The Rules We Break

Ms. Sato was wearing vintage, round, large glasses today and it was killing Korra. How on spirit’s green Earth could she concentrate on the numerous equations on the blackboard? Especially when her teacher looked like a sexy secretary from a 70s magazine that Korra once found under her cousins’ beds. (Densa and Eska weren’t the best at hiding things).

Ms. Sato’s blouse could’ve had dancing elephants on it for all Korra cared, the cleavage that peeked out from the unbuttoned top zeroed Korra into the dainty, black lace of her teacher’s bra. She felt sick. The more sickening fact was how badly she wanted to fuck her third period mathematics teacher.

“Miss. Natatok?” Korra’s head snapped up, of course, Ms. Sato wouldn’t even give her the satisfaction of saying her first name. Only her fantasies heard the sound of Ms. Sato’s smooth pitch whispering ‘Korra’ over and over again.

“For what values of ‘unknown’ are to be considered unsuitable for this equation?” She bent slightly to indicate the equation on the blackboard, Korra found her eyes glued to the sheerness of her blouse. Watching as her back stretched under her teacher’s fabric. Two dimples on either side of her spine appeared on the woman’s arched hips above her pencil skirt.

Korra’s mouth went dry. She heard a cough behind her and saw her friend, Bolin, holding his fingers in a count of seven beneath his wooden desk.

“Seven,” Korra blurted while searching for a reason why.

Korra saw the negative integer on the right-hand side of the equation. She wasn’t genius by any means. But obtaining average marks and keeping up with her homework helped her in some lucky situations.

“Once you start to solve the equation for ‘unknown’, you must get it onto the left-hand side of the equation.” The cogs whirred and squashed Ms. Sato’s green eyes from her head.
“To do this you divide by the negative integer. This means once you factorise, they’ll always be a negative solution.” Her brow tightened as she surveyed the diagram before her.

“And what do we know about optimisation questions that regard the area of objects, Miss. Natatok?”

Ms. Sato’s lips looked like the succulent red of pomegranate seeds, held in creamy white skin. Her green eyes glinted in the afternoon sun. Ms. Sato leaned forward again to judge her next answer. The collar of her blouse slipped a bit to reveal a sharp collarbone. Korra almost fell forward off her chair to reach the interrogating woman.

“Because you can’t have negative measurements, therefore, the ‘unknown’ cannot be negative seven, it must be five?”

The teacher reverted to her original position and smiled, her cupid’s bow quirked upwards and seemed to shoot Korra straight in the heart.
“Correct, well done, although next time, Mr. Zhang should refrain on giving you a head start.” Bolin jerked up from his snoozing position on his desk. Korra blushed until her dark skin resembled bronze.

The bell rang finally, a bit too late to have saved Korra from her embarrassing moment, but appreciated, none the less.

“Ms. Natatok, may we speak, please?” Korra froze in the midst of packing her bag. She remained in that position until all the students has filtered out of the classroom. Ms. Sato procured a piece of graded homework Korra recognised as her doing a few nights prior. She passed it to Korra with a concerned look on her face. Their hands touched and Korra felt a jolt of electricity reach up her arm. Ms. Sato’s hand remained daintily on hers for a split second.

“Is everything alright, here, at school?”

Korra’s mouth dropped open, was her teacher, concerned about her? Rational thoughts told Korra she was simply doing her job, a more hopeful desire wanted Ms. Sato to notice her, it made her feel like a silly school-girl. She shuffled with the paper she was handed and glanced down. Her grade was a little higher than her average. I thought that was a good thing...

“You always seem studious from your papers, however, during class you’re failing to participate or even concentrate.” Her eyes stared intently at Korra, jade-green and brimming with concern.

“Is there somebody, perhaps, in this mathematics class, that’s bothering you, either for answering questions or making you scared to come to school?” The students mouth hung open like a goldfish, so the teacher continued.

“I’ve heard from your other teachers that you’re very forthcoming in the rest of your classes. I can also hear and see how liked and admired you are by your peers. So, I’m struggling to see why your lack of focus appears, does someone give you a hard time about your academics?”

Korra was trying to figure out how to excuse and explain herself. This excuse would preferably avoid any incriminating, lustful scenarios Korra liked to imagine in depth during their algebra lessons. Ms. Sato took Korra’s silence in a different direction.

