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Silky strands of moonlight stream through thin, glass panes, pouring deep blue shadows generously upon the buttermilk walls and plush carpet. Through the large window, a cloudless splatter of stars decorates the sky carefully. As if a higher power arranged each individual speck precisely into its position with profound insight and concentration.
Marinette believes the view is nothing short of astonishing.
She never imagined she would witness a sight like this one. A sight where bright orbs and glowing blemishes drape across the pitch-black of nightfall with the radiant, white moon accompanying them. A sight where the ocean meets the stars.
Adrien used to describe the views to Marinette— he would ramble endlessly about how the stars twinkled if you studied them close enough, or how he thought Marinette’s eyes shared that same glimmer.
Marinette thinks he was being ridiculous now that she can watch them sparkle for herself.
Though, Marinette supposes Adrien is always ridiculous when it comes to her; littering her with unnecessary compliments, saying ‘I love you’ whenever he has the chance, peppering her face with little kisses until Marinette is nothing but a giggling mess.
But she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The man had fallen into the welcoming arms of sleep only several minutes ago, drifting off with Marinette on his chest, and Marinette, for what feels like the millionth time, was left staring through the welcoming window alongside their bed.
Their bed. It still seems unreal even after numerous months of living together; countless evenings of eyeing the boundary of glass that divided her and the dark, high skies. But Marinette would rather remain in the hold of Adrien, who, after all, is her sky. Her universe even— her everything.
Adrien is Marinette’s everything.
And they are finally together without unsaid secrets between them. Marinette is happier than she ever thought she could be with Adrien now by her side. With her everything by her side.
She splits her lingering gaze from the gorgeous cluster of lustrous suns and instead draws her focus to the handsome boy lying beneath her. Adrien’s chest rises and falls evenly with the serenity of a quiet night and the dewy air to keep him tranquil. Marinette can almost hear the faint breaths emitted every so often.
She allows her eyes to rake over Adrien’s relaxed features, the influence of dormancy undoing any creases between his eyebrows or smile lines near his lips, and wonders how Adrien is even real.
He is simply beautiful. Breathtaking. Ethereal.
And with the way his face is stained blue from the backdrop of dusty horizons, Marinette thinks Adrien somehow looks even more captivating.
His freckles mirror the constellations behind their window and his long, dark lashes lay flatly atop the pretty sunspots under his eyes. Shadows molded by the moon hang beneath Adrien’s jawline, providing Marinette the chance to explore the flawlessly angled curve with reverence and pure awe.
Marinette wonders if her next action will disrupt Adrien’s sleepy state, but ultimately finds it too challenging to resist.
She strains her neck deliberately, gently, as to not wake the dozing man below him, and places a featherlight kiss to the tanned skin of Adrien’s jawbone, relishing in the hazy heat that locks against her lips and the light texturing of stubble.
She smiles contentedly for a moment; enveloped in Adrien’s arms, limbs entangled to the point Marinette can’t tell where her legs end and Adrien’s begin; large, open palms hooked on the small of Marinette’s back. She feels safe.
Marinette feels even safer when she succeeds in not waking Adrien up; God forbid anyone interrupts his beauty sleep.
When Marinette decides to take a risk—figuring another kiss can’t hurt if she’s careful enough, straining her neck just a tad more—and brushes her lips once more against Adrien’s chin, it takes her by surprise when Adrien’s mouth twitches upwards at the corners. Marinette freezes.
This motherfu-
“A-are you awake?” Marinette asks incredulously, propping herself on her elbow to peer down upon Adrien’s face.
If Adrien wasn’t awake before, he definitely was now. Marinette hadn’t exactly been quiet, but telling by the way Adrien’s lips instantly split further with a grin that can only be defined as shit-eating, Marinette believes she didn’t rouse him from any sort of slumber at all.
As Adrien speaks, his voice isn’t laced deep with sleep like it ordinarily would be—like it should be. “Maybe,” he hums through an airy giggle.
His eyes remain sealed, eyelashes momentarily fluttering, and Marinette can sense the heat gradually rise up her neck once she discerns that Adrien had felt Marinette kiss him while she thought he was unconscious.
“Were you awake that whole time?” Marinette asks in a small, regretful voice.
Adrien hums again. “Maybe,” he repeats, smile not faltering.
