The training courtyard at Air Temple Island smelled heavily of scorched wood and Korra’s intense frustration. It was the afternoon following her disastrous first press conference at City Hall. She had just blasted a row of training dummies into splinters, her shoulders heaving under her blue Water Tribe top, her jaw set in that stubborn, defensive line she always wore when the city got under her skin.

To the rest of Republic City, Korra was turning into a public menace—brash, reckless, and altogether too loud. The newspapers were already printing Chief Beifong's threats to throw her in jail. But sitting on the stone steps, you just saw a girl who was trying way too hard to look like she had everything under control.

"You know, those dummies didn't do anything to you," you said, tossing a small pebble near her boot to get her attention. "I don't think they deserve the execution treatment."

Korra spun around, her eyes flashing with a spark of anger that immediately softened when she realized it was just you. She wiped a streak of soot from her forehead, only succeeding in smearing it further, and crossed her arms. "They're meant for practicing, right? I'm practicing."

"You're venting," you corrected, standing up and brushing off your pants. You walked over to her, completely unfazed by the smoke still curling from her fists. "There's a difference. Come here.."

"I'm fine," she grumbled, looking away and doing that little chin tilt she did when she wanted to look untouchable. She looked like a classic street rebel right now, all muscle, scowls, and a fierce "don't-mess-with-me" attitude that scared off most of the acolytes.

"Sure you are," you replied, stepping right into her personal space. You reached up, using the sleeve of your shirt to gently wipe the soot off her face. "But your face is covered in ash, and if you keep scowling like that, it’s going to freeze that way. Katara told me that’s a real medical condition in the South Pole."

Korra let out a sharp, breathless laugh, her shoulders finally dropping an inch. "She did not."

"Okay, maybe I made that up. But seriously, Korra. Drop the tough exterior for five minutes..it's just me."

She sighed, a heavy, tired sound. For all her bravado and the way she tried to push people away with her sharp edges, you knew how easily she got hurt by the city's criticism. Underneath the leather arm guards and the fiery temper, she was just a girl trying to find her footing.

"It's just... everyone expects me to be this perfect savior," Korra muttered, her voice dropping its usual competitive edge.

"And when I'm not, they call me a thug. So fine. If they want a troublemaker, I'll give them one."

"Well, lucky for you, I happen to like troublemakers,"

you said with an easy grin, nudging her side with your elbow. "Though, to be fair, I happen to know this specific one secretly cries when Naga gets a splinter, so your tough reputation is totally ruined with me."

Korra’s face flushed pink, and she shoved your shoulder playfully. "I do not cry. It was dust in my eye."

"Right, right. Dust." You reached down, sliding your hand into hers. Her fingers were warm and calloused, but they wrapped around yours instantly, holding on with a quiet, desperate kind of gratitude. "You don't have to prove how tough you are to me. I already know you can throw a tank."

Before she could answer, the heavy wooden doors of the main hall swung open with a dramatic creak.

"Korra, There you are"

Tenzin strode out onto the lawn, his hands tucked firmly into his long robes, a fresh morning newspaper clutched under one arm. Behind him, Ikki and Meelo were busy in a game of air ball tag, zipping around his legs.

The second the door clicked, Korra’s hand went completely rigid in yours. In a split second, she didn't just pull her hand away, she practically dropped it like a hot coal.

The soft, relaxed curve of her mouth disappeared, replaced instantly by that familiar, hard edged scowl. Her shoulders squared, her chin tilted up aggressively, and she stepped an inch in front of you, instinctively putting herself between you and the incoming lecture. The girl who had just been laughing vanished, replaced by the stubborn Avatar again.

"What is it, Tenzin?" Korra barked, her voice dropping back into that sharp, defensive tone. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "If this is about the skate park, I already told you, those triad guys started it."

"It is about your utter lack of restraint..!" Tenzin sighed, rubbing his temples as he stopped a few paces away. "The morning papers have just arrived, Korra. The headlines are calling your arrival an 'unmitigated disaster of property damage'! Chief Beifong is already demanding you be sent back to the South Pole."

"Oh, of course she is," Korra sneered, her eyes flashing with anger. She kicked at a piece of scorched wood near her boot, sending it flying across the stone courtyard. "Let her talk. I don't care what she or the papers think. I'm stopping the bad guys. Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?"

"By leveling a city block!?" Tenzin’s voice cracked slightly, his face turning a shade of pink.

You stood just a half step behind her, watching the back of her head. It was almost jarring to see how fast she had locked herself back in her armor. To Tenzin, she just looked like an arrogant, defiant teenager who refused to listen to reason. But you could see the way her knuckles were white where she was gripping her own arms. You knew exactly how much those headlines actually stung her.

"Korra's hair is messy!" Meelo yelled, suddenly skidding to a halt on his air scooter right next to her leg, pointing a sticky finger at her face. "And she smells like smoke!"

"Not now, Meelo," Korra sighed, keeping her fierce glare locked entirely on Tenzin.

"I am only trying to help you understand, Korra," Tenzin said, his voice dropping into a heavy, disappointed tone that always made Korra’s defensive walls shoot up twice as high.

"You cannot simply punch your way through the law."

"Watch me then."

She muttered under her breath, her jaw practically locked shut. You knew if you let them keep going, they'd be screaming at each other until dusk, and Korra would end up retreating to her room to simmer in her own frustration for the rest of the night.

"Master Tenzin," you interjected smoothly, stepping up right next to Korra and giving her arm a subtle, grounding nudge with your elbow. "To be fair, she actually saved those shopkeepers from being extorted. The papers just conveniently left that part out because drama sells more copies."

Tenzin blinked, his lecture temporarily derailed by your calm logic. He looked at you, then at Korra, letting out a long, defeated sigh. "Be that as it may... we must maintain order. Airbending practice begins in ten minutes, Korra. Do not be late."

Korra didn't say anything until Tenzin turned and ushered the kids back inside. But the second the doors shut, you felt her shoulder drop a fraction of an inch against yours, the tension pulling back just a tiny bit now that the audience was gone.

"You really didn't have to jump in like that," Korra muttered, though she didn't move away from you. She was trying to bring that defensive, grumbling voice back, but it was already losing its edge. "I could have handled him."

"Oh, definitely," you said, turning to face her with an amused smirk. "You were doing great. I think you were just two sentences away from him throwing his back out from yelling so hard. Truly a masterpiece of conflict resolution."

Korra let out a small huff, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "Shut up. He just gets on my nerves. 'Maintain order, think about the politics'—I didn't train my whole life just to sit around and worry about public relations."

"I know," you said softly, your tone dropping the teasing edge as you looked at her. The anger was fading from her eyes, leaving behind that quiet, exhausted look she only ever showed you when the rest of the world wasn't looking. "But you don't have to carry the whole city on your shoulders right this second. Come on. Ten minutes means we have exactly enough time to grab a snack before you have to go deal with those airbending gates."

Korra stared at you for a long second, her expression completely softening into something warm and real, the fierce Avatar facade fully melting away. "You're lucky you're cute," she murmured, finally letting out a genuine laugh. "Lead the way."

Author's Note

AHHHHH Korra scenario is out (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) this is all for my beloved Korra fans out there 😣🤞 I wrote this on the bus, ya girl is going to the capital and have fun !! Maybe I could get scenario ideas while still on vacation mode 😋 although this means slower updates after this is posted, BUT I'll try to keep up dw (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

The quiet of the upper library was entirely absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, soft scratching of Kuvira’s ink pen against paper. She sat rigidly at the heavy oak desk, desperately trying to focus on her mandatory daily reflection ledger, but her gaze kept fracturing from the door then onto her paper as if hoping to see you open that door just to check on her like always.

She was deeply, completely in love with you. For a woman who had once commanded legions with absolute certainty, this total loss of control was terrifying. Her mind, usually having flawless organized thoughts now turned to absolute mush whenever you simply walked into the room.

The heavy double doors of the library creaked open, breaking the silence as you walked back into the space. You were balancing a fresh crystal pitcher of mountain spring water and a clean glass on a silver tray.

"Hey Kuvira.. I've brought you some water," you announced cheerfully, walking over and setting the tray down on the corner of her desk. "It’s freezing cold, just how you like it."

"Thank you," Kuvira said, keeping her voice carefully level, aiming for the smooth, authoritative tone she used to wear like armor. "Your promptness is,as always...commendable."

You paused, pouring the water from the heavy crystal pitcher into the glass, and looked at her with an amused, slightly puzzled expression. "Commendable? Kuvira, are you giving me a performance review or a thank you?" You let out a small chuckle.

Kuvira’s composure immediately fractured. A bright prickle of heat flared right back up her neck. "I am merely expressing gratitude in a proper, structured manner."

"Well, you're very welcome," you said, your voice softening as you lifted the filled glass to hand it to her.

As Kuvira reached out to take it, her fingers brushed against yours. It wasn't just a fleeting contact this time; her thumb accidentally slid against the warm, soft skin of the back of your hand. A physical jolt ran up her arm, and her grip loosened in absolute panic. Her hand flinched, clipping the heavy crystal pitcher that was still resting on the edge of the tray.

With a loud clatter, the pitcher tilted, sending a wave of ice cold water spilling directly over the back of your hand, splashing across the silver tray, and soaking right into the leather binding of her reflection journal.

"Oh!—I am so sorry," Kuvira blurted out, her voice spiking in pitch.

She surged out of her chair so quickly it rattled loudly against the floorboards. Terrified that she had hurt you or made a total mess of your hard work, she grabbed a clean linen cloth from the nearby tea tray and immediately reached for your hand.

"I am incredibly clumsy," she muttered frantically, her usual poise completely vanishing. She took your hand in both of hers, using the cloth to gently, carefully dab the freezing water away from your skin. "I did not mean to—I should have been more careful—"

"Kuvira, hey, it’s just water," you said softly, completely startled not by the spill, but by the sheer, trembling intensity of her reaction.

Kuvira didn't listen. She was too busy realizing that she was currently holding your hand.

Your skin was incredibly soft, a stark contrast to her own calloused, metal strained fingers. Without the barrier of the cloth, her thumbs instinctively smoothed over the back of your knuckles, trying to warm you up, trying to prolong the touch for just a single, selfish second. She looked down at your hands joined together, her breath hitching in her throat. She wanted to lift your hand to her lips. She wanted to press it against her cheek. She wanted it more than anything.

Slowly, she looked up from your hands to your face.

Because she was standing and you were still slightly leaning over the desk, your faces were only inches apart. Kuvira could see the golden sun's reflection in your eyes, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, and the slight, curious parting of your lips. The silence between you grew heavy, thick with a sudden, unspoken tension that made the air feel completely electric.

For a terrifying, exhilarating second, Kuvira thought, This is it. 'She knows. She has to know.' Her green eyes darted down to your lips, a raw, desperate longing washing over her features before she caught herself.

Panic, cold and sharp, slammed into her. 'What are you doing?' she scolded herself in her head, her heart dropping into her stomach. 'You are invading her space. You are making her uncomfortable.'

With a sharp intake of breath, Kuvira abruptly let go of your hand, taking a giant step backward until the back of her knees hit her chair. She pulled her arms tight against her chest, her face burning a deep, agonizing crimson.

"I... I apologize," she stammered, looking wildly around the room, unable to meet your eyes. "I am not... myself today.. I will request a new one from Suyin. Please excuse my lack of decorum."

You stood there, holding the damp cloth, looking at her with a mixture of confusion and deep concern. You hadn't realized she was in love with you; you simply saw a proud woman who seemed entirely overwhelmed by stress and guilt, breaking down over a simple spill.

"Kuvira, you don't have to apologize," you said gently, taking a step toward her, your hand extending slightly. "It’s completely fine. The book isn't ruined. Are you okay?"

"Yes! Perfectly functional," Kuvira squeaked out, her voice completely betraying her. She desperately needed to escape before she confessed everything right then and there. She picked up a random, heavy history text from the desk, holding it against her chest like a shield. "I think... I think I require some air. I shall review the agricultural archives in the courtyard. Alone."

Before you could say another word, the former Great Uniter turned on her heel and marched out of the library, leaving you completely baffled but feeling a strange, fluttery warmth in your own chest.

The heavy double doors of the library slammed shut with a definitive, ringing thud that echoed off the high silver arches of the corridor. Kuvira didn't stop walking. In fact, she practically marched down the hallways of the Beifong estate, her stride carrying the fierce, rigid intensity of a military commander retreating from a disastrous ambush. Her green eyes were fixed straight ahead. All she could see was the memory of your face, just inches from hers, and the terrifying, electrifying sensation of your soft skin beneath her rough, calloused fingers. Her cheeks were burning so fiercely that she was certain the heat could melt metal.

She rounded a corner into the sun drenched northern gallery, clutching the heavy agricultural history textbook against her chest like a physical shield to hide the frantic, erratic hammering of her heart. "You are a fool", she scolded herself, the internal lecture sharp and unyielding as she fought to regulate her breathing. "A pathetic, undisciplined fool. She is a court-appointed professional tasked with monitoring your psychological rehabilitation. Get a grip on yourself." But the moment she closed her eyes, the subtle, calming scent of your vanilla soap and the crisp autumn wind rushed back into her mind, completely dismantling her defenses all over again.

"Well, look who finally crawled out of the library," a sharp, dry voice called out, shattering Kuvira's internal torment.

Kuvira snapped to attention, her posture instinctively straightening into perfect alignment as she looked down the balcony. Lin Beifong was leaning against the silver railing, her arms crossed tightly over her armored chest, a cup of strong black tea resting on the ledge beside her. A few paces away, Suyin was elegantly tending to a row of hanging orchids, using subtle, fluid hand gestures to bend the metal wire supporting the pots. Both sisters turned their sharp eyes toward Kuvira, and Su’s expression immediately shifted from calm focus to one of quiet amusement.

"Kuvira, dear, you look like you’ve just run a marathon," Suyin remarked softly, setting her tools down and walking over with a gentle smile. "Your face is entirely flushed. Did your metalbending exercises this morning catch up to you, or did you accidentally trigger one of the security panels in the library?"

"Neither, Su," Kuvira stammered, her voice lacking even a fraction of its usual commanding authority. She cleared her throat quickly, desperate to summon her old armor, but the burning heat in her cheeks betrayed her completely. "I am... perfectly functional. I merely found the atmosphere in the upper library to be somewhat stifling. I decided to bring my mandatory reading out to the courtyard for some fresh air."

Lin snorted, taking a slow sip of her tea without breaking her piercing gaze. "Stifling? The library dome has twelve active ventilation grates and a glass ceiling that opens to the mountain breeze. Try again." She stepped forward, her armor clanking softly against the stone floor, her eyes narrowing as she inspected Kuvira's tense frame. "You’ve got that exact look on your face that Baatar Jr. used to get whenever he accidentally blew up a prototype in the workshop. Like you’ve done something incredibly stupid and you’re waiting for the ceiling to collapse on you."

Kuvira’s jaw clenched, her fingers tightening so hard against the leather binding of the textbook that the cardboard beneath groaned. "I assure you, Chief Beifong, my conduct remains entirely within the boundaries of my parole. There has been no breach of protocol."