“If you do not understand my method of teaching please let me know, I will adjust my ways accordingly. However, if you wished to be placed with another teacher-”

“No!” Burst Korra. She scratched her neck sheepishly. “I really like you teaching me. I just get anxiety about mathematics. It was never my strong suit, so I didn’t try, and it’s taken me awhile to get the grades I’m getting now. I’m just afraid?” (that seemed plausible). “Yes, I’m afraid of letting my confidence get me down if I get a question wrong in front of the class. It all just going,” Korra animated a boom exploding with her hands, complete with sound effects just to prove her inability to act around her crush.

This was partly true. Maths really wasn’t her preferred subject, by a long shot. She did feel embarrassed if she got an answer wrong. The truth was, though, she loved contributing in class, only if she could say something to Ms. Sato that didn’t involve an outcome of cringe, and end with Korra screaming into her pillow before bed. So, she didn’t say anything. Maybe, if she stopped looking at her teacher’s long, silky hair and looked past her, to the blackboard, she could spout some intelligent jargon.

After a few more ramblings of the lack of bullies and an abundance of good teachers in her life, Ms. Sato finally dismissed her. After wishing Korra good luck for her upcoming football game, Korra entered the cafeteria well into the beginning of lunch.

As she wandered through a few friend’s gestured to seats beside them, but Korra politely declined with a grin. She made her way towards Bolin and Mako. Korra plopped down and realised a breath of air that could’ve started a tornado.

“How bad?” Bolin chuckled.

When Korra explained that she was crushing on Ms. Sato so hard she thought her distracted attitude in class was due to bullying, Bolin and Mako howled with laughter and even Korra let out a wolfish grin and chuckle.

She couldn’t help herself. When Ms. Sato had been placed in the year-long position at the start of Korra’s final year she didn’t think women like her existed outside her imagination. She looked like Hollywood women in the black and white movies Korra used to watch with her parents on VCR. Long eyelashes and a transatlantic accent that would leave Korra up late at night, wondering why she thought about their looks and speech well into the night. Now Korra was older and she knew exactly why, but by spirits, Korra didn’t know what to do about her brain being filled with her ‘camera-ready’ teacher.

-----

When Asami Sato took the temporary teacher’s position at the local school, her motives weren’t exactly to ‘educate the future.’ In fact, the only future Asami was interested in was her Father’s company, ‘Future Industries.’ After completing her double major in engineering and business (top of her class, of course), Hiroshi was still not convinced.

He had told her over dinner one night that before her training started with him, she must learn how to train others. It was a ‘improve leadership skills’ kind of conversation, and it only seemed that her Father was highlighting her inexperience. Asami didn’t give a flying fuck and wanted to get behind the panel desk or into the workshop. However, Hiroshi said that in order to fully understand her passion she should be able to explain it in the simplest terms, she must also know how to work with others and not take their emotions for granted.

Asami at first thought she’d be given a place at the UN, bringing peace to the middle east sounded like a job with ‘emotion-dealing’ and leadership skills; her father had the contacts. Her hopeful thoughts were quickly dismantled to anger at the acceptance of a job on her Father’s behalf. Not at the United Nations, but to teach judgmental teenagers for a year.

Now, Asami had come to enjoy it, not enough to stay. However, her students were pleasant enough and respected her. The staff were quaint and polite if you got over their wild-side when it came to decorating classrooms and moderating marking.

What Asami did not enjoy was the fact she was ogling over a student. It had barely been a day when Korra Natatok had walked into her class with her baggy sweats and baggy blue tank top and oh, it was a problem. Now, Asami was worried because weeks later it seemed Korra was catching onto her. Asami’s quick and numerous glances may have begun to be noticed, because Korra had stopped talking and participating in class, perhaps out of awkwardness.

Asami could see Korra was liked. She was either a massive blackhole, defying the laws of physics and sucking everyone in a close vicinity towards her. Or she was a bright, fierce star that make everyone stare in wonder at her smile and infectious laughter. Asami was trying not to be drawn into either of Korra’s cosmic wonders.

It was challenging though, for spirits sake she was only human. This flaw was showing more and more as global temperature risings caused Korra to turn up to school in tank tops that gave emphasis to her defined biceps, back and shoulder muscles, not to mention her forearms. ‘Asami Sato ends global warming, all to stop the appearance of muscled forearms.’ That would be her next project if she didn’t die before term ended, killed by Korra’s icy blue gaze.

