I'm not a big fan of Legend of Korra (I'm SO mad at Bryke and Korra isn't helping me forgive) but suddenly I've found myself inspired.

This story is the pairing Mako/OC. It is a collection of one-shots because I started and now I just can't stop. The OC is the princess of the Fire Nation, General Iroh II's younger sister (not daughter). I will probably be using more made up characters as the story progresses, but as I have never messed around with the LoK fandom, I don't know yet. Other pairings in this are Borra and Irosami, so if you have a problem with either of those, I'm sorry.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction and therefore the author claims no rights to any original content contained.

Enjoy!

Mako was stunned. Absolutely, utterly, inexplicably and uncomfortably stunned. It had been a long time since he'd found himself at a loss for words in any situation (he was a cutthroat detective and you don't become one of Republic City's finest by stumbling about tongue-tied), and the idea alone had his pulse slowing down in panic. Mako didn't do surprised or shocked and absolutely, positively, without a single doubt from the South Pole to the North, he did not do stunned.

Yet there he was, a day like any other, and his tongue sat useless in his throat as his eyes betrayed him.

He didn't even know why he was here. He was just a lowly cop (okay, so that was a lie—he was pretty high ranking these days, and there were even whispers that Beifong was going to name him successor if she didn't pick Pau instead). He had no business sitting in on the new Firelord's coronation. Iroh's coronation.

Okay, so maybe he did. He and Iroh had fought together during the Equalist rebellion and later in the North Pole (after stubbornly huffing and moaning about Korra being right for more than a month before finally giving in), so all in all he knew the guy fairly well. They weren't great friends, but they were on good terms with one another and even kept in contact when wartime was slow.

The truth was, he wasn't there for Iroh at all. The Firelord-to-be had expressed his indifference at the detective's presence (he didn't have a problem if he did show up, he just didn't much care one way or the other and Iroh, of everyone, definitely understood having more pressing—er, matters). He'd tried to use the indifference to his advantage, but he never did get his way.

Really, it was probably Asami's fault he was there. Despite their having broken up eight years prior (and dismissing that one time she kissed him and those one-or-two-okay-maybe-three times they hooked up right after he and Korra had gotten back together again), they had remained close friends all along, even when Asami went and married the man of the hour and future Fire Lord himself. Like 'poof', out of the blue, they were engaged—or at least that's how it seemed to Mako. Iroh had, at first, objected to the idea that Asami spent so much time with her ex-boyfriend but had given up that hurdle once the initial insecurity of the situation had ebbed—even if it still did make him uneasy, given the entire history of his wife and Mako that Mako knew-he-knew-about-because-of-how-he-sometimes-gla red-but-neither-would-say-a-thing-because-that-was -a-messy-can-of-worms-and-they-didn't-want-to-hate -eachother.

So it wasn't Asami's fault he was there after all. Truth be told, it was probably Korra's. The Avatar was the most forceful of his friends and wouldn't have let him stay at home in bed like he wanted to unless he was dying. Something about her wily and unconventional brash charm still struck that soft spot in his heart—not feelings though, because she was with Bolin now (and if local gossip heralded any merit, his little bro may have popped the question recently, though he hadn't confirmed that yet). What was it with him staying friends with his exes?

Bolin. It was definitely Bolin's fault he was there. The girls were great and awesome and fun and pushy-as-all-hell, but even five hundred Asamis and Korras couldn't hold the same sway over him that his puppy-eyed younger brother did. He just wanted Bolin to be happy, like he had his whole life, so if Bolin was willing to go through the length to pick out his suit and pout and beg Mako to come with them to Iroh's coronation, who was he to say no? It was just a party. He'd been through worse (like Bolin's mover premiere that one time he forgot to say no).

Only now that the was there and struck speechless, he wasn't so sure it could be worse. This was something he hadn't accounted for, something he wasn't ready to face or accept or—

"Some party, huh?" Damnit, no, he did not mean to say that—or anything. He was going to shut—clamp—his mouth and slink out the back of the room so that he could hail a cab and return to his apartment and climb back in bed where he knew Zhu Li would be waiting for him (she was so sweet like that, even if he didn't deserve it—though, she didn't really know that he didn't deserve it, so the point was moot).

Oh, Agni she was stunning. The petite young woman turned on the spot (so gracefully executed, though he could tell he'd startled her). Instantly, as had happened the second he'd seen her walk in with her parents and brother, he suddenly found himself in great need of a stiff drink—to wet his suddenly arid desert of a mouth. Her bright golden eyes shone in the hazy ballroom lighting and her translucent skin seemed to glow, ethereal. She looked like a goddess from the stories mother used to tell him and Bolin before she died when they were kids. She looked so unreal—so perfect—that he was almost sure she could shatter—

"I think it is rather boring, actually. Though I suppose for a commoner, it would seem quite the event."

His heart contracted. Maybe she was more likely to slice than she was to shatter.

The girl's eyes studied his face with an air of sharp concentration. "Actually," she drawled in that lilting, refined voice, "I recognize you from somewhere. I can't remember when or where, though."

"Iroh and Asami's wedding," Mako helped. It was the last time he'd been in the Fire Nation in five years.

"Oh, right," the princess smiled and dimples split her porcelain cheeks. "You're the city cop. Michi."

Mako's face fell. "It's Mako."

