cheeks tinging pink, her gaze lingering on Korra’s face a moment too long before she bowed and walked away. It shouldn’t have meant anything.

And yet… something twisted low in Asami’s stomach again. Something irrational. Something she brushed off as hunger, or maybe a stupid overreaction. She forced her focus back to her bowl and tried not to care.

They talked more as they ate, and to Asami’s surprise, the group welcomed her and Opal with an ease that felt almost… natural. They didn’t tiptoe around her status or her surname. They didn’t ask about her father or her company. They just talked. Mako, once awkward and guarded, began asking her more about her work, genuine, if a bit clumsy in his questions. It was oddly endearing.

Asami’s heart felt lighter as the night wore on. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until she wasn’t anymore.

They were getting ready to part ways when Mako gently pulled her aside. His voice wavered at first, clearly nervous, as he asked if he could have her number. Maybe take her out sometime.

She blinked, caught off guard. She searched his eyes, trying to find a hint of malice, but she found nothing. There was no angle. He was just a boy with flushed cheeks and hesitant eyes.

Suddenly, her father’s words rang in her head, cold and absolute: You can only date men whom I approve. She had memorized that line so well, she could almost hear it in his voice.

But then, another voice echoed clearer. It was Korra. “What about dating in secret, then?”

She looked at Mako again. He wasn’t like the boys her father paraded in front of her. If anything, he seemed afraid she might say no. And maybe that’s why the word slipped out so easily.

“Okay.”

He blinked. “Yeah. I know I’m not quite good eno—wait, what?”

She repeated it, gentler this time. “Okay. I’ll go out on a date with you.” Then gave him her number.

His face lit up, and he thanked her before rejoining his brother. She turned and saw Opal doing the same with Bolin. Asami smiled… right up until she turned around and nearly walked straight into Korra.

“Korra! You scared me,” she said, startled. Korra just laughed.

“I see you said yes to Mako?” Korra asked, her tone light. Maybe a little too light.

Asami blinked, caught off guard by the question. She studied Korra’s face, trying to decipher if there was anything beneath the smile. But there was nothing she could pin down. Still, something about it made her stomach flutter.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah!” Korra replied, far too quickly. “Why wouldn’t it be? He’s a good guy. I’m sure you’ll like him.” Her voice was higher than usual, and that made Asami tilt her head. But before she could say anything else, a familiar voice chimed in behind her.

“Ready to go home?” Opal asked, her smile wide and knowing.

Asami glanced between her best friend and Korra. There was a pull she didn’t understand, an instinct tugging her in Korra’s direction. And without giving herself time to overthink it, she made a decision.

“Op, you go ahead. Take my car.” She held out her keys, and Opal blinked at them.

Then her lips curled into something unmistakably smug. “Okay.” She turned to Korra with a grin. “Keep safe, you two. And bring my best friend home in one piece.”

“Go,” Asami muttered, nudging her away with a playful glare. When she turned back to Korra, she found herself smiling, quickly slipping her arm around the other woman’s. Korra stiffened for a second before relaxing into the touch.

“Thanks for tonight,” Asami murmured. “I hadn’t had this much fun since I was a kid.”

Korra smiled at her, softer than usual. “No problem. That’s what friends are for.”

“Right,” Asami echoed. But the word didn’t sit quite right on her tongue. Friends.

They started walking down the dim street, their footsteps falling into rhythm. It was quiet, comfortably so. Until Asami’s curiosity finally broke the silence. “So… why didn’t you become a chef instead?”

Korra turned her head. “What?”

“You cooked that amazing lunch, remember?” Asami glanced at her. “You clearly enjoy it. I can definitely taste the love you poured into it.”

Korra chuckled. “Yeah, I do. But it wasn’t something I picked for fun at first.”

Asami tilted her head slightly, prompting her to go on.

“In the Southern Water Tribe, most kids learn to cook early,” Korra explained. “You have to. The cold doesn’t wait for anyone, and food’s survival. Especially for me. My mom was excommunicated for marrying my dad because he wasn’t from her tribe. We didn’t have a home for a long time. We just built igloos, caves, whatever shelter we could find. So I had to learn how to cook, hunt, and build things just to get by.”

Asami blinked, quiet for a moment. “You lived in the tundra?”

Korra nodded. “Yeah. For years. I hated it sometimes, but I also… I don’t know, I grew up in it. That wild kind of life shaped me.” She glanced down at her hands. “Woodworking became more than just survival to me. It became a skill. Then it became a trade. When we found Wolf Cove, that finally became our home.”

“And how did you get here? In Republic City?”

“An old family friend stopped by Wolf Cove when I was about eighteen,” Korra said, voice warming. “She saw what I could do and said I had potential. Offered to help me start over in the city. So I did. Started as a regular construction worker, then slowly worked my way up to foreman slash unusual architect.”

Asami didn’t respond immediately. She just looked at Korra, studying her face in the quiet amber glow of the streetlight. Her voice, when it came, was soft. “That’s… incredible. You really built everything from the ground up, huh?”

Korra gave her that lopsided grin. “Literally.”

Asami smiled, then let her own story unfurl. “My mom died when I was nine. She was an artist… she used to draw with me after school, even let me trace over her work until I learned to hold a pencil the right way. I guess that’s where the love for design started.”

Korra listened silently, eyes never leaving hers.

“My father pushed me to take over the company after. I think it was his way of coping… or maybe control. Either way, I never really got to choose.” She looked ahead. “Not until now.”

“I’m so sorry, Asami.”

Asami shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve learned to live with it.”

Korra just nodded, her eyes conveying she understood Asami.

Silence settled between them again, heavier this time, filled with things neither of them said out loud. But their steps remained in sync, as if somehow they understood each other better than they expected.

After a while, they finally arrived at Asami’s apartment, which had her taken aback. Maybe she was subconsciously leading them here. They walked up to the front door of the building and faced each other. Asami opened her mouth to say something, but Korra beat her to it.

“I think you’d be really happy with Mako,” Korra suddenly said with a smile, but somehow, Asami felt that Korra’s smile was off. “He won’t let you down.”

That made Asami falter. “O-Okay,” she replied, unsure why it suddenly felt like there was something more to it.

“Good night, Asami.” Korra gave her a wave before turning away, the streetlights casting a soft glow over her retreating figure. Just before she disappeared around the corner, Asami caught a glimpse of her smile again, but this time, it looked real.

She sighed, turned to her door, and slid her key into the lock. Her brows drew together. The door was already unlocked. Her heart dropped, and all the happiness she felt drained from her body.

There was only one person who had a key. Only one person would do this without warning.

Her father.

Chapter Text

Dread washed over her as Asami turned the knob and stepped inside. There, seated on her living room couch like he owned the place, was her father.

Hiroshi Sato. The most influential man in the construction world and the one person she was never truly free from.

Her heart sank when he turned toward her, his face already twisted into a scowl. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you for hours,” he snapped by way of greeting.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I was out with Opal and didn’t notice the time,” she said quickly, praying he wouldn’t pick up on the lie. Technically, it was true, but just… missing a few details. A lie of omission. Something she never dared to do with him.

She braced herself for more, for him to get angry, but it didn’t come.

“Fine,” he said with a scoff. “But next time, send a message. I won’t have you running around like a delinquent with no regard for your whereabouts.”

That dismissal brought an odd sort of relief.

Then, he smiled. That smug, self-satisfied smile that always meant trouble. He adjusted the lapels of his tailored suit with practiced ease and pulled out his phone.

“Oh, which reminds me. I’m here because I have good news. I think you’re going to like this.” A few taps later, he held the screen out toward her.

The photo showed a clean-cut man in a sharp black suit, hair slicked back, smile perfectly practiced. It took less than a second for Asami to know exactly where this conversation was headed.

“Remember Cabbage Corp? That’s the CEO’s son. Handsome, isn’t he?” Hiroshi raised a brow, waiting for her reaction. “I think I’ve finally found your type.”

Asami nodded against her will. He chuckled. “Didn’t miss the mark this time, huh? I’ve set you up on a date with him this Monday. No overtime for you that day as he’s eager to meet you.”

But she wasn’t. So she smiled like a good daughter and whispered, “Yes, Dad. I’ll meet him.”

“Good girl.” He kissed her cheek and walked out like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just robbed her of another piece of herself.

And just like that, he was gone.

Only then did Asami finally let herself crumble.

—

The next night, she found herself seated at Kwong’s Cuisine, watching the door. Last night’s breakdown had left her hollow, but now, all she felt was fiery rage. Anger at her father for dictating her life like she was some corporate asset. Anger at herself for letting him. Why should she keep living by his expectations, his rules, when she had every right to choose her own happiness? Korra was right. Maybe this was reckless, maybe it wouldn’t last, but she was tired of playing the perfect daughter in a gilded cage. For once, she was going to do something for herself. Even if it had to be in secret. Even if it was just this one night. This time, she was going to try.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

She jumped at the voice, then looked up to see Mako standing beside her. He wore a crisp white button-down tucked neatly into black slacks. A far cry from the casual tank and board shorts from Narook’s. He cleaned up well.

“No, you’re not. I’m just early,” she said, offering him a small smile.

He smiled back as he took the seat across from her. For a second, he just looked at her. She blinked, self-conscious, suddenly unsure if her makeup was too much or if her hair had gone flat. But then he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Um, so… ready to order?”

She nodded, thankful for the distraction.

They ordered quietly, Mako going for the pork buns and steamed vegetables, and she chose the garlic shrimp and jasmine rice. When the waitress left, the awkward silence lingered, but Mako tried. He asked about her day, her work, and what kind of books she liked. She appreciated the effort.

When she asked what he did for a living, he sat a little straighter. “I’m a detective,” he said, his tone shy but proud. “It’s hard sometimes, but I like it. I get to help people.”

She found herself smiling at that. There was something refreshing about his sincerity.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to their childhoods. It surprised her how easy it was to talk about her mother, something she usually avoided. Mako shared that his mom passed when he was young, too. They bonded over the hole it left behind, one no amount of success or approval ever seemed to fill.

By the end of the date, Asami agreed to a second. It was awkward, yes, but Asami had a good time. Not once had she forced a laugh. Not once had she gritted her teeth and counted the minutes.

She was glad she agreed to the date.

—

Monday rolled in like a storm cloud over her head, and with it, a reminder of her date with Lau Gan Lang Jr. Asami hated that this day had arrived, but there was one silver lining: she’d get to see Korra before it ended. After their usual walkthrough of the site, she lingered, then casually mentioned the actual date she had with Mako.

“Thanks, by the way,” she said. “For convincing me to give Mako a chance. He really is a good guy.”

Korra just smiled and nodded, muttering a half-hearted “Told you so.” It should’ve made Asami laugh, but something about the way she said it felt…off. The usual warmth in her voice wasn’t there. And when Asami looked closer, Korra wasn’t really smiling—not the way she usually did.

She brushed it off at first, convincing herself it was nothing. But as the days passed, Korra’s responses became shorter, her tone clipped and oddly formal. Even when she mentioned what happened with the date with Lau Gan Jr. Crickets. No more teasing. She didn’t receive smirking jabs, only dry updates and nods, even if Korra still brought her bento every day. It wasn’t the Korra Asami had gotten used to. And that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

By Friday, she was done pretending it didn’t affect her. If Korra had a problem, she could at least say it, preferably not through passive-aggressive silences and one-word answers.

She sat at their usual table, waiting. The clock ticked past seven-thirty. Still no Korra.

Frowning, Asami glanced out at the construction site. The sudden rain had picked up, hammering the tarp overhead and turning the ground into mud. Some of the workers had paused to take shelter, their idle chatter filling the space. She tapped her fingers against the table, resisting the urge to check her phone for the third time.

Should she text her? Ask one of the crew?

Before she could decide, a wave of murmurs rippled through the workers. They were staring toward the entrance.

And then she saw her.

Korra trudged through the downpour, soaked to the bone, rainwater clinging to her shirt and outlining every muscle underneath. Someone handed her a towel, which she accepted with a tired thank you. Asami stood to meet her, ready to lecture her about the weather, about not talking to her, about everything… until she noticed something strange.

Korra was limping.

It was subtle, but Asami had seen Korra walk a thousand times—confident, grounded, always with a purpose. This was different. There was a stiffness in her steps, like every movement was a chore.

When Korra finally sat down with a sigh of relief, Asami’s concern deepened. “You’re late,” she said gently, then softened her tone. “Are you okay?”

Korra froze just for a beat, her eyes darting away. “I’m fine,” she said, too quickly, her voice tight as she forced a smile. Her jaw clenched around the words.

Asami narrowed her eyes. Liar.

But if Korra wanted to be stubborn, fine. She’d play along. For now.

They got to work, but it was clear Korra was struggling. Her hand occasionally pressed to the small of her back. Her eyes would flicker shut when she thought no one was looking. She kept shifting in her seat, like just the act of sitting hurt. Her voice lacked its usual cadence, and her posture was stiff as a board.

Asami was just about to ask again, gentler this time, when Korra stood up and suddenly cried out.

“Korra!” Asami caught her just in time before she crumpled to the floor. The workers nearby rushed over, helping her ease Korra onto a bench. Korra winced at the contact, her entire body stiff with pain.

“What’s happening?” Asami asked, crouching beside her, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

“M-My back,” Korra hissed, each word like it cost her. “It’s flaring up… ‘cause of the rain.”

That made Asami pause. A flare-up? She hadn’t even known Korra had a back issue. The rain must’ve triggered it somehow. A wave of concern crashed into her, but irritation came right along with it. Why the hell would Korra come in like this?

“You shouldn’t have shown up today!” she scolded, her voice sharper than intended. But then she softened. “What do you need? What can I do?”

Despite everything, Korra let out a short, breathy laugh. “But you’d miss me, and the lunch I brought.”

Asami blinked. Her cheeks flushed, warmth rising up her neck before she could stop it. She pushed the feeling down quickly, locking it away for later. “Okay, I think that’s the pain talking. Save your breath until after you’re not dying,” she muttered, reaching for her phone. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No.” Korra shook her head slowly. “Just… drive me home. I have everything I need there. Promise.”

Asami hesitated, but one look at the grim line of Korra’s mouth and the tight way she clutched her side told her this wasn’t a new pain. It was an old enemy, one she apparently fought in silence.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Sit tight.”

She turned to the workers and asked for help getting Korra to her car. They were quick to assist, and while they carefully buckled her into the back seat, Asami made a quick call to the office, telling them she’d be out for the rest of the day.

Once done, she climbed into the front seat and glanced at Korra through the rearview mirror. “Where to?”

Korra gave her address, and Asami punched it into the GPS, trying not to think too hard about the pain on the foreman’s face.

—

Asami wrestled with the door handle, an umbrella awkwardly wedged between her jaw and shoulder while half-carrying Korra, who was still visibly grimacing with every step. The moment the door cracked open, a series of loud thuds rang from inside the house.

“Naga,” Korra muttered.

“Hm?” Asami managed, nudging the door open with her foot just as a blur of white fur barreled toward them.

Instinctively, Asami extended one arm in front of Korra, bracing for impact. But it never came. When she peeked through her lashes, she found herself face to snout with a massive creature, fur soft and thick like snow, and a pink tongue hanging out of its mouth like it didn’t have a care in the world.

“Oh. It’s… a dog,” she breathed, lowering her hand.

Korra let out an actual giggle, despite the pain. “Yeah. That’s Naga. My dog. Well, my service dog.”

Asami blinked. “Service dog?”

“She’s trained to sense when I’m in pain. Helps out when I overdo it,” Korra said, wincing as she leaned a bit more heavily on Asami’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’s a good girl. Won’t jump unless she has to.”

True to Korra’s word, Naga simply walked in a slow circle around them, sniffed Asami’s coat, then let out a soft whuff of approval before padding into the living room. A moment later, she returned, dragging a blue rolled-up yoga mat from the corner in her mouth and dropped it by the coffee table with a quiet huff.

Asami blinked, puzzled. “What’s that for?”

Korra gave her a sheepish smile. “That’s where I usually lie down when my back flares up. It’s firmer than the bed.”

Despite the smile Korra tried to wear, Asami could see the strain behind it. She silently followed Korra’s murmured directions and guided her onto the mat as gently as she could.

“Lay flat?” Asami asked.

“Yeah. Then, may you please get a throw pillow and help me put it under my knees. Thank you,” Korra breathed as she sank into the cushions.

Korra then looked at Naga and nodded. “Hey, girl. Can you get my med bag?” One bark, and Naga was off, padding swiftly down the hallway toward what Asami assumed was the bedroom.

Asami watched Naga trot back with a small black bag clamped gently between her teeth. “Good girl,” Korra murmured as the dog dropped it beside the couch. Asami knelt and unzipped it, revealing bottles of herbal ointments, a heating pad, something that looked like a gel pack, and a few blister packs. Her brows knit as she rummaged through it.

“Did you take anything yet?” she asked without looking up.

There was a beat of silence.

“…No.”

Of course not. Asami bit back a sigh. “Seriously, Korra?”

“I didn’t think I’d need them,” came the sheepish answer. “It was a dull pain earlier, like before. I didn’t expect a full-blown flare-up.”

Asami shook her head and grabbed a familiar-looking pill packet, popping one into her hand. “Here. Take this.”

Korra pushed herself up on one elbow, wincing as she reached for the pill. Asami grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and handed it over. She watched closely as Korra swallowed both tablets, her jaw tightening with every motion.

“Better?” Asami asked, softer this time.

“I will be. They usually kick in after a bit.” Korra leaned back into the mat with a groan. Naga rested her chin on the mat near Korra’s hand, whining low like she felt the pain herself.

Asami sat back on her heels, exhaling. “Okay. What’s next?” Her eyes scanned the bag again. “Do you want the liniment?”

Korra shook her head weakly. “No. Not yet. There’s an ice pack in the freezer.”

Asami grabbed the ice pack and returned, kneeling beside Korra again. “Alright. How do I put this on you?”

Korra shifted slightly, gritting her teeth as she rolled halfway onto her side. “Just… slide it under my lower back. Right above the tailbone.” Her voice was tight with discomfort. “It helps numb the nerve.”

Asami hesitated. “Won’t that be too cold against your skin?”

“There should be a towel in the bag’s pocket. I usually wrap it once, so it’s not direct,” Korra explained, trying to keep still.

Asami reached into the bag, pulled out the small towel, and wrapped the ice pack carefully. She paused, eyes flicking to Korra’s face. “Okay. I’ll help lift your back up, alright?”

Korra gave a faint nod, her eyes closed.

Gently, Asami helped Korra sit forward enough to slide the ice pack into place. The hem of Korra’s shirt rode up slightly, revealing the soft curve of her lower back. Asami forced her gaze to stay professional, though the warmth radiating from Korra’s inflamed skin made her chest tighten. She eased the wrapped pack beneath her, adjusting it exactly where Korra had described, and let her hands linger just long enough to make sure it was secure before pulling away.

Korra flinched at first, then exhaled. “Perfect. That’s the spot.”

“Okay,” she said, quieter now. “How did this happen?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she helped Korra on her back again.

There was a pause, like Korra was weighing whether to answer. After a moment, Korra finally explained. “A few years ago, back when I was still just a regular worker. A stack of metal poles collapsed on site. I pushed one worker out of the way, and one landed on my back.”

Asami froze. “And no one got you proper treatment?”

Korra shrugged, wincing as she did. “I did, but I’m stubborn. I couldn’t afford to stop working, not for long. So I pushed through. And now every time it rains or it suddenly gets cold, the pain comes back like clockwork. Chronic, they said.”

Asami faltered. After everything that happened, here she was, still showing up to work. Who gets crushed by poles and just… powers through it?

Who keeps showing up through the pain with a smile on their face?

And why, of all people, did she care so much?

Her irritation returned tenfold. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, louder than intended. Naga lifted her head immediately, ears twitching. “Why would you even come to work like this? You should be resting, not limping around in a storm.”

Korra chuckled softly, even as her eyes remained closed. “You’d scold me either way.”

“I would’ve sent you home the moment I saw you,” she muttered. “Next time, don’t wait for your body to scream before you listen to it.”

“I didn’t want to miss seeing you,” Korra murmured. The words were soft, almost careless, but they sent a strange flutter through her stomach.

She didn’t reply. She didn’t know how to.

Instead, she grabbed the med bag, put the things back in, and zipped it closed. “I’m flattered,” she muttered, trying to sound light, “but next time just text me. I’ll send notes. Or now that I know your house, I can come over so we can go over everything.”

Korra let out a laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

Naga, who was sitting near the couch, let out a small bark, as if reminding them both to focus.

Once she was done and was about to get up, but Korra’s hand shot out to stop her. “What’s wrong?”

That was when she noticed the faint blush on her cheeks, a soft pink blooming across her face despite the pain she’d been in moments ago. Korra wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Asami’s brow furrowed. “Oh, no.” She pressed the back of her hand to Korra’s forehead. “Are you getting feverish?”

Korra finally mumbled, “My shirt’s still kind of damp… and sticky from the rain. If you could, um, help me take it off?”

“Oh.”

Her brain short-circuited for a second. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen someone shirtless, obviously. She had been in many onsen before, but somehow this felt… different. More intimate.

She cleared her throat and nodded briskly, masking the strange flutter that erupted in her chest. “Yeah. Sure. That makes sense.” She tried to be efficient about it, to not be awkward, but her hands kept trembling. She helped Korra sit up, wincing as the movement made her groan, and then reached for the hem of her damp shirt.

“Arms up,” she instructed gently.

Korra obeyed, and Asami pulled the shirt over her head in one smooth motion. Her fingers brushed warm, bare skin, and suddenly the room felt ten degrees hotter.

Korra sighed once she was free of the shirt, slowly lying back down on the mat with her face relaxing. “Thanks,” she mumbled, clearly unaware of the mess she was leaving behind in Asami’s brain.

Asami stood there for a second, holding the wet fabric, pretending not to notice the defined lines of Korra’s abs or the way her hair clung to her neck. She turned quickly toward the laundry area, tossing the shirt into the hamper like it had personally offended her.

Pull yourself together, Sato.