Saturday’s quickly became Asami’s favourite day. She would get up early to go for a run past the school, just in time to catch a glimpse of Korra’s football playing. She had just this morning saw Korra during a game, lifting her shirt to wipe her brow. Her form stretched to reveal tight abdominal muscles and Asami nearly ran into a power pole.
Next, she would volunteer at the mechanics shop downtown. Her reward for helping with an odd oil change, taillight replacements, and windshield-wiper adjustments was keeping her tinkering hands busy. It was also the opportunity to work on the garage’s second hand 1999 Porsche Cayman, which, frankly, Asami would’ve paid to work on. She was a doozy of a fixer-upper, one too many problems with the rebooting of the engine from the previous owner had left it in a pitiful condition.

Asami was attempting not to get electrocuted by the changing the spark plugs when a voice sent shivers down her spine, it had nothing to do with the live wires.
“Hi, I know you guys don’t do bikes but- hey, Ms. Sato, getting dirty I see?”

Asami looked down and saw she was wearing the filthiest grease-top she owned, complete with tight, black jeans. She cursed but managed to plaster her face with a smile as she faced her student.

Korra was in her baggy football top and shorts, complete with the school’s logo on the breast. The framing pieces of her short bob were plastered to her forehead, and her biceps glinted as she gripped a busted, blue bike.

“Hello Miss. Natatok, you’ve discovered my secret, I volunteer here.” Asami chuckled, flipping her long ponytail to see her student clearly.

“We’re out of school now, Ms. Sato, you can call me Korra.” The girl smiled while throwing her teacher a friendly wink. Asami went red and wished she could just crawl under a car and let its suspension fail.

“Korra, what on Earth happened to your bike?”

The tanned girl laughed good-naturedly and explained how her chain busted while braking to avoid a cat. She ended up hitting a rock, and sending the bike, and the girl herself, tumbling. During this confession Asami was already taking the bike and assessing the loose chain, crooked handles, and the angular seat.

Asami’s hands lifted a screwdriver to re-position the seat and Korra had to talk at a million miles an hour to stop thinking about the word screw in front of her mathematics-turned-mechanic teacher. The way her fingers slid along the bike’s matte finish and put her hands on the seat where Korra had been sitting on twenty minutes ago put the girl into a state of madness.

Korra was experienced when it came to both women and men. She had dated Mako a few years ago which they deemed ‘the time we don’t talk about’. They had gone far enough that Korra knew how it felt to be turned on, she had also seen enough to avoid eye-contact with Mako for a solid three months after they broke up. Her time with girls had been different. Her run in with a pretty girl at football camp last summer had caused Korra to discover the term, ‘pillow princess’. Korra was able to get lots of practice when it came to pleasing women, but it also meant the girl didn’t do much with her. Korra had learnt over sweaty bunk beds and summer heat to be turned on by her own actions, not just by others.

All in all she knew what it meant when she felt the pull in her gut. Ms. Sato made her feel similar to her summer-fling desire, but contradictory in a completely different way.
Instead of a slight pull in her lower stomach, Korra ached when the woman’s long lashes fluttered, and green eyes stared in her direction. Her panties were soaked just by her imagination, a first in her life. The way Ms. Sato seemed so forbidden may have been a cause to Korra’s overwhelming emotion. The all-consuming matter seemed to scare Korra, especially because this had developed over a few weeks in a classroom environment. This gave Korra very few chances to talk to her teacher about anything but homework, to even get to know her.

“You look pretty today-” Korra’s face froze into a blush when she realised she had said the statement aloud.

Asami did not seem perturbed at all. “Thank you, Korra,” She wiped her brow and finished the last touch-up of the seat before moving to reattach the chain. “I’m afraid with my greasy shirt, I actually look quite the mess.”

“No way, more like Danny Zuko, the garage scene even fits,”

“Who? I don’t volunteer here to ‘fit the scene’.”

“Danny Zuko? Grease lightning?” Korra performed a short and off key rendition that sent Asami into a fit of laughter. She looked up from her work to find Korra in a dramatic end-pose with a smug look on her face.

“My student is a complete dork.” Asami laughed dryly, gazing at Korra briefly.

“Your favourite student.”

“I don’t have favourites.” She said, not bothering to glance up from the bike.

“Why do you keep tabs on me? Afraid your favourite student is having a hard time at school Ms. Sato.” Asami fought the shiver at Korra rolling her surname in her mouth. Her slightly chapped but smooth and plump looking mouth.