"Oh, leave her alone, Lin," Su chided gently, though the playful glint in her own eyes showed she wasn't entirely fooled either. She placed a comforting, elegant hand on Kuvira’s rigid shoulder, tilting her head. "Though, did something happen during your reflection hours with your caretaker?"

Hearing you mentioned sent a fresh, agonizing wave of embarrassment straight down Kuvira's spine. The memory of how she had practically screamed an apology, grabbed your hand, and stared longingly at your lips before running away like a startled sparrow made her want to earthbend a hole into the floor and disappear forever. "It was nothing," Kuvira muttered, looking down at her boots, her voice dropping to a quiet, vulnerable whisper that sounded entirely foreign to the proud woman she used to be. "There was an accident with a water pitcher. I... I exhibited a severe lack of decorum and clumsiness. I simply chose to remove myself from the situation before I caused any further inconvenience to her."

Lin looked at her sister, then back at Kuvira, a slow, incredibly rare smirk spreading across her scarred face. "Clumsiness? You? The woman who can catch a flying dagger just admitted to being clumsy around a court assistant?" Lin shook her head, letting out a dry, rumbling chuckle. "You're not clumsy, Kuvira. You're completely distracted. I've seen rookies in the Republic City police force act exactly like this when they get partnered up with someone they've been staring at in the locker rooms for six months."

"Lin!" Su gasped, though she couldn't hide the delighted laugh that escaped her lips. Kuvira felt entirely exposed, stripped of her titles, her armies, and her pride, standing before the family she had once betrayed while harboring a massive, humiliating crush on the one person who had shown her unconditional kindness. "It is not appropriate," Kuvira said softly, her emerald eyes glassy with a mixture of raw longing and deep seated guilt as she looked out over the large windows. "She is here because it is her duty. She looks at me and sees a patient, a broken soul that needs guiding. I am a convicted felon, Su. I shattered this nation. To harbor these... these ridiculous, selfish feelings for someone so entirely pure and untouched by my sins... it is a dishonor to the grace this court has shown me."

Su’s smile faded, replaced by a profound, gentle seriousness. She reached up, gently cupping Kuvira's cheek just like you had done in the courtyard weeks prior. "Healing isn't just about paying for your crimes, Kuvira. It’s about allowing yourself to be human again. You are allowed to love. And from what I have seen over the past month, that young woman doesn't look at you like a chore. She looks at you with an immense amount of care."

Before Kuvira could digest Su's words, the heavy metal doors at the far end of the terrace slid open.

You walked out, holding a freshly dried ledger and a small basket of seasonal moon peaches. You had been looking down at the paperwork, but the moment you heard the murmur of voices, you looked up, your face instantly lighting up with that warm, effortless smile that always made Kuvira's knees feel entirely weak. "Oh, hello, Su, Chief Beifong," you said cheerfully, stepping forward with a light, easy grace. Then, your eyes locked onto Kuvira, and your smile softened into something incredibly tender and concerned. "Kuvira, there you are. You ran out so quickly, I wanted to make sure you didn't leave your notes behind. I brought some fruit, too, since you barely touched your lunch."

Instantly, the atmosphere of the room shifted. Lin crossed her arms, watching the interaction with an intensely amused, observant silence, while Su stepped back with a knowing nod, giving the two of you space.

Kuvira froze, her breath catching in her throat as you stepped into her personal space. The proximity was intoxicating; the cool air seemed to vanish, replaced by the sheer, overwhelming warmth of your presence. She looked at the basket of peaches, then at your gentle hands, and finally up to your eyes. Her heart was hammering so loudly she was absolutely certain the Beifong sisters could hear it ringing off the metal walls.

"I... I am grateful for your diligence," Kuvira managed to say, her voice dropping an octave as she desperately tried to sound like the poised, formal woman she desperately wished she could be for you. She reached out to take the ledger, her movements intentionally slow, agonizingly careful to ensure that her fingers didn't accidentally brush against yours this time. "You did not need to follow me. I am perfectly capable of retrieving my own materials."

"I know you are," you said softly, tilting your head, completely unaware of the absolute war raging inside her chest. You reached out, your fingers lightly touching the edge of the heavy textbook she was still clutching like a shield, gently nudging it down so you could see her face properly. "But I wanted to. You seemed really stressed back there, Kuvira. If I did something to make you uncomfortable, or if the pace of the parole reviews is getting to be too much, you can tell me. I’m here to help you, always."

Kuvira stared at you, her green eyes wide, completely captivated by the earnest, unshakeable devotion in your gaze. She wanted to drop the book, reach out, and pull you into the quiet safety of her arms. She wanted to tell you that the only thing making her uncomfortable was the terrifying reality of how much power you held over her heart without even trying. But the intense shyness slammed right back into her, making her throat dry.

"You have done nothing wrong," Kuvira whispered, her voice thick with an emotion she hoped you wouldn't fully understand just yet. She quickly averted her gaze, staring intensely at a distant metal dome across the valley to hide the deep crimson blush rising on her cheeks. "The... the fault is entirely my own. I merely require a moment of quiet reflection. With the book."

You smiled, a soft, affectionate chuckle escaping your lips as you shook your head at her stubborn formality. "Alright. I'll leave you to your quiet reading. But eat the peaches, okay?"

With a cheerful wave to Su and a respectful nod to Lin, you turned on your heel and walked back toward the silver doors, your light footsteps echoing peacefully down the hall.

Kuvira watched you go, her eyes tracking every single movement of your retreating figure until the metal doors finally slid shut, cutting off the warmth of your presence entirely. The moment you were gone, she let out a long, heavy, utterly pathetic sigh, her shoulders slumping.

From behind her, Lin took another slow, deliberate sip of her tea. "Yeah," the Chief muttered dryly. "You're completely doomed."

Author's Note

Oml I love Kuvira so much, she got me in a chokehold like the rest💔 I genuinely do enjoy creating Kuvira x Fem readers a lot, I could make this as a lil scenario series thingy. Oh Kuvira my most beloved 😣 I wished people made more fics of you 🙏

Anyways 💔 here's my master list for more content ^^

The afternoon sun beat down on Ember Island, casting a golden glow over the sandy beach where the wedding pavilion stood. The ocean waves rolled in with a gentle, rhythmic crash, their salty spray mixing with the sweet, heavy scent of tropical hibiscus. It was a picture perfect day, bursting with an infectious, lighthearted energy that made it impossible not to smile. The entire venue felt alive, humming with a sweet, dizzying romance that perfectly captured the feeling of a love so bright and joyful, it simply swept everyone up in its wake.

The differences between your two cultures were beautifully stitched into every corner of the ceremony. The Fire Nation elements brought an intense, structured elegance to the beach. Deep crimson silks lined the aisle, and your family sat in quiet, dignified posture, dressed in sharply tailored ceremonial robes. On the other side, the Air Nomad customs breathed a sense of fluid freedom into the space. Soft yellow and orange drapes fluttered wildly in the ocean breeze, wind chimes sang from the wooden beams of the pavilion, and Aang’s guests sat cross legged on comfortable cushions, ready to enjoy the rest of the late evening once the sun sets.

Aang stood at the altar, looking sharp yet distinctly soft in his formal saffron robes, his blue arrow tattoos peeking out proudly. The moment you stepped onto the aisle, his breath caught entirely. He didn't look like the stoic, legendary Avatar in that moment; he looked like a man who was completely, helplessly captivated by the sight of you. A massive, goofy grin spread across his face, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners with pure delight.

As you reached the altar, your hands met. His palms were warm, his thumbs immediately rubbing gentle circles over the backs of your knuckles to soothe any lingering nerves.

"Wow," Aang whispered, his voice shaking just a fraction with an emotion so vast it rivaled the ocean behind you. "You look absolutely incredible. I mean, truly beautiful. I'm trying really hard not to just pull us both out of here so I can look at you in peace."

You let out a soft laugh, the tension instantly melting out of your shoulders at the sheer warmth in his gaze. "You don't look too bad yourself, Aang. The formal robes suit you. Though, I think your cape is catching a bit too much of the sea breeze."

"Is it?" Aang glanced back, giving his cape a playful little twitch that made it flutter perfectly into place. "See? Total control. But honestly? I had a whole speech prepared. Monk Gyatso always taught me that a wise man knows exactly what to say, but looking at you right now... I think I've completely forgotten every single word of what I'm supposed to say. My brain is just entirely blank."

"The great Avatar, defeated by a bit of silk and fire embroidery?" you murmured playfully with a soft chuckle at the end of your sentence, stepping a fraction closer, your heart doing a happy little flutter at the adoration in his eyes.

"Completely powerless against you," Aang confessed, his voice dropping into a warm, intimate tone meant only for your ears. "People always ask me how I maintain balance in a world that's constantly changing. The truth is, I only truly found it when I found you. You're fiery, you're beautifully stubborn, and you keep me grounded while somehow making me feel like I'm flying higher than I ever could."

A soft murmur of laughter rippled through the crowd as Aang leaned in a bit closer, completely ignoring the stiff, regal posture expected of his title. In the front row, Sokka was already wiping away a dramatic tear, while also still side glancing at the buffet table every now and then, guess he still got priorities. The lighthearted, joyful atmosphere felt less like a high profile political union and more like a vibrant, spontaneous celebration of a love that had simply grown until it filled every corner of your lives.

"You brought a spark into my life that I didn't even know was missing," Aang continued, his smile softening into something deeply earnest, his eyes locking onto yours. "I promise to always keep up with that spark. I promise to listen, to laugh with you through the easy days, and to hold you close through the stormy ones. I promise to love you through this lifetime, and every single one we're given after."

You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, your heart thrumming happily beneath your skin at his words, a playful spark igniting in your eyes. "I promise to be your anchor, Aang. Even when you're blowing through life like a cyclone, I'll be right there to catch you. I promise to handle your goofy jokes, to share my memories with you, and to love you exactly as you are. I love you."

The priest stepped forward, raising his hands to signal the blending of traditions. From your side, a flame was kindled in a beautiful bronze brazier, representing the passion and bright future of the Fire Nation. From Aang's side, a gentle gust of wind swept through the pavilion, swirling the smoke from the ceremonial incense into a perfect, peaceful ring above your heads. The fire and air didn't clash; instead, the wind fed the flame, making it burn brighter, purer, and more vibrant than before.

"By the alignment of the elements and the love you share," the priest announced, "I declare you bound in spirit and life."

Before the priest could even finish the sentence, Aang caught you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. His laugh was breathless against your lips as he kissed you, a sweet, lingering warmth that felt like absolute home. The crowd erupted into loud cheers Toph let out a booming whistle, and Zuko actually smiled, clapping warmly from his seat.

When Aang finally pulled back, he didn't let go of your waist. Instead, he leaned his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your hips as he looked down at you with that same helpless, completely infatuated grin.

"hey, husband," you whispered, the word tasting sweet and exciting on your tongue.

"hey, wife.." Aang beamed, his eyes practically sparkling. He gave you a quick, playful squeeze, lifting you just an inch off the ground with a micro burst of air. "We're actually married. Come on, let's go get some of that wedding cake before Sokka eats the entire thing, I saw him moments ago looking at it."

Hand in hand, you both turned toward the aisle, Aang proudly raising your joined hands into the air as your family sent bright, harmless fireworks of red and gold spiraling into the sky, celebrating a new love.

Author's Note

Whoaaaa this is actually my first request!! I'm so happy (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) tysm for requesting anonymous ^^

I really liked this concept I just get so giddy when I write or read fluff, I like silly readers or goofs like my boy Aang

Tysm for requesting again cyaaa!!

The rain had been hitting the glass of Police Headquarters since noon, a steady downpour that made the whole city look washed out. Inside, the office was mostly empty. It was past nine, and the usual daytime noise of ringing phones and boots clicking on the concrete floor had died down to a low hum. A few night shift officers moved back and forth down the hall, their voices hushed.

You sat at your desk, clicking a pen rhythmically. You had finished your own paperwork an hour ago, but you hadn't moved to grab your coat. Your eyes kept drifting toward a door at the end of the hall. The light inside the Chief’s office was still on, casting a yellow square onto the dark floor outside.

Mako walked past your desk, his uniform jacket unbuttoned at the collar. He looked tired, rubbing the back of his neck as he stopped by your partition.

"You still here?" he asked, throwing a glance toward the closed door. "I tried to hand in the report a while ago, but she just told me to leave it on the tray. She’s been in there since the council meeting ended at four."

"Has she eaten anything?" you asked, setting your pen down.

Mako let out a dry, short laugh. "Doubt it. Every time someone goes in there, she looks like she wants to break the desk in half. I’m heading out. You should too. There’s no point in staying until she decides to lock up."

"Yeah," you said softly, looking back at the light. "In a minute..."

You watched Mako walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator. Once the doors slid shut, the floor felt even bigger, colder. You knew Lin. You knew that when she got like this, it wasn't just about the work. It was her a lil way of holding everything together. If she stayed busy, she didn't have to think about how much of a heavy responsibility she needed done.

You stood up, stretching your legs, and walked out of the office. The air outside the building was cold, the rain coming down harder now. You walked a block down the street to the little corner stand that stayed open late, the awning dripping water into the gutter. The old man running it smiled sleepily as you bought a small bag of warm roasted nuts, the scent of cinnamon cutting through the smell of wet pavement.

When you got back upstairs, the place was completely dead. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic hum of the vents.

You walked down the long hallway, your boots making a quiet thud on the floor. You stopped right outside her door. Through the glass, you could see her shape. Her back was stiff, her head bowed over a stack of files under the sharp glare of her desk lamp. 

You knocked softly twice.

Lin didn't look up. Her shoulders didn't even move. "I said leave it in the bin, Mako," she barked, her voice rough and dry. "I'm not looking at another field report tonight."

You pushed the door open anyway, letting it click shut behind you. The room smelled like old paper and ink. "It's not Mako," you said quietly.

Lin’s hand paused, her pen hovering a millimeter above the paper. She didn't raise her head immediately. She just took a slow, heavy breath through her nose, her jaw tightening. "You should be home," she muttered, her voice dropping its sharp edge but keeping that hard, stubborn wall up. "I don't need company."

"Everyone else left," you said, walking closer. You didn't rush your steps. You stopped a few feet from the desk, setting the small paper bag down on a clear spot away from her paperwork. "You're going to give yourself a headache staring at that same page."

Lin finally looked up. Her eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles underneath looking almost like bruises under the harsh lamp. Her hair was messy, a few gray strands falling out of her usual neat style. She looked fierce, but underneath it, you could see the exhaustion dragging at the corners of her mouth.

"Raiko wants the budget revisions by eight tomorrow," Lin said, her tone flat, like she was reading from a manual. She pointed her pen at the papers. "If I don't do them, he spends the whole briefing talking about efficiency instead of the actual security threats on the south side. I don't have time to go home."

"The budget can wait until five AM if you really want to be miserable," you replied, your voice gentle but steady. "But you can't even hold the pen right, Lin. Look at your hand."

She blinked, looking down at her own fingers. They were gripping the cheap plastic pen so tight her knuckles were white, a slight tremor shaking her wrist. She quickly dropped her hand onto the desk, flattening her palm to hide the shake, her teeth clicking together.

"I'm fine," she said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

"You're not," you said simply. You took two steps forward, moving around the side of the heavy metal desk until you were standing right next to her chair. The warmth from the paper bag was already fading into the chilly office air.