“It’s in the wash,” she called out, a little too briskly. “You should rest.”

“Mm,” was Korra’s only reply. But as Asami turned back, she caught the look Korra was giving her—soft, unwavering, like she was seeing past the armor Asami didn’t even realize she’d put on. It made her stomach twist. Not in a bad way… just in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

It frustrated her that she couldn’t name this feeling. That Korra could look at her like that and make her feel… something.

Before she could spiral too far down that path, Korra spoke again quietly, almost sheepish. “Please stay?”

Asami’s heart skipped a beat.

There it was again.

That something.

And yet, who was she to say no?

So, she nodded and made her way back to the couch. The moment she sat down, Naga trotted over and curled up right between them, resting her big head on Korra’s outstretched arm.

Asami smiled at the sight.

“I’ll stay,” she said.

Chapter Text

Asami woke with a start, her heart skipping as her eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the living room lamp. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep, and she definitely hadn’t meant to stay this long. But there she was, curled up on Korra’s couch, a fleece blanket draped over her shoulders. And in the air, she caught the faint scent of brewed tea.

It was… cozy. Too cozy. The kind of warmth that made her want to sink back into sleep and forget everything waiting for her outside.

But then movement in her peripheral vision made her snap fully awake, and the moment she turned her head, the sight nearly knocked the wind out of her.

Korra was on the yoga mat, dressed in nothing but a sports bra and shorts, arms lifted high over her head as she eased into a slow stretch. Her spine arched, her back flexing as she bent forward into a seated twist, then shifted into a kneeling pose, one arm reaching over the opposite side while she exhaled steadily. Every movement was fluid, strong, and practiced.

Asami’s mouth went dry.

She didn’t even realize her jaw had dropped until Korra glanced over her shoulder and smirked.

“Like what you see?”

That jolted her. Her mouth snapped shut as heat rushed to her face. “I—what—no—I just—” She sputtered uselessly, waving a hand in protest while Korra chuckled and returned to her stretches.

Mortified, Asami buried herself deeper into the blanket, tugging it up to her chin like that would hide the redness creeping up her neck. The room suddenly felt warmer. Or maybe it was just being beneath the blanket.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Are you feeling better now? Is it okay for you to move?”

“Yeah,” Korra said between breaths, shifting into a low lunge. “The meds helped. Pain’s mostly gone, but I still need to keep everything loose for a few days. No heavy lifting, though.”

Asami found herself nodding, eyes drifting back to Korra without permission. The way she moved was almost hypnotic. And Asami couldn’t look away.

Not until Korra turned again and broke the spell. “Do you want some tea? I’ve got leftover macaroni soup, too. I can reheat it. Besides,” she added, glancing toward the window, “it’s raining cats and dogs. News said it’s zero visibility out there.”

Asami blinked. She hadn’t even noticed the storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and sheets of rain painted the glass in steady waves. She almost said no, told Korra she should head home now that she was doing better. That this had been a one-time thing.

But Korra was right. Driving in that kind of weather was dangerous. And maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

She gave a small nod. “Tea and soup sound good.”

Korra’s smile widened. “Good. Wait there.”

Then she turned to the large white dog now sitting upright, watching Asami like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

“Naga,” Korra said, gesturing playfully, “entertain our guest while I make food.”

Naga barked once and padded over to Asami, sitting neatly in front of her like she was expecting a formal greeting. Amused, Asami giggled and reached out, scratching gently behind her ears. “I thought your mom told you to entertain me, not the other way around,” she muttered. Naga barked again and pranced around her before picking up a worn plushie from the corner. With a soft shake of her head—almost like she was showing it off—she dropped it at Asami’s feet with a proud huff.

Asami smiled, picked up the toy, and tossed it across the living room. Naga darted after it, returned it, and nudged it toward her again. The game continued for a few rounds, drawing light laughter out of her that she didn’t realize she’d been holding in. She was about to throw it once more when her phone chimed from inside her purse. Tossing the plushie absentmindedly toward the far wall, she reached for her phone and saw Mako’s name on the screen.

There were two messages. The first, sent early that morning, read: Storm’s coming. Stay safe, okay? The second, more recent, had come in while she was helping Korra: Just checking in. Are you alright? It was thoughtful. Sweet, even. Her lips curled into a small smile as she started typing a quick reply. But then, a rich, savory aroma cut through the air, strong enough to make her forget whatever she’d been typing.

She looked up just in time to see Korra emerge from the kitchen, balancing a tray with two bowls of steaming soup and two mugs of tea. Her skin glistened faintly from the warmth of the kitchen, cheeks flushed, and her usual confidence present in every step. Asami swallowed a lump she hadn’t realized was forming again.

“Who are you texting?” Korra asked as she set the tray down, then shook her head. “Never mind. Afternoon snack is served, dear Madam,” she said with a mock flourish. “Perfect for this weather.”

“It’s Mako,” Asami still answered, maybe a little too quickly. “He told me to stay safe. It’s sweet.” She caught the way Korra’s jaw tensed, just for a moment, before it relaxed into another smile. Asami wasn’t sure why that reaction bothered her—why she felt suddenly uneasy just from seeing Korra react to a name, but she shoved the thought aside.

“Thank you, Korra,” she said instead, reaching for one of the bowls. The soup was creamy, filled with soft macaroni, minced carrots, shredded chicken, and yellow corn kernels floating on top. It looked like something out of a homey café menu, not a leftover. She scooped a spoonful, blew on it gently, and took a bite, only to moan softly without meaning to. Her eyes widened at how savory it was. The broth was rich and velvety, with just enough salt to bring out the sweetness of the corn. The chicken melted in her mouth, and the pasta had just the right amount of bite. It was the kind of comfort food that warmed you from the inside out.

“Korra, this is so good! The more I taste your food, the more I wonder why you didn’t just become a chef?” she asked, genuinely stunned.

That made Korra laugh as her cheeks flushed, and Asami felt a quiet sort of relief settle in her chest at the sound. Things between them felt easy again.

“Maybe someday,” Korra said, picking up her own bowl. “Once I have enough saved up to open a restaurant. For now, just enjoy.”

And she did. They ate on the floor beside the coffee table while Naga lounged nearby, occasionally dropping the plushie onto Korra’s lap as if to remind her not to forget playtime.

They talked as they finished the soup, Korra explaining that she sent her money to her parents back in the Southern Water Tribe. Then their conversation drifted lazily from food to construction stories to childhood memories. Outside, the storm softened to a steady drizzle, the sound of rain no longer angry but rhythmic, almost calming. At some point, Korra turned the TV on, some late-night rerun playing in the background, but neither of them paid much attention. Asami hadn’t realized how much she missed this—just talking to Korra, without tension or awkwardness hovering in the air. It was easy. Natural. The kind of connection she’d almost forgotten they had.

Still, something tugged at the back of her mind.

In all the chaos of the past twenty-four hours, Asami had nearly forgotten the reason she’d been about to confront Korra before everything spiraled. But now that the mood had settled and they weren’t wrapped in pain or adrenaline, the timing felt… right.

She took a breath. Steadied herself.

“Korra,” she began, tone soft but firm, “why have you been avoiding me all week?”

Korra immediately choked on her soup, coughing violently as she set the bowl down. Asami blinked, then chuckled as she reached over to pat her back. “Geez, dramatic much?”

Still catching her breath, Korra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and muttered, “I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Asami raised a brow and crossed her arms. “Oh, really?” Her voice betrayed the hurt she hadn’t meant to let out. “Because it sure felt like it. You barely looked at me. I felt like I was a stranger again. A stranger you didn’t want to deal with.”

Korra’s expression shifted. Her eyes widened, the guilt evident in how they shimmered just a little too much under the warm light. “I… I did, huh?”

“Yes,” Asami said, quieter now. “So please. Just tell me why.”

But instead of answering, Korra looked everywhere but at her. She fumbled for words, only managing a few scattered syllables before Naga barked loudly from her spot on the rug. Korra flinched.

Asami couldn’t help but laugh, reaching down to stroke the dog’s head. “Good girl. You always know when she needs a nudge.”

Korra squinted at Naga with mock betrayal. “Traitor,” she muttered, before facing away from them both, grumbling under her breath. Then, after a beat of silence, she shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”

“What?” Asami sat up straighter. “Why not?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Try me,” she countered, arms still folded but now more out of defiance than defense.

Korra finally turned back around, her expression torn, like she was deciding whether to jump or retreat. But then her eyes became determined, staring into Asami’s soul. “Promise me,” she said quietly. “Promise me you won’t get mad.”

Asami let out a dry, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? Why would I get ma- Wait… you are serious.” Asami blinked at her, lips twitching. Then she leaned in and nudged Korra’s shoulder lightly with hers. “What, did you sabotage the town center? Steal my blueprints in the dead of night?”

Korra didn’t respond, just stared. Tense.

Asami tilted her head, grinning now. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you torched my office. That’s the only space I have that’s sacred. If you lay a finger on my drafting table, I will get angry. Come on. Just tell me.”

She gave Korra another gentle shove, intending to tease the woman. But she wasn’t prepared for the explosion that was Korra’s response.

“Because I like you, okay?! That’s why I’ve been weird! That’s why I was avoiding you!” The words came out in one breath, like she’d been holding them back all week and couldn’t take another second of Asami’s poking.

Asami felt like her heart had leapt out of her chest, flipped midair, and slammed right back in. Her stomach twisted into something she couldn’t name—knots, maybe, or butterflies, or dread. She couldn’t tell. Her jaw dropped, but the words got stuck somewhere in her throat, stunned into silence.

“See?” Korra threw her hands in the air and stood abruptly. “This is why I didn’t want to say it.” She gathered the empty soup bowls and started stacking them on the tray with more force than necessary, marching them into the kitchen. Asami barely had time to register it, but Korra was limping again.

She scrambled up and followed her, Naga trailing at her side. “Korra! Don’t walk away! What do you mean you like me?”

The clatter of dishes hitting the sink made Asami flinch. Korra was already scrubbing one of the bowls with fast, jerky motions, her voice strained. “I like you, Asami. As more than a friend.”

Oh.

There it was again—her heart doing weird gymnastics. She didn’t know what to do with that information, so she went with what she always did when emotions got messy: analyze. Pick it apart. Make it logical. “Korra… you know I’m not into… women.”

But even as the word left her mouth, it rang false. Something about it didn’t sit right.

“I know,” Korra snapped. “That’s why I’ve been trying to distance myself. Because it’s hard being near you every day and pretending I don’t feel anything.”

She reached for the rinsed bowl, but Asami stepped in and gently took it from her. Wordlessly, she grabbed the towel hanging by the sink and began drying it. Silence settled again, heavy and charged.

Asami turned the bowl over in her hands, biting her lip as she thought. “Is that why you always bring me lunch?” she finally asked. “You were trying to woo me?”

Korra looked at her, insulted. “No! Of course not. Gods, Asami.” She let out a huff. “Why would I do that when I know you’re not into women? When I know you wouldn’t be comfortable with it? I bring you food cos you’re my friend!”

“That’s not what friends do.” That was supposed to be a statement, but in her ears, it almost came out as questioning. And the moment she said it, her chest ached with something unexpected. The idea that Korra wasn’t doing all of it for her made something twist in her gut. Why, though? She couldn’t understand yet.

“You’re so—ugh— infuriating ,” Korra muttered, handing her the last spoon. “I cook big batches of food because it’s easier. And sometimes, some of the guys forget to bring lunch, so I bring extra. You said you tend to skip meals, so yeah, I started packing one for you too. That’s it.”

Oh.

Asami finally looked at her. Really looked. Korra’s face held nothing flirtatious, nothing performative. Korra’s eyes conveyed nothing but honesty. But there was a flicker of something small and raw that passed through her eyes, like something was buried underneath the truth. It was gone as fast as it came, but Asami caught it. Once more, she didn’t understand it, not fully, but it sat in her chest like a weight. Korra wasn’t doing this to get something from her, not like her other past suitors. No. She was just… being herself. Caring without expectation. That should’ve made it easier. Safer.

So why did that hurt?

But she didn’t have time to figure it out.

Naga let out a bark and started pacing in tight circles around Korra. A beat later, Korra braced herself on the sink, her face twisting in pain.

“Korra, are you okay?” Asami reached out instinctively, looping her arm around Korra’s waist as she helped her back toward the yoga mat.

“I must’ve strained myself when I stood up too fast,” Korra muttered, carefully lowering herself to the floor with a wince. Once she was flat on her back, her breathing slowed. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For blowing up. For making things weird. For… making you uncomfortable by bringing you lunch every day. I’ll stop if you want me to.”

Asami was taken aback by that. Korra’s apology should’ve made things simpler. She should say yes. Now that she knew Korra had feelings for her, keeping a polite distance would be the logical thing to do. The safe thing.

But instead, her mouth moved before her mind could stop it. “I never said I wanted you to stop.”

Korra’s eyes widened, startled. Asami could see the confusion behind them, and it mirrored her own. Whatever just came out of her mouth wasn’t planned.

“Are you sure? You just said that that’s not what friends do and—”

“I’m sure,” Asami answered.

“…Okay,” Korra said quietly.

Asami’s expression softened. She sat down beside her on the mat, careful not to jostle her, as Naga circled once before curling up beside them. The warmth of the moment settled around them like a blanket, quiet and complicated.

“That said,” Asami began gently, her hands folding in her lap, “I need to be honest too. I… I appreciate you telling me. And I care about you, a lot. But I’m sorry that I can’t return your feelings. I don’t want to hurt you or give you the wrong idea.”

Korra nodded, no hesitation this time. “I understand. Thank you, ‘Sami. For saying it out loud. And for not letting this get awkward between us.” Her voice was sincere, even if something in it felt like it had to work to stay steady. “So… friends?”

“Friends,” Asami repeated.

But even as she said it, the word sat oddly on her tongue. Not because it wasn’t true, but because, for some reason she couldn’t name, it felt like a lie.

Chapter Text

“Alright,” Korra said as she closed the lid of a bento box. She handed it to Asami. “Here’s your lunch for tomorrow since I can’t come to work.”

Asami giggled. “Thank you, Korra.” She lingered by the door. “Are you sure you’re okay now?”

Korra smiled, nodding once. “Yeah. I’m good. Just needs to rest. Besides,” she petted Naga’s head. “I have this floof right here. Now, go. Before the rain starts again.”

“You want to get rid of me that much, huh?” Asami teased, prolonging her stay.

“Just want to let you go before you start missing me.” Korra let out a loud laugh, and Asami felt happy that they were friends again. No more cold shoulders.

She playfully slapped Korra’s forearm with the back of her hand. “Fine. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will.”

With that, Asami waved goodbye to Korra and Naga and walked toward her waiting car. She waved once more when she saw they were still standing at the doorway. Her drive home was surprisingly light.

—

The next couple of days proved Korra right.

Asami missed her.

She missed Korra’s steady presence on-site, the way she commanded the crew with such effortless camaraderie, and the way she just lit up the place. The site felt different without her. It was quieter, and somehow less alive. She thought of Korra’s hand brushing hers that day they inspected the plaza stairs. The way it lingered for a second longer than necessary. Or… maybe that was just in her head. Still, her fingers twitched at the memory.

And when some of the workers genuinely asked about Korra’s condition, Asami couldn’t help but smile.

She pulled out her phone and turned the camera toward herself, the crew cheering behind her as she snapped a quick selfie. She typed, We miss you, and hit send.

The reply came almost instantly: Oh, wow. You can’t function without me there, huh? 😉

Asami giggled like she was a kid again. She sent Korra a few updates, letting her know how things were progressing, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded.

But her good mood didn’t last.

As soon as she entered her office, it evaporated.

Hiroshi was already there, seated across from her desk like a client waiting for a meeting. He stood as she stepped in, a manila folder in hand.

“Dad,” she greeted cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head and, surprisingly, smiled. “No. I just wanted to personally congratulate you on the town center. The report states that you’re nearly a quarter of the way through. That’s ten percent ahead of schedule. Choosing that construction company was a good call.”

“Oh. Yes, it is. Thank you, Dad.” Her voice was steady, but guarded.

“Certainly,” he said. “This almost makes up for the failed date with Gan-Lan’s son.”

The shift in conversation made her chest tighten. He sighed and stepped closer, tone gentler but no less pointed. “When will you choose, sweetheart? I’m not getting any younger. And neither are you.”

Her stomach sank at the implication.

She wanted to scream no. To tell him she wasn’t ready. That maybe she didn’t want his choices. But instead, all she could do was nod mutely, afraid of the consequences.

He smiled again, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll find the perfect man for you eventually.”

And then he was gone, leaving her standing alone, back pressed to the door, spiraling.

Once the weight in her chest loosened enough to breathe, she grabbed her phone from her purse and opened her messages. Without thinking, her fingers flew across the screen, typing a message to Korra. She needed to let it out. To say something. Anything.

The three dots appeared right away, signaling Korra’s reply. Asami stared at them, waiting, needing that spark again to cut through the fog her father always left behind.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, her phone chimed.

Korra: fuck. he didn’t just say that! I’m so sorry, Asami.
Korra: I wish I was there. I’d give him a piece of my mind!🤬

That made Asami smile, despite everything.

Asami: It’s okay. Someday, I’d find a way to break free from him. Thank you, Korra.
Korra: yeah. I’ll be there when you do. :]
Korra: so, what do you say? narook’s this friday?🙏🏻 just the two of us. take your mind off things.

She stared at the message longer than she meant to. It sounded harmless. Friendly. But something about the phrasing— “just the two of us” —sounded almost… date-like?

No. It wasn’t. They’d already talked about this. Korra wouldn’t. Would she?

Asami shook her head, suddenly second-guessing everything after Korra’s confession. If it was a date, she definitely shouldn’t go alone. That would send the wrong message. And if it wasn’t a date, going alone might make her look like she thought it was one.

Gods, this was getting ridiculous.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she quickly messaged Korra, asking if it was alright if she invited everyone. Once Korra replied that it was, she quickly sent a group message, inviting their friends this Friday night.

That way, it wouldn’t be awkward. Korra wouldn’t think it was a date. She sighed and typed out her reply.

Asami: Okay. Sounds good. Talk later?
Korra: deal. :]

—

Friday night came by both slow and fast, like her brain and body couldn’t agree on how to process time.

She was already seated at their usual booth at Narook’s, fingers grazing the edge of the table as she waited. Mako arrived first, flowers in one hand and a dripping umbrella in the other.

“Hey,” he greeted, a little breathless. “For you.” His cheeks were tinged pink as he held out the bouquet.

Asami blinked in surprise, then accepted it with a soft smile. “Thank you. You’re so sweet.”

He sat beside her, visibly relieved. She watched as he let out a small breath, then reached toward her, hesitating, before asking quietly, “Is it okay if I… hold your hand?”

She nodded, and he brightened instantly.

“So, um, how are you? We haven’t talked since the other day.”

Asami winced inwardly. Right. She hadn’t replied to his last message. It wasn’t intentional, but just… her thoughts had been elsewhere. Mostly wrapped up in work and in Korra’s well-being.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ve been a little swamped. But I’ll make sure to reply more consistently going forward.”

“It’s fine, Asami,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I know we’re both busy people. And… I—I was thinking, if you’re up for it, I’d really like to—”

“I’m so sorry we’re late!”

Asami flinched, instinctively pulling her hand away from Mako’s as the voice cut through the air. She didn’t do it out of malice, but rather out of reflex. Her gaze snapped to the entrance.

Korra, Bolin, and Opal were approaching the table, slightly damp from the light rain outside. Korra was the one who’d spoken, brushing back a few wet strands of hair, her grin wide and casual like she hadn’t just interrupted something.

Asami’s heart kicked into motion again, and not for the man sitting beside her.

Korra slid beside her, her arm brushing Asami’s shoulder. It was a light touch, but Asami’s skin buzzed beneath her sleeve. She leaned in, just slightly, hoping Korra wouldn’t notice. Or maybe hoping she would. When the contact broke, Asami felt oddly bereft, like something warm had been taken away too soon.

Bolin and Opal slid into the booth across from them. Korra’s eyes flicked to the bouquet on the table, and a grin tugged at her lips.

“Well, well,” she said, waggling her eyebrows playfully at Mako. “You finally had the courage to buy her something!”

Mako’s face turned crimson. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Should’ve listened to you sooner, huh?”

Korra just laughed and leaned back in her seat, looking satisfied with herself.

Asami, meanwhile, didn’t know what to feel about the exchange. For some reason, it felt… off. Like she was watching a scene play out that she was supposed to be part of, but didn’t quite fit into.

“I hope it’s okay that I invited everyone,” she said quietly, changing the subject.

Korra glanced at her and smiled. “Of course. The more the merrier.”

They ordered their usuals and the evening carried on with casual conversation and shared laughter. Bolin, as always, was dramatically recounting a story about nearly falling into the ground at the movie set he was in. Even Mako managed to loosen up. For a moment, Asami started to forget the uncomfortable tug in her chest.

But of course, that feeling didn’t last.

“Korra?”

A soft but confident voice cut through their chatter.

They all turned. A woman stood near the booth—a slender figure with straight black hair tucked behind one ear, almond-shaped hazel eyes, and a quiet, striking poise. She wore a dark coat and had a messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Something about her presence immediately put Asami on alert.

Korra blinked, then lit up with recognition. “Ji Won! Oh my god! How are you?”

Korra stood and embraced the woman, and there it was again—that tug in Asami’s stomach, sharper now. She didn’t know why.

Korra turned back to the table, beaming. “Everyone, this is Ha Ji Won. I made some custom furniture for her when I first moved here. Tables, cabinets, the whole works. She was one of my first clients.”

Ji Won waved politely at them all. “Nice to meet you. I don’t want to intrude, but… would you mind if I joined you? Just for a bit?”

Asami’s brows drew together slightly, though she caught herself before it was too obvious. Something instinctual flared in her chest. This woman was a stranger, and her presence sent Asami’s defenses up like a reflex.

Bolin, ever the friendly, extroverted one, started to shift over to sit next to Mako. “Of course. We’ve got room.”