Asami muttered something about her duty as a teacher. Korra shrugged in belief, but Asami knew the lie in her own words. She was noticing Korra, for all the wrong reasons.
They continued their banter until Asami had not only fixed the required parts, but had straightened the spokes, oiled and rewired the gears to a new sophistication, polished the knobs, and reinforced the brakes. Asami had bumped its abilities up into a new model. Korra almost squealed when she jumped on the bike and it rode like she had just brought a new one.

The glee and appreciation in Korra’s glaze made Asami squirm as she imagined bringing that face to Korra again and again, although not in the garage. She let her hair out of its tight ponytail to hide her blush.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Sato.” Korra said, flustered after a test-ride down the block. Without thinking she flung herself into the taller woman’s arms.

Warmth filled Asami’s frame as the athlete clutched onto her back and threaded one of her hands into the back of the girl’s silky hair. Asami hung on weakly as her fingers skimmed taut, back muscles that rippled as Korra shifted slightly in her arms.

Asami smelt like jasmine and the addicting scent of car grease. Her skin was smooth beneath her thin white top, and Korra could hear her breath hitch into a slight whimper of surprise. A mind-numbing heat filled Korra and her panties within her football shorts began to grow damp.

Korra blushed, ashamed of basically finishing in her sports uniform while hugging her teacher. She pulled away as her face bloomed rose gold. Meeting alluring green eyes, surrounding the widening darkness of Ms. Sato’s pupils.

Asami missed the salty and sea-like quality of her scent when Korra pulled away. The smell of rain on driftwood made her head fog up like an abandoned lighthouse. She untangled herself as her student shot back. Her eyes held the pale green and grey-blue tinge of a stormy sea. Her irises slightly hidden by the large, black center of her gaze. A black hole. Asami tentatively stepped backwards to avoid being dragged into Korra’s universe.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Sato, what do I owe you?” Korra stared nervously.

Students hugged Asami all the time. She had comforted a girl before her calculus test begun, hugged a student when one more assignment became too much, she had even hugged Korra’s friend, Bolin, after a particularly hard lunchtime tutoring session. Asami did not understand why she knew Korra was apologising. This affection felt different, charged. Asami brushed off the notion. Korra said sorry only because she’d never hugged her teacher before, or she was apologising for the way she reacted when she felt so happy over her fixed bike. But Asami had a niggling feeling it was for the things they both felt during their display.

Asami cleared her throat, “No need to apologise, I get hugged by students more than you think, I’m just that great of a teacher.” Asami brushed off, winking. “As for the bike, you get a student discount, that makes your fee zero dollars.”

Korra assumed her actual charge would’ve been worth about three hours of coaching the junior football league. Or two hours of game refereeing. These hobbies paid fairly but were grueling.

“No way, I’m paying you.”

“You can pay me by paying more attention in class.” Asami countered. “Try answer something without me having to force you.”

Korra chuckled and rubbed the back of her neck. Her arms bulged slightly.

“Will do.” She paused as if to consider what she’d be saying before smiling wolfishly. “Only for my favourite teacher.”

As Korra hopped on her bike and peddled away, calling goodbye as she went, Asami waited until she had turned the corner to sink into a puddle on the floor. Korra’s grin when announcing Asami as her favourite teacher cemented in her mind. Asami definitely had favourite students, for the wrong reasons.

------

Weeks passed by and Korra was keeping her word about participating in class more. It was killing Asami. She now got to see the side all of the teachers in the staff room talked about. The, ‘My, Korra was an absolute joy in biology today,’ side. The, ‘Korra was a brilliant student today, volunteering to clean the blackboard after class with her friends,’ side. This kindness is what seemed to make Korra one of the most popular girls in school. Asami could see a few girls’ blush as the tanned girl leant over her friend’s desk, trying to explain integration during Ms. Sato’s math class.

Asami chewed her lip as Korra’s hand clenched the girl’s desk in the front row, leaning over her with a pencil tucked behind her hair. She was pointing at the grid paper and murmured something that made her student, Opal’s green eyes sparkle and her hair, a little shorter than Korra’s, was thrown back in laughter. Korra chuckled from her bent position over the desk, and Asami could see her muscles under her tank top.