Lin looked away, staring at the wall. Her chest rose and fell in short, shallow breaths. "You don't understand," she whispered. "If I drop the ball, everything clogs up. The whole department freezes. I can't just... take a break because I'm tired."

"The city isn't going to fall apart in eight hours," you said.

You didn't wait for her to argue back. You knew if you kept talking, her brain would just find more reasons to stay. You stepped into her space, your knee lightly brushing the side of her armrest. You reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away if she really wanted to, and wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

Lin went completely rigid. For a second, it felt like you were holding a statue. She kept her hands on the desk, her neck stiff, her breath completely catching in her throat. She was holding herself together so hard it looked painful.

"Lin…" you murmured right by her ear, your voice soft and warm. "Just for a minute.."

A long, heavy silence stretched between you. The only sound was the rain beating against the windowpane behind her.

Then, you felt it. A deep, shuddering breath rattled through her chest. Her shoulders suddenly slumped, all the strength draining out of her at once. Her head dropped forward, her forehead pressing hard against your abdomen, her face burying into the cloth of your shirt.

Her hands came up fast, grabbing the fabric of your jacket, her fingers curling into tight fists. She held on so hard she was pulling you closer, her whole body trembling against yours. It wasn't a quiet lean, she was resting her entire weight against you, using you to keep from collapsing right out of the chair.

Every few seconds, another deep breath would shudder through her ribs, her shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch lower each time as the tension slowly drained out of her body.

You didn't press her to sit up, and you didn't say a word to fill the quiet room. You just kept your feet planted, leaning slightly into her so she didn't have to strain to hold herself up. Your hand stayed in her hair, your fingers moving in slow strokes from the crown of her head down to the base of her neck, where the skin felt hot and the muscles were tight. You used the flat of your thumb to gently press into the knot right behind her ear, a spot you knew she always rubbed when the headaches got bad.

A low, barely audible grunt came from her throat its not her usual angry sound, but something small and weary. Her grip on your jacket tightened for a second, pulling you a little closer until there wasn't any space left between her chair and your knees.

"Oh Lin.." you murmured softly, keeping your voice low so it didn't bounce off walls. "Take your time. I've got you."

She didn't answer, but her shoulders gave another long tremble. The serious Chief that everyone including you has completely melted away, buried in the dark fabric of your clothes. Her back rising and falling in slow, uneven hitches as she tried to get her breathing under control. She smelled like the copper tang of her cables, cold rain, and the stale black coffee she’d been drinking since she had gotten here.

You shifted your other arm, wrapping it fully around her upper back, your palm resting between her shoulder blades. You could feel the sharp line of her spine through her uniform shirt, the muscle groups underneath locked up from hours of sitting in that hard wooden chair. Slowly, you began to rub slow circles into her back, applying just enough steady pressure to let her know you weren't going anywhere.

The minutes dragged on. Down the hall, a heavy metal door clicked shut, followed by the faint sound of an officer’s boots walking away toward the stairwell. Lin didn't flinch or tense up at the noise. For the first time since you’d known her, she wasn't listening for trouble. She was completely tuned out, letting the rest of the building fade into the background.

"Too much," she muttered after a long while, her voice so muffled against your shirt it was hard to catch.

"What's that?" you asked softly, not stopping the movement of your hand in her hair.

She took a deep, dragging breath, her nose pressing into the cloth. "The council. Raiko. Every single one of them thinks they know how to run a precinct from a velvet chair. They spent three hours telling me how to do my job today." Her fingers twitched, bunching the fabric of your coat again. "And then the raid... if that kid had just waited for the signal, no one would have ended up in the hospital."

"It wasn't your fault, Lin," you said quietly. "You can't control every rookie on the line."

"I'm the Chief," she said, her voice dropping into a rough, stubborn whisper that lacked any real bite. 

"It’s always my fault."

"No it isn’t Lin.."

You stopped the circles on her back and just left your hand there letting the silence settle over her comment. You didn't try to give her some grand speech or change her mind; you just let her say the words she’d been chewing on all afternoon.

Lin let out a long, slow sigh, the air warm against your skin through your shirt. Her whole body seemed to go completely loose then, her weight fully sinking into you. Her hands didn't slacken their grip on your jacket, but the frantic, tight squeeze left them. She just held on.

You kept holding her, your fingers gently tangling in the short strands of her gray hair, occasionally brushing the soft skin at the nape of her neck. The office was dim, the single desk lamp casting long, distorted shadows across the floor, but inside the small space between you, it felt warm and safe from the rest of Republic City.

"You're freezing," Lin murmured after another few minutes passed, her head shifting slightly against your stomach.

"I'm fine," you replied with a small smile. "The rain just got into my coat a bit."

"Idiot," she mumbled, though there was a distinct softness to it. Slowly, reluctantly, she began to lift her head. Her hands slid down from your jacket, her palms resting on your waist for a brief second before she dropped them back into her lap.

When she looked up at you, her face was lined with deep exhaustion, her eyes heavy and small under the dim light, but the sharp, defensive guard she usually kept behind them was completely gone. She looked raw, completely undone, but she didn't try to look away or pretend she hadn't just spent ten minutes hiding against you.

"Alright" 

Lin said, her voice dry as dust as she grabbed the edge of the desk to steady herself. "Let's get out of here before I change my mind." 

She rose from the chair slowly, her joints making a dull clicking sound. She didn't look at the desk. She grabbed her keys, her movements heavy and slow, and let you help her slide into her thick coat.

The walk to her apartment was completely quiet. You held the umbrella over both of you, your shoulders rubbing together as you walked through the damp streets. Lin kept her head down, her hands buried deep in her pockets, but she walked close to you, never letting more than an inch of space separate your arms.

When you reached her place, she unlocked the door and stepped into the dark, quiet apartment. It was a simple space, quite minimalistic. Lin kicked her boots off by the door and walked straight toward the bedroom without a word to change out of her uniform.

You went into the kitchen. You knew where she kept everything. You filled a small kettle with water, set it on the stove, and pulled two plain ceramic mugs from the cupboard. By the time the water was hot, you had brewed a simple ginger tea, the sharp, clean scent filling the small kitchen.

You carried the mugs into the living room. Lin was sitting on the edge of the dark sofa. She had changed into a simple white tank top and dark trousers, her hair messy and damp from the humidity outside. Without her armor, she looked different, much more softer than the ones you were used to seeing.

"Here," you said, handing her a mug.

She took it, wrapping both hands around the warm clay, staring down at the steam. "You didn't have to stay," she said quietly, her voice low in the quiet room. "You got me home. You can go."

"I'm not leaving until you finish the tea," you said, sitting down on the other end of the couch. You didn't crowd her, giving her space to breathe. "And I wanted to make sure you actually went to sleep."

Lin took a slow sip, letting the heat work on her. A little bit of the tension in her jaw finally softened. She didn't say anything else, and neither did you. The silence between you felt safe now, completely different from the heavy, stressful quiet of the office.

Slowly, her head began to tilt. Her eyes fluttered, her blinks getting longer and heavier. She set the half empty mug down on the low table with a soft clink.

Instead of leaning back against the cushions, she leaned sideways. Her head drifted down until it came to rest against your shoulder, her weight settling against you with a small, quiet sigh.

You stayed still, breathing softly so you wouldn't disturb her. You leaned your head back against the sofa, letting your shoulder support her. For a few minutes, she seemed completely asleep, her breathing deep and even.

Then, Lin shifted. Her head lifted just an inch, her movements hesitant, almost clumsy from how tired she was.

Before you could ask if she was comfortable, she leaned up a little higher and pressed her lips softly against your cheek. It was a quick, gentle peck, warm and completely unpracticed. She pulled back just an inch, her breath warm against your skin, her face suddenly dark with a nervous flush. She looked right at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable in the dim light, looking totally unsure of herself for the first time in her life.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick and rough with sleep.

You smiled, your hand coming up to gently touch her arm. "Goodnight.."

She let out a soft hum, her eyes closing as she dropped her head back onto your shoulder, her body finally relaxing completely as she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Author's Note

Woohoo !! Another Lin fic done (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

My requests had been piling up and lowkenuingly I'm slow ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ ahaha...but TRUST I'll get to writing ✌️

The heavy, industrial metal of Lin's armor usually announced her arrival long before she actually crossed your threshold. It was a steady, rhythmic, almost comforting thudding against the floor of the hallway, a sound built from decades of authority, unyielding duty, and the crushing weight of Republic City’s safety resting entirely on her shoulders.

For years, that sound meant the Chief of Police was on official business. But lately, over the past few months, that heavy tread had subtly, completely softened. She had taken to showing up at your place without the clanging badges of her office, without her heavy metal armguards, sometimes wearing nothing more than her casual clothes. Yet, even stripped of her literal armor, her posture remained as rigidly guarded and structurally defensive as if she were constantly prepared to intercept a blow meant for someone else.

It had started with small, practically invisible excuses that she threw out like shields to justify her presence. A leaky pipe beneath your kitchen sink that she fixed with a swift, unspoken flick of earthbending, her sharp eyes scanning the woodwork for any other signs of wear before she even greeted you. A loose, weathered window frame that rattled violently in the autumn wind, secured with a seamless molding of stone before you could even think to ask for a toolkit. Then, those physical fixes morphed into tactical ones; she began patrolling your specific neighborhood with a frequency that defied any logical police scheduling, ensuring that Equalist threats, gangs around the city, or even rowdy teenagers stayed miles away from your doorstep.

Eventually, the thin excuses wore away entirely, and she simply stopped making them because she couldn't find the words to justify what her body was doing automatically. Lin was just there.

She would show up in the late afternoon, claiming she merely had a few spare hours between exhausting shift handovers, and she would sit heavily at your kitchen table. She would quietly read through stacks of dry, mundane city reports while you cooked, her eyes tracking the ink but her ears tuned entirely to the sound of your footsteps, inserting herself into the quietest corners of your life so deeply that her presence eventually felt as natural, and as necessary, as the air you breathed.

Today was an exceptionally quiet, suffocatingly still afternoon. The rain was tapping a soft, monotonous, relentless rhythm against the glass panes, casting a cozy, dimmed, and amber light across your living room that made the rest of the chaotic city feel thousands of miles away.

Lin was sitting on the very edge of your couch, a rare and almost jarring sight of her without her metal cables, her uniform, or her usual defensive stance. Instead, she was using a small, coarse whetstone to sharpen a pocket knife she had carried for years, her eyes intensely, almost desperately focused on the silver blade. Her jaw was set, and the repetitive, scraping sound of metal against stone filled the room, distracting her mind that was clearly drifting away.

You walked over from the small kitchen, holding two warm, steaming cups of jasmine tea, the fragrant vapor rising between you like a gentle mist. You slipped onto the opposite end of the couch, moving with a deliberate slowness so as not to startle her out of her thoughts, and set the mugs down on the wooden coffee table with a soft click.

Leaning back into the cushions, you pulled a thick, woven blanket over your lap and just watched her for a moment, appreciating the rare lines of exhaustion that she only ever allowed to show when she was behind your closed doors. For a long, drawn out time, neither of you spoke a single word; it wasn't a tense or awkward silence, but rather one filled to the brim with the domestic, heavy warmth that had been quietly building between you for months, a silent agreement of companionship that didn't need no translation.

shhhk

shhhk

The silence stretched, comfortable and deep, punctuated only by the sound of her whetstone. You watched the sharp line of her jaw, the way her brow furrowed just a fraction more when the wind picked up outside, sending a fresh sheet of rain against the glass. She looked so entirely unmovable, yet the very fact that she was here, sitting on your couch dressed comfortably, felt like a miracle. You tracked the movement of her hands, the flex of her forearms, feeling a sudden, strange heat beneath your collar that had nothing to do with the tea.

"You know.."

you began softly, your voice cutting through the quiet, rhythmic hum of the rain and the scraping of the stone, "I was just thinking about how incredibly nice it’s been lately. Having you around like this.."

Lin didn't look up from her knife, but the fluid, steady movement of her hands slowed down to a sudden, agonizing drag against the blade. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice low, gravelly, and entirely level, though her fingers tightened perceptibly around the hilt of the weapon.

"Just... us,"

You said, a small, genuine, and completely defenseless smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you shifted your weight to look fully at her profile. "Spending all this time together over these past few weeks..It feels like you’ve been around almost every single day, keeping me company, fixing things before I even notice they're broken, and just making sure I’m alright. I was sitting there in the kitchen thinking about how grateful I am for it, Lin. It's been really wonderful having you here so much, just sharing these ordinary days with me...I don't think I've told you how much it..means to me."

It was a completely innocent comment, a gentle, loving acknowledgment of the routine you thought you both shared. But the words hit Lin instantly.

The whetstone slipped entirely from her grip, clattering loudly and sharply against the wooden surface of the coffee table before rolling to a stop. Her entire body locked up. Her breath caught sharply in her throat.

Inside her mind, a sudden blinding panic flared to life, a realization that crashed through her walls. For months, she had been acting on pure, raw, and unadulterated instinct; she had stayed because staying near you was the only time her chest didn't feel constricted by suffocating anxiety. She had protected you because the mere, passing thought of anything harming a single hair on your head made her blood run entirely cold.

She had craved your space

Your laugh

The way you looked at her when the rest of the world looked at her with expectation.

There was no doubt she absolutely loves you

It wasn't a passing fondness, it wasn't a deep, platonic friendship, and it wasn't just a protective duty. She was devastatingly and hopelessly in love with you. It was a consuming, desperate, and aching hunger to be your everything, to be the person who held you through the night, who stayed by your side until the world ended.

And hearing you speak so innocently, so sweetly about her presence made her feel entirely exposed, stripped bare to the bone, and completely horrified by her own selfishness.

How could she let herself get this close to you?

How could she let herself want something so beautiful and so fragile when she was a woman who only knew how to break things, how to fight, and how to push people away before they could leave her?

"Lin?"

You asked, your voice dropping slightly, the smile completely fading from your face as you noticed the sudden, alarming rigidity in her shoulders.

"Hey, what is it? Are you okay?"

"Fine,"

she choked out, the syllable tearing from her throat, raspy and completely devoid of its usual commanding grit. She immediately leaned forward, her movements jerky and uncoordinated as she grabbed the fallen whetstone with trembling, pale fingers and shoved it deep into her pocket. She wouldn't look at you; she kept her gaze desperately locked onto the grains of the floorboards between her boots. "I'm fine. Just... just remembered something important I forgot to handle at the station. A report for the council. I should go. I need to leave."

She made a frantic move to stand up, to flee the room before the truth choked her, but the sheer emotional vertigo, the weight of the realization, kept her pinned to the cushions like a physical weight. You frowned deeply, a tight, painful knot of worry forming in your chest as you watched her. The sudden shift in her energy was jarring.

"Lin.. Don't go yet..—" you pleaded gently, throwing the blanket aside and shifting closer to her, the distance between you vanishing until your knees were nearly touching hers. The proximity was suddenly electric, the air thick and heavy with a tension that made your pulse jump.

"You're shaking..Talk to me. Don't do this—"

"I told you, I'm fine."

She snapped, her voice rising, but the bark lacked any of its usual iron bite. It sounded fragile, papery, and completely shattered at the edges, like a glass vase that had already cracked and was waiting for the final blow to fall apart.