Korra nodded in agreement, sliding into the booth where Bolin had sat and gesturing for Ji Won to follow. “Yeah, come on. Sit.”

Asami moved aside to make space for Bolin, but her eyes stayed on Ji Won. Measuring. Watching. Trying to tell herself it was nothing.

But when the other woman leaned too closely to Korra, she suddenly felt the need to put a space between them. With an overly saccharin smile, she asked as she sipped her tea, “So, what do you do?”

Ji Won blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question, but recovered quickly with a pleasant smile. “Oh, I’m a set designer for theatre and television.”

“Oh wow,” Korra said before anyone else could. Her eyes lit up with genuine admiration. “That’s amazing! I didn’t know you did that kind of work.”

With that, Ji Won launched into a few stories about her job—set mishaps, last-minute redesigns, a lighting rig that once nearly fell on a lead actor—and the table listened with polite curiosity. That made Bolin, and in turn, Opal, excited to talk to her.

Asami tried to smile along, too, but her jaw felt a little tight.

Eventually, the conversation looped back around to Ji Won’s connection with Korra.

“We built this modular bookshelf for her studio apartment,” Korra chimed in, her tone warm with nostalgia. “One of the first projects I did when I got here.”

Of course, she lives in a studio, Asami thought, taking a sip of her drink. Probably some sleek, ultra-minimalist place with exposed brick and perfect feng shui. Of course.

Ji Won laughed, reaching out to hold Korra’s forearm as she leaned closer. “It was not that perfect. I had to scold you a hundred times before you even got the measurements right.”

Korra chuckled, shaking her head. “I still think it turned out great.”

Something curled hot and sharp in Asami’s chest. She didn’t even think about it, but she reached for Mako’s hand again, placing it gently but deliberately on the table between them. Mako blinked in surprise, then smiled, lacing their fingers together.

Out of the corner of her eye, Asami thought she saw something flicker in Korra’s expression. A flash of hurt, maybe, but it was gone in a heartbeat. It was so quick she wasn’t even sure it had really happened. Maybe it was just her imagination. Still, something about it made her chest tighten even more.

“Oh! Have you guys tried Korra’s arctic hen teriyaki?” Ji Won asked with wide eyes, turning to the rest of the table. “I swear, it’s better than anything I’ve had in restaurants.”

Korra blushed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, of course. I—”

And that was when Asami’s composure finally cracked. “It is,” she blurted sharply. “It’s amazing. Honestly, if the Michelin Guide were to rank Korra’s food, she would have five stars.”

The table went silent for a beat. Ji Won blinked. Bolin and Opal exchanged a look. Mako looked like he wanted to ask her what happened.

Ji Won broke the silence. “But Michelin only has three stars.”

Asami felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She didn’t know that it only had three stars. Thankfully, Korra didn’t mind.

Korra smiled. “Uh… thanks, ‘Sami.”

Asami let out a breath, realizing how intense that sounded. She reached for her glass, suddenly very interested in the ice cubes swirling inside.

“Are you okay?” Korra asked gently, reaching out. Korra’s hand brushed against Asami’s arm. That same flicker of warmth flared up, short and confusing. Asami stared at the spot, wondering why it lingered like an echo under her skin. She clenched her jaw. She couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep feeling things she wasn’t supposed to.

Asami didn’t look up. “Yeah. Just tired. I think I’m ready to go home.”

“Oh, then we’ll—” Korra began, but Asami cut her off before she could finish.

“It’s fine, Kor. Enjoy your night.” Her tone was clipped, final. She stood, let go of Mako’s hand, and Bolin moved off the booth. She offered a quick excuse to the rest of the table before walking briskly toward the exit.

Her stomach churned. She didn’t know what was happening to her. Why did her chest feel tight? Why were her thoughts racing? All she knew was that she needed to get out of there.

She barely made it a few steps outside when she heard footsteps behind her.

“Asami, wait,” Mako called, jogging to catch up. “Let me walk you home. Or at least to your car.”

She hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Okay.”

They walked in awkward silence. Asami was grateful that Mako didn’t ask any questions. He simply matched her pace, offering the kind of quiet presence she didn’t know she needed.

When they reached her car on the curb, he opened the driver’s door for her. “Are you sure you’re good to drive? I don’t mind driving you home.”

“No,” she said, forcing a small smile. “It’s really fine, Mako. But thank you.”

“Alright,” he said softly. “Just… text me when you get home, okay? So I know you’re safe.”

She nodded and slid into the seat, murmuring a quick “Goodnight” before closing the door.

Mako stepped back and waved as she started the engine. She didn’t look back.

As she drove through the city streets, the night felt heavier than usual. She’d ruined everything with her irrational behavior and she knew it. And the worst part was, she couldn’t even explain where it had come from. It gnawed at her even when she curled up in bed, tossing under her sheets, and sleep refused to come.

And when it finally did, it betrayed her with images of Ji Won’s hand on Korra’s arm, Korra laughing, leaning in too close.

Asami woke up with her heart pounding. She didn’t want to admit what the dreams meant.

But that didn’t stop them from coming back the next night.

And the one after that.

Chapter Text

The weather couldn’t have been better that day. The sun was high, but the breeze kept the air cool enough to be pleasant, almost refreshing. Nice enough for a date.

A date? The thought caught Asami off guard. Why had she thought of it like that? She shook her head hard, hard enough to make herself dizzy. It wasn’t a date. Just lunch. Just hanging out.

The door chime rang as she stepped into Narook’s, her gaze sweeping the room until it landed on Korra. Her lips curled into a smile at seeing the other woman. But the moment she stepped forward, her smile turned into a frown. She stood there, frozn.

Korra wasn’t alone.

Ji Won sat pressed against her in the booth, clinging to Korra’s arm like some overgrown koala that didn’t know when to let go. They were close. Too close. Their heads leaned together, sharing some joke Asami couldn’t hear, laughter spilling out like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if Ji Won had earned the right to sit there, to laugh with her, to take up space that wasn’t hers.

Asami’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. It was ridiculous. She had no right to feel this way. No reason. And yet her legs felt heavy, her chest tight, every breath catching as she tried to force herself forward.

Then Ji Won leaned closer. Korra didn’t move away. Their faces drew nearer, closer still, until there was no space left between them, until their lips had nowhere to go but—

Asami jolted awake, panting, her chest tight as if she’d just run a mile. The image of Korra and Ji Won almost kissing lingered, burned into her mind, and seared into the backs of her eyelids every time she blinked.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered into the dark, though there was no one to answer. Her voice cracked in the quiet, raw with a frustration she didn’t want to name.

Why would she dream something like that? Of all the things her subconscious could conjure, why that ? Why Ji Won? The woman wasn’t even worth the thought, let alone haunting her sleep. Asami dug her nails into the sheets, heat prickling at her eyes before she forced it back down.

Something was wrong with her. There had to be. Dreams didn’t mean anything, she knew that. They were just scraps of memory stitched together. Nonsense. And yet her stomach still twisted, her heart still pounded like it had really happened.

She slumped back against the mattress, pulling the covers over her head like they could shield her from her own mind. Maybe if she closed her eyes again, she’d find silence instead of laughter, blankness instead of faces that didn’t belong together. She prayed for dreamless sleep, but even as she willed herself down, Korra’s smile—aimed at Ji Won, never at her—still clung to her like a shadow.

—

Asami stared at the electrical blueprint of the town center. There was a slight issue with how the wires crossed paths near the generator junction. Something about the voltage load being too high if they didn’t reroute the secondary line. Or maybe it was the insulation? She couldn’t remember.

The truth was, she hadn’t processed most of what Korra had just said.

Her mind was elsewhere.

Last night’s dreams lingered like a sour taste. She still couldn’t shake them off, the memory clinging to her like smoke that she couldn’t focus. No matter how many times she told herself it was just a dream, it had a way of creeping back in, souring her mood and gnawing at her concentration.

A sharp clang of steel beams snapped her out of it. She blinked just in time to catch the tail end of Korra’s sentence.

“...So here, we have to reroute through the east conduit. If you agree, then we’ll proceed.”

Asami’s eyes dropped to the blueprint, scanning the notes Korra had scribbled in the margins. Thankfully, it was a problem she recognized immediately, one she could solve in her sleep.

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady despite the fog in her chest. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Korra flashed her a grin, one so casual and familiar it made Asami’s stomach flutter and sink all at once. Then Korra turned away to bark orders to the workers, her voice rising above the din of drills and hammering.

But for Asami, none of that mattered.

That smile—that stupid, perfect smile—was enough to brighten her entire day. And she hated that it was only now she realized it. She wanted to see more of it. Even worse, she wanted to be the one who caused it.

She opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. It wasn’t like her to second-guess herself, especially not over something as simple as asking a friend to hang out. But somehow, this didn’t feel simple. Her heart pounded against her ribs like it knew better.

When Korra circled back, clipboard in hand, Asami finally pushed past the lump in her throat.

“Want to hang out later?” she asked, too quickly. “Dinner at Narook’s?”

Korra blinked, then laughed. “Wow. I’m getting jealous. You must love Narook’s food more than mine.”

Asami smiled, a bit stiffly. “Guilty.”

“Just kidding,” Korra said, brushing dust off her pants. “I’d love to, but I already have plans with Ji Won later. Rain check?”

“Oh,” Asami whispered. Plans with Ji Won. That’s new , she thought, crestfallen.

She quickly schooled her expression into polite indifference, years of etiquette coming to her rescue. But something inside her twisted, like her ribs had caved in around it. “Yeah. Sure,” she said lightly. “Rain check.”

“Why don’t you ask Mako out on a date?” Korra offered. “He’s off today, and I’m sure he’d be ecstatic if you asked him.”

Asami flinched at the suggestion.

Oh. Right.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a small smile. “That’s a great idea. Thanks, Kor.”

Korra grinned, hands on her hips. “Of course it is. It came from me!”

That actually made Asami laugh, bubbling past the ache in her chest. Maybe a proper date with the guy she was supposed to be dating would help ease… whatever this was.

Whatever this feeling was, it had nothing to do with Mako and everything to do with the girl in front of her.

—

“So,” Asami said as she casually stirred her noodles, “what’s the deal with Ji Won?”

Mako blinked, chopsticks frozen midair. “Uhhh… what do you mean?”

She kept her tone even, eyes on her bowl. “I mean, did you know her before? Back when Korra first started her business?”

Mako set his chopsticks down and leaned back. “Not really. All I know is she was Korra’s first client. I only got to know her around the same time you did.”

Oh. So Mako didn’t know her either. Korra hadn’t told anyone about Ji Won. Not even her closest friends. That realization settled heavily in Asami’s chest. If Ji Won really was just a friend, then why keep her a secret? Why did it feel like Korra was hiding something… or someone?

Mako must’ve noticed her silence. “Why?” he asked, brow raised.

“Nothing,” she replied, forcing a small smile. “Forget it. Let’s eat.”

The next day, Asami was mentally preparing to ask Korra to hang out again. But fate didn’t give her the chance. Korra strolled into the construction site, eyes glued to her phone, a wide grin stretching across her face.

“You must be in a really good mood,” Asami said, arms crossed, before she could stop herself.

Startled, Korra looked up. “‘Sami! Spirits, you scared me. What are you doing just standing by the entrance like that?”

“I wasn’t waiting,” Asami replied too quickly, uncrossing her arms as heat crept up her neck. “I just happened to be standing here when you arrived.”

Korra raised a skeptical brow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push it. Instead, she gave that lopsided grin Asami secretly adored. “Okay, if you say so. Ji Won just sent me a meme. It was dumb, but it cracked me up.”

Oh. Ji Won. Again.

Asami swallowed the sudden, inexplicable heat rising in her stomach and smiled tightly. “Well then. Since you’re in such a good mood, let’s get to work.”

Korra saluted playfully. “Yes, ma’am.”

That set the tone for the rest of the week. During meetings, Korra would peek at her phone and smile, sometimes even chuckle to herself, and Asami would spend the rest of the day irritable without knowing exactly why. Korra would notice— of course, she always did—and ask if she was okay, but Asami would lie and say yes.

Worse, when she finally tried to cash in that promised rain check, Korra would offer a sheepish smile and say, “Next time. Ji Won and I already have plans tonight. Sorry. We’ll really hang out next time, I promise.”

And every time, Asami would bite down the disappointment, smile politely, and say, “It’s okay,” even though it wasn’t. Even though “next time” never seemed to come.

By the end of the week, frustration was eating her alive. So she did the only thing that made sense in the moment, the only thing that might make the ache go away. She picked up her phone, typed out a message, and asked Mako if he wanted to go on a date.

Because maybe if she leaned into the life she was supposed to want, everything else would finally fall into place.

—

Asami paced back and forth in Opal’s bedroom, arms crossed, one hand constantly brushing hair behind her ear, only for it to fall loose again. She barely noticed it amidst her stormy thoughts.

“I mean, it’s not even that serious,” she began, her voice tight. “ Korra can hang out with whoever she wants. Korra ’s a grown woman, and I don’t have the right to tell Korra who to be with, right? Even if Ji Won was basically a stranger.”

Opal, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a mug of tea in hand, nodded slowly. “Mm hm.”

“ Korra just… laughs at her phone all the time now,” Asami went on, spinning sharply on her heel. “And when I ask to hang out, it’s always ‘next time.’ But Korra always has time for Ji Won. That’s weird, right?”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Opal said, tone mild but knowing. “And it seems to me that you’re making it weird because you’re jealous that Korra’s giving her attention to someone who might actually return her feelings. If she even has feelings for Ji Won.”

Asami froze mid-step. “Jealous?” she echoed, the word bitter in her mouth. “Return her feelings? Why would I be jealous, Op? I swear I’m not. It’s just that… ever since Korra and I became friends, we always hang out after work, or we’d have lunch in my office. And now... now it’s like Korra ’s replaced me. It’s annoying.”

She started pacing again, frustration rising in her throat. “ Korra used to text me first. Now it’s all Ji Won this, Ji Won that, ‘Oh my god, Ji Won sent me this meme!’ Who even laughs at memes that hard?”

Opal raised an eyebrow. “You do.”

Asami waved a hand. “That’s not the point.”

“And you’re saying you’re not jealous?” Opal tilted her head, the barest hint of a smirk on her lips. Then, more gently, “‘Sams, can I be honest with you?”

“A-always,” Asami said, suddenly unsure of herself.

Opal stood up from the bed and walked over, taking Asami’s hand in hers. “I didn’t want to say anything because… I figured you’d realize it on your own, in your own time.”

Asami furrowed her brows. “Realize what?”

Opal gave a gentle smile, the kind that made Asami feel safe and seen all at once. “That maybe, you aren’t what you think you are. That maybe you don’t just care about Korra as a friend. That maybe what you’re feeling right now… it’s not just frustration. It’s really jealousy. And it’s because you like her.”

Asami’s whole body tensed. “Again, I don’t like her like that, Op!”

“You mentioned her name eight times in your rant,” Opal said calmly. “I counted.”

Asami opened her mouth, then shut it again. Her heart thudded in her chest like a drum.

“I just—Well, there are a lot of things I don’t like about her!” she argued. “She’s messy. She forgets to reply to texts. She wears the same pair of work pants every day, like they’re fashion statements. She steals food off my plate. She brags when she wins, and sulks when she loses. She’s—she’s exhausting.”

Opal raised her brows. “But?”

Asami’s throat went dry. “But she always makes me feel like I’m not alone. And when she laughs at something I say, it feels like I just won something. She makes me feel like I matter. Like I’m not just someone people look at for answers or results, but… me. She listens in a way no one else does, like every word is worth her time. She remembers things I barely remember telling her. And when she smiles at me—” Asami faltered, heat rushing to her cheeks. “It feels like the sun came out just for me. She makes the world seem less heavy, like it’s okay to stop pretending for a while. Like I can actually just… be myself.

“And I hate that I miss her before she even leaves.” Her voice cracked at the last part. She turned away, blinking hard.

“How can that be?” she whispered. “I’m straight.”

Opal squeezed her hand. “Maybe you were. Or maybe you thought you were because it was easier. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because of her. Just… her.”

“Oh,” Asami whispered. Oh, fuck.

She stood there, caught between panic and clarity, her chest tight and her heart wide open. The truth sat heavily in her hands now, undeniable and terrifying in its simplicity.

When she finally looked at her best friend again, Opal met her with a soft smile—one that radiated warmth, acceptance, and not a hint of judgment. Like she had always known this moment would come, and she’d been waiting with open arms.

“Now that you know,” Opal said gently, “the question is… What are you going to do about it?”

Chapter Text

The rain pounded against the windshield like it was trying to stop her, but Asami didn’t slow down. She gripped the wheel tighter, blinking through the blur. It was dangerous. Korra had warned her about driving in weather like this before, but she didn’t care. Her heart felt like it would split open if she didn’t let it out soon.

She was jealous of the rain, she realized. It could pour without restraint, crash against the world, and demand to be felt without fear of what came after.

After her talk with Opal—after finally admitting to herself what this longing had always meant—Asami had barely taken a breath before rushing out the door. The only thing on her mind was Korra.

When she spotted the familiar blue roof, she eased off the gas just enough to swerve into the driveway. She’d always wondered why Korra had one when she didn’t even own a car. But now wasn’t the time for irrelevant thoughts.

Asami flung the door open and stepped into the downpour without an umbrella. The cold bit into her skin immediately, but she didn’t care. She was soaked in seconds, hair plastered to her face, her clothes clinging to her body, but all that mattered was getting to Korra before the courage disappeared.

She knocked three times.

The door swung open almost instantly.

“Asami?!” Korra’s eyes went wide. “What are you—wait, never mind. Come in!” She grabbed Asami by the wrist and pulled her inside, slamming the door against the storm behind her.

The thump of heavy paws echoed across the wooden floor. Naga bounded into view, ears perked and tail wagging, clearly confused by the unexpected visitor and the soaking mess dripping all over the rug.

“Naga, down,” Korra said quickly. “She’s not here to play.”

The dog whined softly, padding closer to sniff at Asami’s drenched pants before nudging her with a cold, wet nose. Asami managed a shaky laugh, brushing her hand gently along Naga’s thick fur.

“Hey, girl,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Missed you too.”

Before Asami could say another word, Korra dashed to the back and returned a moment later with a thick towel in her hands.

“Here. You’re soaked.” There was an urgency and concern in her tone.

Asami took the towel with a quiet, breathless thank you, trying not to shiver. She dried herself off as fast as she could, more anxious about what she came here to say than her freezing limbs.

But Korra had other things on her mind.

“What were you thinking?” she snapped. “Driving in this weather! Without a coat?! And then running into the rain like that? Do you have a death wish?”

Asami looked up, lips parted to respond. But the words died in her throat.

All she could focus on… were Korra’s lips. The way they moved when she scolded her, the way her brows furrowed with concern, the way her voice trembled—not with anger, but worry. It was overwhelming. And yet, grounding. It was everything Asami had always wanted but hadn’t known until now.

She wondered how it would feel if their lips finally touched.

Would Korra kiss her softly, gently, like she was afraid of breaking something precious? Would it be different from how men had kissed her before? Less demanding, more reverent? Would Korra cup her face with those strong, calloused hands and hold her like she mattered?

Asami’s breath caught. She could practically feel it—Korra’s mouth brushing over hers with aching slowness, stealing the air right out of her lungs. A kiss that said, I see you. I want you. Just as you are.

The ache in her chest sharpened into need.

She stepped closer but froze when she caught sight of Korra’s phone on the coffee table, its screen glowing faintly in the dim room. Ji Won’s name lit up in bold letters, and something sharp and possessive burned in Asami’s stomach she now could name.

Jealousy.

And angry that, of course, even now the woman would find a way to ruin her moment.

Naga, curled near the couch, let out a soft wuff , ears twitching at the tension in the room, but the sound barely registered. Everything else blurred into the background. All that remained was Korra Korra Korra .

“Asami?” Korra asked cautiously, the uncertainty in her voice drawing Asami back to herself.

“Korra… I have to know,” she said, her voice unsteady but firm. She needed to be sure before letting herself take the next step. “You and Ji Won… what are you two?”

Korra’s brows pulled together in confusion as she instinctively stepped back. The hesitation in her posture made it clear she didn’t understand where this was coming from. “What are you talking about?”

Asami’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. “Are you two dating?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Please say no. She didn’t think she could survive hearing anything else.

Korra blinked, her body tense, and her shoulders drawn in. “Asami, why are you asking all these questions? What’s this all about?”

Instead of answering, Asami moved forward again, closing the distance. She reached out and placed her hands on Korra’s shoulders, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin through the fabric. A current passed through her at the contact, startling and electric. And she wasn’t alone. She felt Korra’s breath hitch, saw her eyes flicker in response.

Growing impatient with herself, Asami slid her hands downward, brushing along the curve of Korra’s collarbone until they gripped the edge of her white tank top. Korra’s eyes widened at the sudden shift, but she didn’t pull away. In fact, Asami felt rough, calloused, trembling hands land on her hips.

“Because I want to know if I have a chance,” she said, her voice low and raw.

Korra’s reply came quickly, strained and desperate. “A chance for what? Goddammit, Asami, please just tell me!”

Asami’s eyes dropped to Korra’s lips, her breath catching as heat surged up her neck. She forced herself to look up again, locking eyes with the one person who had unknowingly changed everything. “A chance for us to be… together .”

She watched Korra’s expression shift in slow motion. First surprise, then to disbelief. Realization. And finally, understanding. A flush crept into Korra’s cheeks as she swallowed thickly, her voice barely audible when she finally spoke. “A-Asami, Ji Won and I are…”

Asami gripped the fabric of Korra’s tank top tighter, pulling her even closer until their soaked bodies pressed together, every inch of space between them erased. Their faces hovered just inches apart, breath mingling, eyes locked with the weight of everything unspoken. Naga shifted somewhere behind them, but Asami didn’t notice. The rain, the warmth of the house, even her own doubts, all of it melted away.

There was only Korra.

They stood there, trembling in the silence, caught between fear and desire.

“Just friends,” Korra finally breathed.