Korra called to her and met the teacher’s eyes, Asami felt like keening over. With her back bent in a horizontal position and head angled up to meet her, Korra’s icy blue eyes seemed to stare straight into her. Her smooth, brown hair reached the strong line of her jaw bones and fell in a shaggy, carefree manor. Her express held such a cool control that Asami got lost and had to ask Miss. Natatok to repeat her question. Korra’s chin tilted up slightly and Asami was gone. That’s when the dreams started.

Asami started having imaginations at night of Korra’s angled head looking up at her from between her legs. In her dreams Asami would clutch her hair and Korra would groan, looking up at Asami with the same cool and controlled look from class. Asami would call out her name in the darkness of her bedroom and wake up flustered.

This had to stop, she needed a distraction. A distraction is exactly what Iroh gave.

They’d met at a staff convention with the institution’s sister-school. He taught gym and had the body to show for it, but his eyes were amber and lacked the cool tones of Korra’s. He was polite when it came to everything, the waiters at the restaurants they ate at, the taxi driver they took back to Asami apartment, and the sex. Asami would be kidding herself to say it was good. His rhythm was disjointed and too shallow, his kisses were slightly too wet, and how little he paid attention to Asami’s needs showed.

In fact, Asami got more satisfaction from her dreams of Korra, because in her imagination, Korra did exactly what Asami needed without asking. Asami tried to switch up her and her boyfriend’s positions, but she always ended up on her back, trying not to show a grimace in Iroh’s actions. She had asked him one desperate night to pull her hair. The poor man acted like it was a request to hold a gun to her head. Embarrassed, Asami didn’t bring it up again.

-----

They were entering the movies for a date when they saw Bolin and Korra. They were waiting in line for the upcoming horror show, and when they saw the two teachers, they ushered them over to their place in the line. Asami could’ve sworn there was a suspicious glint in Korra’s eyes.

“Miss. Natatok, Mr. Zhang, it’s good to see you, you’re here for the horror movie, if I’m correct?” Korra groaned in response as they moved up the line.

“Bolin’s dreading it,” Korra replied, “I only came so I could support Bolin so he wouldn’t be too scared. He wanted a chance to talk to Opal, this is the only shift she’s working this week.” She signalled with her thumb over her shoulder the cashier, Opal, Asami recognised as one of her students.

Bolin grew red and was about to protest when Korra looked between Asami and her partner.

“I thought you didn’t like horror movies, Ms. Sato?” Korra recalled a conversation about movies they had had while Asami was busy fixing her bike. The student’s recall flattered Asami in a way it shouldn’t have.

“Yes, but my-” Asami flushed when she didn’t quite know how to introduce her, ‘occasional date and fuck’ partner.

“Sorry it’s all my fault.” Iroh stepped forward, pushing past Asami, “I dragged my girlfriend here because I love them too much.”

Korra’s face drew blank and Bolin gave her a slightly pitiful look. Asami, confused, looked just as Korra turned away. There was a glint in her eyes that was slightly angry, and it sparked something in Asami’s core.

They moved up and watched Opal’s face light up as she talked to Bolin and Korra. Bolin stuttering and having to swipe his card three times to pay because this large hands were shaking. Opal took this action as adorable and squeezed Bolin’s hand before they left, winking before saying she would see them on Monday.

As Bolin all but squealed on their way to their cinema seats, Asami and Iroh were right behind them. Asami had brought her students some popcorn to share and they expressed their gratitude and invited the couple to sit by them.

Asami took her seat between Korra and Iroh and they chattered while the advertisements whirred. Korra seemed slightly distant, but Asami brushed it off as being distracted by the ads. When the movie started and the screen filled with dark lighting and cobwebs, Bolin’s face turned pale and the popcorn box he was holding started rattling.

“I think I’m ‘gonna be sick.” He muttered, “Why’d Opal have to be working while this movie was playing.”

Asami felt the same, she gripped the ends of her chair and begun to feel slightly nauseated as a creature appeared to drag away the heroine into the woods.

Throughout the movie, Asami regretted sitting next to her students in such a vulnerable state, her knees bounced up and down as her body desperately fought to get away. She had reviewed the internet’s critiques when Iroh told her they would be watching the film. ‘5 scares out of 5’ was no understatement.

Halfway into the movie, a gore-filled jump scare propelled Asami’s hand into Iroh’s and squeezed. He looked at her amusedly before shaking his hand out of her grasp and muttering.