"I have a job to do. I shouldn't be slacking off here anyway. The city doesn't run itself."

"You aren't slacking off, and we both know there's no urgent council report right now,"

You said softly, your voice a stark contrast to her defensive edge. You reached out, your hand hovering over her arm, the heat radiating off her skin making your fingers tingle. You desperately wanted her to stay, desperately wanted to close the final inch between you.

"You've been working yourself to the bone for weeks, and you finally take a breath—and now you're trying to run away? Did I say something wrong? Did I cross a line?—"

"No!—not at all."

Lin intercepted quickly, her head snapping up slightly before she forced her eyes back down. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her own trousers, her knuckles turning stark white.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. You never did anything wrong. That's the damn problem."

When she finally, reluctantly tilted her head fully toward you, your heart dropped completely into your stomach. Lin the unyielding, iron willed Chief of Police, the woman who had faced down criminals without blinking had a thick, heavy gloss of tears gathering in her sharp, green eyes.

They didn't fall yet, held back by a lifetime of trained discipline and sheer force of will, but they brightened her eyes with a heartbreaking vulnerability that you had never seen on her face before. Her jaw was clenched so hard the muscles jumped beneath her scarred skin, her lips trembling slightly as she fought a losing battle to keep her breathing steady and even.

She looked entirely, hopelessly lost, like a child caught in a storm she couldn't get her way out of. She had never felt anything this overwhelming or this heavy in her entire life, and she felt dirty, like she had crossed a sacred line, like she had no right to harbor these intense, aching desires for the person who trusted her as a friend.

Witnessing this unfold in front of you, without thinking, you closed the final gap between you, your breathing hitching as your chest practically brushed against hers.

You reached out, your fingers hesitant for a fraction of a second in the air, trembling slightly against the sheer gravity of her presence, before you gently, reverently placed your warm hand against her cheek. The contrast was staggering, your soft skin against her weathered, scarred jawline. Your thumb brushed just beneath her eye, catching the very first stray tear that finally managed to escape her grip and track a slow, wet path down over her pale scar.

That single touch

That gentleness

was her absolute undoing.

If you had yelled at her, if you had pushed her away in disgust, or if you had demanded she leave, she could have handled it perfectly. She knew how to fight. She knew how to build against anger, rejection, and hatred—she had done it her entire life. But this—this soft, unconditional care, the radiating warmth of your skin against her face, the pure worry in your eyes just for her, completely shattered the very last of her defenses, crumbling her walls into dust.

A ragged, broken, and choked sob tore violently from her throat, a sound so raw it made your own eyes sting. She closed her eyes tightly, more tears instantly spilling over your fingers as she leaned her forehead forward with a heavy, defeated thud against your shoulder. Her entire frame shook, a rare, terrifying tremor running through her strong, muscular shoulders as she buried herself into you, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps against your neck, her lips pressing inadvertently against your collarbone with every shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered fiercely, the words hurried, frantic, and completely broken as they tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm so sorry, [Your Name] . I'm so sorry."

"Lin...hey, breathe for me, just breathe.." you murmured, wrapping your arms securely around her broad shoulders, pulling her trembling body tightly against yours, feeling the rapid, terrified thumping of her heart against your ribs. The proximity was overwhelming; you could feel every muscle in her back tense and unbend, could smell the scent of copper and rain that always followed her.

"You don't have to apologize for a single thing. You're safe here. Just tell me what's wrong, please. You're killing me here, seeing you like this."

"I ruined it."

She choked out, her hands coming up to grip the fabric of your shirt, clutching at you with a terrifying, white-knuckled strength like a drowning woman reaching for a lifeline in a storm. She pulled you so close you could feel the heat of her core through your clothes. "I'm ruining this. I'm ruining us. I just... I couldn't bring myself to stay away from you. Every single day, from the moment I wake up, it's all I think about. Coming here. Keeping you safe. Hearing your voice. Being near you. Never have I thought I'd say..I fell... I fell for you, so hard [Your Name] ." The sentence hung heavy in the air for a brief pause.

"And I hate myself for it because I didn't want to mess up what we had. I didn't want to lose your friendship. I didn't want to force myself into your life and make you feel trapped or uncomfortable around me. I'm a mess, and I'm selfish, and I'm so sorry."

The confession was messy, desperate, and filled with a lifetime of deeply rooted self doubt, fear of abandonment, and the belief that she was fundamentally unlovable. She was waiting for the axe to fall. She was bracing her entire body for you to pull away in shock, to tell her that she had made a terrible mistake, and to confirm her worst fear: that she had ruined the only safe place she had left in the world.

"You think you're forcing yourself into my life?" you asked, your voice shaking slightly with the sheer weight of what she was saying. You didn't pull away; instead, you squeezed her closer, burying your hand in the hair at the nape of her neck, your fingers tangling in the short, silver-grey strands. "Lin, look at me...pull your head up.."

She hesitated, her breath hitching, before she slowly lifted her head from your shoulder. Her face was flushed, her nose pink, and her eyes were completely wide and raw with a vulnerability she usually kept buried under miles of steel. Her lips were parted, trembling, just inches from yours, and the sudden, breathless proximity made the air between you thin out completely.

"Listen to me very carefully," you said, making sure your voice was as solid and unyielding as the earth she bent, though your eyes flicked down to her lips for a split second before locking back onto her green gaze. "I haven't just let you come over because I'm a polite friend.. Or just tolerating you everyday.."

"In... in all honesty, I've been sitting on this couch every single afternoon, counting down the minutes until I hear your boots in the hall. All the small things you do when you're around me—even if the space between us is completely quiet, or you're just reading some case report, or—whatever it is you're doing... they all remind me exactly why I fell for you!"

The words spilled out in a breathless rush, messy and unstructured, but you didn't care. You were desperate to get everything out into the open, needing her to see, without a shadow of a doubt, that you love her just as deeply as she loved you.

Lin stared at you, her jaw loosening slightly as her sharp mind struggled to translate the sheer weight of what she was hearing. Then, her gaze dropped to your mouth, a sudden, heavy hunger flaring through the tears still pooling in her eyes.

"You... what?"

"I love you Lin.."

You confessed, letting the words settle into the quiet room like a promise. "I haven't just been tolerating you. I've been completely, utterly miserable every time you have to go back to the station. I love your company. I love how safe I feel when you're near me. I love the quiet moments we share. I love you. All of you. The stubbornness, the scars—everything. You haven't forced yourself into my life at all. I've been sitting here for months wishing you would just stay forever."

Lin blinked, her breath catching entirely in her throat, her grip on your shirt tightening so hard she practically pulled you off the cushions and into her lap. "No... don't... don't say that just because I'm a pathetic mess right now. Don't play with me, [Your Name], please. I can't handle it if you're just trying to make me feel better."

"I'm not" you replied back, your voice dropping to a whisper as you tilted her chin up, your thumb brushing over her lower lip, feeling it tremble against your skin. "Do I look like I'm playing? I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I love you, Lin. I have for a very long time.."

She searched your eyes desperately, looking for any hint of pity, any sign of a cruel joke, or any trace of a lie, but she found absolutely nothing but pure sincerity and a deep, unconditional affection meant entirely for her. The space between your faces felt charged with an unbearable weight, a magnetic pull that neither of you knew how to break.

"It doesn't make any sense"

She whispered, her breath hot against your skin, her voice incredibly small, a stark, heartbreaking contrast to the powerful woman who commanded an entire city's defense force. "I'm not... I'm not good at this. I don't know how to do the soft sappy stuff, [Your Name]. I'm bad at talking, I'm bad at feelings, and I usually end up driving everyone I care about away. I'm a disaster. Why would you want this?"

"Because you're also the most fiercely loyal, protective, and deeply caring person I have ever known," you replied, your heart aching at how little she valued her own heart, your eyes tracing the sharp lines of her face, wanting nothing more than to press your lips against her skin. "You don't have to be 'good' at the soft sappy stuff. You just have to be here. With me. We'll figure out the rest together. I don't want some perfect fantasy, Lin. I want you."

"You really want me? Like this? With all of my baggage? All the late nights, the bad moods, the city's problems?"

"More than anything in this world,"

you murmured, a tear finally escaping your own eye from the sheer, suffocating emotional gravity of the moment.

"Every single bit of it."

You slowly closed the remaining distance between you, gently, firmly pressing your forehead against hers. Lin let out a long, shaky, and trembling breath against your lips, the warmth of it sending a shiver straight down your spine. She was still a little hesitant, her muscles slightly tense as decades of old, protective instincts tried to scream at her that this was too good to be true, that she was going to wake up in her cold apartment alone.

But as you slid one hand up to gently cup the back of her head, weaving your fingers through the soft, graying strands of her hair and anchoring her to you, you pulled her just a fraction closer, until her nose brushed against yours and her lips were a mere breath away from your own. The tension broke like a snapped wire.

With a deep, shuddering, and final sigh, Lin Beifong finally let go of the weight.

"God, I've wanted to hear you say that," she breathed, her voice cracking as she finally, completely broke, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke the words.

She leaned entirely, heavily into your touch, completely abandoning her rigid, defensive posture as she wrapped her strong, muscular arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her chest until there was absolutely no space left between you. She held onto you with a fierce, desperate grip, holding onto the love, the comfort, and the beautiful future she had been too terrified to ever dream of, grasping it tightly with both hands and silently swearing to herself that she would never, ever let go.

Author's Note

OMGGG I'M SO SORRY THIS CAME OUT LATE. I literally lost the progress of this request. I thought I saved it BUT I DIDN'T. BUT thankfully I wrote this on a piece of paper first and just transferred it here again. Aughhh Ó⁠╭⁠╮⁠Ò

Anyways what truly matters that it is finally out^^ Thank you anonymous for this wonderful request!! I truly did enjoy writing this. Had me so locked in. 😋

The heavy iron doors of the Republic City Police Department headquarters didn’t slide open so much as they groaned a grating, metallic shriek that had become the unofficial soundtrack to your Tuesdays.

"I am telling you, for the absolute twentieth time, you literally got the wrong person..!" Your voice, naturally quiet and entirely lacking the booming voice of your twin sister, was completely swallowed by the bustling station.

The officer pulled your arm didn't even look down at you. His grip wasn't brutal, but it was full of stubborn weight fueled by the deep, bone weary exhaustion that usually came from chasing the Avatar through the city. "Save it for the Chief, Avatar. Destroying a building's property while chasing a gang member is a misdemeanour, but fleeing the scene makes it an administrative nightmare. Move it."

"I didn't flee! I was buying groceries..!" you protested, desperately hoisting a slightly crushed brown paper bag containing a head of bruised cabbage and some green onions as your sole legal defense.

"Korra wears that blue tank top! Look at me, I'm wearing a knitted green shawl! We dress differently—Do we look the same to you??"

"You have the same face,"

The officer muttered, dragging you past a row of cluttered desks where older, jaded detectives didn't even bother raising their eyes from their coffee cups. They just smirked into their paperwork. Another Tuesday, another Avatar meltdown.

The officer marched you straight up to the frosted glass door at the end of the long hallway, rapping his metal-clad knuckles against it twice before shoving it open without waiting for an invitation. "Chief. Found her trying to blend into the market crowd after the bridge incident."

Lin did not look up immediately. She was buried beneath a small mountain of zoning complaints and structural damage assessments, her dark metal armor catching the dull, slate grey light filtering through her high office window. She looked tired and thoroughly unimpressed by anything. With a heavy sigh, she snatched a thick manila file from the top of her desk and slammed it down directly in front of you.

"You're becoming a public nuisance," Lin barked, her raspy voice cutting through your rising anxiety like a razor through silk. "Three separate noise complaints from the harbor, a smashed vehicle in the financial district, and now property building damage? Do you honestly think this city has a bottomless budget for your erratic behaviour?"

You looked down at the case report pushed against your knuckles. Written in aggressive, bold black ink at the absolute top of the page was the name: AVATAR KORRA.

"Chief Beifong," you said softly, your shoulders dropping into a posture of pure, defeated exhaustion as you let out a long breath. "Please, you took the wrong person.."

Lin froze. Her sharp green eyes finally snapped up from the paperwork, traveling from your clothes, your hair then your face. The lack of smug defiance, the slight tremble in your lower lip, and the way your [Hair Colour] hair was pinned back in a neat, quiet style that Korra wouldn’t tolerate for five minutes finally clicked into place.

Lin closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. A low, rumbling groan vibrated deep in her chest. "Officer."

The officer blinked, shifting his weight. "Yes, Chief?"

Lin analyzed your demeanour and again at your appearance. "Look at her shoes," Lin said, her tone dangerously calm, the kind of quiet that usually preceded a building collapsing.

The officer looked down. You were wearing simple, flat shoes, completely unsuited for running along rooftops or waterbending across shipping canals.

"Now look at her face," Lin continued, leaning forward, resting her sharp chin on her steepled, metal-clad fingers. "Does this girl look like she just blew up a bridge, or does she look like she’s about to cry because you ruined her dinner?"

The officer’s jaw dropped. He looked between you and Lin, the realization hitting him like a stray boulder. "Uh... she said she wasn't the Avatar, Chief. But they're identical—"

"They are twins, you absolute blockhead," Lin snapped, standing up so fast her chair screeched against the floorboards. Her armor clanked loudly, a harsh, metallic sound that made you flinch instinctively. "Korra has her hair up in that high ponytail and smells like her polar bear dog. This is her sister. The one who doesn't cause trouble and break my city. Get out of my office before I demote you to traffic duty."

The officer mumbled a hasty apology and practically sprinted backwards out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn't unkind. Lin let out a sharp, deflating breath, her harsh demeanor softening by a fraction, a miracle very few people in Republic City ever got to witness. She stepped around her massive wooden desk, her gaze lingering on the slight tremor in your fingers.

"He hurt your arm?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave, losing its gravelly edge.

"No," you murmured, carefully setting the crushed grocery bag on the corner of her desk, trying to straighten out the crumpled paper. "Just... my pride. I think this is the third time this month."

"Fourth," Lin corrected gently. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, checking for any red marks left by the officer's heavy grip. The contrast of her rough, scarred exterior against the tenderness she reserved strictly for you always made your heart skip. "Your sister is a whirlwind. You need to start wearing a sign."

"I shouldn't have to," you whispered, looking up into her stern face. While Korra was all fire and brash and confident, you were the quiet shadow left in her wake. But in this office, under Lin's watchful, protective eye, you didn't feel invisible. You felt seen. "Though... maybe a giant hat would work."

Lin let out a rare, genuine huff of laughter, her thumb smoothing over the back of your hand. "Just stay in the well lit areas of the city. Or better yet, come here first. Saves my men the paperwork, and saves me the gray hair."

Those were the simpler days, much more light hearted, oh how would you do anything to go back to those kinds of days. The transition from those lighthearted mix ups to a living nightmare happened way too fast.

The Red Lotus. As prepared as they are, they had a miscalculation. You. They only saw a face. They saw the Avatar.

When Zaheer's followers ambushed the area, there had been no warning. It was a blur of smoke, crashing rock, and precise strikes. You had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Separated from Korra in the blinding dust, you had stumbled blindly through the tunnels, coughing, your heart hammering against your ribs.