And with that, Asami released a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Good,” she whispered.

Korra swallowed hard. “Asami… I—I don’t want to assume, but we’re this close to making a very bad decision.” The words spilled out in a rush, like she’d been holding them back for too long. “If this is just the rain talking, then—”

“It’s not,” Asami interrupted, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. She exhaled slowly, grounding herself. “I’m not feverish, Korra. I know exactly what I’m doing. And why would it be a bad decision?”

“Because…” Korra faltered, her gaze dropping to the floor between them. “Because you’re straight.”

Asami’s breath caught. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t hold back. “But what if I’m not?” She stepped closer, her heart pounding. “Korra, you’ve awakened something in me that I didn’t even know was sleeping. You... You’re the only one who’s ever made my heart beat like this.”

She swallowed hard, her voice breaking just slightly. “And when you were always with Ji Won, I couldn’t stand it. I hated it. I hated how it made me feel. So what if I want you the way you wanted me? What if I want to look at you the way you’ve looked at me all this time?”

Korra looked up, her expression a mix of fear and something softer—hope, maybe. “Asami—”

“Would that still be a bad decision?” she asked, searching Korra’s face for an answer. Her hands remained clenched in Korra’s shirt, holding on as if letting go would mean losing this moment.

The room fell quiet. Korra’s hands were still on her hips, warm and steady, but her whole body felt like it was holding its breath. Slowly, one of her hands slid around Asami’s waist, fingers brushing the curve of her lower back before settling at the small of it. The touch was instinctive, protective, and anchoring them both. Their foreheads hovered close, the space between them impossibly small. Outside, the rain continued to fall, a steady backdrop to the storm building inside them.

Asami didn’t pull away. She savored the touch she didn’t know she longed for. She leaned in slightly, just enough that her lips hovered over Korra’s, not touching, but close enough to steal breath.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

“You’re not.”

Before Asami could even react, Korra surged forward, closing the small distance between them in a single breath, and captured her lips in a kiss that stole air, thought, and restraint. Everything.

Asami froze for half a second, stunned by the force of it, but then she melted into Korra’s arms and kissed her back without hesitation.

Korra’s hands were frantic, sliding up her back beneath the damp fabric of her shirt, the heat of her palms sending shivers down Asami’s spine. She gripped her tightly, pulling her close like there was still space left to close, like their bodies could never be close enough. Asami gasped into the kiss as her chest pressed against Korra’s, her heart pounding so loudly it echoed in her ears.

Fingers threaded into Korra’s dark, soaked hair, tugging just enough to make her moan. Korra’s mouth moved against hers with practiced rhythm and aching need, and Asami matched her without thinking, like her lips had been waiting for this, like they knew exactly what to do.

Every touch, every press of lips and tongue, felt like a revelation.

Asami had been kissed before, by boys with wandering hands and shallow mouths, but this… this was nothing like that. Korra kissed like she meant it, like she needed it to breathe. And Asami had never wanted to be wanted like this until now.

Korra tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss as her grip on Asami’s back tightened. Their soaked clothes clung to their bodies, their warmth turning the air between them humid and heavy. When they finally broke apart, panting and breathless, Asami’s legs barely held her up.

They stared at each other, foreheads nearly touching, breaths mixing in the silence that followed. Korra’s blue eyes were dark with wonder and reverence, and Asami knew that same awe was mirrored in her own gaze.

Outside, the rain still poured and thunder rolled distantly, but none of it mattered. Not compared to the storm inside her chest.

She drew in a shaky breath and let it go.

“Korra,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the trembling in her limbs, “make love to me.”

Korra’s eyes widened at the request. A natural reaction, Asami figured, especially after all her insistence that she was straight. But that initial shock quickly gave way to something darker, deeper. Lust clouded Korra’s expression, and heat curled low in Asami’s stomach at the way she was being looked at, like she was something rare, something sacred, something Korra had wanted for a long, long time.

Without hesitation, Korra slid her hands to the backs of Asami’s thighs and, in one smooth motion, lifted her off the floor.

Asami let out an indignant yelp, surprised but not resisting. Her legs instinctively wrapped around Korra’s waist, her arms hooking behind her neck to keep herself steady. “You could’ve warned me,” she breathed, half-laughing, heart pounding.

Korra’s grin was crooked and wild. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Korra carried her with ease, her grip firm and sure as she walked them toward the bedroom. Asami clung to her, burying her face against Korra’s neck, breathing in the scent of musk and sea salt. Something distinctly Korra.

Behind them, Naga’s tail wagged as she followed them to the bedroom. At the threshold, Korra glanced back. “Stay, girl,” she commanded gently.

Naga obeyed instantly, settling in the living room with a soft huff. The sight made Asami giggle against Korra’s skin. “Such a good girl,” she murmured, amusement bubbling out of her.

Korra’s lips curved into a grin, her breath hot against Asami’s ear. “How about you?” she whispered, voice dropping into a husky tease. “Are you a good girl?”

Asami’s breath caught, her blush burning hot as her core clenched, heat surging through her body like wildfire. She hid her face deeper against Korra’s neck, but the way her fingers tightened around Korra’s shoulders betrayed her.

With a low chuckle, Korra kicked the bedroom door shut and carried her the rest of the way to the bed. The moment Asami’s back hit the mattress, Korra was over her again, lips crashing back onto hers with urgency that made her breath stutter.

They kissed like they were starving, like the world might collapse around them and they wouldn’t even notice. Asami’s body lit up with a heat she had never felt before. No one had ever made her feel this undone. Every part of her buzzed, alive and aching, as if Korra’s mouth had unlocked something she hadn’t known was hidden inside her.

When Korra’s lips left hers, trailing a path down to her jaw and then lower to her neck, Asami gasped. Her hips shifted of their own accord, chasing more, needing more. And then Korra kissed the spot just beneath her ear, hot and wet and deliberate.

“Korra, please,” she moaned, not even caring how desperate she sounded.

Korra stilled for just a breath and asked. “What do you want?” she asked, her raspy voice, edged with restraint, sent a jolt straight through Asami’s core. Heat pooled in places she’d only ever touched alone and in silence.

“I want you to undress me,” she gasped, the words falling from her lips just as Korra sucked gently on the tender juncture between her neck and shoulder.

Korra pulled back, her breath ghosting over Asami’s damp skin, and looked at her with eyes darkened by something feral and reverent. There was a beat of silence before she dipped forward and kissed Asami again. This time slower, deeper, more searching.

As their mouths moved in sync, Korra’s hands roamed with purpose. Even through the fabric, Asami felt every touch like lightning, tracing fire along her ribs, over her waist, around the buttons of her blouse. When Korra finally began to undo them one by one, Asami let out a small, helpless noise that caught in her throat.

She wasn’t used to this. No one had undressed her before. Not with this kind of care. Not with this much want.

When the blouse finally slipped off her shoulders, Korra paused, her gaze traveling down the newly exposed skin. The creamy expanse of Asami’s chest rose and fell with every breath, her lacy bra damp against her skin from the rain.

Suddenly, Asami felt hyper-aware of every inch of her body. Her pulse fluttered, and her arms twitched as if to cover herself. This wasn’t how she imagined this would go. She wasn’t supposed to feel nervous. She was Asami “Always in control, Always composed” Sato. But here, stripped down in front of Korra, her breath shaky and her heart pounding like a drum, she felt vulnerable in a way she never had before.

Then Korra leaned in, eyes never leaving hers, and whispered with absolute certainty, “I feel like I’m in a dream. You’re so beautiful.”

The words hit her harder than they should have. Her breath caught again, but this time it wasn’t from nerves or heat. It was from something deeper, something tender. Asami felt her hands fall away from where they had hovered near her stomach, and her chest opened—figuratively, literally. She let Korra see her. All of her.

And in that moment, she wasn’t scared anymore.

“Have you… done this before?” Korra’s voice faltered, a flicker of hesitation slipping through her confidence.

Asami shook her head, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “No. But… I know how two women make love.” It was true. Although it was only from what she heard from her classmates and what Opal had told her before. But Korra didn’t need to know that… for now.

“Yeah?” Korra murmured, her mouth trailing a hot path down Asami’s ribs. “You really do?”

Asami’s fingers tangled in Korra’s thick hair, her breath catching. “Yes,” she gasped. “Gods, yes.”

Korra went back up and cupped her cheeks with both hands, her touch tender yet steady. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?” she whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m going to make you feel so good. I promise.”

The words barely left her mouth before Asami surged forward and claimed her lips in a fierce, urgent kiss. There was no more room for doubt. In Korra’s arms, Asami felt the world fall away, her body singing with electricity as their mouths collided again and again. Korra kissed like a woman on fire, each brush of her lips growing bolder, deeper. Asami’s hands found bare skin and dragged her nails across Korra’s back, desperate to feel more. To feel everything Korra had to offer.

She was already unraveling, and Korra hadn’t even touched her properly yet.

Korra’s lips descended her body once more, slow and reverent, each kiss branding her skin with a promise. She started at the hollow of Asami’s throat, pressing her mouth there as if in prayer, then trailed lower, over the swell of one breast, pausing to place a lingering kiss beside the peak before moving to the other. Her tongue flicked out, teasing, worshipping, until Asami let out a shuddering moan and arched into her.

“Korra…” she whimpered, hands fisting the sheets beneath her.

Korra didn’t stop. Her mouth continued its descent, painting a slow, sensual path down the center of Asami’s torso. Her hands roamed gently, palms wide and sure as they followed the curve of Asami’s waist and hips, like she was mapping sacred ground. She whispered soft nothings between kisses—praises, worship, need—and each one made Asami’s skin erupt in goosebumps.

Asami squirmed beneath her, overwhelmed by the attention, the pleasure building with no outlet. Every part of her felt seen, cherished. Her legs shifted restlessly, thighs brushing together, trying to contain the heat that was fast consuming her.

She’d never done this before, not even with her almost-serious boyfriend back in college, but that didn’t matter. Not now. Not with Korra. With Korra, it felt right. No, it felt inevitable. Like her body had always known what it wanted, and only now, under Korra’s touch, was she learning how to ask for it.

Korra nuzzled the soft skin below Asami’s belly button and murmured, “Every inch of you is perfect.” Her breath ghosted across heated flesh, sending a jolt straight to Asami’s core.

Asami gasped, her fingers threading into Korra’s hair, desperate and shaking. “Please… don’t stop.”

Korra looked up, lips already curved into a soft, sinful smile. “I wasn’t planning to. You’re so wet already,” she murmured, eyes flicking up from between Asami’s thighs.

Asami’s eyes flew open, startled by the raw intimacy of Korra’s gaze. She suddenly wanted to hide, to close her legs, but couldn’t move, held in place by the weight of her own want.

Korra’s expression softened. “Are you okay? We can stop. Or if you’re uncomfortable, I won’t go inside… I don’t have to be inside you to make you feel good. We go at your pace, ‘Sami.”

That gentle voice full of care melted away the last of Asami’s nerves. She shook her head and reached for Korra’s hand, guiding it between her legs. “I’m okay,” she whispered, breathless. “I feel amazing. Just… touch me. Please, Korra.”

Her voice broke on the last word, a plea laced with need.

Korra’s fingers pressed against her through the soaked fabric, circling gently, and Asami’s back arched from the bed with a gasp. The sensation sent a lightning bolt straight through her core. Her hands flew to the bedpost, gripping hard as her hips moved on their own, chasing the rhythm of Korra’s touch.

“Korra… Korra—oh—”

“How does that feel?” Korra rasped.

“Gods, Korra… It feels so good,” Asami moaned, unable to finish the sentence. Her breath came in short, trembling gasps as her entire focus narrowed to that single point of contact—Korra’s finger circling her, teasing her through the damp fabric. Her body thrummed, taut like a string about to snap.

Korra leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her stomach, slow and grounding. “I need you to tell me if anything feels too much, okay?” she said, her voice gentler now, threaded with care that made Asami’s heart jump.

“I will,” Asami whispered. “But right now, I just… need you.”

With a nod, Korra hooked her fingers into the waistband of Asami’s panties and slowly pulled them down. Asami lifted her hips to help, heart pounding so fast she was sure Korra could hear it. The cool air kissed her bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat blazing in her center.

Korra’s eyes darkened again, her breath catching as she drank in the sight of her. For a moment, she didn’t move, just knelt between Asami’s thighs, staring up at her like she was something holy.

Asami shifted restlessly, cheeks flushing. “Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured, suddenly shy.

“Like what?” Korra said, her voice thick. “Like you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?”

Asami bit her lip, hiding her smile behind a wave of rising heat. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“That’s cos you are.” Korra smirked, but the reverence in her eyes didn’t fade. Instead, she leaned down and brushed a kiss just above where Asami ached for her most. Asami’s legs trembled, instinctively spreading wider to give her better access.

“Still good?” Korra asked, her breath hot against her.

“Still good,” Asami whispered, and then louder, more desperate. “Please, Korra. I want to feel you.”

That was all it took.

Korra slid a finger through her slick folds, slow and deliberate, drawing a deep moan from Asami’s throat. Her back arched as her hips met Korra’s touch, craving more, more, more. When Korra finally slipped a single finger inside her, Asami cried out, not from pain but from how right it felt, like this was exactly where they were supposed to be, what they were always meant to find.

“You’re so tight,” Korra breathed, her voice trembling just a little. “Gods, Asami…”

Asami’s hands flew to Korra’s shoulders, clutching at her like she was her anchor in the storm. And maybe she was. Maybe she always had been.

“More,” she begged. “I can take it.”

Korra gave her what she needed, slipping another finger inside and curling them just right. Asami saw stars. Her body rose to meet every thrust, her skin burning, her soul unraveling. All the while, Korra kissed her—her thighs, her belly, her lips—like she was a map Korra had always known how to read.

In an instant, Korra’s face hovered above her, blue eyes searching her face for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she leaned in, brushing her lips over Asami’s ear before planting a soft kiss along the line of her jaw. Her voice was low, rough with restraint. “I want to kiss you where my fingers are.”

A whimper broke from Asami’s throat, her entire body clenching at the thought. Oh gods, this was really happening.

Korra stilled, waiting. “Do you want that?” she asked, her fingers still deep inside, curling just enough to make Asami gasp.

“Yes. Please,” she panted, voice trembling.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Korra. I want you.”

Korra kissed her again, slowly, savoring her before lowering herself between Asami’s thighs. She looked up one last time, lips curving into a tender smile, and gently spread Asami open. Her arms looped around Asami’s legs with practiced grace, her palms smoothing over the soft curve of her hips like they were sacred ground.

Then her mouth found her.

The first touch of Korra’s tongue sent a violent tremor through Asami’s core. Her hand flew to Korra’s hair, threading tightly as she arched off the bed, crying out. “Korra!” It didn’t stop her lover.

Korra’s tongue trailed up through her folds and circled her clit, and every nerve lit up. Every thought scattered like petals in the wind. All Asami could do was hold on.

And hold on, she did.

Every curl of Korra’s fingers, every stroke of her tongue against her folds, sent Asami spiraling. Her back arched, her legs trembled, and her moans spilled freely into the room, unrestrained. It was too much, too fast. Her body couldn’t keep up with the onslaught of pleasure. Just when she thought she’d plateaued, Korra pressed against a spot deep inside her, one Asami hadn’t even known existed.

A cry tore from her throat as she bolted upright on her elbows, eyes wide. God, what was that? It wasn’t anything like when she touched herself. This was something else entirely. Her hand tightened in Korra’s hair, tugging hard in a frantic attempt to slow things down, to breathe.

Korra lifted her head, lips glistening, concern flashing across her face. “Asami? What’s wrong?”

“Korra…” she whimpered, voice broken. “I don’t think I can—I’m going to…” The words crumbled before they could form. Her mind was dissolving, lost in the overwhelming waves.

Korra chuckled low and dark, and Asami felt the sound as much as she heard it. “Then let go,” she whispered, dipping back down. “Don’t worry. I got you.”

With those words, Asami came with a strangled cry, body arching from the bed. Her vision whited out as a hot, electric wave crashed over her. Every muscle in her body tightened, then trembled as she rode it out, Korra’s name tumbling from her lips like a prayer.

Korra didn’t stop right away. She gently eased Asami through it, her mouth soft and reverent, her fingers slowing as Asami’s cries softened into breathy whimpers. When she finally pulled away, she pressed a kiss to the inside of Asami’s thigh, then trailed up to her navel, her chest, and finally, her lips.

Asami was still panting, dazed, her eyes fluttering open to find Korra hovering above her—wild hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and eyes shining with awe. She looked like a dream, and for a moment, Asami wondered if she’d actually died and gone to heaven.

Korra brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “You okay?”

Asami nodded, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. “More than okay. That was… incredible.”

Korra chuckled and lay beside her, pulling her close. Asami melted into the embrace, curling against the warm, strong body that had just unraveled her completely. Her skin still tingled, her heart thudded slow and heavy, but all she felt now was peace.

They lay there in silence for a while, the rain still pattering against the window, their breaths gradually syncing. Asami traced small circles on Korra’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed.

She felt… weightless. As if something heavy she'd been carrying for years had finally slid off her back without her noticing. Like she could finally exhale after holding her breath for far too long. The world beyond these four walls faded into a dull blur, all her responsibilities, expectations, the constant pressure to have it all together—none of it mattered right now. Not when Korra was here, real and warm in her arms, the steady beat of her heart anchoring Asami to the moment.

She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d felt until Korra touched her like she mattered, like she was more than a polished image or a name tied to a legacy. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel like she had to perform or hold back. She could just be .

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know what this meant for tomorrow, or the next day, but right now? Right now, she felt safe. Seen. Desired.

And lighter than she had in years.

“I didn’t know it could feel like that,” she whispered, omitting the true weight of her words.

Korra kissed her temple. “Me neither. Not like this.”

And in the quiet hum of the afterglow, Asami realized something that had been stirring in her chest for days now. Maybe even longer.

She was falling in love.

Chapter Text

Sunlight kissed her face, stirring Asami from a deep, dreamless slumber. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes adjusted to the golden morning light, and for a moment, she blinked in confusion at her surroundings. The room was unfamiliar, painted in soft shades of blue, with high shelves lined with small wooden trinkets: dogs, cats, a little cart. Her brow furrowed as she shifted, the feel of a different bed beneath her throwing her off. She was wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt that smelled faintly of sandalwood and the ocean.

Then it hit her. What they did last night.

Her eyes snapped fully open, head whipping to the side, and there she was. Korra. Fast asleep, her dark hair spilling over the pillow in wild, tousled waves.

Asami smiled as her body relaxed. It still ached in the most delicious ways from the night before. Korra had worshipped her with her mouth, her hands, her whispered words, bringing her to the highest highs she had ever felt, and then, as if that wasn’t enough, had drawn her a bath, gently helped her in, and kissed her goodnight like she was something precious.

Asami turned slowly onto her side, curling closer, studying the woman beside her. It was the first time she allowed herself to really look. Korra’s face was serene, all the sharpness and mischief she usually carried smoothed away in sleep. Asami’s fingers itched to trace her profile, so she did. Lightly, reverently. Her fingertip ghosted over the curve of Korra’s cheek, down the slope of her nose, pausing at the tiny scar on her left eyebrow. She’d never noticed it before. How had she missed that?

Korra looked so different like this. Not the cocky builder. Not the confident flirt. Just… Korra. Peaceful. Raw.

“Korra,” she whispered, trying to rouse her lover.

Lover , her mind offered.

Her chest fluttered at the word. Was that what they were now? She didn't know. But she wanted to.

“Korra,” she said again, a little louder. Still nothing. Asami huffed a small laugh. It was like trying to wake the dead. Shaking her head in fond exasperation, she reached out and touched Korra’s bare shoulder, brushing her skin with warm fingertips.

Korra stirred at last. Her lashes fluttered, and then her lips curved into a lazy, sleepy smile. “Hey, ‘Sami.”

“Good morning,” Asami murmured, smiling into the soft warmth of Korra’s skin. Korra’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer until their bodies fit together like a puzzle.

“How are you feeling?” Korra’s voice was husky with sleep as she buried her face into Asami’s neck, pressing a lingering kiss there before letting out a sleepy, satisfied sigh.

Asami giggled softly, squirming a little. “Ticklish. But… never better.”

Korra hummed, but didn’t lift her head. Her breath was warm against Asami’s skin, comforting. Safe. Asami closed her eyes, breathing in the faint scent of Korra. Her heart swelled. She didn’t want to move.

But eventually, she pulled back just enough to look Korra in the eyes. “Can I say something?”

Korra blinked sleepily, brushing a strand of hair out of Asami’s face. “Of course.”

“I think… I always thought I was straight,” Asami began softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Because that’s what’s normal, right? That’s what society tells you. What my father enforced. He always said I’d marry a good man one day. So I never really questioned it. I just assumed that’s how things were supposed to be.”

Korra’s expression softened, her fingers brushing up and down Asami’s spine in quiet comfort.

“But I was never happy,” Asami continued, her brows pulling together slightly as she stared at the space between them. “With the guys I dated, with my life. I kept thinking there was something wrong with me. Like maybe I was broken or just hard to please.”

She finally looked back up at Korra, her voice gentler now. “But then I met you. And things started making sense. You made me feel seen… and safe. Like I could want something different, even if I didn’t fully understand what that was.”

Asami’s fingers traced idle lines on Korra’s shoulder. “It was you. You were what I was waiting for, what I was too scared to even dream about.”

For a second, Asami expected a smile, a teasing remark, something. But instead, Korra’s expression turned unsure. She bit her lower lip and offered a small, guilty smile. “I’m… sorry if I ever made you feel pressured. When I said you had big bisexual energy, and then confessed how I felt… I just hope it didn’t push you into something you weren’t ready for. I don’t regret anything we did last night—gods, no—but I don’t want you to feel like I influenced you.”

Asami’s chest squeezed at that. She reached up and cupped Korra’s face, firm but gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “You didn’t make me feel pressured. You just… made me realize what I was repressing. What I wanted. And now… I feel lighter than I have in years.”

Her voice trembled slightly, but she pushed through it. “And it’s not just anyone I’m falling in love with.”

