* mornings were not often for leisure — asami had to rise early, start her day, start work. she had departments to oversee, blueprints to sketch, rpfs to draft. even on her days off, she tended to be an early riser by habit, some guilt over not feeling productive enough, helpful enough, gnawing at her bones like an ache until she got out of bed.
it was exponentially harder to do that with korra's arm slung over her waist, though.
she isn't asleep either, asami can tell by the way she stirs, by the way she breathes, but she doesn't let asami up yet, the curl of her fingers against asami's hipbone making a smile pull onto her rarely - unpainted mouth. gently, she runs her fingertips over korra's forearm, feels the taut muscle there, the way it coils pretty and strong up her arm to her biceps. asami's touch is probably ticklish with how feather - light it is, but she doesn't stop. " i woke up this morning from a strange dream. " @avaetar mumbles, face down in her pillow, and asami hums soft and low in the back of her throat, her fingers stilling for just a second. " oh ? what did you dream about ? "