When they dropped from the ceiling, they didn't ask questions. They saw the exact face they had come to destroy. You didn't even have time to scream that you weren't her before a heavy iron cleat slammed into your chest, pinning you violently to the floor. The breath left your lungs in a ragged gasp. You expected an interrogation, a demand, a hostage negotiation, anything.

You had no idea what was to come.

You had no idea that a weapon had been forged specifically to tear down a god, and that it was about to be poured into a fragile human body instead.

The heavy, suffocating scent of sharp damp moss filled the air as they brought forward the jar. You stared up, your eyes wide with a sudden terror as the dull, silver liquid was brought to light. You opened your mouth to finally cry out, to tell them they were making a mistake, but they immediately clamped over your mouth forcing it shut.

No hesitation. The poison went straight through your skin, forcing the liquid directly into your bloodstream.

The pain hit you instantly, the piercing pain shot up every muscle fiber in your body. It was a violent, burning violation that instantly turned your blood into liquid fire. The sensation of the heavy, toxic metal scraping against the inside of your veins, tearing through muscle fibers as it aggressively expanded through your system. It wasn't a clean, smooth poison; it was a physically clamping down your body and immediately began to crush and crunch your internal organs from the inside out. You had screamed until your throat tore and bled, your body convulsing so violently that you nearly snapped your own collarbones before Lin and the others finally reach you. 

"She isn't turning," P'Li’s voice echoed sharply through, her third eye tattoo taut with concentration as she watched your thrashing form. "Zaheer, the poison is inside her, but she isn't forcing the Avatar State. There’s no glow!"

Zaheer strode closer, his heavy brow furrowed as he stared down at your twisting, agonizing body. He expected the defense mechanism of Raava to flare up, to tear the chains apart in a burst of gale force winds and molten fire. Instead, you were just a girl dying in the dirt. He reached down, violently ripping back your collar, searching for the telltale signs of spiritual energy.

"this is the wrong one," Ghazan muttered, stepping backward, his jaw tightening as he looked at your fractured, useless movements. "She’s not the Avatar."

The realization hit the Red Lotus like a suffocating shroud. Zaheer’s face went entirely cold, a rare flash of pure, calculating horror crossing his features. "This is the sister."

"Then the real Avatar is still out there," Ming-Hua hissed, her water-arms churning into jagged, icy spikes. "We wasted the poison on a nobody."

"Leave her," Zaheer commanded, his voice devoid of any pity, only the dark frustration of a failed mission. "The toxin will finish her anyway. We move out. Now."

They abandoned you there, slumped against the damp stone, your body already beginning to shut down under the weight of a chemical designed to kill anything in its path. Your vision frayed into grey static, your throat tearing as you choked on your own ragged breaths, completely alone in the dark.

"Get out of my way!" Lin’s voice tore through the dust, raw and feral, lacking every ounce of her usual composure. Alongside Suyin and the rest.

When Lin’s eyes fell upon your convulsing form on the floor, the world seemed to stop. Her heavy metal armor clattering loudly against the stone as she practically threw herself to her knees beside you.

"No, no, no," Lin muttered, her voice thick and breaking, a sound you had never heard from her in all your years. Her hands, usually so steady, were trembling violently as she cradled your head, pulling your shivering, pale frame against her chest armor. "Keep your eyes on me."

"Lin..." your voice was a ruined, bloody whisper, your fingers twitching uselessly against her collar. "I...I can't.."

Suyin was instantly on your other side, her hands moving with frantic, desperate speed over your chest. "Lin, it's mercury. It’s dense, metallic poison. It’s settling into her central nervous system—she can’t fight this off by herself! If I don't get it out right now, her heart is going to stop!"

"Then do it!"

Lin roared, her hand gripping yours so tightly it felt like she might break your fingers, using her bare strength to anchor you to the living world. "Su, do it now!"

The extraction was a nightmare. Su braced her feet against the stone, her eyes wide with intense, hyper focused concentration as she extended her arms, using her metalbending to reach inside your very flesh.

You screamed. it was a guttural, tearing shriek as the silver liquid was forcibly dragged backwards through your veins, scraping against muscle fibers and tearing through your pores. The sensation felt like a thousand jagged needles being pulled through your skin all at once. Your spine arched violently off the floor, your body convulsing so fiercely that Mako and Bolin had to rush forward, pinning your shoulders and legs down to keep you from fracturing your own bones against the rock. 

"I’m getting it... I’m getting it out," Su gasped, sweat pouring down her face as thick, heavy globules of dull silver mercury began to seep out of your skin, hovering in the air before clattering onto the dirt in a deadly, shimmering mass.

You choked, a fresh wave of dry retching tearing through your diaphragm as your lungs refused to expand. The poison had left a chewing emptiness in your bones, a complete short circuit of your nerves that left you drowning on dry land. Your head fell back against Lin’s shoulder, your eyes rolling back as the last of your strength evaporated.

"Stay with me!"

Lin cried out, her rough thumb violently wiping the blood and silver sheen from your lips, her forehead pressing hard against yours. "Breathe, damn it, breathe! I've got you. I'm not letting you go."

The frosted panes of the recovery room windows seemed to seal you away from the living world entirely. Outside, the harsh, white glare of the South Pole bounced off endless miles of ice, a blinding and indifferent expanse. Inside, the only sound was the rhythmic, hollow thud of Korra’s earthbending a quarter mile away, a constant, rhythmic reminder of a body that worked, a body that could still move.

And then there was you.

Lin wasn't here. You knew why, of course. She was the Chief of Police in a city, she couldn't simply abandon her post to sit beside you all the way here. Her absence was understandable. It was necessary. But in the dead of night, when the oil lamps flickered out and left you in pitch blackness, her absence felt like an open wound.

You had no ground here.

You only had yourself, and yourself was a terrifying thing to be trapped with.

"Let’s try the fingers today, [Your Name]," Katara said, her voice a soft old, maternal hum that only made the bile rise in the back of your throat. She placed a small, polished wooden block on the table in front of you. "Just slide it two inches to the left. Take your time..."

You stared at the block. It was light. It probably weighed less than a regular rock. Before the incident, you wouldn’t have even thought about the physical mechanics required to move it. You would have just reached out and done it.

You drew in a slow, shivering breath, trying to steady the erratic hum in your chest. You focused every shred of your mind on your right index finger. 

'Move.'

Your hand didn't move. Instead, a sharp, electric jolt traveled up your forearm, a violent misfire of damaged nerves that caused your entire arm to jerk upward. Your knuckles slammed into the edge of the heavy oak table with a dull, sickening crack. The wooden block went flying across the room, bouncing uselessly off the furs covering the wall.

Pain—sharp, white hot, and chewing—bloomed across your knuckles, but it was entirely swallowed by a wave of suffocating, internal dread.

'Am I enough for this?' 

The silent, mocking question echoed from the dark corners of your own mind. Thoughts and voices piled up in your head, no matter how hard you try to shut them down they'd always trail back.

‘Look at you.’

‘You aren't the Avatar.’

‘You don't have anything to heal you.’

‘Are you even strong enough to exist like this?’—

...

...

"It's alright,"

Katara murmured, reaching out with hands that glowed with a cool, watery light to soothe the bruised knuckles. "The neural pathways take time to rebuild—"

"Don't," you choked out, pulling your arm back against your stomach. Your voice was a ragged, pathetic thing, still scarred from the screams you had left behind in the dirt. You couldn't look at Katara’s face. You couldn't bear to see the pity in her eyes. "Please. Just... leave it."

When the door clicked shut, the silence returned, heavier and uglier than before.

You stared down at your hands resting in your lap. They wouldn't stop shaking. It wasn't a gentle tremor; it was a jerky twitching that made your fingers look like dying insects. You tried to force them into a fist. You squeezed your eyes shut, pouring a lifetime of hidden stubbornness into your knuckles. 

‘Stop shaking. Just stop.’

The fingers only clicked and shuddered harder, the tendons in your wrist straining until a sharp spasm locked your thumb flat against your palm. A tiny, broken whimper escaped your lips. The sheer humiliation and naked vulnerability of being reduced to a prison of your own flesh turned your stomach into a knot of acid.

The anger didn't belong to Zaheer anymore. 

It belonged to you. 

It was a vicious, self consuming hatred that coiled deep in your chest. 

Why couldn't I just slide a piece of wood? 

Why couldn't I control myself? 

You felt like an imposter, a useless shadow of a person.

Hours bled into days, and the struggle didn't get easier; it withered into something deeply–

pathetic.

By the second week, the violent spasms began to give way to a heavy, deadening exhaustion. The poison was a rot that felt like it was actively absorbing your will to fight back. You stopped demanding to try the physical therapy. You stopped looking out the window at Korra. You stopped believing in yourself.

One afternoon, a young servant left a small bowl of simple broth on the bedside table. You were alone. The room was freezing, the wind rattling the heavy wooden shutters outside. You were hungry, your throat felt like it was lined with ash and dry stone but the bowl was a foot away.

You dragged your body toward the edge of the bed, a process that required you to manually lift your deadened left leg with both hands, gasping at the sheer, pathetic effort of a six inch shift in position. You reached out, your hand trembling so violently that your fingers kept striking the rim of the bowl, ceramic clicking against ceramic like chattering teeth.

‘Come on.'

you thought, a desperate, weeping plea inside your own head. ‘Just hold it. Just be strong enough to drink.’ You managed to loop your spasming fingers around the edge.

You lifted it an inch.

Then your wrist simply gave out. There was no warning pain just a sudden absence of strength. The bowl slipped, tipping sideways. The lukewarm broth spilled entirely over your lap, soaking through your clothes, splattering across the pristine white sheets and dripping onto the floorboards in a dull, greasy puddle.

You didn't scream. You didn't thrash.

You just sat there in the wet, stained sheets, your head hanging low, your shoulders trembling as a quiet, broken sob tore through your chest. You didn't even have the coordination to wipe the liquid from your own knees. You were entirely reduced to a weeping, useless mess, realizing with a certainty that the girl who used to be able to do things so easily and walk around freely was gone, and there was nothing left to take her place.

The heavy wooden door flew open, hitting the stone wall with a dull, echoing thud that cut through the frozen silence of the room.

Tonraq stood in the room, his massive frame framed by the dim light of the corridor. His blue eyes, usually so steady and commanding, widened with a flash of worry as they swept across the floor. He saw the shattered bowl, the lukewarm broth spreading into a dull, greasy puddle across the floorboards, and you, slumped against the base of the bed.

"Hey, hey—sweetie..I've got you..."

Your father dropped his massive frame onto the floor, completely ignoring the mess, and slid his arms beneath your shivering shoulders. He pulled you against his chest, his large, calloused hands wrapping around you with a gentleness that seemed impossible for a man his size. He smelled like thick leather, sea salt, and the comforting, safe warmth of the home you used to know before Republic City, before the mess.

"Breathe, [Your Name]. Just breathe. Dad’s here," he murmured, his deep voice vibrating directly against your back. He didn't force you to stand. He didn't ask you to try a physical therapy exercise. He just held you.

"I can't... I can't do this, Dad,"

you choked out, your voice a pathetic, gravelly wheeze as you bunched your shaking fingers into the thick fur of his coat. "It hurts so much...I can still feel it.."

"It’s gone. Su got it all out, I promise you," Tonraq said softly, his hand moving in slow, rhythmic circles against your back, trying to soothe the violent tremors racking your spine. His own voice carried a heavy, aching sorrow of a bittersweet grief of a father realizing his little girl had been dragged into a nightmare he couldn't protect her from.

He had watched Korra fight a thousand battles; it worried him just as equally, but Korra was built for the storm. You were his quiet child, the one who stayed on the sides, the one who wasn't supposed to bleed for the world.

He cradled your head against his chest, letting your tears soak into his collar. The air in the room shifted, settling into that tender, melancholic ache. It was the feeling of a parent acknowledging the permanent change in his child, the admission that things would never go back to the way they were, but loving them through the ruins anyway.

"I'm sorry, Dad.. I'm so sorry.."

you wept, your forehead pressed into his shoulder as the panic slowly began to recede, leaving you entirely hollowed out and pathetic. "I tried to be like her. I tried to be strong... but I'm just a burden now. I can't even hold anything... everyone is moving on... and I'm just here."

Tonraq didn’t pull away from the mess on the floor. Instead, he shifted his weight, gathering your fragile, trembling frame closer into his broad chest until you were completely enveloped by his warmth. He let you cry until the violent panic attacks withered into exhausted hitches against his shoulder, his arms acting as a wall against the freezing wind rattling the windowpanes.

When your breathing finally slowed, he gently cupped the back of your head, his thick fingers tangling in your hair.

"Look at me, [Your Name]," Tonraq murmured, his deep voice carrying a resonance that demanded you anchor yourself to him.

You forced your eyes up, blinking past the hot blur of tears. You expected to see the crushing weight of sorrow in his expression, or worse, the fragile, forced optimism that people used when they were disappointed. But your father’s face held none of that. His blue eyes were bright, clear, and brimming with a reverence.

"You look at your sister, and you think she’s the only one who grew up to be strong," Tonraq said softly, his thumb sweeping a damp strand of hair from your forehead. "But you’re wrong. You are so wrong."

He reached down, gently taking both of your shaking, twitching hands into his own massive palms. He didn't try to force them still; he just held them, letting your erratic tremors vibrate against his steady grip.

"Korra has the elements, and she has a destiny that forces her to fight. But you?" Tonraq’s voice thickened with an intense, fierce emotion. "You faced a nightmare without any of that. You didn't choose to get caught in that mess, but you fought like hell to survive it anyway. Look at you.—"

"You are still breathing. You are still trying. Do you have any idea how proud that makes me?"

A fresh tear slipped down your cheek, but this one didn't feel as heavy. "Dad... I'm so weak compared to her now. I can't even hold a cup."

"A body can be mended, and we have all the time in the world for that," Tonraq whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead firmly against yours, grounding you in the shared space between you. "But the heart inside you? That didn't break. You survived. You're still standing—even if it's on a floor with spilled soup. You've grown up. Both of my daughters are. And both of you make me the proudest father in the world."

The heavy self loathing that had been clawing at your chest for weeks finally began to loosen its grip. The bittersweet realization of growing up and facing the pain didn't disappear, but holding onto your father, it shifted your perspective. 

Tonraq pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder as he rocked you gently. In the quiet room, wrapped in the safety of a father, you let your hands rest against his back, shaking, imperfect, but holding on with everything you had left.

Tonraq didn’t leave you sitting in the mess. Even as he held you close, his keen eyes had already taken in the shattered bowl and the grease stain spreading across the floorboards. Slowly, with the deliberate, careful movements, he shifted his weight. He didn't call for anyone else, and he didn't make a big scene out of it; he simply used his free hand to gather the larger shards of the broken bowl, setting them safely on the bedside table out of your way.

Then, using a clean corner of the thick wool blanket, he gently wiped the lukewarm liquid from your deadened knees, his touch incredibly light, ensuring the rough fabric didn't aggravate your skin. Only when the floor was clear, and you were settled back comfortably against the furs of the bed did he press that final, lingering kiss to your forehead, stepping out into the corridor with a quiet promise to fetch a dry set of clothes and new blankets.