Korra’s eyes widened. For a breathless second, she said nothing and just stared at her, like Asami had stolen the air right out of her lungs. Then slowly, she smiled, all warmth and wonder. She leaned in and kissed her, slow and reverent. “I’m falling in love with you, too,” she whispered.

Asami let out a long sigh and tucked her face into the crook of Korra’s neck. She felt so relaxed, like the tension in her spine had finally unraveled after years of holding herself too tight. But eventually, she pulled back just a little and asked, “So… what does this mean for us?”

Korra shrugged, her grin lazy. “Whatever you want it to.”

Asami looked at her for a second, heartbeat quickening, and then she rolled over and straddled Korra’s hips, hair falling like silk over her shoulders. She tucked it behind one ear and took a steadying breath. “I want to try this out. I want us to be together. As girlfriends. I-is that okay?”

Korra’s hands immediately came up to hold her waist, her fingers sliding beneath the oversized shirt Asami wore. “More than okay,” she said, before pulling Asami down into another kiss.

They kissed and kissed until the world around them faded. Asami could feel that spark again—something hot and sweet coiling low in her stomach. Her fingers brushed the edge of Korra’s waistband before she paused, eyes searching Korra’s face.

Then she bit her lip, nervous. “Then… can I… can I try what you did last night to you?”

Korra blinked. “Asami, are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to.”

“I’m sure.” Asami swallowed hard, but didn’t back down. Her hands rested on either side of Korra’s ribs, thumbs tracing her skin. “And I want to. I want to give you the same pleasure you gave me last night. Although… I probably won’t be as good. This is my first time doing it.”

Her heart was pounding, but it wasn’t from fear. It was anticipation. Desire. Wonder. She wanted to explore Korra the way Korra explored her—with reverence, hunger, and love. She wanted to see what it felt like to make Korra come undone, to have her melt under her touch.

Korra reached up, brushed a knuckle over her cheek, and said, “Just having you want to is already enough.”

Asami kissed her one more time before taking the hem of Korra’s tank top, bunching it up and pulling it over Korra’s head. The fabric fell to the floor, forgotten. Asami’s breath caught as her eyes drank in the sight before her—her first time seeing Korra bare like this.

She’d seen her muscular arms before, sure—those arms that lifted beams and tools like they weighed nothing, that held her with such strength and care—but now, it was everything. The toned lines of Korra’s shoulders, the curve of her waist, the soft but defined swell of her breasts. And then her abs—oh, gods, her abs were every woman’s wet dream, like they’d been carved by the gods themselves. Not bulky, but lean, tight, like she could snap a board in half with a flex. There were a few faint scars peppered across her torso, and Asami’s fingers itched to trace them.

Korra was raw power and softness all at once. And gods, it made Asami ache.

“See something you like, Ms. Sato?” Korra’s low, raspy voice snapped her out of her reverie.

Asami didn’t miss a beat. “Yes.”

A slow, smug grin spread on Korra’s lips. “Then what are you gonna do about it?”

Asami bit her lip, not even sure where her boldness was coming from, only that she didn’t want to lose this moment. “Lie down and find out.”

“Well, I’m not opposed to that,” Korra said, smirking as she reclined on the bed. She stretched her legs out like a smug cat, placing her hands behind her head, utterly at ease. “I don’t mind having a beautiful woman straddling me at all.”

Asami rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered all the same. Gods, this cocky, sexy woman.

But when she looked down, her confidence wavered. Her breath hitched, her palms suddenly clammy. She didn’t know what she was doing. Not really. But dammit, she wanted to learn.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she met Korra’s steady gaze. “Kor… please talk to me,” she murmured, voice small but firm. “Say something if I’m doing it wrong. Or if it’s too much.”

“Of course,” Korra nodded, her voice softened, the smirk gone, replaced by something gentler. “I’m right here.”

Asami’s shoulders relaxed just enough. She leaned down and kissed her again slowly, letting her hands explore with more courage than she felt. Their mouths moved together, unhurried and full of promise, until the kiss deepened and her fingers found Korra’s breast. Her thumb brushed over the hardened nipple, earning a groan from Korra that shot heat through Asami’s core.

Encouraged, Asami began trailing kisses downward, taking her time. She paused at Korra’s collarbone and sucked lightly, then harder, adorning her bronze skin with fresh marks, claiming her in quiet ways. Korra’s hips jerked beneath her in response, a quiet gasp escaping her lips.

Asami smiled against her skin and gave her breast a firmer squeeze, whispering, “You like that?”

Korra only moaned, head tipping back against the pillow. “You have no idea.”

And Asami felt it then—confidence blooming beneath her nervous fluttering. Because she was doing this. She was touching the woman she wanted. Worshipping her. And Korra was unraveling beneath her.

She continued downward until her lips finally arrived at her goal. Korra’s folds were already slick, swollen, and her clit was stiff with need. The sight made something primal spark in Asami’s chest—an intoxicating kind of pride. She did this. She made Korra feel like this.

“Go ahead,” she heard Korra say, breathy but encouraging.

Asami obeyed.

She moaned softly as her tongue dragged along Korra’s folds. Gods, the taste was incredible—musky, earthy, a little sweet, and entirely Korra. Suddenly, she understood why Korra had devoured her like she was the last meal on earth. She could get addicted to this.

A sharp tug at her scalp made her gasp. Korra had gripped her hair and pulled, forcing her closer.

“That’s it,” Korra hissed, her voice ragged with arousal. “You’re doing a good job. Press more on my clit… and put two fingers inside.”

Asami didn’t hesitate.

She bit her lip as she watched her own fingers disappear into Korra’s pussy, marveling at the way she stretched around her. Marveled at the warmth, the wetness, the tightness… everything. She paused to let Korra adjust, only moving once Korra’s hips began to roll in search of friction. She gave it to her. She gave everything. Her mouth, her fingers, her focus.

“Fuck, I’m close… Just a little more, ‘Sami,” Korra panted, hips grinding with more urgency.

Asami took a risk.

She stopped thrusting and curled her fingers upward, just like Korra had done to her the night before, searching for that perfect spot. The second she found it, she didn’t let up. She pressed into it again and again, curling with every push, and lowered her mouth to Korra’s clit, sucking hard.

“Yes!” Korra cried out, hand tightening in her hair.

The reaction was instant. Korra’s walls clamped down on her fingers, body going taut like a bowstring. More wetness coated Asami’s palm, but she didn’t care. She was in awe watching Korra’s mouth fall open in a silent scream, her chest arching off the bed, every muscle quivering. One hand clawed into the comforter while the other held Asami’s head in place like she was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

And in that moment, Asami wanted to be that anchor.

She slowed her movements, easing Korra down from her high, placing soft kisses on her inner thigh. Her fingers slid out gently, and she kissed where they’d been, her lips reverent.

Korra’s chest rose and fell, sweat glistening on her skin.

Asami crawled up, eyes searching Korra’s face—blown pupils, flushed cheeks, dazed smile.

“Holy fuck,” Korra whispered, reaching up to cup Asami’s cheek. “And you say you had no experience?”

Asami smirked, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “What can I say? I’m a very fast learner.”

—

Asami smiled softly as she watched Korra move around the kitchen, her back to her, loose strands of hair falling from her messy wolftail. She absentmindedly stroked Naga’s thick fur while observing Korra’s practiced motions—how she stirred the soup with slow, circular movements, how her muscles shifted beneath the fabric of her shirt whenever she reached up for a bowl or leaned forward to check the dumplings.

The rain had started up again, soft at first, now gradually intensifying into a steady pour that drummed gently against the windows. It was cozy. Peaceful. A far cry from how they’d started the day—half-naked, tangled in sheets, limbs sore and hearts pounding.

They wouldn’t have even left the bed if Korra’s back hadn’t cramped up again, pulling her out of their warm cocoon with a hiss of pain. Asami had immediately sat up, concerned, helping her stretch and massaging the knot that had formed near her spine. She pressed careful fingers into the sore muscles until Korra sighed in relief, melting beneath her touch.

Once Korra was okay, she’d insisted they make something to eat. Now, the smell of miso soup filled the air, mingling with the savory steam of pork dumplings.

Asami was just starting to feel that warm, full-bodied glow of comfort again when Kora’s phone lit up on the dining table.

Ji Won’s name was on the screen.

Her stomach twisted before she could stop it.

Seriously? Again?

The name flashed like a warning light she didn’t want to admit she noticed. But she did . It was the third time this week, wasn’t it?

She bit the inside of her cheek, unsure if she was being ridiculous or if it was fair to feel this way. They were girlfriends now. They had just talked about it this morning. But still… Ji Won. It was stupid.

Asami drew in a slow breath. Might as well say it now.

“Korra…” she called out gently.

“Yeah?” Korra responded, not turning around as she adjusted the flame under the soup.

Asami hesitated for half a second. “Ji Won’s calling you.”

The ladle clanged loudly against the side of the wok, making Naga lift her head with a curious tilt.

“Oh. Um, thanks,” Korra said quickly, clearly startled. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and stepped away from the stove. “Can you, uh, check the food while I take this? Just stir it, nothing fancy.”

Asami arched a brow, arms still around Naga’s neck. “Are you sure you want me to look at the food?”

Korra glanced over her shoulder and laughed, that warm, disarming chuckle of hers. “Yeah. I trust you. So, uh… yeah. I’ll be back.”

She watched Korra disappear into the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her.

Asami rose slowly and padded toward the stove. Naga followed with soft, heavy steps, tail swishing against her legs before flopping back onto the floor with a groan.

“Yes, yes. I’m getting the food,” she murmured with a smile, grabbing the ladle and stirring gently. But her chest felt tight. And not from hunger.

She told me Ji Won’s just a friend.

She wouldn’t lie to me.

But the twist in her stomach wouldn’t go away. The bitter aftertaste of jealousy clung to her tongue, and she hated it. They’ve known each other for years, she reminded herself. Well, technically not, but still. You’ve only known her for months, even less, really, when you count the time you spent just arguing.

Still… she wanted to believe Korra. She did believe her. But that didn’t stop the anxious ache blooming in her chest as she glanced back at the closed door.

She spent the next few minutes setting up the table, trying to ignore how quiet the room had gotten. Her eyes flicked toward the bedroom door for the umpteenth time. Five minutes now, the wallclock told her. What were they even talking about?

The door creaked open and she immediately looked away, pretending she hadn’t been watching. She focused instead on the table, adjusting the chopsticks, rearranging the placemats like they hadn’t already been perfect two minutes ago.

“Sorry about that,” Korra said, walking by and pressing a kiss to her cheek before turning off the stove. She ladled miso soup into a large bowl, like nothing had happened. Like Ji Won’s name flashing on her screen hadn’t twisted something in Asami’s stomach.

Asami sat across from her, watching carefully. The relaxed air Korra had earlier was gone, replaced by a tightness in her shoulders, a stiffness in how she moved. She didn’t say anything about the call. Didn’t even bring it up. Why?

Something buzzed in the back of Asami’s mind, refusing to quiet down. She waited a little longer, hoping maybe Korra would say something. Anything.

She didn’t.

So finally, Asami asked, “Korra, what was that about? Are you lying to me about her?”

Korra froze. Just for a second. Then she sighed and met her eyes. “Sorry, ‘Sami. I didn’t mean to come off like I was lying. I was just composing what I’m going to say.”

“Well? What did she say?” Asami asked impatiently.

Korra rubbed the back of her neck. “She just wanted to hang out today since it’s the weekend…”

Asami gripped her spoon tighter. She didn’t know how to feel. Was that supposed to make her feel better? She hated this—hated how small and irrational she felt, how insecure. They’d only been together a short while, and she didn’t want to be that jealous, obsessive girlfriend. But gods, it was so easy to spiral when the woman sitting across from her had a history with someone else. History she wasn’t part of.

Warm fingers touched hers. Grounded her.

“It’s not what you think,” Korra said gently. “I told Ji Won I couldn’t today because I’m spending time with my girlfriend. She understands. And… I swear, we’re just friends. But to tell you the whole truth…” Korra hesitated before continuing. “I did ask her out after meeting her again. I was trying to move on from you, you know. And I told her that. But we both agreed it was just casual. Nothing serious. I told her earlier that we should stop ‘cause I’m seeing you now. She was actually happy for me.”

“Oh,” Asami breathed. She searched Korra’s eyes, looking for any flicker of dishonesty, any crack she could fall through. But there wasn’t one. All she found was sincerity, and that steady calm Korra always carried when she was telling the truth.

Asami reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers, holding on like she needed the anchor. “Okay. I’m sorry. For doubting you. And for being jealous.”

Korra shook her head and scooted closer, her thigh brushing against Asami’s under the table. “It’s okay. We’re still figuring this out. But now that we’re on the same page, we can move forward.”

Move forward. With Korra. That sounded nice. That sounded right.

But something tugged at her. A loose thread she couldn’t ignore. In all that had happened for the past twenty-four hours, she had forgotten one thing. “No, wait,” she said suddenly.

Korra looked confused—maybe even a little hurt—and that wouldn’t do. Asami leaned over and kissed her, soft and silly, smiling against her lips before pulling back. “I still need to tell Mako it’s over between us.”

Korra blinked, then let out a laugh. “Oh, fuck. You’re right!”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry.”

Mako stiffened across the table. Asami watched as his easy smile slowly faltered into a frown. “What for?”

They were seated by the window at Narook’s, the quiet hum of rain tapping steadily against the glass. Asami had asked him to meet here. She was sure he’d assumed it was another date, and it ate at her, knowing what she had to say next.

“I… think we should stop this,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them. “Whatever’s happening between us.”

“Oh. I, uh…” Mako looked down, picking at the edge of his napkin.

“It’s not you. I promise.” Asami rushed to cut him off, already recognizing the way his brows drew together. He was going to blame himself and ask what he had done wrong. But it wasn’t him. “It’s me. I thought that dating you would finally free me from the cage my dad built around me. And for a while… it worked. I felt normal again. But then…”

She hesitated, the words heavy but clear. “I realized I like someone else.”

Mako let out a slow sigh, then glanced at her with a small, wry smile. “It’s Korra, isn’t it?”

Asami’s eyes widened. “How did you—?”

“Asami, I’m a detective,” he said, dry but not unkind. “It was obvious. You talk about her constantly, even on our dates. And you always sneak glances at her when you think no one’s looking.”

She nearly groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, my god, was I that obvious?” And was she really the only one who didn’t know?

Mako chuckled. “Yeah. But it’s alright. It’s not hard to love Korra, you know. Trust me. I’ve been there once.”

Asami stared at him. “Wait. Really?”

He nodded. “Back when she first came here. It didn’t last long, but… yeah. Even though it was just six months, she made a big impact. She always does.”

“I didn’t know. She never told me.” Asami’s heart squeezed at that. “Thank you, Mako. For understanding. And… I’m sorry for leading you on.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “You didn’t know yourself. You were trying to figure things out. No one can fault you for that.”

She offered him a hopeful look. “Friends?”

Mako reached across the table and extended his hand. Asami took it without hesitation. “Friends,” he said firmly.

That same day, Asami videocalled Opal immediately. She needed to tell her best friend about it, or she’d burst from happiness.

“So, I’m finally dating someone,” she admitted, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Opal leaned in, eyes wide. “Wait, you’re finally dating Mako?!”

“No!” she quickly replied, aghast. “It’s Korra,” she then said without hesitation.

Opal let out the loudest, most high-pitched squeal Asami had ever heard through her laptop speakers. She actually winced, laughing as Opal practically jumped out of her seat. “Oh my god, Asami! I knew it! I knew something was going on!”

Asami rolled her eyes fondly. “You didn’t know anything.”

“Please,” Opal grinned. “You only ever blush when you talk about her. I am so happy for you. Is she treating you right? I’ll fly there and kick her butt if she isn’t.”

“Opal, we’ve only been together for one day,” she corrected, but she couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips.

Opal’s smile turned softer. “Well, Asami, as long as you’re happy.”

“I am, Op. I’m finally happy.”

—

Now that everything had been settled, Asami finally felt free to explore everything with Korra—dates, holding hands, kissing, making out, and yes, having sex. Lots of sex. She didn’t know she was into sex, not until Korra. Plus, it wasn’t just some secret fantasy anymore. She got to do it all without guilt, without fear, without hiding behind half-truths or pretending she didn’t care.

No biggie. It was her new normal.

And she loved it.

The first day they were back at work together, the sexual tension was unbearable. Or maybe it was just her. Either way, she couldn’t help but gravitate toward Korra every time she was on-site. Didn’t matter if they were discussing budget allocations or steel reinforcements, Asami just wanted to be near her. Close enough to smell her shampoo, to steal glances at her arms under rolled-up sleeves, to hear that low chuckle Korra only ever used when teasing her.

And every time Korra teased her, she blushed like she was still a schoolgirl.

Exhibit A: Asami was crouched near one of the drafting tables, reviewing an updated wood grain finishing on her tablet when Korra sauntered over. She leaned down, elbows on the table, face far too close.

“Hey,” Korra murmured, voice like velvet. “I see you checking out my wood.”

Asami glanced up, brow arched. “Which one? There are twelve samples here.”

“The one down here.” Korra pointed down toward her center.

She didn’t catch it at first. Not until she looked up, Korra gave her that smug grin and the world’s most obnoxious eyebrow wiggle.

Her cheeks flared. “Korra!”

Her girlfriend just laughed and walked off like she hadn’t just short-circuited her entire nervous system.

But oh, the wood innuendos didn’t stop there.

Exhibit B: The next day, Asami arrived at the site just in time to see Korra lifting the approved wood planks onto her shoulder. Her jaw dropped. The way Korra’s muscles flexed under her shirt should be illegal.

Then Korra caught her staring, cleared her throat, and smirked. “Nothing better than some good wood in the morning,” she said, cocky as hell. “Especially when it’s this thick. Right, Asami?”

She winked before sauntering off like she hadn’t just committed a crime.

Heat bloomed in Asami’s chest, then dropped straight to her core. She stood there, stunned, torn between strangling her girlfriend and kissing her senseless.

Maybe both.

She spent the rest of the morning avoiding Korra like the plague. Not because she was mad—oh, far from it. If anything, she was dangerously close to dragging her into the breakroom and showing her what really thick wood could do to her. But no. She had deadlines and a team to manage and—

“Need help laying those planks, babe?”

Asami nearly flung her tablet at her.

—

Lunches in her office had become her favorite part of the day.

Korra never once failed to bring her food, whether it was a hearty meal packed in a bento box, takeout from Asami’s favorite café, or something homemade that Korra sheepishly admitted she “kinda winged.” And even if the dishes were sometimes a little bit weird, Asami ate every bite. Because it came from Korra.

At first, her secretary didn’t know what to make of the situation. The woman had gone from indifferent to mildly annoyed by the Korra’s daily lunchtime intrusions. But over time, her icy front thawed. Eventually, she started greeting Korra with a smile and even complimented the smell of her cooking. Asami suspected it had something to do with the little strawberry tarts Korra started bringing as a “bribe.”

Still, none of that compared to what those visits meant to her.

Every noon, like clockwork, Korra would barge in with her usual grin and a corny line ready. “Hope you’re hungry, Miss CEO, because I brought something spicy, and it’s not just the food.” She’d wink. Asami would groan every single time, but it never failed to make her smile. And sometimes, she’d even laugh—real, unguarded laughter that felt like it hadn’t existed in her chest for years.

It was easy to forget the stress of her work, board meetings, and her father’s hand-picked suitors for her, with Korra sitting across from her, chopsticks in hand, telling stories in animated detail or dramatically groaning about work. Beneath that cocky, goofy surface was someone incredibly thoughtful. Attentive. Soft in the quietest ways.

Korra always remembered if Asami had a hard morning. She always asked. She never let her forget to eat. And the way her eyes lit up just from seeing Asami? It made her feel wanted. Cherished.

Asami had been admired before. Desired, even. But never like this.

This was different.

This was warm, constant, and grounding.

And it was hers.

—

The past few weeks were pure bliss for Asami. Sure, her father still insisted on setting her up with the sons of his business partners, but she didn’t show up to any of them. Not anymore. Her heart wasn’t in it more than usual. Risking her father’s inevitable wrath felt worth it if it meant even one more evening tangled up in Korra’s arms, or waking up to the scent of her on Asami’s pillow.

She wasn’t ready to confront him yet. Not because she was ashamed. But because she was still gauging the lay of the land.

Every time she skipped one of those arranged dates, Hiroshi would act like nothing had happened, ask how her day was, hand her documents to review, maybe mention a new potential partnership in passing. But she could feel it. The cold edge in his silence. The flicker of disappointment when she came home later than usual, cheeks flushed and hair tousled from wind and… well, other things.

He never brought it up directly, but Asami knew her father. Knew how he simmered behind calm expressions and polite words. He was biding his time. Watching. Waiting for her to come to him with an explanation she wasn’t ready to give.

Because the truth was… she was still figuring herself out.

Being with Korra had opened something in her. A part of herself she’d buried under years of expectations, assumptions, and silent agreements. It wasn’t just about kissing a girl. It was about letting herself want. About feeling something real and raw and terrifying. Something she didn’t quite have the words for yet.

And Korra understood. Gods, she understood in the way only Korra could—gently, without pushing. She never once pressured her. Never demanded more than Asami could give. She met her where she was, every step of the way. That kind of patience was rare. Priceless.

But as the days went by, and the community center’s walls steadily rose from the foundation they’d built together, so did the thoughts Asami tried so hard to keep at bay.

What would happen when the project ended? Would Korra still have a reason to visit her office every day? Would they go back to their separate worlds? Korra with her tools and calluses, Asami with her polished shoes and impossible family?

Would this—they—fall apart once the scaffolding came down?

She hated that her brain worked this way. That even when she was happy, a part of her kept bracing for the fall. But years of careful living, of keeping one foot on the ground and the other in survival mode, weren’t easy to unlearn.

Still… maybe she didn’t need all the answers just yet. Maybe what they had right now could be enough. Or maybe she was just lying to herself. They’d been dating for only over a month, after all.

