Work Text:
Marinette drifted slowly into consciousness, and became aware of the soft mattress underneath her. It felt like a cloud, soft and cool and clean. Rays of warm morning light shone through the window, but not so bright that it hurt her eyes. Somewhere close to the window a bird trilled cheerfully, welcoming the day; Marinette smiled lazily. She shifted, rustling the duvet, and stretched, yawning contentedly. Feeling the space next to her, the bedsheet was a little warm and crumpled, as if someone had lain there and left just a few minutes prior.
Her mouth turned up into a wider smile. She got out of bed, threw on a hoodie and some slippers, and padded downstairs, where a delicious smell awaited her.
On the small kitchen table was a plate of toast and eggs, with a note next to it. She moved closer to read it.
Late for work, had to rush but made you some breakfast. Enjoy! Love you, Adrien <3
The smile stayed on Marinette’s face as she put the note down, walked down the corridor and opened the door to her shop.
She was greeted with the familiar drapes of fabric lining the walls and shelves, every spot filled with colour. Mannequins pinned with dresses and designs of her making. A warm feeling filled her chest up; she was so proud to have achieved her dream and opened this fashion store, despite all of the terrible comments she had received on the way.
“You’re never going to become a designer.”
“What a stupid dream!”
“A girl like you will never get that far, what are you thinking?”
But she had shown them and overcome the odds, and look at her now! She was doing well, so well.
She gazed at the door for a few seconds, wishing she had been there to kiss her husband goodbye, but settled on welcoming him home with a big hug and a warm meal.
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Marinette woke up, shivering in her bed. She was cold, so cold.
It was all fake. Unreal. There was no fabric, no store, no Adrien. The sky was dark outside.
It had been a dream. But it had felt so true, so meant to be.
Marinette made fists into her animal plushie, squeezing hot tears from her eyes that ran onto the fabric of the cat’s face and soaked in.
Maybe it was too big of a dream to accomplish.
Maybe she would never become a designer.