The air still carried the scent of his leather coat and the damp warmth of his embrace. You sat huddled against the pillows, your legs a heavy weight over the mattress. Your hands rested in your lap still twitching, still uncooperative, but no longer knotted in that defensive claw.

Yet, as the immediate warmth of your father's arms faded, the cold reality of the room crept back in. The natural doubt, that cruel and persistent whisper, wasn't entirely banished by his pride in you. It hovered right at the edge of your thoughts. 

‘He's proud of me today’

‘But what about next month?’

‘What about next year, when I’m still like this?’

‘Will he still be proud when he's still cleaning up after me?’

You desperately clutched his words in your mind, holding them tight against your chest, forcing yourself to use them as motivation even as the fear of a ruined future made your stomach twist.

Then, the floorboards outside groaned. It wasn't the heavy, measured stomp of your father, nor was it the light, sweeping step of the healers. It was hesitant.

The door pushed open again, just a fraction at first, before Korra stepped into the room.

She wasn’t wearing her usual confident posture. Her shoulders, usually thrown back with pride, were slumped forward, making her look strikingly small. She wore simple training clothes, her knuckles raw and red from hours of training, but the fiercest thing about her were her eyes they were entirely hollow. When she looked down at the clean spot on the floorboards where the spill had just been, her chest hitched, knowing exactly what kind of struggle had taken place before she entered.

She looked from the floor to your face, and the sheer weight of her expression made your chest tighten.

"I'm sorry"

Korra whispered. The words came out fractured, completely stripped of the booming vitality that usually defined her. She didn't advance past the room, standing there as if she were a trespasser in your recovery room. "I... I heard you from down the hall. I heard the crash."

You swallowed hard, your throat clicking uncomfortably from the lingering dryness. The familiar fear flared up in your chest again, that dread that you would never be normal, that you were just a broken shadow of the sister standing before you.

But you forced your father’s voice to echo over the panic. Holding onto that spark of motivation, you tried to shift your leg, a pathetic, straining motion that only resulted in a tiny tremor through your ankle.

"It was just an accident, Korra.. Dad already took care of it.."

"It's not just that"

Korra said, her voice dropping into a painful whisper as she took two steps forward. Her boots clicked heavily against the wood before she abruptly dropped to her knees. She didn't come close enough to touch you, her hands hovering in the air as if she desperately wanted to hold you but was terrified of causing you more pain. "I still can't believe what they did to you. I was the one they were hunting. I was the one who was supposed to be in that room, facing them... not you. Never you."

The air in the room shifted, turning heavy. It was the internal war of two people sharing the same face but living entirely different lives. You looked at her—whole, muscular, capable and then down at your own shaking fingers. The fear was a living, breathing thing inside you, screaming that you weren't strong enough to carry this reality, that you were entirely unsuited to be a survivor. But you gritted your teeth against the memory of your father's tight hug.

"They didn't know the difference," you said quietly, your voice still raspy from the panic attack. "They just saw our face."

"Because of me," Korra’s voice finally cracked, a sudden, desperate sob breaking through her stoic exterior. She clamped her raw, bruised knuckles over her mouth, her eyes swimming with guilt. "I hate that you're hurting like this. I hate that I couldn't protect you from them. It’s entirely my fault you’re trapped in this room."

‘Am I enough to face her?’

‘Am I strong enough to carry her guilt too?’

The thought tried to claw its way back into your mind, but you fought it back. You looked at your twin sister, the girl who had shared a cradle with you, the one who had always run ahead into the sunlight while you walked in her shadow. For the first time in your life, you didn't see Avatar. You just saw your sister, entirely undone by the weight of a world she couldn't control.

"Korra," you murmured, forcing your left hand to lift. It was a slow process, your wrist jerking twice, your fingers trembling violently as you reached across the space between you. "Come here."

Korra looked at your shaking hand as if it were a brand, a physical manifestation of her failures. But she didn't pull away. She lunged forward, closing the distance, and tightly gripped your hand with both of hers. Her skin was burning hot against your icy palms. She buried her face against your knees, her shoulders heaving as she wept openly, letting go of the terrifying burden she had been carrying.

Korra didn't move for a long time, her forehead pressed hard against the wool of your blanket, her hot tears soaking straight through to your skin. When she finally looked up, her nose was red, her face messy.

"I hate looking at you like this," she repeated. "Every time I look at your hands shaking, it feels like someone is ripping my own ribs open. How is this fair?"

You stared down at her raw knuckles, the sharp sting of human doubt flaring up again in your chest. She's right, the fear whispered. It isn't fair. You're the one who can't walk, and she's out there. But you looked at her face, your own face and saw the torment in her eyes. You forced the bitter thoughts down before you spoke up.

"It’s not fair,"

you whispered back, not trying to soften the blow. "I lie here every morning and I hate it. I hate that I can’t just get up and use the bathroom without needing help. I hate that my own fingers won't do what I tell them to do. And sometimes... sometimes I look out that window and I hear you training, and I feel so angry I can't breathe."

Korra flinched, her grip on your hand twitching, but she didn't pull away. She leaned into the honesty, her shoulders shaking.

"You should be angry. You should hate me for it."

"I don't hate you Korra..."

You said, squeezing her hand back as hard as your trembling fingers would allow, letting her feel the unstable, jagged rhythm of your grip. "I hate what happened. But when I was in that cave, Korra... when they dropped from the ceiling and pinned me down, I didn't have time to be a hero. I didn't plan anything. I was just terrified. But even while it was burning through me, the only thing keeping me from entirely losing my mind was knowing they weren't doing it to you. If it had been you...I wouldn't know what I'd do without you. You're my sister. I don't want you to carry this guilt like it's a punishment."

"But it is a punishment," Korra choked out, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, looking smaller than she ever had in her life. "I brought the Red Lotus to us. My life is always a mess, and you always get dragged into it. Remember the police station? How many times did Lin have to yell at us because some dumb cop thought you were me?"

A tiny laugh broke from your throat, though it quickly turned into a raspy cough. "I used to think that was the worst thing in the world. Getting yelled at by Lin because you caused property damage."

"I'd do it again if it meant we could go back to that," Korra muttered, leaning her head against your hand, her voice small and entirely beaten. "I don't know how to help you. I don't know how I can fix you.."

"You don't have to fix me," you said, the doubt in your heart still heavy and terrifying, but the resolve to keep going turning into something real. "Dad said we both grew up. We just did it differently. I'm scared, Korra. I'm so scared that this is all I'm ever going to be. But I'm going to try. For Dad, for Lin... and for you. Just don't leave me alone in this room."

Korra raised her head, her jaw tightening as she looked at you, the pity finally dying out of her eyes, replaced by understanding. "Never..You are always going to be my sister."

You let out a quiet, tired breath, your trembling fingers tangled in hers. The fear of the future hadn't vanished, but sitting on the bed with your sister made things more bearable.

The morning light didn’t so much illuminate the room. The air was thick with the scent of bitter medicinal salves. You sat on the edge of the low wooden platform, staring down at your bare feet against the coarse woven straw mat. The dreadful feeling that your legs would always remain nothing more than useless bone and dead tissue was something to think about. Your throat felt dry, tight with the memory of that awful poison. 

But as you took a ragged breath, you forced your father’s and Korra’s words from the night before to calm yourself

"Alright, [Your Name]," Katara said softly, her hands already glowing with that familiar, cool waterbending light as she knelt near your right ankle. "Today, we aren't just aiming for a spasm. We want to draw the heel back just a little. As far as you can go."

Your breath hitched. You looked toward the door, expecting to be alone with your failure, but Korra was there. She didn’t go out today, she was sitting right on the mat next to you, her eyes fixed entirely on your face. There was no pity left in her expression but just a stubborn focus. 

"Don't look down at it," Korra muttered, her voice sounding determined. 

You swallowed hard, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the wooden platform. You closed your eyes, drawing in the freezing air, and sent the mental command down through your spine. 

Pull. Just one inch.

Instantly, a white hot, jagged lance of pain shot up your calf. The muscle violently seized, locking into a tight knot that felt like it was trying to rip the tendon clean off the bone. You let out a strangled, guttural cry, your spine arching off the mat as your arms flailed, the memory rushing back to drown you.

"I’ve got you! Hold on to me!" Korra barked. She didn't let you fall sideways into a shattered, pathetic heap. Her powerful arms lunged forward, catching you by the shoulders and pulling your rigid, thrashing frame directly against her chest. She braced you with the sheer weight of her own body, her chin digging into your hair. "Don't back down from it! I'm holding you!"

"It hurts—Korra, it hurts, make it stop!" you shrieked, tears instantly scalding your freezing cheeks as your right leg continued to shake and twitch  unontrollably against Katara's glowing hands. Doubt clawed at your throat, screaming that you were a fool for trying.

"I know it hurts.." 

her own voice cracking with desperation as she squeezed you tighter, serving as the physical pull your nervous system lacked. "Keep going–I know you can do it [Your Name]" Korra’s eyebrows furrowed as she kept encouraging you. You poured every remaining ounce of your soul, your anger, and your fear into that single leg. You pulled.

With a dull, shuddering scrape against the straw mat, your right heel slid backwards.

It wasn't an elegant movement. It was jerky but it moved. 

The spasm slowly deflated, leaving your leg throbbing. You collapsed forward against Korra’s shoulder, your chest heaving in ragged, pathetic gasps, your entire body drenched in cold sweat. You were sobbing, the toll of the physical pain leaving you entirely hollowed out. 

Korra let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands trembling slightly as she patted your back, a raw, wet laugh escaping her lips. "See? I told you..!"

The heavy wooden door opened quietly, breaking the heavy atmosphere of the room. Your father, Tonraq, stepped inside, carrying a thick woolen blanket and a sealed, heavy parchment envelope that bore a very familiar, crisp metallic seal from the Republic City Police Department. His eyes swept across the room, taking in your exhausted, tear stained face and the shifted position of your foot. His expression softened the rugged lines of his face.

"A letter just arrived on the evening cutter," Tonraq said softly, stepping forward to drape the warm blanket over your trembling shoulders before handing you the stiff parchment. "It's addressed to you."

Your hands were still twitching, making it impossible to break the wax seal. Seeing your frustration, Korra gently took the letter, cracked the stamped wax with her thumb, unfolded the crisp paper, and held it up steadily in front of your face so you could read it yourself.

Republic City Police Department

Office of the Chief of Police

To [Your Name],

The city is quiet today. Too quiet. It’s raining over the harbor, the kind of heavy, grey downpour that usually clogs the gutters around the precinct and drives everyone inside. The precinct is empty except for the night shift, and honestly, the silence at the end of the hall is getting old.

Your father sent word that you reached the Southern Water Tribe safely. He didn't mention much about the clinic. If the healers are giving you a hard time, or if the treatments aren't settling right, you tell him to let me know. I can find an excuse to send some better supplies down from the city on the next transport if the local stuff isn't doing the trick. Just make sure you're actually resting, and not letting your sister dictate the pace of your days.

The lower wards are still a mess from the repairs, but the construction crews are finally wrapping up around the harbor. They've redone the walkway outside the station house. It's wide, flat stone now. Clear path all the way from the market district.

The desk is a disaster. I haven't cleared the paperwork from the corner where you left your things, mostly because I haven't had the time to go through it. It can stay there for now.

Let me know how the weather is down there. It's getting too cold to eat outside in the city anyway.

— Lin

You stared at the sharp, uncompromising ink of her signature. She hadn't said she missed you, and she hadn't said she was worried, but you knew her handwriting well enough to read between the lines. She was keeping a space open for you. The fear of tomorrow hadn't vanished, and the pain in your leg was still present, but as you leaned back into the warmth of the blanket your father had provided, you gripped Korra’s hand with everything you had left. You had a long path ahead of you, but you had the motivation. You were going to keep going.

The slate grey afternoon rain hammered relentlessly against the high windows of the Republic City Police Department headquarters. Lin didn't look at the paperwork. She sat with her chin resting heavily on her steepled, metal clad fingers, her sharp green eyes fixed on the empty corner of her desk. A part of her desk where you usually stood by after being dragged in wrongfully once again for that month, a part where you would stand by and have decent conversations with her if both of your schedules would meet. The silence in the office felt heavier than anything.

A sharp, firm knock rattled the frosted glass door.

"Chief," an officer said, stepping into the room with his uniform cap dripping water onto the floorboards. He held a crisp, square parchment envelope, the edges slightly curled from the damp sea air of the harbor. "The weekly cutter from the South Pole just docked. This was in the pouch for you."

Lin didn't bark an order. She didn't complain about the water tracking across her floor. She simply extended a hand, her fingers closing tightly around the parchment as the officer offered a quick nod and retreated, closing the door behind him.

The wax seal on the back was clumsy—the edges were uneven, smeared slightly where a trembling thumb had pressed into the red wax before it had fully set. Lin’s chest tightened, a familiar, protective ache coiling deep in her ribs. She didn't use a letter opener; she used her thumb to crack the seal with an uncharacteristic, delicate care, unfolding the stiff paper beneath the dull light of her desk lamp.

The handwriting wasn't Korra's, who had been transcribing for the past few months.

The lines were jagged, shaking like a fracture in cold iron, the ink thick and blotched in some places where the quill had lingered too long against a spasming hand. But as Lin's eyes scanned the first sentence, her breath caught in her throat. The handwriting was unmistakably, completely yours.

Lin,

I'm holding the pen myself tonight. It took me three tries just to get the ink onto the nib without dropping the wooden shaft into my lap, and Korra is currently hovering by the fireplace pretending she isn't watching me write this letter, but I told her to back off. I wanted you to read my own words.

I walked ten paces to the clinic door yesterday. It wasn't pretty—my ankle still turns inward, and my heel makes an awful scraping sound against the stone floor boards, but I did it on my own..! Katara says the neural pathways are finally settling down. The chewing pain in my calves is still there every morning, but it doesn't scare me the way it used to. I’ve been using your letters as a reminder when the mats feel too heavy to face.

As of now I’m practicing my balance every single day because I want to be able to walk down and finally get to see you. For the first time since that incident, Lin... I'm actually excited for something again. I'm excited to see you again. I'm excited to finally talk to you again. I'm excited to come home.

I miss you Lin, more than anything else ♡

— [Your Name]

Lin stared at the page, her thumb smoothing over the rough, shaky indentation where you had pressed the nib into the paper with everything you had left. The stern, woman who had faced down countless criminals without a single flinch let out a long, ragged breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

She closed her eyes, pressing the letter against her forehead, letting the familiar scent of the ink and the raw, stubborn spirit of your words wash over her. You were fighting your way back to her, and you were winning.

Time Skip

The Southern transport ship didn’t slide down so much as it rattled against the iron bollards of the Republic City harbour, a mechanical groan that instantly cut through the damp morning air.

The city was exactly as the correspondence had promised: bathed in a soft, slate grey mist, the salt of the bay mixing with the sharp, industrial scent of coal smoke and veichle exhaust. For months, this place had been nothing more than a memory. Now, the towering metal statues of the skyline loomed through the fog, a difference to the flat white horizons of the South Pole.

You stood at the top of the ramp, your fingers curled tightly around the polished wooden handle of a cane. Your grip was steady, with mini tremors that still thrummed through your knuckles, something no amount of healing could completely wash away.