The sound of her door opening snapped Asami out of her spiraling thoughts.

And speak of the devil—or in this case, the muscled goddess who made her forget how to breathe—Korra strolled into her office, holding a lunchbox with that casual, radiant confidence that always made Asami’s chest flutter.

Asami smiled, her worries vanishing like smoke. “Hey.”

“Lunch?” Korra asked, as she always did.

“Yes, please,” Asami answered, as she always would.

She stood from her desk and padded over to the couch. Korra joined her, flipping open the lunchbox and handing her one of the neatly packed bento. Asami popped the lid off, expecting something familiar—maybe grilled fish or stir-fried veggies—but instead, she was greeted by a dark, almost black stew with a glossy surface and small, tender-looking chunks swimming in a rich sauce. Steam curled up from it, carrying a heady scent that was earthy, tangy, and distinctly savory, with something slightly metallic at the edge.

“What… is this?” she asked, tilting her head curiously. “It smells... interesting.”

Korra rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish grin. “Well, this wasn’t part of my meal prep plan, but I saw this guy at the wet market selling fresh pig’s blood. Blood’s actually part of a lot of delicacies back in the Southern Water Tribe. I’ve missed home cooking, so I made dinuguan! It’s basically a savory stew made from pork, vinegar, finger chilis, and, yeah… blood.” She chuckled nervously. “You don’t have to eat it if it freaks you out.”

There was a hint of guilt in her voice, like she already regretted bringing it. Asami looked down at the dish again. Normally, the thought of eating blood would have made her politely back away, but… this was Korra. And Korra had cooked this with her own hands. For her.

“It’s fine, Kor. I’m always up for trying something new, especially when you made it,” she said warmly.

That earned her one of Korra’s full-bodied, delighted grins—the kind that made her heart somersault. Asami would gladly eat a whole blood sausage factory for that smile.

With only a small, secret gulp, she scooped a spoonful of the stew, let it drip onto her rice, and took her first bite.

Her eyes widened.

The richness hit first, deep and velvety, with a savory umami punch that settled across her tongue like a warm blanket. Then came the tang of vinegar, cutting through the heaviness with a bright, acidic zing. The pork was incredibly tender, almost melt-in-your-mouth soft, and the sauce had a slight graininess that gave it body. It was unlike anything she’d tasted before, but it was good. Really good.

“Korra,” she said, pausing mid-chew with a look of awe, “this is delicious.”

“Yeah?” Korra’s voice was hopeful and bright.

Asami nodded eagerly. “I wasn’t sure at first, but wow. This is incredible! This is one of your comfort foods, huh?”

Korra smiled, her eyes softening. “Yeah. It’s one of those dishes that makes me feel close to home. I didn’t think you’d go for it, though.”

“I’d eat anything you make,” Asami said, and then, realizing what she just blurted out, her cheeks flushed. “I mean, not anything anything. But… you know what I mean.”

Korra just laughed, the sound lighting up the room. “I know exactly what you mean.”

They ate as they always did: laughing about Korra’s latest mishap at the construction site (she dropped a beam on her foot again), swapping stories about ridiculous client requests, and occasionally feeding each other bites of lunch between playful jabs and soft touches. Eventually, like clockwork, talking would lead to kissing—deep, unhurried, toe-curling kisses that made Asami forget how to breathe. Whether it was the lack of oxygen or the way Korra's hands cradled her face like she was something precious, Asami couldn’t tell. All she knew was that kissing Korra left her feeling warm and dizzy and full of light.

When they finally broke apart, Asami leaned in again, ready to steal another kiss, but Korra stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Wait! Before I forget.” Korra sat up straighter and rummaged through her backpack, pulling out a small box wrapped in parchment and tied with twine. “I, uh…” she rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly shy. “I noticed you’ve been a little down lately. I wasn’t sure if it was something I did, but… I made this for you.”

Asami blinked, her heart fluttering as she carefully untied the twine and opened the box.

Inside was a hand-carved wooden figure of a woman.

Not just any woman.

Her mother.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she picked it up with trembling fingers. It wasn’t large, just palm-sized, but every detail was so precise. Her mother’s soft bun, the delicate lines of her cheekbones, the folds of the traditional robe she used to wear at home. Even the curve of her smile was the same. It looked like it had been carved with love. It felt like it had been carved with love.

“It really looks like Mom…” she whispered, voice cracking.

Tears welled in her eyes and spilled before she could stop them. She didn’t even try. Her thumb brushed over the carved lines of her mother’s face as her chest rose with a choked breath.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Korra said softly, scooting closer. “I just… I saw a picture on your desk one day and figured… maybe it’d bring you comfort. I know you miss her.”

Asami didn’t answer with words. She set the figure down carefully on the coffee table, then threw her arms around Korra’s neck, holding her tight.

“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her face into her shoulder. “No one’s ever… done anything like this for me.”

Korra held her just as tightly. “You deserve it.”

And for the first time in a long while, Asami didn’t feel the hollow ache of grief. She just felt full of love and gratitude, and something terrifyingly real blooming in her chest for the woman who made her laugh, made her feel seen, and made her feel safe.

She pulled back, eyes still glassy, and smiled through her tears. “I love you.”

Korra’s eyes widened. Then softened. “I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Asami couldn’t stop smiling the next morning. It was embarrassing, really. She had meetings lined up, deadlines to hit, and a call with an overseas investor at noon, but none of that seemed to matter. Not when her heart still felt full from the night before.

Korra loves me.

The words echoed like a song she didn’t want to stop playing.

She’d barely slept. Not because of stress, for once, but because she’d kept replaying everything. The way Korra’s hands trembled slightly when she gave her the gift. The way her voice cracked when she said “I love you” like it had been sitting in her chest for days. The way Asami had fallen into her arms, overwhelmed, elated, completely undone.

Now, as she stared at the little wooden sculpture sitting on her desk right beside her family photo, she felt like she could breathe again. Is this what being in love feels like?

And because she was so obvious, people started to notice.

First was her secretary. That was obvious. Asami hired Jing to be observant and perceptive, especially when it came to reading people in negotiations. It didn’t surprise her when Jing caught on.

“You’re glowing,” Jing said, setting her tablet down with a knowing smile. “And not just physically. It’s your aura or something.”

Asami had only blushed in response and thanked her, stepping into her office with a smile so wide it actually started to hurt. It didn’t go away the whole day.

But the downside to walking on clouds was that someone else noticed, too. Someone she didn’t want to notice. Her father.

She tried to hide it. Really, she did. She tried to be her old, composed self when he was around. But he caught her more than once: smiling at Korra’s texts, giggling under her breath, even pausing mid-step to reread something on her phone.

One day, he strutted into her office and froze, immediately noticing the sculpture. He picked it up from her desk gently, reverently. “Where did you get this?”

Asami was about to lie. The excuse was right there on her tongue. But then she looked at him—really looked—and saw the way his fingers trembled, the way his eyes welled up, and she knew she couldn’t.

So she gave him a half-truth.

“A friend sculpted it for me. It was a gift.”

He swallowed. “Could he… do you think I could commission him to make one?”

Asami froze.

Part of her wanted to say no. To keep it hers. To gatekeep the one-of-a-kind gift Korra had made with her hands, just for her. But the look in her father’s eyes made her relent.

“I’ll ask her,” she said softly.

His brows twitched, the correction sinking in, but he smiled anyway. “Thank you, sweetie.”

—

Sawdust danced in the air as Korra blew over the freshly sanded figure—the finished carving of Asami’s mother. Her father’s commission. Korra refused to take a single yuan for it, waving off every offer with a casual, “It’s just a small thing.”

But it wasn’t a small thing. Not to Asami.

It was her mother. In wood. In shape and softness and memory. And it came from her father’s request—something that felt impossibly personal after years of silence and cold distance. Asami tried everything. She stuffed her dad’s payment in Korra’s coat pocket. Korra found it. She snuck it into one of her girlfriend’s lunch bags. Korra sniffed that trick out, too.

Now, she watched as Korra carefully placed the sculpture into a box, wrapping it the same way she had with her first gift. That small gesture tugged at Asami’s heart again.

“Done!” Korra grinned, handing her the box. It snapped Asami out of her thoughts.

She took it with both hands, gently, as if it were made of glass. “Thank you, Kor. Really. But… are you sure you don’t want to be paid for this? I mean, this is your work.”

Korra reached out and took her hands in hers, warm and firm. “Babe, no matter how many times you ask, the answer’s still no. This is your mom. It’s for your family. And maybe… maybe this figure will help you finally talk to your dad. Maybe it’ll open a door.”

Asami’s breath hitched.

She hadn’t realized that Korra hadn’t done this just to be sweet, that she’d done it with hope. Hope that maybe Asami and her father could find their way back to something. Maybe not perfect. But something.

She exhaled slowly, her resistance melting. “Okay. I’ll give my dad his money back. But there’s gotta be something I can do to repay you. Like…” Her mind scrambled for ideas. Then it clicked. “What if I tune up your car? Or give it a full overhaul?”

Korra chuckled, eyes twinkling. “I’d say yes, but… I don’t have a car. I don’t even know how to drive.”

Asami blinked. “Wait, seriously? But then why do you have a driveway?”

That made Korra laugh for real. “You’re gonna think I’m cheesy.”

Asami tilted her head, grinning. She was so curious about it, but never had the chance to ask. Now was as good a time as ever. “Come on. You know I love cheesy.”

Korra raised a brow. “Correction. You love cheesy if it’s me. Everyone else? Questionable.”

Asami swatted her arm. “Shut up!”

Korra just laughed harder. And like always, Asami followed. She couldn’t not. Korra’s laugh was magnetic like that, unapologetically loud and full of life.

Once their laughter died down, Korra leaned against the table and scratched the back of her neck. “Okay, don’t laugh. I’m actually a hopeless romantic.”

Asami bit her lip, already fighting the urge to smile. “Alright…”

“Well…” Korra rubbed her nape, suddenly shy. “I chose a house that had a driveway, thinking… you know, maybe someday I’d have someone who’d park there. Someone to come home to.”

Asami’s heart skipped a beat at the intensity in Korra’s eyes. She knew the implication, knew, in her heart of hearts, that Korra wanted that someone to be her.

And Asami wanted it to be her, too.

Just like that, all her fears about them not staying together after the center was built vanished. She could breathe again. She surged forward and kissed Korra, capturing her lips in a way that said don’t you dare want anyone else.

When they came up for air, her voice was barely a whisper. “Can it be me?”

“Yes,” Korra breathed.

But before Asami could reply, Korra kissed her again, deeper this time, tongue pressing forward, asking for entrance. Asami let her in.

They didn’t stop until they were breathless.

“Bedroom. Now,” Asami said, voice low.

“Yes, ma’am,” Korra grinned.

—

Asami returned home that morning with a smile she couldn’t quite shake off, even as her body hummed with a dull ache from the night before. Her limbs were tired, her muscles sore, but her heart—her heart was light.

She kept replaying Korra’s words in her head, the way she said she wanted someone to come home to. And Asami? She wanted to be that someone.

And the way Korra said it, like it had always been her, made her swoon even more. It gave Asami something to hold on to. A thread of certainty in the middle of all her doubts. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t bracing herself for the other shoe to drop. She wasn’t questioning whether this thing between them had an expiration date.

Korra wanted a future. And Asami wanted to be in it.

She had decided to go all in.

So, the first thing she did when she got home was message her father, telling him the figure was ready and that he could come by to pick it up. And to tell him about her decision.

Then she stepped into the shower, letting the hot water ease the soreness in her muscles and the lingering touches on her skin. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, allowing herself to feel relief and joy and something tender blooming in her chest.

Afterward, wrapped in her favorite robe, she moved into the kitchen. She filled the kettle, set it on the stove, and turned on the flame. Tea felt like a good idea. Her dad would want a cup, and honestly, so did she.

She moved around the space quietly, grounding herself in the ordinary. In the stillness. Her fingers tapped softly against the counter as she waited, the whistle of the kettle still minutes away.

She was nervous. But she was also ready.

Ready to try. Ready to stop holding back. Ready to make him understand that she was her own person, capable of making her own choices.

When the front door finally opened, and just like always, Hiroshi Sato stepped inside without knocking like he still owned the place.

Asami resisted the instinct to roll her eyes. That, too, would have to change.

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted, his voice warm with that familiar, expectant hope.

“Hi, Dad,” she replied, polite but distant, careful.

He walked over and kissed her cheek, same as always. She accepted the gesture, but this time it felt… different.

Once they were both seated on the couch, tea in hand, he looked around before settling his eyes on her again.

“So,” he said, nodding toward the wrapped box near the coffee table, “the figure’s finished?”

Asami nodded. “Yeah.” She handed him the box and slid an envelope across the table. “And here’s your money back. Korra didn’t want it. She said it was a gift.”

Hiroshi blinked, surprised. “She did it for free?”

“She insisted,” Asami said softly. “She said it wasn’t right to take payment for something so personal.”

He opened the box slowly, his eyes softening as he took in the carved figure. “Huh… Interesting.”

Asami’s brows creased. “Why do you say it like that?”

He chuckled, dry and amused. “Well, that’s surprising. I didn’t think someone like her would turn down money. Most people in her… position usually jump at the chance.”

Asami’s jaw tightened. “Korra’s not like that.”

He looked up. “I didn’t mean anything by it—”

“She’s a kind person,” Asami said, her voice rising before she could stop herself. “She did this because she cares. Because she knew what it would mean to me. To us. She’s more decent than you’ve ever been.”

Hiroshi stiffened, his fingers curling around his teacup. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Asami’s breath caught. The words had slipped out before she planned to say them. But now that they were in the air, there was no turning back.

“It means,” she said, her voice shaking, “that for the past twenty years of my life, you’ve done nothing but hurt me.”

Asami didn’t mean for the conversation to unravel like this. She had wanted them to talk peacefully and to offer a bridge, not burn it. But hearing the way her father spoke about Korra, with that same cold disdain he reserved for anyone who didn’t fit into his world, it made her blood boil.

He had always been like this—judging, assuming, looking down on people he deemed “beneath” him. And now he was doing it to the woman she loved.

Hiroshi’s jaw dropped at her outburst, stunned, but it didn’t take long for his shock to morph into anger. His brows knitted tightly, and his grip on the teacup was so fierce it trembled in his hands.

“Hurt you?” he repeated, voice rising. “I’ve done nothing but give you the best life I could after your mother passed!”

Asami pushed up from the couch, standing tall despite the trembling in her chest. “The best life?” she echoed, her voice sharp. “You mean a life where I was groomed to be the perfect daughter? Where every decision I made had to align with yours or else—”

“What decisions? I gave you freedom, didn’t I?” he snapped.

“Freedom?” she scoffed, eyes burning. “Then what about all the men you set me up with? Did you ever stop and ask if I even wanted to go on those dates? If I liked them?”

“You could’ve said no,” he muttered, though it sounded weak even to his own ears.

She laughed bitterly. “Yeah? And every time I did, you got that look, that disappointment in your eyes like I failed you. Then the cold shoulder, the suddenly canceled trips, the passive-aggressive comments about how I’m wasting my youth. Don’t you get it, Dad? That’s not freedom. That’s control wrapped in a bow and labeled ‘love.’”

Her voice cracked at the end, but she didn’t back down. For the first time in years, she wasn’t afraid of his disappointment. She was tired. Tired of being managed. Tired of pretending.

“I am not a project you get to perfect,” she said, quieter now. “I’m your daughter.”

For the first time in years, Hiroshi Sato—the man who singlehandedly raised the Sato name to prominence, who had smooth-talked billionaires into signing over contracts and convinced world leaders to back his designs—was speechless.

Asami stood before him, trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks. All the years of biting her tongue, of doing as she was told, of burying every opinion that didn’t align with his, she had finally cracked open. And there was no going back.

Her voice was raw, but steady. “You think Mom would’ve wanted this?” she asked, gesturing vaguely around her, not just the room, but her life. “Do you think she would’ve been proud of how you raised me to obey and not choose for myself?”

That question landed heavier than any of her accusations.

Hiroshi’s expression faltered. The righteous anger in his face gave way to something smaller, something lost. He stared into his teacup like it might offer him answers, but none came.

“I—I didn’t know you felt like that,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I thought I was… protecting you. Giving you structure. After your mother died, I just—” he broke off and dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought if I held on tighter, I could keep everything from falling apart.”

Asami’s lip trembled. She hadn’t expected him to admit it.

“But I see now that maybe I was trying to control what I couldn’t understand,” he added, looking up at her. “And I hurt you doing that. I’m sorry, Asami. Truly. I never wanted you to feel caged.”

She wiped at her face with the sleeve of her blouse, exhausted.

“I just wanted to live my life,” she said softly. “To choose the things that made me happy. That’s all.”

He nodded slowly, hesitantly. “You deserve that,” he said. “I don’t know if I can undo everything I’ve done. But I’d like to try… if you’ll let me.”

Now it was Asami’s turn to be stunned.

She hadn’t expected her father to fold so easily, to apologize so quickly. For so long, Hiroshi Sato had been an immovable wall in her life. And yet, here he was. Human. Softened. Vulnerable.

She blinked, her throat tight, and sat back down on the couch beside him. Without a word, she gently took the teacup from his hand, placing it on the table between them.

If I want this to work. I need to try too, she thought. Her eyes searched his face, raw and unguarded. “After all these years, I never thought I’d hear ‘sorry’ from you, Dad. And now… I don’t know how to forgive you.”

Hiroshi closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling in his chest. “I understand,” he said quietly.

“But I would like to try,” she said.

His breath caught, and when he opened his eyes, they were wet. He reached out, arms tentative but hopeful, and Asami let herself fall into them.

“Thank you, sweetie,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I promise to make it up to you.”

Asami clung to him, her cheek against his shoulder. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like she was hugging a stranger. It felt like the start of something new.

This was all thanks to Korra. If it weren’t for her, if it weren’t for that wooden sculpture of her mom, she probably never would’ve found the courage to reach out like this. To start peeling back the years of silence and resentment. Korra had given her the chance, not just to love, but to heal. And now she was here, facing the man who had shaped so much of her pain, and realizing she didn’t have to carry all of it alone anymore.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For listening to me, Dad.”

They pulled apart, still holding on to each other’s arms. Hiroshi gave her a long look, like he was trying to memorize this version of her—the one who was still his daughter, but not the little girl he could control.

“You’ve grown up,” he murmured. “I didn’t even notice it happening. I guess I was too busy… trying to keep you safe. Trying to hold onto something I already lost.”

Asami softened, her heart cracking a little at the honesty. “I didn’t need to be protected, Dad. I just needed to be accepted.”

He nodded, voice low. “I’ll try. I promise.”

But just as Asami felt like her chest could finally breathe again, just as hope settled warm in her gut, her suddenly said, “Well, at least you’re not gay. That’ll be a different story altogether.”

The air left her lungs.

Asami froze, her smile falling before it fully formed. It was like being shoved underwater after just breaking the surface.

Her fingers went slack.

So did her heart.

~End of Arc 1~

Chapter Text

Korra paced her living room for what had to be the hundredth time, bare feet skimming the rug she vacuumed three times that day. Naga followed her movements like a slow pendulum, ears low, eyes tracking every lap Korra made past the couch. The big dog let out a soft whine, but Korra didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

“She’s fine,” she muttered, mostly for herself. “It’s Asami. She can handle herself.”

But even as the words left her lips, doubt chipped at them like waves eroding stone. She’d dealt with Hiroshi Sato before, at the contract signing for the community center he tried to kill with red tape and corporate sabotage. She’d seen the cold, calculating glint in his eyes when he spoke about numbers, not people. Not lives. Still, she’d hoped—really hoped—that Asami’s father could finally be a dad again.

She nearly reached for her phone again, then yanked her hand back like it had burned her. “Nope,” she said aloud. “We’re not doing this.”

To keep from refreshing her messages for the millionth time, she threw herself into every possible distraction: meal-prepping lunches for the week (which meant fourteen perfectly portioned containers of seaweed noodles and grilled arctic hen), scrubbing down the kitchen counters until they gleamed, vacuuming again, rolling out her mat for yoga, meditating, reading two chapters of a novel she’d started three months ago.

It still wasn’t enough.

The clock ticked. Naga sighed. The silence grew.

Then, finally, after what felt like forever, her phone chimed, lighting up like a candle in the dark.

Korra was across the room before the sound fully registered. She snatched up her phone, heart racing. Her screen lit up with a message from Asami: I’ve done it. My dad and I finally came to an understanding. I’m going back there.

Korra blinked. Then again. Relief swept over her in a warm rush, and she collapsed back onto the couch, hand pressed over her chest.

“Thank god,” she whispered, and Naga barked softly in agreement.

—

Korra opened the door the second she heard the knock, expecting a smile. A laugh. Maybe even one of those run-jump hugs she used to get after long days apart.

Instead, Asami stood in the doorway like a photograph washed in grayscale—composed but dulled, her shoulders tight beneath her trench coat.

“Asami?” Korra’s smile faltered. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

Asami stepped inside wordlessly. Korra closed the door behind her, and for a few seconds, the air between them was heavy and waiting.

“I did it,” Asami said softly, eyes fixed somewhere just past Korra’s shoulder. “We talked. Really talked.”

Korra reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “That’s good, right?”

Asami hesitated. “He apologized. Said he wanted to be better, and I think… I think he meant it. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had my dad back.”

Korra exhaled slowly, her chest loosening. “That’s amazing, babe. I’m happy for you.” But Asami didn’t smile. She shook her head with a quiet laugh. Korra’s brows furrowed. “Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”

Asami sighed, then started fidgeting. After a long, quiet moment, Asami spoke again. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Korra… can we keep our relationship a secret from Dad? Just for now. I want to keep seeing him. I want to try being a family again. And I’m scared that if I tell him about us, I’ll lose all of it. I… think he’s not ready to know that I’m dating a woman yet.”

Korra’s heart sank.

She didn’t pull away, but part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to say no, I won’t be your secret. But the bigger part—the part that loved Asami, that saw how fragile her voice was, how much it took just to ask—won out. After all, who was she to say no to the girl she loved, the girl who was trying to heal?