“Your hand’s sweaty, the movie’s not even real, silly.”

Asami’s ears burned and she tried to block out her embarrassment by focusing on the film. This proved to be the worst thing to do as the dark cinema began to close around her and she telescoped into the brutal sight of a woman being slaughtered.

Asami, ripped from her mother’s arms. Her father wasn’t home. Two men in black ski masks held her mother from her grasp. Blood dripping onto the dark oak floors of the house. Screams Asami still couldn’t decipher as hers or her mother’s. Cackling, evil, men telling her that this was a message for her father.

She couldn’t breathe. Asami panted quietly in the dark movie-room, unable to shake the images of her past from her head. She was going to die. She was going to see her mother. Her knuckles were white and tearing the arm rests of the upholstery seats.

Asami felt a cool hand cover hers and looked up to see Korra’s face painted with concern. Her thumbs rubbed calming circles over the back of Asami’s hands, urging her to relax. As Asami’s grip on the seats loosened Korra pressed their palms together and interwove their fingers, squeezing slightly before relaxing to massage the junction of Asami’s fingers, between her thumb and index.

Asami felt her knees relax and her vision widen and clear. When she realised the affect Korra’s calming nature had on her she flushed slightly. She leant over and whispered.

“My hands are sweaty, I’m sorry, I’m being silly.”

Despite wanting to be attached to Korra’s hand, Asami went to draw away. However, Korra brought their hands together and her other hand up, squeezing both of her hands in Asami’s for a brief second. She them brought her other arm down, and left their hands intertwined on the arm rest between them. Korra chuckled into the darkness and heat brushed against Asami’s ear.

“No, they’re not, and you’re not being silly.” She turned slightly to look Asami in the eye, “Being scared makes you human, nothing silly in that.”

Bolin whimpered beside Korra, making both her and Asami smile. Korra reached over and grabbed Bolin’s hand with her other arm, she held them both to her lap as they continued to watch the movie.

------

Despite being secretly furious at Iroh for dragging her to a gore-y horror film, especially after telling him about her past, Asami decided to push her anger aside and instead asked Korra to help decorate her classroom for Halloween.

The brown-haired girl grinned eagerly at the request and had emailed Ms. Sato three inspiration boards she saw online, something Korra’s parents did to make their house each year look like a ‘Halloween vision’.

Korra watched Asami as she painted papier-mache pumpkins to go at the foot of her desk. Her black hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and the painter’s frock Asami had borrowed, covered her usual pencil skirt and blouse. As the weather chilled, stockings were added to Ms. Sato’s dressing routine, and a warm coat atop her blazer.

“Ms. Sato?”

“Yes, Korra?”

“Since you call me by my first name when we’re alone, can I call you by yours?”

Asami chuckled and looked up at Korra as she strung cobwebs into the corners of her classroom. Her clothes had changes from loose tank tops, thank god, to boyfriend jeans and long sleeve crop tops, covered by the football team jackets that looked like 1950’s American football jock uniforms. Hers was blue with the letter ‘K’ at the front, and the beige leather looked very fitting amongst the changing leaves.

“I hardly think that’s appropriate.” Asami answered dryly.

“Can you at least tell me? I’m your favourite student, after all.”

Ms. Sato scoffed and rolled her eyes, Korra’s laughed tinkled in amongst the small sheet-ghosts, hanging from the ceiling.

“Asami,” Ms. Sato revealed, “But not a word to the other students.”

Korra chuckled, professing that her secret was safe with her, and Asami felt a certain level of trust in that statement.

The teacher walked to Korra and craned her neck up, “It better be, Korra, I have connections.” She said jokingly, before swiping the orange paintbrush over Korra’s art-smock.
Korra laughed evilly before jumping down from the ladder and leaning close.

“You don’t think I do, too?” Korra whispered, so close to Asami it made her knees turn to jelly.

Korra straightened with a glint in her eye and pounced on Asami, splattering her cream-coloured cheeks with an orange glow.

They laughed and Korra used her thumb to wipe the paint-residue off Asami’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Asami.” She confessed, staring into her green eyes in earnest, before grinning and grabbing more cobwebs.

“So are you, Korra.” She muttered to the empty space in front of her, not loud enough for the tanned girl to hear.