The petite girl narrowed her eyes in disbelief, as though he were lying to her. "No, it's not. I think I would have remembered if your name was Mako. It's definitely Michi."

"Well, it's definitely Mako," he insisted as an eyebrow hiked up. She was sassier that he'd imagined she would be—if he could remember more than just the stag party of the wedding, he probably wouldn't have been as surprised. "What makes you think you would have remembered it, since you obviously didn't?"

The princess laughed as she swiped a long tendril of silken black hair from her shoulder—he tried with all his might to not stare down the deep dip of her dress that so delicately highlighted her waist—and—surrounding assets. "Mako is the name of my pet pandog. If Mako was your name, I would have distinctly remembered making a show of confusing you for him."

Well there went his train of thought. Mako's lips drew in frustration.

"It must have slipped your mind."

"No," she grinned again, exposing her pearly white teeth—Agni, did this woman have a single flaw? "I never pass up an opportunity to tease handsome strangers."

He cracked a small smile. So, she thought he was handsome—that was definitely working in his favour. "The name's Mako. Now we're no longer strangers and we can skip right over the teasing."

"I never skip the fun parts." A tiny hand covered by long white silk gloves slipped into his outstretched hand and somehow he found it in him not to be shocked by the force of her grip. "Very nice to meet you, Michi. My name is Anzu."

"Sweet like the fruit you're named after."

Her arms crossed beneath her chest, giving him a rather generous view of her petite assets. "I'm not sure if that was an attempt at flattery or just good old-fashioned sarcasm, but either way, it won't do you any good. You're exactly the charming but deceitful player Asami and Korra warned me you'd be."

What the hell—they warned her about him? Some friends—no, he'd deal with them later. Different approach. "Obviously you do know my name if I'm a topic of conversation."

"Yeah, but I like Michi better."

"I like Mako better."

The ever-growing twinkle in her eye seemed to explode into a supernova. "So I've heard. But at least you can admit it. They say the first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem."

"What? I don't have a—" Mako sucked in a breath. "Okay, whatever. Korra and Asami can say what they like about me. I don't care." Mentally checking out of this conversation. Time to physically check in to the hotel room and carnally check out the state of Zhu Li.

The princess tilted her chin up and gave him the second most impressive puppy eyes he'd ever seen. "Hey now, Michi. Don't look so upset. They've told me plenty of good things about you, as well." A quick wink paired with those stark eyes raking up and down his body, in any other circumstance, might have been his undoing. But this girl was tricky and she had a tongue like a viper.

He'd have to be extra careful.

"What sort of things would that be?" NO! Bad Mako! Stupid Mako! Agni specifically forbade the use of that flirtatious tone and that burning smolder.

He didn't yet realize it, but in the little golden-eyed princess, Mako had more than met his match. He should have realized it as she slunk up to his side, her bare porcelain skin brushing against his hand, the silky material of her skirt grabbing at the sensitive fabric covering his legs. He definitely should have realized it when she rose up on her toes so she could bring her mouth to his ear in a whisper.

But Mako had always been pretty dense when it came to girls.

Her warm breath fanned across his cheek, fluttering loose pieces of hair that weren't stuck with hair gel. He forcibly ignored the small hand sliding onto his shoulder and instead tried to focus on her words—

And then he instantly regretted it.

"It's not so much what they have told me. It's what they would tell me if I weren't sixteen."

No. No, no. Not possible.

Mako stood perfectly still as she slid away with deliberate slowness. He was actually quite proud—he didn't even let out a breath until she was a safe and legal arm's length away once again. She was smirking—smirking was his thing—and all he could do to keep back the nervous gulp was focus on her smug face.

Oh, damn, it was true. He could see it now.

For the first time that night, Mako managed to say what he wanted his mouth to say. "Huh."

Anzu quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Like the super smooth cad that he was, his eyes skirted about anywhere but directly at the suddenly off-limits girl. "Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, your highness. Please pass along my regards and congratulations to your brother. Unfortunately, I just remembered that I have a rather pressing case in the works that I can't leave alone for another moment." She still looked so smug. "Also, I think I'm coming down with a dangerously high fever"—No, Mako! Why would you say that of all things—"and I would hate to risk contaminating anyone."

He dipped at the waist politely as Anzu nodded back. "I completely understand, mister Michi. Your health should be your number one concern. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night and find good luck in your case."

This time it was she who extended her hand to shake in a farewell gesture, but unlike an intelligent male, Mako simply stared at it. "Enjoy your night, Princess."

Mako turned and imagined that his footfalls were neither as heavy or quick as he knew they really were. He also did his best, as he pushed out of the palace and made his way towards the valet, to repress the fresh memory of Anzu's chillingly haunting laugh as he turned his back and he absolutely imagined that he wasn't imagining the dimple-adorned smile on her face that he knew would accompany the sound.

The tall police officer tucked his precious scarf around his neck to shield him from the uncommonly cold winter air of the Fire Nation Capitol as he slid into the driver's seat of his Satomobile and as he drove away, he imagined that he would be as happy to see her as Zhu Li would be to see him when he got to his room at the hotel, and he imagined that there was no reason—no haunting laugh, silken skin, or unbidden smile—that would give him any reason not to be.

So maybe, just maybe, Fire Princess Anzu did have one flaw—she was ten years younger than him. Though, the more he thought on it, the more he wondered if it was a flaw of her own—

Or was he the flawed one for looking?