"Take your time," Korra murmured from your left, her voice carrying a protective weight that lacked any of her old, reckless bluster. She simply stood close enough to act as a barrier against the bustling harbor crowd, her blue eyes scanning the pier with focus.

You drew in a deep breath of the city air, feeling the familiar heat tighten in your chest for a split second before you forced it down, using your father's parting words to brace your spine. You commanded your left foot forward.

The step was slow, deliberate, and required a lot of thought that normal people never had to think about. Your heel dragged slightly against the iron ribbing of the ramp, a dull, scraping sound that once would have made you burn with humiliation. But as your foot found the flat, solid stone of the newly paved walkway outside the harbor, relief washed over you. The stone beneath your shoes was smooth, even, and entirely clear of debris. Someone had made sure there wasn't a single loose pebble to trip on.

You didn't look at the crowd. You kept your eyes on the path until the heavy clank of metal clad boots cut through the ambient noise of the docks.

Lin stood twenty paces away, framed by the misty harbor fog. She wasn’t wearing her full armor today, opting instead for her dark long sleeves, though the metal line launchers still rested squarely on her forearms. She looked exactly as you remembered—stern, rugged, her sharp green eyes half hidden beneath her grey streaked hair, the scars on her cheeks against her pale skin. She had her hands tucked neatly behind her back, her posture rigid, the perfect picture of an unbothered Chief.

But as you halted, leaning your weight onto the cane, her jaw visibly tightened. Her eyes traveled from the wooden handle in your hand, down the line of your coat, to the slight, twitching of your fingers. The silence that stretched between you was heavy with the weight of months spent away on opposite sides of the world.

"Lin," Korra said softly, offering a rare, respectful dip of her head before she quietly stepped away, gathering your luggage and drifting toward a waiting vehicle to give you the space you had waited for so long to reach.

Lin didn't move immediately. She let out a long, slow breath that misted in the damp air, before she stepped forward. Her gait was measured, devoid of her usual aggressive stride. When she finally stopped a mere foot away from you, the scent of her black coffee and metal polish instantly filled your senses.

"You're late," Lin murmured, her voice a low, raspy growl that lacked any real heat. It was the gravelly tone reserved strictly for you, the one that used to dismiss incompetent officers from her office. "The cutter was supposed to dock at dawn."

"The tides were heavy near a few islands…" you replied, your own voice carrying that slight, permanent roughness. You tried to lift your left hand to straighten your shawl, but a sudden tremor caused your wrist to jerk clumsily, your fingers fluttering uselessly against the wool.

A flash of slight frustration flared in your chest, the doubt whispering that you were still broken, still a mess in front of her. “..Sorry..I’m still trying to control the shaking..”

Before the panic could take hold, Lin’s hand moved from behind her back. Her fingers closed firmly around your twitching wrist. She didn't flinch away from the erratic vibration of your nerves; she simply squeezed, using the gentle but firm strength of her hand to hold your hand. Her touch was warm, warm enough to make you flustered by the scene of her holding your hand.

"Stop that," Lin whispered, her eyes burning with an intense, quiet reverence as she looked down into your face. "I told you in the letters. I don't care about the shaking."

"It's different seeing it," you murmured, your voice cracking just a bit as you tried to be strong infront of her, “I’m not like what I was before..I’ve gotten slower.. a bit more useless to be honest..” You muttered the last part out quietly, but Lin caught those last words.

She didn’t say anything yet, letting the air between you two stay still, her thumb smoothing over the back of your hand with an aching, desperate tenderness. She reached up with her other hand, her fingers cupping the side of your jaw, her thumb brushing your cheek. "Don't you ever say that about yourself. Not to me. Come on. Let's get out of the harbor."

The transition from the noisy, rain slicked docks to the quiet precinct’s upper residential quarters happened in a blur. Lin didn't ask you to walk the staircase; she quietly guided you through the side entrance, her hand remaining firmly resting against the small of your back, a way to gently support you.

When the door of her private quarters clicked shut, the bustling city vanished completely. The room was warm, smelling of woodsmoke and the deep, comforting scent of coffee that belonged only to her. The afternoon light filtered through the glass windows, throwing long, muted shadows across the floorboards.

Lin moved without her usual urgency. She took your heavy winter coat from your shoulders, her fingers lingering on the fabric for a fraction of a second before she hung it. You stood near the center of the room, suddenly feeling incredibly out of place. You were so used to the South Pole that looking out in the city again made you feel foreign all over again.

Lin walked back over, stopping just inches from you. She didn't offer a chair, and she didn't ask how the physical therapy had been. She just looked at you, her sharp green eyes taking in every small change, the slight thinness in your face, the dark circles that had finally faded into soft lines, and the stubborn, resolve that you had carried back across the sea.

"You look different," Lin said softly, her voice dropping its gravelly authority entirely, settling into a low, private register that no one else in Republic City ever got to hear. "Not bad.. It’s like you left something behind down there."

You looked down at your hand, forcing the fingers to try and curl tighter around the cane. "I think I left the girl a long time ago.. I'm just trying to figure out what to do with the one who's left."

"The one who's left wrote me a letter that nearly tore my ribs open," Lin murmured, stepping closer until the front of her tunic brushed against your shawl. She reached down, her fingers gently wrapping over yours, covering the handle of the cane and absorbing the frantic tremors of your knuckles. "You didn't have to force yourself to write. You could have let Korra write instead."

"No," you said, your voice cracking slightly as you looked up into her face, your eyes finding the deep, aching yearning she had spent so long locking away behind a badge. "I needed you to see it. I needed to know that I could still send something of myself back to you. I spent months lying on those mats, Lin... and every time my leg spasmed, every time I spilled a cup or fell onto the floor, the only thing that kept the room from completely spinning into the dark was remembering your office. Remembering how you looked at me when those stupid guards dragged me through the door."

Lin’s jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in her cheek as she absorbed the honesty of your words. Her fingers tightened around yours, her grip so solid it felt like she was trying to bind your shattered nerves back together with her own strength.

"I was terrified," 

she whispered. The admission was unpolished, a sudden fracture of her facade. She leaned her forehead down, pressing it firmly against yours, her breath hot and uneven against your skin. "I’ve never felt the way I did when I found you on that floor. You were so small, and you were covered in that silver rot, and I couldn't even stand to look at you in such pain. I had to watch them carry you away to the edge of the world while I stayed here and managed a city."

Your free hand lifted, jerking twice before your fingers successfully found the fabric of her collar, bunching the dark cloth tightly into your palm. "I’ve learned that... I had no control over what happened. No one knew what was going to come that night. For so long, I lay in that bed thinking about if it had been Korra instead of me. I felt so guilty even letting myself think it, and I was bitter, too... because it was just completely unfair. But it isn't her fault. Not at all. It was just a terrible mistake, Lin. And I had to stop fighting the what ifs so I could start fighting my way back to this room. Back to you."

"I was so worried," Lin said, a rough, wet hitch breaking through her chest as she closed her eyes, her lips brushing against your temple in a lingering, desperate kiss that carried the weight of every letter, every lonely night spent staring at an empty corner of her desk. "I didn't move a single piece of paper from where you left it. I sat at that desk every night until dawn, just waiting for the transport schedules to shift. I don't care if you walk slow. You're back in this room. That's all that matters."

The love between you didn't have a label. It didn't need a label. What existed between you and Lin was something made in the quiet corners of a crowded office, cemented in the incident, and kept alive through letters. 

You closed your eyes, the frantic twitching in your fingers slowly finding a predictable rhythm against the fabric of her shirt. The fear hadn't vanished, and the pain in your limbs was still aching, but being embraced by the woman who loved you through the hardships, and far distance was finally over.

Author's Note

Yayy it's finally done ＼⁠(^o^)⁠／ it feels so good to post cuz this took a while for me😮‍💨

Inside the vehicle, the air was heavy with the scent of wet asphalt and the distinct, metallic tang of Lin’s armor. It had been a brutal fourteen hour shift at the precinct, there were triple homicide investigations, council budget disputes, and a minor triad skirmish near the docks that required her direct intervention. Lin sat in the passenger seat, her head leaned back against the headrest, her eyes closed. Her jaw was set in that familiar line, but the slight tremor in her fingers as she unbuckled her seatbelt betrayed her exhaustion.

"Come on," you said softly, reaching across the console to briefly squeeze her hand before grabbing your bag. "Before the rain gets stronger.."

Lin let out a low grunt, her eyes fluttering open, dark and shadowed with fatigue. "I'm coming. Just... give me a second. My knees are locking up."

The walk up the three flights of stairs to your apartment was a comfortable routine you had slowly established over the past few weeks. Lin always insisted on walking slightly behind you, her eyes instinctively scanning the dark stairwell, always on high alert of your surroundings. She didn’t know how to turn off the "protector" mindset, even when she was running on fumes. When you unlocked the door and stepped into the warm entryway, the contrast was immediate. The apartment smelled of vanilla and old paper, a huge difference from the cold and damp, neon lit streets below.

Lin immediately stepped onto the small mat you had specifically placed by the door for her. With practiced, heavy movements, she began the methodical process of shedding her outer layer. Her fingers, stiff from the cold, fumbled slightly with the quick release latches of her chest piece. Without a word, you stepped into her space. You reached up, your fingers brushing hers aside to unhook the heavy metal shoulder guards, lifting them away and placing them neatly on the console table.

"Thanks," she muttered, her voice a low, gravelly rasp. She didn't look at you, instead focusing on unlacing her boots, but the tension in her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch at your touch. "You don't have to do that every time, you know. I'm capable of taking off my own gear."

"I know you are," you replied with a small, knowing smile, taking the heavy metal plates from her hands. "But I like helping. Let me do this for you at least.."

Lin watched you carry the armor over to its usual spot, a faint, almost imperceptible softening around her eyes before her stern mask slid back into place. "It's a bad habit. Makes a person soft."

While Lin unbuckled her arm guards, you moved into the small kitchen, kickstarting the evening routine. You lit the gas stove, setting a kettle of water to boil for ginger tea to chase away the chill. You moved around the space smoothly, fetching a towel from the linen closet and setting out a pair of loose, dark trousers for her to change into. Lin walked into the living room a few minutes later, stripped down to her dark uniform and pants. She looked relaxed without her usual armour, the silver scars on her cheeks catching the dim light of the lamps. She didn't sit on the couch—not yet. Instead, she stood by the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, watching the first heavy drops of rain begin to lash against the glass.

"The wind is picking up," Lin spoke up in observation, her tone clipped.

"Hmm..seems like it," you replied softly. You walked over to her, handing her a steaming mug of tea.

Lin took it, her knuckles wrapping around the ceramic for warmth. She took a slow sips, letting the heat bloom in her chest. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to lean into you, to let her forehead rest against your shoulder. But the old walls, built from years of relying strictly on herself, quickly pulled her back. She straightened her spine, setting the mug down on the table, and reached for her heavy brass keys on the console table.

"I should get moving before the roads block up," she murmured, the lie tasting bitter even to her. "I have an early briefing. If Korra causes any more property damage overnight, I’ll be buried in paperwork before sunrise."

For weeks, this has been your life, usually a shared dinner, quiet conversation that Lin would occasionally punctuate with a sharp, dry laugh, and then the inevitable sound of her keys rattling as she prepared to go back home. She doesn't stay for too long to your dismay.

You stepped into the hallway, the wooden floorboards cool beneath your bare feet. As she reached for her keys, you closed the small distance between you. Carefully, giving her every opportunity to tense or step aside, you slid your arms around her waist from behind.

Lin went momentarily rigid. It wasn’t a rejection; it was the instinctive reaction of a person who spent her days anticipating attacks. But as your chin rested gently against the curve of her shoulder, you felt her spine give way, just a fraction of an inch.

"Stay, just for this one night..?"

you murmured against her skin, your voice competing softly with the rhythmic thrum of the downpour against the glass. "It's raining too hard out there..I wouldn't move you staying here with me.."

For a long moment, Lin was entirely silent. Her hand remained hovered over her keys, her knuckles pale. The air between you two was thick and hesitant. She was terrified of the gravity of it, the simple act of laying her head down in a bed that wasn't her own, of waking up next to eyes that looked at her without demanding she be the hero or the authority. As hesitant and unsure Lin was, looking out at the black rain slicked window, and then down at your hands resting against her abdomen, she found herself incapable of saying no.

"You're persistent," Lin muttered, her voice rough, almost gruff, though she didn't pull away from your embrace. She let out a long, defeated breath, her hand slowly dropping away from the keys. "Fine. Just for the storm. But I mean it—I have an early briefing at the precinct. If I'm late because of a little rain, the council will never let me hear the end of it."

"I'll make sure you're up in time," you promised, squeezing her gently before letting go so she could finally relax.

Long after you had fallen asleep, she lay perfectly still on her back, staring up at the shadows stretching across the ceiling. Her hands were fisted in the sheets at her sides, her knuckles white. She was hyper aware of your warmth only inches away.

Every instinct she had told her to get up, to put her armor back on, and to retreat to the familiar safety of her own isolation. But the weight of her exhaustion, combined with the rhythm of the rain, finally dragged her under.

In the deep hours of the night, the rain intensified, turning into a deafening roar that bled directly into her subconscious. The nightmare didn't start with violence, but with a cold silence.

In her mind, she was standing on the mist shrouded docks of Republic City, watching a ship sail away into an abyss. On the deck stood her mother, Toph, her face turned away, unseeing and unbothered. Beside her was Tenzin, holding someone else's hand, his gaze passing over Lin as if she were nothing more than a stranger. She tried to call out to them, to demand why she was always the one left behind, why she was never enough to make someone stay.

But when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. The metal cables at her wrists felt heavy, rusted, and completely unresponsive. The earth beneath her began to crumble, liquefying into a dark void that swallowed her whole, leaving her entirely unchosen, abandoned on a dock while the world sailed away into the light.

You woke to the sound of a ragged, choked whimper that cut straight through the rain outside.

In the dim light filtering through the window, you saw Lin moving restlessly, her head turning side to side against the pillow. Her jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles jumped, and a low, pained sound escaped her throat. Her brow was furrowed in deep lines, and a thin layer of cold sweat glistened on her forehead.

You have never seen her like this, she looked distressed, stripped of her badge and her usual stern scowl. Her fingers were clawing blindly at the mattress, searching for at least something to hold onto.

"Lin..?"

you whispered, shifting closer, your heart aching at the distress radiating from her. You didn't shake her roughly; you knew better than to startle anyone in this situation. Instead, you slid your hand up her arm, your palm warm against her cool, clammy skin, and gently rubbed her shoulder. "Lin..? hey.. Wake up.." you spoke up again as your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room.

With a sharp, gasping breath, Lin’s eyes flew open. In an instant, her body coiled to strike, her breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as her eyes scanned the dark room for a threat.

She scrambled backward against the headboard, her chest heaving violently. She blinked rapidly, the confusion and residual fear palpable in the rigid line of her neck.

"Get back—" she rasped, her voice cutting through the dark, sharp and defensive before she even realized where she was. She pressed herself against the wall, her knuckles dug into the mattress. "Who's there?"