-----

Korra’s birthday was in that uncertain bridge between Christmas and New Years. This meant her parties comprised of a birthday cake made of leftover Christmas ham, and regifted presents. It also meant once she got older, high school kids were sick of their families and needed a night out. This night out was being thrown at Bolin and Mako’s house (at their argent requests). Their parents were to be away until New Year’s Eve at a far off ski resort, which meant Korra’s guest list had grown exponentially.

Korra considered graphing these functions just to make Asami laugh. She thought about Asami a lot over the holidays, mainly how much she missed the dry wit of her teacher.

“Hey, Kor, should we just leave these jello-shots outside? It might be colder than the fridge.” Bolin laughed.

“We’ve already sworn all our neighbours to secrecy, stop making it harder for them not to call our parents!” Mako yelled from the beer pong table he was setting up. His voice travelled past the door and onto the yard in which Bolin was standing, jello-shot moulds laden in his arms.

The two friends laughed at their sour-puss companion before continuing to set up for the arrival of guests. The house was expected to be filled to the brim so Korra only shrugged on a blue polo and baggy jeans. To her dismay, Bolin had gifted her a bright, shiny blue birthday hat, which he insisted she wore.

The throng of the party was a tangy heat. People were dancing around the living room and drunk kisses were being exchanged in corners. The music pounded through the stereos and throbbed a delighting drum in Korra’s head.

Eighteen felt so right in the jostling party space, among the chattering humanity of her peers. Eighteen was the age for stupid decisions, like party tattoos and blackout nights. Korra felt so extremely alive, she could feel every cell vibrate as she danced with her friends and strangers alike. Swinging to a heavy beat and shouting that they were here.

The first shots were the best. They were blue and tasted anything but cool. The liquid burned and ignited a fire in the pit of Korra’s chest, she roared and felt she could breathe fire, the crowd cheered behind her and sung happy birthday.

The next glasses were pounded onto the table in quick succession. Korra was halfway through a rendition of an old pop song, swaying with Mako and Bolin in between her when they all hit. Her vision fuzzed around the edges and saturated the party lights strobing around the room.

After both winning and losing a game of beer pong with her teammate, Kuvira, who claimed to have lost the first game on purpose to drink more, (but who really enjoyed beer at eighteen), Korra was utterly gone to her senses. That’s why the visions started to get scarily close to reality.

Every time Korra sat down she imagined headlights coming toward her from the back seat of her parent’s old car. So, Korra coped by never letting her butt touch a seat. She was the life of the party, all right, but only because if she weren’t she felt she wouldn’t live. She thought a few more drinks might get her passed the, ‘I’m hallucinating trauma’ stage, but nothing seemed to work.

The party had shut down completely by cops as a neighbour finally snitched in the very late of very early twilight hours of the morning. Mako, Bolin and Korra sat on benches, still utterly out of their minds and giggling uncontrollably at everything said, (even Mako, surprisingly).

Korra had just had the thought strung together that she was fine when she heard the loud sound of a car’s horn pierce into her soul.

She couldn’t open her eyes but she could see the flash of yellow headlights. The world was twisting upside down, the gravity encouraged their plummet. She heard her parents screaming and the world freeing her, it felt as free as being eighteen. The car crashed onto the boulders and Korra felt a tight pressure on her legs. She looked down to see she was face down in the rocks with the car’s roof taking the brunt of the impact, and Korra’s legs.

Her legs. She couldn’t feel them. She didn’t feel pain, only a tight pressure that seemed to nurse her into a state of shock.

She needed to move. Without answering the concerned voices of her friends, she shot from the bench and began to run. She couldn’t feel them even as she was running. They were working but Korra didn’t know how, they just kept taking her down streets, roads, around cul-de-sacs.

Korra was running across a road, uncontrollably when she heard the screech of brakes and headlights. A car door opened and slammed shut. Korra looked like a frightened, very drunk deer.

“Korra! Oh, my spirits, are you alright?” It was Asami. Looking like a guardian angel, silhouetted by the car headlights.

“Yeah… Spirits, I could use some of those, Asami.” Korra murmured, before slinking down and collapsing onto the road.

Asami was driving home from an unsatisfying hook up with Iroh when she almost hit a human. Not just any human, Korra, who was now tucked in and buckled up in Asami’s passenger seat. Asami was driving as fast as she dared to get Korra’s to hers safely.