“Okay,” Korra said softly.

Asami looked up, relief flickering in her eyes.

“Just for a little while,” Korra added, trying to smile. “Right?”

Asami nodded. “Just for a little while.”

They held each other in silence, but a quiet ache had already started to settle between them—an ache that neither wanted to name.

Chapter Text

The bell above the flower shop door chimed as Korra stepped inside, shaking off the chill of the rain clinging to her jacket. The air inside was warm and fragrant, the soft scent of roses and lilies wrapping around her like a blanket after the sharp bite of the street outside.

“Korra!” Mrs. Takeda, the sweet, gray-haired owner, peeked up from behind the counter, her face brightening into a smile. “Here for your usual bouquet today?”

Korra grinned, her hands stuffed into her pockets. “Not today. I need something special. It’s our third anniversary.”

Mrs. Takeda gasped and clasped her hands together like a delighted grandmother. “Three years? Oh, my! Congratulations, Korra!” She motioned toward the back, shuffling with surprising speed for her age. “Come, come. Let’s make this one perfect.”

Korra followed her through the aisles of color until they stopped near the rear shelves, where an array of delicate blossoms sat arranged by hue. Mrs. Takeda pointed toward the highest shelf, where a cluster of powder-pink carnations rested like soft clouds above the rest.

“Would you be a dear and reach that for me? These will pair beautifully with the fire lilies.”

“Sure thing.” Korra stretched easily, plucking the flowers from their perch with practiced hands. The petals brushed her knuckles, cool and silky. She handed them to Mrs. Takeda, who cradled them like something precious and immediately began arranging them.

As the old woman worked, humming softly to herself, Korra let her mind wander.

Three years.

Three years of being in love with Asami Sato. Three years that had been, without question, the best of her life. She got to take Asami out on actual dates, not just quick takeout runs squeezed in between schedules. Weekend brunches at the harbor, late-night drives (Asami was the one driving, of course) for street noodles, even that one disastrous kayaking date that ended with both of them falling in the bay, laughing too hard to care.

On their first Solstice break, they went to the Southern Water Tribe for a vacation, and of course, for Asami to meet her parents for the first time. Korra had been nervous—more nervous than Asami—heart pounding like she was bringing home someone to meet royalty instead of Senna and Tonraq, but she didn’t need to worry. They’d taken to Asami instantly, like she was a long-lost daughter they were welcoming home. Senna fussed over her with warm smiles and questions about her favorite dishes, while Tonraq had been so impressed with her engineering stories that he insisted on showing her the newly built docks. By the end of the trip, Asami had charmed them both so thoroughly that Korra half-joked she might have been replaced as their favorite child.

Korra smiled fondly, remembering that time. It was fun.

The other big milestone in their relationship was her learning how to drive. Asami had insisted, practically begged her to take lessons. And sure, Korra got her license, but by Asami’s standards, she was still a “menace on the road.” It was fine; they compromised. Korra drove when it was short distances, and Asami drove everywhere else.

Then there was the center. Korra’s pride and joy. After years of planning and pushing through roadblocks, it was almost done—eighty-five percent by her last estimate. It felt like an analogy for their relationship: slowly but surely being built, brick by brick, strong enough to last a lifetime.

Speaking of relationships, Asami’s had grown better with her father, too. They were still rebuilding, still figuring each other out, but they were trying. For Asami, that was everything. For Korra… it was complicated. Because after all these years, Hiroshi still didn’t know about them.

It had always been the start of their fights—Korra wanting not to be a secret, Asami pleading for patience. The first few times, Korra pushed, hoping love would win out. By their fifth fight, she stopped pushing. It wasn’t worth watching the guilt on Asami’s face, wasn’t worth feeling like she was the one forcing her girlfriend to choose. Still, Korra hadn’t completely stopped dropping little hints, those “flyaway sentences” that were obvious enough for Asami to hear but not sharp enough to be an ultimatum.

“Done, dear.”

Mrs. Takeda’s voice pulled Korra out of her thoughts. She blinked and smiled at the bouquet now resting in the woman’s hands. It was beautiful. The soft pink carnations complemented the deep reds of the fire lilies perfectly, and to finish the arrangement, Mrs. Takeda had added a halo of tiny white baby’s breath, giving the bouquet a soft, romantic frame.

“Wow,” Korra whispered, reaching out to touch one of the petals. “This is beautiful, Mrs. Takeda. You’ve outdone yourself. I can’t thank you enough.”

The old woman giggled, a faint blush coloring her wrinkled cheeks. “Don’t worry your pretty little brain about it!  Of course, it’s beautiful. It’s for your anniversary.”

Korra pulled out her wallet, but Mrs. Takeda’s gentle hand stopped her. “It’s on the house, dear.”

“But—”

“No buts,” the shopkeeper said firmly, shaking her head with a warm smile. “You’re practically family. You saved my cat from that tree, helped me with the shop when I sprained my wrist, and brought me food when you knew I couldn’t cook for myself. This is the least I can do.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Positive. Besides,” Mrs. Takeda chuckled, her eyes softening, “you remind me of my daughter. You’re both headstrong, sweet, and terrible at hiding how in love you are.”

Korra laughed, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Guess I’m not subtle, huh?”

“No, dear,” Mrs. Takeda said, wrapping the bouquet gently in paper and tying it with ribbon, “and that’s a good thing.”

Korra sighed, accepting that Mrs. Takeda was really a sweet old woman. “Thank you, Mrs. Takeda.”

“No worries, dear. Now go and have fun. I’m sure Miss Asami is waiting for you.”

Korra thanked the shopkeeper once more before stepping out into the street. She pressed the button on her umbrella, watching it bloom open, and stepped into the rain.

As she walked, her phone buzzed. Ji Won’s name lit up the screen, and a smile tugged at her lips. Over the years, Ji Won had become one of her closest friends and confidants. She loved Mako and Bolin dearly, but sometimes they couldn’t quite understand certain things—Mako still had a complicated relationship with emotions, and Bolin… well, Bolin couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. Ji Won, on the other hand, listened without judgment and kept things to herself.

Good luck later on! I’m sure Asami will love your surprise!

The message was short, but it warmed her heart. Korra typed a quick thank you before sliding her phone back into her pocket. Her steps slowed slightly as she watched raindrops bounce off the pavement, each one shimmering like tiny beads of glass. Even after three years, rain still held a special place in her heart—it was the very thing that had brought her and Asami closer.

Back then, that storm had been merciless, cold and biting. Her back had cramped up so badly she could barely stand, and she’d been too proud to ask for help. Asami could have walked away after being treated with that cold shoulder earlier in the day, could have left Korra stewing in her stubborn pride. But instead, she’d stayed, offering warmth, patience, and understanding, melting away the walls Korra thought she needed.

The rain had been cruel that day, but it was also honest, washing away what needed to be broken so something better could grow. It still amazed Korra how something as simple as weather could change the course of her life.

Never had she imagined they’d get to this point, and today she was ready to take the next step. Hopefully, Asami was on the same page. Of course she is, Korra scolded herself, we’ve talked about this before. Still, a little anxiety curled in her stomach; big steps always did that to her.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of their house—the one they had moved into just a few months ago, the one they’d designed and built from scratch. She tilted her head back to take it all in. It wasn’t grand or ostentatious, but every beam, every corner, carried their fingerprints. The front porch where they’d once argued over paint samples, the windows Korra had stubbornly installed herself despite Asami warning her it was a two-person job, and the lush little garden Asami had insisted on adding, now blooming with life despite the rain. The house had grown with them, evolving from a set of blueprints into a home filled with laughter, late-night talks, and dreams too big for either of them to carry alone.

With a determined sigh, she inserted the key into the slit, turned it, and pushed the door open. She barely got two steps inside before a familiar weight hit her legs.

“Naga!” Korra laughed as her loyal companion barked excitedly, tail wagging like a pendulum. The dog jumped and licked her face enthusiastically, nearly knocking the bouquet from her hands.

“Alright, alright! I get it, you missed me!” Korra giggled, nudging Naga gently away from the flowers. “Is your mom home yet, girl?”

Before Naga could bark, the answer came on its own. Asami appeared at the top of the stairs, stepping down with the elegance of someone who could make even a towel look like runway fashion. Water dripped from her dark hair down her creamy skin, catching the warm lights of their home, and Korra’s jaw dropped. Even after all this time, Asami still left her breathless.

It wasn’t just her beauty—though spirits knew that was something else—it was her mind, her strength, her effortless grace in handling everything life threw at her. It was the way she carried herself professionally, commanding rooms, yet let herself be soft and vulnerable when it was just them.

“See something you like?” Asami’s teasing question pulled her back, the familiar lilt in her voice echoing Korra’s own playful words on countless occasions when she’d caught Asami staring.

Korra chuckled, finally shutting her slack jaw as she walked forward and held out the bouquet. “For you, babe.”

Asami gasped, her hands delicately wrapping around the flowers. “Korra, these are beautiful!”

“Happy anniversary,” Korra said, her smile warm and soft. But it faltered when she saw the way Asami’s eyes widened in shock.

“Oh, no. It’s today,” Asami muttered, clutching the bouquet tighter as if it would anchor her.

Korra forced a small smile. “It’s fine, babe. You know we don’t have to do anything today. I just wanted to give you something special,” she lied, heart twisting. She’d had everything planned—a reservation at Kwong’s, the restaurant they’d promised each other they’d go to every anniversary. A table had been waiting for them, but now…

Asami’s face crumpled with guilt. “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. I can get ready in five minutes, then we can head out.”

“Are you sure? I mean, if you’re tired, we can just stay in.” Korra tried to keep her voice light, but there was an edge she couldn’t quite hide. “I can whip up a quick meal for us instead.”

She’d be damned if she let this night get derailed.

“Alright,” Asami sighed, clearly exhausted. “You’re right… let’s just stay in tonight. I’m still shaking off those back-to-back meetings.”

Korra nodded, forcing a cheerful grin as she peeled off her damp jacket and hung it by the door. “Then it’s settled. I’ll cook for us. You go relax, babe.”

“What are you making?”

Korra thought for a second, opening the fridge. “How does miso ramen sound?”

Asami smiled faintly, her eyes warm despite the weariness in her shoulders. “Perfect.”

Korra set to work, pulling out ingredients and placing them neatly on the counter. Her hands moved out of habit—knife slicing through scallions, broth warming in a pot, soft noodles swirling in boiling water. She focused on the motions, on the rhythm of cooking, because thinking about what she’d planned for the evening hurt more than she’d expected.

It wasn’t the first time Asami had forgotten something important. Anniversaries, date nights, the occasional small promise. It stung, but Korra understood. Asami’s world was heavy in ways most people couldn’t imagine: endless meetings, investors who smiled with shark teeth, schmoozing with people who only saw dollar signs, not people. It wasn’t like Asami came home tired from manual labor, she came home tired from carrying the weight of Future Industries on her back.

So, yes… Korra understood. And tonight, she’d just swallow her disappointment and move on. Again.

She tasted the broth, added a touch of seasoning, then drained the noodles into bowls. She laid everything out neatly, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she turned to set the table.

“Okay, dinner’s—” Her words cut off, and her jaw went slack for the second time that night.

Asami stood at the foot of the stairs wearing a red dress that hugged every curve, her still-damp hair swept to one side. The soft glow from the dining room lights hit her just right, giving her skin a subtle radiance that made Korra’s chest tighten. Her disappointment was blown out the window.

“Wow,” Korra breathed before she could stop herself. “You… look amazing.” Then she glanced down at herself and frowned. “You didn’t have to dress up. Now I feel underdressed.”

Asami giggled, swaying her hips as she closed the distance between them. When she reached her, she looped her arms around Korra’s neck, drawing her close. Korra’s hands instinctively settled on Asami’s hips, warm and steady. Asami leaned in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

“I wanted to,” Asami whispered. “This is our anniversary date, after all. And no, you’re dressed perfectly.”

Korra raised an eyebrow, smirking as she glanced down at her tank top and cargo pants. “In this? I haven’t even changed yet. I wanted to finish dinner first.”

“You look good in anything, hon.”

“Even in a burlap sack?” Korra teased, unable to resist.

“Yup. Even in a burlap sack.” Asami giggled, her laughter warm and light in Korra’s chest.

They stayed like that for a while, swaying to some silent melody only they could hear. Korra slid her hands to the small of Asami’s back, pulling her closer into a full embrace. “I love you so much, Asami.”

“I love you, too.”

They kissed once more, lingering, before Korra reluctantly pulled away and headed to the bedroom to change.

She opened the wardrobe and pulled out what she’d planned to wear for their dinner at Kwong’s: a crisp white button-up shirt tucked into slim-fit black slacks, paired with a charcoal-gray blazer she rarely wore outside of important occasions. Her reflection looked back at her from the full-length mirror, and she took a moment to appreciate the changes three years had brought.

Her once-long hair was now cut short, styled slightly messy on top but neat at the sides—something Asami said made her look “sharp and ridiculously kissable.” Korra adjusted her collar, smoothing out any wrinkles before slipping her hands into her pants pockets, checking the small, smooth box hidden inside.

She’d reserved their evening out at Kwong’s weeks ago. But as she stood there, she smiled. A home date could be just as special, sometimes even more. Any time she spent with Asami was never wasted.

Satisfied with her look, she fixed the lapels of her blazer one more time and headed downstairs.

Dinner passed in a soft rhythm at first, the kind of easy back-and-forth they’d perfected over the years. Korra told her about her day at the center, about how one of the workers had a birthday and they ended up ordering way too much food from the noodle shop down the street.

“You should’ve seen Anji trying to blow up those balloons,” Korra said with a laugh. “She nearly passed out.”

Asami chuckled, covering her mouth politely with her hand. “That sounds like her.”

They laughed easily, shoulders brushing as they ate. For a moment, it felt perfect.

Then Asami sighed, leaning back slightly. “I’m exhausted. On top of everything else, I’m now one of the people assigned to supervise the organization for the Future Industries annual gala. Dad wants it to be ‘our best one yet’ this year.” She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Like I needed another plate added to my pile.”

Korra looked up, a small spark flickering. “Well… why don’t you take me as your plus one so I can distract you?”

The words had barely left her lips when Asami froze. Her chopsticks hovered midair, and a string of expressions crossed her face—shock, then irritation, and finally guilt. She slowly placed her chopsticks back in the bowl.

“Korra…” Her voice was quiet, careful. “We talked about this. You know I can’t bring you to the gala yet. Dad still doesn’t know about—”

“Okay, not as your plus one then. Just invite me as Korra, your friend,” Korra interrupted quickly, guilt punching her in the gut. She knew better. She knew Asami wasn’t ready to come out to Hiroshi, and yet here she was pushing again. She shook her head, forcing a small laugh that felt hollow. “No, that’s not fair. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

She went back to eating, eyes fixed on her bowl, even though she could hear Asami softly calling her name. The weight of the small box in her pocket felt heavier now, like it was dragging her down with every breath.

They finished the rest of the meal in silence, only the sound of rain outside filling the gap. Out of the corner of her eye, Korra saw Asami fidgeting, tapping her thumb against her chopsticks. The quiet between them wasn’t angry, but it was tense and fragile, like glass ready to crack.

Korra finally let out a long, slow breath and reached across the table to take Asami’s hand. “Babe… I’m so sorry. I… ruined the night.”

Asami squeezed her hand, smiling softly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s fine, Kor. I promise.”

But she still looked restless, her thumb brushing the edge of her napkin again and again. Korra could feel it.

“Asami?” she asked softly. “What is it?”

Asami hesitated, then inhaled like she was preparing herself for something. “There’s… one more thing I need to talk to you about.”

Korra tilted her head, brows knitting. “Okay…”

Her heart suddenly pounded in her chest, heavy and uneven, like it was trying to warn her before her mind could catch up. Her stomach twisted tight, anxiety curling low and sharp. For a split second, her grip on Asami’s hand almost faltered, the thought flashing through her head, Is she about to break up with me?

She forced herself to breathe, to loosen the muscles in her shoulders. Calm down. It’s fine. It’s Asami. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. She swallowed the unease and offered a small, encouraging nod.

Asami’s green eyes lifted to meet hers, hesitant and apologetic all at once. “My dad’s visiting next week, and I was wondering if you could…”

Korra blinked. “If I could what?” Her heart raced at the tone of Asami’s voice. Something was wrong.

Asami’s voice, even if it was barely above a whisper, broke her heart. “Move out…”

Chapter Text

Korra wasn’t sure if she heard that right. The world tilted on its axis just thinking about what her girlfriend had just said. “You… want me to move out?” Her voice came out quieter than she intended, dangerous in its stillness. She tried to pull her hand from Asami’s, but her girlfriend only tightened her grip, desperation written across her face.

“Just for a while, Kor,” Asami pleaded, eyes begging her to understand.

“Why?” Korra’s tone sharpened, enough to make Asami flinch.

“D-dad’s going to visit this weekend and—”

Korra abruptly stood, the chair behind her tipping and thudding against the floor. “But why do I have to move out? Can’t you just tell him I’m your roommate?”

“I can’t, Korra. He’ll know.”

Korra blinked, disbelief twisting her expression. “He’ll know? How could he know? I’m not gonna kiss you in front of him, if that’s what you’re afraid of!”

“I just know, he’ll know, Korra.”

“Then maybe it’s time he should!”

Asami stood too, irritation flashing across her face. “Korra, you know I’m not ready yet! He’s still not open to… to our kind of relationship. Why do you insist on pushing this? Please, just be patient with me.”

“Did you think that maybe he is now? You’re his daughter, Asami! You’ve been fixing things with him, giving him chance after chance. Maybe he’s changed! God, did you even try dropping hints?” Her voice cracked under the weight of three years’ worth of restraint, finally snapping. “And don’t you think I’ve been patient enough? Isn’t three years not patient enough for you?”

Naga whined from the corner, shifting nervously at their rising voices.

Asami’s shoulders slumped. “I know… and I’m sorry. But he’s all I have left of my family, Korra. I just— I’m scared of losing him again.”

Korra stared at her, something inside hollowing out. For three years, she had given this relationship everything she had, holding on like it was sacred, unshakable. And now, after all of that, Asami wanted her gone just so Hiroshi wouldn’t find out.

Without a word, she spun on her heel and stormed to the bedroom, ignoring Asami’s calls behind her. She yanked a duffel bag from the closet and began shoving clothes inside—shirts, pants, jackets—moving fast, almost frantic, like if she slowed down even for a second, the anger would cave in and crush her.

But her hands froze when she grabbed a soft, familiar fabric. It was the hoodie Asami had bought her back when they first got together, their first winter as a couple. Asami had noticed Korra never bought anything warm for herself, always insisting she was fine, so she’d dragged her into a shop one snowy afternoon and made her try it on. “You can’t keep wearing thin jackets in the cold, you’ll freeze,” she’d scolded, but her smile had been tender, proud, like she was taking care of something precious. Korra had worn it constantly after that, not because she needed it, but because every time she put it on, it felt like being held.

For a moment, Korra clutched the hoodie to her chest, her throat tightening. Then the anger roared back, twisting the warmth of the memory into something sharp. With a guttural sound, she flung the hoodie back into the closet, the fabric hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor.

“Just like you’re shoving me back in the closet,” she muttered bitterly, zipping the duffel with more force than necessary.

“Korra.” Asami’s voice cracked behind her. “Korra, just for a few days. Those don’t look like clothes for a few days!”

“You want me to move out, right? Then I’m moving out!” Korra shouted, zipping the bag so violently the teeth nearly split. “Three years, and I’m still your secret, your shame. The person to be hidden away when Daddy’s in town. That’s what I am to you all this time.”

“No! Of course not!” Asami insisted.

Still, she stormed down the hall, all her hurt and anger weighing down on her. At the door, Asami grabbed her wrist, spinning her halfway back.

“Korra, what are you doing? This isn’t fair. It’s not like I have a choice. And running away like this is so childish. Relationships are about working things out, about compromise—”

“Hiding us from your dad was a choice you made,” Korra said, her voice trembling with anger and hurt.

“It’s not that simple,” Asami said quickly, frustration bleeding into her own voice.

“It is that simple,” Korra snapped. “Do you know how painful it’s been, watching the person I love more than anything choose to hide me? To pretend we’re nothing when we’re everything?”

Asami’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

“You wanna talk about what’s not fair?” Korra continued, tears stinging her eyes as the words poured out. “I’ve made countless sacrifices for this relationship, Asami. I’ve bent over backward to make this work, to give you the time and space you needed. And all it feels like is that you’re just shoving me back into the closet every time you look at me and say you’re not ready. I love you, but it doesn’t feel like you love me the same way. I want to show you off to the world. I want you to want to show me off to the world, too. I want to be seen, Asami.”

Korra turned, and the tears in Asami’s eyes nearly stopped her cold. Nearly. But then the sting of it all surged again, too deep to ignore. “Not fair? Don’t you think this isn’t fair to me? You’ve made your choice clear, Asami. You’ll keep us hidden as long as it keeps him happy. And where does that leave me? Not in your picture, that’s for damn sure.”

“That’s not true, Korra. I love you.”

Korra fought hard to keep her tears at bay. Asami doesn’t deserve to see her cry. Not anymore. “Then why? Why can’t you fight for us? I kept you like an oath, Asami, but you kept me as a secret. I’m done. Three years. I waited three years, Asami, and I’m still the dirty little secret. I’m done being patient.”

“No, that’s no—”

She yanked her wrist free. “Don’t worry. You won’t have a relationship to hide from Daddy anymore.”

“Korra—”

But she didn’t wait. She opened the door, stepped out into the cold, rainy night, and slammed it hard enough to rattle the frame. Behind her, Naga whined, and Asami’s voice called her name. Korra kept walking, the duffel strap biting into her shoulder. I’m done being invisible.

—

The blaring sound of bass-heavy music pounded in Korra’s ears as she slammed back her glass of fire whiskey, the burn spreading through her chest like gasoline on open flame. She sat hunched over at a corner bar far from their house—no, Asami’s house—trying to drown the tight knot in her chest with alcohol.