"It's just me," you said softly, keeping your voice low and melodic, keeping your movements slow and deliberate so she could see you clearly. You crawled closer, your hands open and non threatening. "You're still in my apartment. It's just the rain, Lin.."

Lin stared at you, her dark eyes wide, unblinking, and shining with an unshed wetness that shocked you. The realization hit her in a slow, she wasn't alone. She wasn't in her silent apartment that she was so used to, where the only sound was the ticking of a grandfather clock. There was a face looking down at her filled with an uncomplicated worry that she didn't know how to earn or parse.

For a woman who had spent so long being self reliant, the sudden, overwhelming presence of a caring soul—you, was entirely disorienting. It felt dangerous. She didn't know how to unlearn the loneliness, and the vulnerability of being caught like this made her bristle.

"I..."

Lin started, her voice cracking, raw and unfamiliar to her own ears. She tried to pull her knees to her chest, a defensive sneer tracing her lips out of sheer, panicked habit. "I should go. I shouldn't have stayed. This was a mistake—I have to get to the precinct."

"I can't be doing this."

"but wait Lin—"

you interrupted gently, refusing to let her go just yet. You shifted closer, closing the distance she had put between you, and reached out. Slowly, you cupped her face, your thumb gently tracing the familiar line of her scars. "Don't go anywhere. You don't have to run from me, Lin. You're completely safe here." Your expression almost pleading as you said those words

"You don't understand," she whispered, her voice fracturing, the tough facade completely shattering. She looked at your hands on her face with uncertainty. She paused on her words,

"I'm being too much am I [Your Name]?"

"what..?—no..no not at all Lin, what makes you think that..?"

Lin didn't answer, she held back her tongue she didn't know how to explain what was wrong, what's making her feel like this, she wanted to tell you but at the same time she physically couldn't. Habits die hard, despite having you here now she couldn't help but feel rather unworthy in a sense. No one really stayed long in her life, she wondered how long it'll take you to leave too. Just as her thoughts were about to spiral unintentionally again she felt two arms gently wrap around her torso.

In the middle of her thoughts you quietly pulled her close feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat. You didn't say anything in return you just simply knew that she needed this. That you and her were here, that both of you were in the present.

That hug was her breaking point. For a very long time Lin had maintained that tough exterior, always knowing what to do and what to say despite her failing relationships, despite a strained family dynamic and today just tore that facade right off.

A sudden, sharp sob caught in her throat, a sound so painful it made your own chest tight. She tried to fight it, her teeth clicking together as she buried her face in her hands, but the emotions were a tidal wave.

"Don't," she choked out, her voice trembling, a desperate plea to save whatever dignity she thought she had left. "Don't look at me like that. I'm fine. I don't... I don't do this."

"I'm not going anywhere.." Your arms moved up to wrap securely around her shoulders, pulling her head down until it rested in the crook of your neck.

Lin went stiff for a second, her hands pushing weakly against your chest as if still trying to guard her broken pieces. But the warmth of your skin and the steady, safety of your embrace broke through the last of her defenses. Her hands came up to grip the fabric of your shirt with a desperate intensity, pulling herself to you as if you were the only solid thing left in the world.

She wept silently at first, her shoulders trembling violently against you, she was deeply ashamed of the wetness on her face, hating the weakness of it, yet she couldn't stop the years of suppressed emotions from pouring out. Every kind word you spoke was like a hand pulling her out of a deep, cold well she had lived in for years.

You simply held her. You rocked her slightly against the backdrop of the howling storm, your fingers running through her hair, soothing the tense, knotted muscles of her back. With your other hand, you tenderly brushed the hot tears from her cheeks, kissing her temple over and over.

"I've got you," you murmured into her hair, your voice steady, unconditional, and fiercely protective. "You don't have to be infront of me.. You're allowed to feel what you need to feel yknow..? I'm always here. I promise you, you are never spending another night alone if you don't want to.." You gently say as you reassured her countless of times.

Lin just clung to you tighter, hiding her face against your chest. Slowly, the frantic racing of her heart began to slow, syncing with the steady, calming rhythm of your own until her breathing finally leveled out into a soft, exhausted sleep.

When morning came, the rain had finally tapered off into a soft, grey mist that blanketed the city. The bedroom was bathed in a pale, muted light that felt peaceful after the storm from last night.

Lin woke up slowly, the transition from sleep usually marked by an immediate spike in adrenaline. But today, her body felt heavy, uncharacteristically warm. Her heart felt tight, but not with the constriction of panic, it felt swollen, bruised but incredibly full, pulsing with undeniable affection that she hadn't permitted herself to feel in a lifetime. She didn't move. You were still asleep, your face relaxed, one of your arms still draped over her waist.

Lin looked at you for a long time. Her face softened completely in the morning light, her thumb gently brushing against your arm. Slow with tenderness that belonged only to this room, she shifted. She didn't try to slip out of bed or run to the precinct early. Instead, she slid her own arm around you, pulling you flush against her chest, letting herself fully settle into your space. She buried her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you.

When you stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy hum of contentment at her closeness, Lin didn't pull away or make an excuse about her schedule. She tightened her grip just a little, a low, soft rumble of a sigh escaping her chest as she kissed the skin behind your ear.

"Mmm... Lin?" you mumbled sleepily, shifting to face her, your eyes blinking open to meet hers. "Are you okay?"

Lin looked down at you, her expression more open than you had ever seen it, a gentle, genuine warmth radiating from her dark eyes. "Yeah," she whispered, her voice soft and entirely unhurried. "I'm okay. Stay right here. We've got time."

She leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, finally basking entirely in your warmth.

Finally allowing herself to be held, and to hold in return.

Author's Note

The silver training dome was freezing, filled with a heavy morning mist that rolled off the Zaofu peaks and turned the metal floors slick. Kuvira stood at the center of the ring, her breath turning into thick white puffs in the crisp air. She snapped her wrists forward, sending a heavy sheet of silver rippling across the floor and locking it into a perfect defensive shield. Her form was flawless, but her mind was completely somewhere else.

Ever since her world had fallen apart, Kuvira had believed love was a mistake. She had seen how it left people weak, and her past relationship with Baatar Jr. had ended in total ruin. She had built a massive wall around her heart, swearing never to let anyone get close enough to hurt her again.

Except for you.

You were sitting on a bench at the edge of the arena, wrapped tightly in a coat, a clipboard resting on your lap. Every few minutes, you would look up from your logs to give her a warm, encouraging smile. You didn't demand anything from her. You just showed up every day, treating her with a gentle kindness that made her entire defense mechanism crumble. You were the only exception to her rule, and it terrified her.

With a heavy thud, Kuvira slammed her hands down, sending the metal shields back into the floor. She stood panting for a moment, her knuckles raw and red from the cold, before she forced herself to turn toward you.

"Your pacing is ahead of schedule today, Kuvira," you called out, standing up from the bench. You tucked the clipboard under your arm and rubbed your gloved hands together. "But I think we should call it a morning. The temperature is dropping, and you've been at it for hours."

Kuvira watched you step onto the cold metal floor. The familiar, dizzying shyness flared up in her chest, making her throat tighten. She wanted to act like the unshakeable leader she used to be, but the reality of your presence made her insides feel like a melted forge. She forced her shoulders back, stepping directly into your path to stop you before her courage failed.

"I can keep going," Kuvira said, her voice dropping into a low, quiet cadence that still carried a natural weight. But as she stopped just inches away from you, her eyes caught the slight tremor in your shoulders. A sudden, bright prickle of heat rushed up her neck, her stern look instantly cracking. "But... you're shivering. Your lips are literally turning blue. You're supposed to be taking care of me, but you're freezing yourself out here."

You blinked up at her, caught entirely off guard by how close she was standing. "Oh. I'm fine, really. I just forgot my scarf in the main building—"

"Stop," Kuvira murmured. The word was quiet, but it had an absolute, unyielding weight that cut you off instantly.

Before you could speak up again, she reached out. Her frame completely blocked the biting mountain wind from hitting your face. She slid her calloused fingers beneath the high lapels of your coat to pull them tighter. But the moment her knuckles accidentally brushed against the soft, warm skin of your jawline, Kuvira's breath hitched. A deep crimson blush flooded her cheeks, completely betraying her tough expression.

Her hands trembled slightly as she tried to fix your collar, her fingers suddenly feeling incredibly clumsy.

"Just... just stay still for a second," she stammered slightly, her voice cracking a bit before she forced it back into a low, firm tone. She looked down at your face, her green eyes wide and intensely focused, dark with a raw longing she was desperately trying to hide. "You're too reckless. You'll catch a cold out here..."

"Kuvira, it's just a little wind," you whispered, your own heart suddenly skipping a beat.

Being this close to her was overwhelming. You could feel the intense heat radiating off her skin, and she smelled like jasmine and cedarwood. You didn't realize she was completely infatuated with you; you just felt incredibly small and intensely protected under her magnetic gaze.

"I'm the one talking right now," Kuvira corrected softly, her jaw clenching as she fought down the wave of shyness that made her want to run away. She placed her warm palms flat against your shoulders, holding you firmly in place so you couldn't move away from her. Her thumbs instinctively smoothed over the thick fabric of your coat, a deeply affectionate gesture hidden under a firm hold. "You're going straight to the sitting room. You're going to sit right by the fire, and you're going to stay there while I make you some ginger tea. Understood?"

Her words weren't military commands anymore, but they were still entirely hers, firm, direct, and completely unyielding. She was using her natural dominance to force you to take care of yourself, all while trying to hide how flustered she was by being so close to you.

You swallowed hard, your own face flushing a soft pink as you looked into her intense green eyes. "Yeah. I get it, Kuvira."

A tight, relieved breath escaped Kuvira's nose, turning into a faint cloud of white in the cold air. The corners of her lips twitched upward into a tiny smile before she caught herself and put her serious mask back on. She slowly let her hands slide off your shoulders, though she didn't step back, keeping you enveloped in her space.

"Good," she murmured, her voice vibrating with a low tone that sent a strange flutter straight through your chest. "Go inside. I don't want to have to tell you twice."

She turned on her heel, her stride stiff and formal as she marched toward the equipment racks to clear her training gear. But the exact second her back was turned to you, completely out of your line of sight, Kuvira tightly closed her eyes and buried her burning face in her hands. A soft, completely defeated groan escaped her lips, her heart hammering a frantic, fast rhythm against her ribs. She was entirely, hopelessly slipping, and she had absolutely no idea how she was going to survive making that tea without completely giving herself away.

The kitchen of the Beifong estate was warm, smelling of roasted spices and morning pastries. It was usually a busy place, but at this hour, it was empty..except for Kuvira.

She stood at the heavy marble counter, still in her green earth toned training tunic. Her jaw was clamped tightly, and her green eyes were fixed intensely on a root of ginger.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

The heavy iron cleaver came down with a rhythmic, aggressive force that was way too much for making a simple pot of tea. With every slice, she felt that burning heat flare right back up her neck. Her mind was a total mess, stuck on a loop of how your skin had felt against her knuckles and the way your lips had parted when she stood too close to you back in the dome.

“I’m the one talking right now,” she had said. Kuvira groaned out loud, her face flushing an even deeper shade of red. 'Why did I say that? Why couldn't I just ask her normally? Why did every single interaction turn into me bossing her around like she was a fresh recruit?' Kuvira internally scolded herself in her head again, something she's been doing so frequently.

Thwack!

"You know, the ginger didn't do anything to hurt you," a smooth, relaxed voice called out from the doorway.

Kuvira jumped, her grip slipping on the handle of the cleaver. She snapped her back straight, her eyes widening in panic as she turned around. Suyin was leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in a comfortable silver robe, a cup of morning tea already in her hand. She was looking at Kuvira with pure amusement.

"Su," Kuvira blurted out, her voice slightly higher than usual before she forced it back down. She quickly set the heavy knife on the cutting board and wiped her hands nervously on a towel. "I'm just making some tea to help warm up."

"Right. Tea," Su repeated, stepping into the kitchen with a soft laugh. She walked over, peering over Kuvira’s shoulder at the perfectly thin, identical slices of ginger. "And here I thought you were trying to punish the root for existing. Kuvira, look at you. Your hands are literally shaking."

"They're not shaking," Kuvira muttered defensively. She quickly crossed her arms and tucked her hands away to hide the exact tremor Su was pointing out. She looked away, staring intensely at a copper pot hanging from the ceiling to avoid Su's eyes. "It's freezing today. My hands are just stiff."

"Uh-huh," Su murmured, a knowing smile spreading across her face. She reached out, picking up one of the ginger slices and tossing it into a pot of water sitting on the stove. "And I suppose that bright red blush taking over your face is just a symptom of the cold weather too?"

Kuvira closed her eyes tightly, letting out a heavy, defeated breath. It was useless to lie to Su.

"I talked to her badly," Kuvira confessed softly, her serious facade completely crumbling into a quiet whisper. She looked down at the marble counter, her thumb tracing a groove in the stone. "She was shivering, Su. Instead of just telling her to go inside, I... I pinned her to the spot. I grabbed her coat. I told her to stop talking and ordered her to go to the sitting room. I sounded...ridiculous."

Su couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips, though she quickly softened it when she saw the genuine, awkward shame in Kuvira's eyes. She placed a gentle, comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder.

"Kuvira, you didn't sound ridiculous. Well.. Maybe just a little bit..." Su said gently. "You've spent years hiding behind rules and armor. Now that you're letting yourself feel something like this, your brain is just defaulting to what it knows. You're trying to look out for her."

"It's not right," Kuvira whispered, her jaw clenching as her usual guilt reared its head. "She's my caretaker. She's here because the court ordered her to help me rehabilitate. It's not fair for me to force my... my clumsy attitude on her. She doesn't see a partner, Su. She sees a patient."

"Is that what you think?" Su asked softly, tilting her head. She squeezed Kuvira's shoulder, nudging her to look up. "Because from what I've seen, she doesn't look at you like a chore at all. She cares about you, Kuvira. You're the one building these walls. Not her." Su gently reminded. No matter how much Su assures her, Kuvira would still default back to that mindset again unfortunately.

Kuvira swallowed hard, looking at the steaming pot of water. "I just don't know how to do this. How to talk to someone normally without giving them a task or a job to do."

"You start by bringing her that tea," Su smiled, sliding a ceramic mug across the counter toward her. "Go sit with her. Don't give her orders. Just sit next to the fire, tell her you're sorry for being bossy, and just talk to her. Can you do that?"

Kuvira stared at the mug, her heart doing a nervous, fluttery flip against her ribs. She gave Su a small nod.

"I can try.."

"Good," Su said, giving her shoulder one last pat before turning toward the door. "Oh, and Kuvira? Leave the heavy knife in here. You've done enough chopping for one day."

With a playful smile, Su stepped out of the kitchen, leaving Kuvira alone with the bubbling water. Kuvira let out a long, shaky breath, carefully pouring the hot ginger tea into the tea cups. Her hands were still trembling, but as she picked up the small tray and turned toward the residential sitting room where you were waiting, she resolved to try and just be herself—even if it meant letting you see how nervous she really was.

Author's Note

I am on FIRE. This little mini scenario series is my all time favourites. As you guys know I'm a sucker for fluff and this is like an outlet for it. My most beloved Kuvira fans I hope you eat well with this one 😣

Don't forget to check out my master list for more content!