Korra awoke with a cool hand pressing against her forehead. Her teacher looked like a dream and Korra was almost convinced that Asami had hit her. Tears involuntarily sprang in Korra’s blue eyes and tumbled down her cheeks. Asami’s thumb tilted to collect them before slipping her hand to cup Korra’s strong jawline. The tanned girl brought her hand to cover her teacher’s.

“I couldn’t feel my legs.” She slurred over Asami’s soft cooing. She realised this must be her bed. Jasmine and vanilla wafted from the abundance of pillows and comfy duvet.

“Can you feel them now?” Asami asked her, placing a hand onto Korra’s lower thigh from over the duvet, squeezing and rubbing gently. The girl nodded.

Korra’s breath hitched as she realised how close Asami was to her. Her dark hair was tumbling across one shoulder and hiding them in a thick curtain. One of her pale hands was cupping Korra’s cheek and the other was rested on her thigh. She was so close; it would be so easy to… Scenes flashed in Korra’s head of taking her teacher right there. Pressing her full mouth to hers, uncovering what she’s wanted to do for so long.

Asami sat, nursing Korra as she seemed to be getting more intoxicated. She still smelt salty, and so wonderfully soft where her hand meet the younger girl’s cheek.

It seemed lightning fast, Korra suddenly shot up until her button-nose brushed against Asami’s pale one. Their eyes met and breathing lingered, intermingling. What’s happening? It was all she could think as her jade eyes were drawn to Korra’s lips. Korra leant up on her elbows and rested her forehead on Asami’s.

“Tell me to stop,” Korra pleaded, searching those jade eyes for even a flicker of disgust, so she could pull away.

She’s my student, she’s under the influence, she’s barely of age. Yet she didn’t say a word of these excuses and continued to stare into those icy eyes.

Korra slowly sat up next to Asami, her head fell downwards.

“What have you done to me? You’re all I think about and I feel so silly, I feel just like a hopeless schoolgirl because I can’t get you out.”

Asami’s heart tore. Instinct guided her into Korra like the tide. She was leaning close to wipe away Korra’s tears once again, when soft lips pulled towards hers.

Butterflies exploded as Korra kissed her. It was hot and slick as their lips moulded. Strong hands found their way to Asami’s hips and thumbs gripped with just enough pressure to tug up a deep ache in her lower region. How was she perfect at this? Asami threaded her hands around Korra’s neck, and suddenly they were pulling each other closer. Korra was rubbing tiny patterns onto the small of Asami’s back. Groaning slightly into her red lips as they sucked at her bottom lip and soothed it was a searing kiss.

She could feel nothing but Korra, pressed against her and arching her back. Their breasts rubbing together upon contact and Asami felt her nipples show her arousal. She tasted like sea salt, with the aniseed of hot alcohol. Asami was addicted to the mewls and groans that sounded as her hand climbed the strong girl’s biceps and scaled up her neck before tugging her hair.

“Asami…” She moaned into her mouth, and Asami sobered like a splash of cold water.

“Get off.” She snarled harshly. Korra jumped back instantly, surprise coating her adorable features, before being replaced with an ashamed hurt.

“We can’t be doing this. I’m your teacher, you’re my student. The dynamic stays that way. You do not get to kiss me because you have a crush you can’t control!” But Asami was madder at herself. Letting herself go down this slippery slope, at the risk of not just her career, but her friendship.

“You kissed me back!” Korra raised her voice indignantly.

“And that was my mistake.” Asami turned coldly, “What’s your address? I’m dropping you home, now.”

Korra listed Bolin and Mako’s before going silent. She remained that way throughout the drive back, beginning to sober rapidly. Cold tears dripped down from her cheekbones; how could she be so stupid? Now her teacher knew about Korra’s crush, maybe she it was more than a crush at this point, and Asami didn’t even feel the same way, remotely.

The tense atmosphere only ended when Asami dropped Korra off a few doors from the house, dreading the headlines if she was caught letting her student out of her car so late at night. ‘Asami Sato, predator, set to take over Future Industries.’ She drove off like a thief in the night, Korra’s hopes and fantasies trapped in the passenger seat of her vehicle, with Korra left to trudge to her friends.

Bolin and Mako greeted her with panicked words and relieving hugs. Korra began to cry again, despite feeling numb. She told her friend’s she had just been running, she told them about the flashbacks she’d had. She should’ve felt bad about not admitting her rejection, but she didn’t even want to admit that to herself.

As she climbed into bed, she felt truly broken… Korra wished she were seventeen.