Her fingers toyed with the small velvet box in her pocket, thumb brushing over its smooth edges. In her haste, she didn’t realize the ring was still in her pocket, forgetting to throw it somewhere. Anywhere. What’s the point of this anymore? she thought bitterly. She’d carried it for weeks, waiting for the right moment, imagining the look on Asami’s face when she finally asked her to be her wife. Now it felt like a joke. A cruel one.

She yanked it out, staring at the box under the harsh neon lights, then slammed it down on the counter. “Pour me another one!” she barked, sliding her empty glass toward the bartender, her words slightly slurred.

The bartender frowned, wiping his hands on a rag but making no move to reach for the bottle. “No,” he said flatly. “You’ve had five glasses already. Neat. That’s enough for tonight.”

Korra’s jaw tightened. If she had fangs, she would’ve bared them. “You know what’s best for me, too? Fuck you.”

Instead of snapping back, the bartender just looked at her with the patience of someone who’d seen this a hundred times before. He approached carefully, voice low and calm. “I don’t know what’s best for you, but I know you’re going through something.” He pointed toward her phone on the counter, which had been buzzing and lighting up nonstop since she got there. “Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Korra’s eyes flicked to the screen just as it lit up again, Asami’s name flashing on the screen. Her chest clenched, and her jaw hardened. Now she cares? She grabbed the phone, held the power button until the screen went black, and tossed it face down on the counter.

She muttered something under her breath and reached for her glass, but instead of smooth glass, her fingers brushed against something warm and steady.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder.

Korra’s head snapped toward it, eyes wild and unfocused, ready to fight. But through her blurry vision, she saw long black hair and amber eyes looking back at her with worry. “Ji Won?”

Her friend nodded, brows furrowed.

Korra turned away, ashamed at being seen like this.

“Korra,” Ji Won said softly, “I think that’s enough fire whiskey for tonight. Let’s get you home.”

Korra let out a humorless laugh, bitter and raw. “I don’t have a home. Not anymore.”

It was true. That fight had stripped away more than just a roof over her head—it had ripped out the one place that had felt safe in years. She’d built her life around Asami, wrapped everything she was around her like ivy clinging to a sturdy wall, only to realize that without her, she had nothing. Stupid fucking Korra. So damn dependent, you didn’t even notice you didn’t have roots of your own.

Ji Won’s eyes softened, but her grip on Korra’s shoulder firmed. “Come on,” she said gently, her voice steady but warm. “You’re not sleeping on this bar counter. Not tonight.”

“Fine.” Korra swiped her phone and the velvet box from the counter, shoving them both into her pocket before pushing herself off the stool. The movement sent the world tilting sideways, and her knees buckled. She would have face-planted on the sticky bar floor if Ji Won hadn’t caught her by the elbow.

“Whoa, slowly, okay?” Ji Won said, steadying her.

“Whatever,” Korra muttered, her words thick, petulant.

“Yeah, whatever,” Ji Won said softly, looping Korra’s arm around her shoulders as they started toward the door, step by step. Korra’s boots scuffed against the ground, each one heavy and clumsy, forcing Ji Won to keep one arm firmly around her waist.

As they stumbled into the cool drizzle outside, Korra mumbled, “How’d you even know where I was?”

Ji Won gave her a sidelong glance. “You texted me, remember?”

“Oh… right. Stupid Korra,” she muttered, head drooping against Ji Won’s shoulder as if even that answer was too much effort to process.

“Not stupid,” Ji Won said gently. “Just drunk. Come on, keep walking.”

They crossed the nearly empty parking lot, Ji Won carefully guiding her step by step. “Watch your step… good, one more… lean on me, okay?”

“‘m fine,” Korra grumbled, though her head lolled slightly forward.

When they finally reached Ji Won’s car, Korra clung to the door handle for support, fumbling until Ji Won gently pried her fingers away and opened the passenger door for her. “Come on, big girl, in you go.”

Korra collapsed into the seat with a soft grunt, head falling back against the headrest as her eyes slipped shut. By the time Ji Won fastened her seatbelt and shut the door, Korra was already half-asleep, mumbling something unintelligible before slipping completely under.

—

Korra woke with a start, her head pounding like a drumline inside her skull. She groaned, immediately regretting the sudden movement, and blinked against the harsh morning light spilling into the unfamiliar room.

For a moment, she froze, disoriented. The sheets weren’t hers, the room didn’t smell like Asami’s perfume, and the walls… Where am I? Then it hit her—the bar, the fire whiskey, Ji Won’s worried face pulling her out of her drunken spiral. Right. She wasn’t home. She didn’t have a home anymore.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself upright, only to wince when the motion sent a spike of pain through her skull. On the nightstand, she noticed a glass of water and a blister pack of painkillers resting on the table. Ji Won’s doing, no doubt.

“Thanks, Ji,” Korra muttered to no one, swallowing the pill and downing the water in one long gulp.

Her gaze landed on her phone, lying face down on the table. She reached for it, pressing the power button, but nothing happened. Dead. Just like my heart, she thought bitterly, tossing it back onto the table.

She found a charger and plugged it in, watching the screen blink faintly to life, then ignored it. She dragged herself toward the bathroom, shedding yesterday’s clothes along the way until she was under the hot spray of the shower.

For a moment, the water felt like relief, washing away the sour stench of alcohol and the ache clinging to her body. But then the memories came back—the fight, Asami asking her to move out, the look in her eyes when Korra walked out. The anger that had kept her upright last night crumbled into something heavier, something softer and far more painful.

Her chest tightened, and she pressed her palms flat against the cool tile, hanging her head under the spray. “Is this what it feels like?” she whispered to no one, her voice trembling. “To fall in love and then have your heart ripped apart?” Would Asami be just another girl on the subway in the future?

The words broke something loose inside her, and the tears she’d been holding back since last night finally came. She had never imagined it would feel like this, like someone had reached into her chest and hollowed her out. She’d known heartbreak existed, sure—songs were written about it, stories spun around it—but she’d never thought it would be this painful.

Hot water streamed down her face, masking the tears even though no one was there to see them. She didn’t think it would hurt this bad. All her heartbreaks before had been simple, clean breaks. Yeah, she hurt back then, but never like this. Usually, she just ate ice cream straight from the container, curled up with Naga, watched a dumb movie, and by morning, she could breathe again.

But this was Asami.

The woman had embedded herself so deeply into Korra’s life that she felt like the roots of a tree growing into stone—permanent, immovable, impossible to dig out without breaking everything else around it. The day she laid eyes on the brilliant engineer, it was like her lungs worked differently, like she’d been holding her breath her whole life and finally exhaled.

From that moment on, Korra gave it everything she had. She wanted Asami to experience what it was like to be loved without conditions, without expectations. She adjusted her own hectic schedule to match Asami’s, even when it meant waking up before dawn just so they could have breakfast together or waiting up late so they could share the smallest slivers of time. She learned when to push and when to simply listen, letting Asami vent about boardroom politics or long meetings without judgment.

She made their dates more than just fancy dinners; sometimes it was a quiet night with takeout and a movie, because Asami was exhausted. Other times, it was spontaneous trips to the beach or short hikes with Naga, just to see Asami laugh freely, away from her work. Korra kept an eye on the little things: making sure Asami never skipped meals on her busiest days, slipping notes of encouragement into her planner, leaving flowers at her home for no reason other than to see her smile.

Asami had been the light at the end of the tunnel, the one person who made Korra feel like she wasn’t just surviving, but actually living. But now… it seemed that light was only shining one way. Maybe it had always been.

A knock at the bathroom door snapped her out of the spiral. She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting on the tile floor, knees pulled to her chest, but the water had long gone lukewarm.

“Korra, are you alright? You’ve been in there for a while,” Ji Won’s voice called gently through the door.

Korra sniffed, hastily wiping the tears from her face and pushing herself upright. “Yeah,” she croaked, clearing her throat. “Be out in a minute.”

She turned her face into the spray one last time, washing away the salty sting of her tears and the heaviness clinging to her skin. Maybe she couldn’t wash away what had happened, but she could at least face Ji Won without looking like she’d shattered into pieces on the bathroom floor.

Chapter Text

Korra stared at the steam curling up from the mug of tea in front of her, hollow and heavy, like the space where her heart used to be. Her phone on the table kept buzzing—missed calls, unread texts, all from Asami—but she ignored them, eyes fixed on the rising steam. What happened last night was still too painful, too raw for her.

“You really gonna ignore Asami like that?” Ji Won’s voice was soft, careful.

Korra didn’t even have the strength to look at her, just nodded.

“She’s also asking me where you are, by the way. Should I tell her you’re here?”

“No.” Korra’s voice was quiet, flat. “I’m not ready to talk to her. I… I can’t talk to her right now.”

Ji Won sighed. “Okay. I’ll make up an excuse.”

“Thanks.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional buzz of Korra’s phone. It wasn’t until the smell of garlic and oil hit her that she blinked up, startled, to see a plate slide across the table toward her: fried eggplant, a sunny-side-up egg, and fried rice. Ji Won sat beside her, holding an identical plate and smiling faintly.

“Breakfast,” she said. “Not as fancy or good-tasting as yours, but it’ll do.”

Korra let out a quiet, tired laugh, surprising herself. “It’s really not. All of these are fried.”

They shared a soft laugh that faded too quickly, replaced by a familiar ache settling back into Korra’s chest. She cleared her throat. “Um… thanks. For getting me out of that bar. For letting me stay. I didn’t know where else to go. Mako’s in the Fire Nation, and Bolin… he’d definitely tell Opal about it.”

“Yeah. No worries, Kor.” Ji Won hesitated, then added, “But… why didn’t you take Naga with you?”

The question hit her like a punch to the ribs. Naga. Her best friend. Her shadow. Her family. Korra’s throat tightened. “I… wanted to,” she said quietly. “But if I did… then Asami would be alone.”

Even if Asami had broke her heart, Korra couldn’t bring herself to take Naga away, too. Naga adored Asami and sometimes even preferred her over Korra. The memory of Naga whining during their fight, watching with wide, nervous eyes, sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over her. How is she now? How is Asami now?

But no. She couldn’t go there, not yet. She had to be strong for herself. She’d visit Naga when Asami was at work.

A warm, gentle hand on hers pulled her from her thoughts. Korra blinked down at the contact, at Ji Won’s slender fingers curling around hers, thumb brushing against her knuckles in a quiet offer of comfort.

“I’m here for you, Korra,” Ji Won said softly, her amber eyes holding hers with a kind of steady warmth that made Korra’s chest ache in a different way.

Korra swallowed, forcing down a lump in her throat. “…Thanks.”

Ji Won’s hand stayed in hers a moment longer before she asked, “So… what do you want to do today?”

Korra shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.”

Ji Won’s grip tightened slightly, not enough to startle, but enough to anchor. “Want some noodles and a movie marathon?”

Korra stared at her for a beat. A big part of her wanted to just lie down and wallow in her misery, let it eat her whole. But another part whispered that maybe she didn’t have to do that alone.

“You know what,” she said, finally. “Fuck yeah.”

—

Just like promised, they stayed at Ji Won’s place the entire day, eating noodles and ice cream while watching pointless movies and half-finished series on TV. Korra laughed when Ji Won laughed, snorted at bad dialogue, and even forgot the pain, if only for a little while.

But when night came and she was alone in the guest room, silence settled heavy on her chest. That small reprieve from heartbreak dissolved, leaving the ache raw and fresh all over again.

Her phone lit up on the nightstand, screen flashing with notifications she’d been ignoring all day. She still hadn’t answered Asami’s calls or texts, and now she was ignoring messages from her friends too. Even worse, she hadn’t gone to visit Naga like she’d planned. From one of the previews on her notifications bar, she caught that Asami hadn’t even gone to work, still waiting for her to come home.

One hundred plus missed calls and texts.

Korra rubbed her face and muttered, “Fuck it.” Curiosity got the best of her, and she finally tapped open Asami’s messages.

Where are you?
Please come home so we can talk.
Korra, I’m so sorry about what I said. I wasn’t thinking straight.
Naga’s been pacing all day looking for you. She keeps waiting by the door.
Please, Korra. Come home. I ordered your favorite noodles, they’re still warm if you want them…
Korra, please answer me. I love you.
You don’t even have to talk right now, just tell me you’re safe.
Are you still mad? I’m sorry. Please, just… please come back.
Naga whines every time someone passes by the house. She thinks it’s you.

There were more. Dozens more. Long messages. One-liners. Voicemails she didn’t play. A picture of Naga curled up on the floor in front of the door.

Korra stared at the messages until her vision blurred, but she didn’t reply. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard before she tossed the phone aside, leaving the texts on seen. She wasn’t ready to forgive, wasn’t ready to face Asami’s apology. Not when the wound was still bleeding.

With a heavy sigh, she turned onto her side, pulling the blanket up to her chin. The guest room felt colder than it had that morning, and emptier. She shut her eyes and let exhaustion drag her under, falling into a shallow, fitful sleep.

—

“Oh, gods, Korra!”

The moment Korra stepped into the town center, Asami was already rushing toward her, heels clicking sharply on the pavement. “Where have you been? I was so worried about you!”

Korra’s resolve faltered for half a second when she saw Asami’s state. Her eyes were red-rimmed, dark bags hanging under them, like she hadn’t slept all night. The distraught look on Asami’s face, the exhaustion clinging to her posture, all screamed how much she’d been hurting, too. For a heartbeat, Korra almost wanted to close the distance, to let all of it go. To forgive and forget.

But no.

She tore her gaze away, jaw tightening. “What are you still doing here, Ms. Sato?”

Asami froze mid-step. “W–what do you mean?”

Korra walked past her, voice cold, deliberate. “All the structural assessments and layout verifications are done. You shouldn’t be here anymore.”

Behind her, she heard Asami audibly gasp. “But—”

“If you want updates,” Korra cut her off harshly, not daring to look back, “I’ll send a report later to your office. Good day, Ms. Sato.”

She walked into one of the unfinished rooms, clipboard in hand, forcing herself to focus on measurements, material orders, anything but the image of Asami standing there, stunned and hurt, watching her walk away like a stranger.

The workers around her froze mid-task, the clang of tools and hum of conversation falling silent. Even without looking, Korra could feel their stares on her back.

She ignored them at first, focusing on her clipboard, until one of them finally stepped forward, hesitating before speaking. “Boss? Are you… okay? You didn’t come in yesterday.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Korra said quickly, flipping a page on her clipboard just for something to do. “Just needed the day off.”

The worker shifted awkwardly. “Boss, I uh, tell me if I’m crossing the line here, but… we know you and Ms. Sato are having problems in your relationship.”

Korra’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “How did you—”

“You two are obvious,” he said simply, though his tone was gentle. “We’ve been working together for a long time now. We notice things.”

Korra opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. She turned away, but he continued. “And it’s obvious something’s wrong. Whatever it is… I just want you to know, we’re cheering for both of you. All of us are. We hope you two can get through it together.”

Korra blinked, her eyes going wide as she glanced around. The others had stopped pretending to work and were watching with quiet, sincere concern.

Her throat tightened. “Thanks,” she managed after a pause, forcing a small smile. But she quickly straightened and clapped her hands once. “Alright, enough standing around. Let’s get back to work.”

A chorus of “Yes, boss” echoed, tools and voices resuming, but the warmth of their support lingered heavy in her chest.

Her life fell into a bleak and mechanical pattern after that.

Mornings were spent at work: Korra giving orders, reviewing blueprints, checking progress. And every morning, without fail, Asami would try to approach her. Sometimes it was a simple touch on her arm, sometimes a quiet “Can we talk?” But Korra shut all of it down, either by walking away or answering coldly, her anger still too raw to let her soften. She wanted to lash out, wanted to scream, “Now you want to touch me in public?!” But she didn’t. She kept her mouth shut instead.

Even after a week, nothing had changed. Korra still wanted nothing to do with her, and even the weather seemed to agree. An impending storm lingered on the horizon, and the monsoon rains didn’t let up. Every day, the sky wept in endless sheets of water, heavy and unrelenting, like it was pouring out all the feelings Korra refused to.

Afternoons, she visited Naga secretly. The big dog had been restless without her, and though guilt gnawed at Korra every time Naga whined and nuzzled for scratches, she made sure to at least spend those hours with her. Naga’s presence was grounding, even if temporary.

Nights were worse. After work, Korra would head to a bar, downing fire whiskey until her chest felt warm enough to drown the chill inside her. Then she’d return to Ji Won’s apartment, curling up on the couch with her and watching whatever random movie or series Ji Won had queued up. Ji Won never pushed her to talk and just sat supportively close, but Korra could feel herself spiraling, shutting out everyone else. She hadn’t spoken to her friends or family since that night.

Eventually, Asami stopped coming to the site altogether. Korra should have been relieved, should have felt like the weight pressing on her had lifted. Instead, she caught herself glancing around sometimes, searching for long black hair, green eyes, and red lips curled into a smile that wasn’t there. Asami became like a ghost haunting her, present in every corner of her mind even when she wasn’t physically there.

But fate had a twisted way of granting her wish.

One night, the rain came down in sheets, the kind that blurred vision and soaked you to the bone in seconds. Korra was ready to head home when something caught her eye—an unusual shape by one of the scaffolds. Frowning, she set her bag down and jogged over, clipboard in hand.

Yup. Something was wrong. One of the stabilizers hadn’t been secured properly, probably loosened in the weather. She crouched, noting the details and writing them down so she wouldn’t forget to brief the crew in the morning.

That’s when she heard the telltale sound of shoes rustling on the wet pavement behind her.

Korra sighed, assuming one of her workers had stuck around despite her telling them to go home early. She stood, ready to scold them for staying out in this weather, but froze the second she turned around.

It wasn’t one of her workers.

It was Asami.

Korra opened her mouth to speak, but Asami beat her to it. Her ex stepped forward slowly, almost hesitant, rain sliding down her dark hair and soaking through her coat.

“Korra, I…” Asami’s voice caught for a fraction of a second before she steadied it. “I noticed something wrong in the report and came to check on it.”

Korra didn’t know what she expected when she saw Asami—maybe pleading, maybe an apology—but not this. Relief prickled somewhere in her chest, but so did something else, something heavier that she didn’t want to name.

“Ah. Yeah,” she said instead, matching the formality. “I just saw it. Here.”

She gestured for Asami to follow her toward the scaffolding, stopping beside the loose stabilizer. “I already took notes on this and will relay it to the crew tomorrow. If the storm lets up.”

“Hmm. Can I read your notes?” Asami asked. Her tone was even, but there was a faint tension beneath it that Korra’s ears caught instantly.

“Sure.” She handed them over without meeting her eyes.

Asami scanned the page, her brows pulling together in that familiar way Korra knew better than her own reflection. That was the look Asami always wore when something didn’t add up, when she was mentally pulling apart a problem before she spoke.

And for the first time in over a week, Korra really looked at her.

The bright green eyes she loved were dulled, rimmed with exhaustion. The faint bags beneath them were new. Her once-rosy cheeks seemed a little hollow, lips pale from the cold rain.

A sharp twist of guilt cut through Korra’s chest. She looked away quickly, staring at anything but her.

The sound of papers rustling drew her gaze back just in time to catch Asami watching her, too, with eyes full of hurt that she didn’t bother to hide for a heartbeat. But just as quickly, the expression was gone, replaced by a mask of composure as she handed the clipboard back.

“Your notes are good,” Asami said quietly, “but I think there’s more to the problem here. The way the wind’s hitting this angle. It’s putting more stress on the frame than your stabilizer accounts for.”

Korra stood frozen in her spot for a moment, realizing with a pang how much she’d missed this—working side by side, trading ideas, hearing Asami’s mind work through a problem out loud. But before she could linger on it, Asami was already explaining how to troubleshoot the flaw, her voice clear and precise over the drum of rain.

Korra blinked, snapping herself out of her stupor, and began jotting down every detail. She kept her head bent to the page, letting the scratch of her pen fill the spaces where her words couldn’t.

When they were done, a thick, awkward silence fell between them, broken only by the pounding rain on the tin roof. A sudden flash of lightning lit up the room in stark white, followed by a sharp crack of thunder that rattled the walls. Both women flinched.

The downpour intensified, turning the windows into frosted glass from the sheets of rain running down them.

Asami shifted, glancing toward the exit. “I should—”

She didn’t finish what she was supposed to say. Instead, she began packing up her things with quick, practiced motions, as if staying still too long might break her resolve. She headed toward the door, but from the looks of the storm outside, no one should be going anywhere.

“Fuck,” Korra muttered, pushing a hand through her damp hair. “Where are you going?” she called out.

Asami froze mid-step, shoulders tensing at the sound of Korra’s voice, as if she hadn’t expected her to speak to her again. She turned slightly, her tone sharpening as though she needed the steel to keep from unraveling.

“Naga’s waiting for me to come home,” Asami said.

Ouch. Korra winced. Such a simple statement, yet loaded with implication, like a subtle jab that Asami was coming home to Naga, but Korra wasn’t. Like she was the bad owner here. Korra still hadn’t told Asami she’d been visiting Naga in secret. But that wasn’t what was important right now.

“Well, you can’t just brave the storm and get into an accident,” she said evenly. “Don’t risk your safety.”

“What do you want me to do then? Leave her behind?” Asami shot back, the implication sharp again.

Korra sighed, refusing to be baited. “Naga will be fine. She’s a good girl. She knows how to handle herself.”

Before she could think better of it, Korra reached out and took Asami’s hand. She didn’t know why she did it, didn’t stop to question the impulse. She just pulled her toward one of the fully built rooms of the center. She felt Asami gasp softly at the contact but didn’t dare look back.

When they got there, Korra opened the door and guided them inside. She let go and crossed to a built-in cabinet, pulling out two clean sleeping bags they usually kept for overnight shifts. “Here,” she said, tossing one near Asami’s feet. “We can use these for tonight and hope the storm lets up tomorrow.”

Without waiting for a reply, Korra unrolled her bag and slid inside, telling herself it was only for warmth and convenience. But deep down, she hoped the close proximity to Asami might finally let her sleep.