Marinette whines, sinking from her elbow to plummet her face downward onto Adrien’s chest with the newfound confirmation, muttering soft curses into Adrien’s sweatshirt-adorned sternum.
“What’s wrong, Mari?” Adrien questions, snickering all too knowingly as he draws a hand higher to card it through Marinette’s blue hair. It’s a tender action despite the teasing tone in the man’s voice.
“That’s so embarrassing,” Marinette grouses against his abdomen, drowned out by the muffle of fabric to her lips. It doesn’t help that Adrien’s only acknowledgment is to laugh, transmitting vibrations from a low chuckle to Marinette’s cheek. “Stop laughing.”
“What’s embarrassing?” He laughs out; that laugh that’s usually comforting now only feels like mockery.
Marinette balls up her fist in Adrien’s sweatshirt and bangs her forehead against various areas of Adrien’s middle, an attempt to knock the awkwardness out of herself. When she reaches and thumps her head into Adrien’s belly, she can feel the man’s stomach clench as he is still laughing at Marinette’s misfortune.
“Come on Mari,” Adrien says. Marinette belatedly turns away from Adrien’s body and glances up to see the blond gazing at her with what one could easily mistake as adoration, but Marinette knows is solely amusement. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No,” Marinette groans. “You weren’t supposed to—I thought you were sleeping.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t,” Adrien returns, “and I caught you, so what are you gonna do now?”
Marinette narrows her eyes, no true malice behind the action. “Break up with you,” she grumbles.
Adrien’s stupid grin only grows wider. “Sure, okay, as if you could,” he rolls his eyes, fondness trickling through green irises. “You love me too much.”
It’s stupid because it’s accurate. Adrien makes Marinette’s reality so warm; so loving. From the early mornings spent snuggling, tired hands and hushed voices, to the relentless teasing amidst affectionate scoffs and insults.
She does love Adrien even if she doesn’t voice it as often as she should.
“Whatever,” is all Marinette settles on.
“What, you’re gonna act like you don’t love me when I just caught you kissi—”
“Shut up, shut up,” Marinette cuts off, burying her face away again. Her cheeks are undoubtedly flushed beyond belief and the attempt to hide does no good when she can still hear her boyfriend chuckling at her expense. “I hate you.”
“Why were you pretending to be asleep anyway, you weirdo?” Marinette asks, accusingly, cocking her head back in Adrien’s direction after many long seconds of Adrien’s ridiculous, endearing albeit, giggling.
“I wasn’t pretending, Mari. I was just trying to go to sleep and then you kiss—”
“God, forget I asked.” Maybe if Marinette didn’t let Adrien speak the words into existence, she could act like this never happened. Maybe Adrien will awake to the comely daybreak tomorrow and think this has all been nothing but a mirage; a, she hates to say it, dream.
Though, Adrien’s eyes hold that playful glint that tells Marinette he won’t be letting her live this down any time soon.
In the meantime, however, Adrien’s laughter does eventually subside to Marinette’s relief and Marinette is left to fall victim to the man’s consuming gaze.
She’s still pressed into Adrien’s chest, cheeks burning and red, but now Adrien’s amused expression mellows into something much more fond; something affectionate.
“Hey, I thought it was cute, I didn’t mind,” Adrien whispers, a stark contrast to the laughs emitted beforehand.
Marinette perks up at this, scanning for any sort of levity in the blond’s eyes. “Wait, you didn’t think it was weird?”
“What?” Adrien asks, genuine confusion supplying his tongue. “No, of course not, you clumsy idiot, I was just messing with you. I love your kisses, Marinette.”
The stupidly sugary remark earns him a weak blow to his gut with Marinette’s fist, a poor excuse for a punch, but Adrien catches her pale wrist between his fingers, coating the boney skin effortlessly.
“In fact,” Adrien continues, tugging the hold he has on the girl closer, “I think you should give me one right now.” He wiggles his eyebrows like a moron before Marinette suffers through the development of a small smile that spreads profusely across her pinky cheeks.
“Oh, do you?” Marinette beams coyly. “What makes you think you deserve one?” She asks, though she’s already moving in.
Adrien releases his grip on Marinette’s wrist to slide his palm up her forearm, gliding subtle heat upon Marinette’s skin. He peers at the ceiling above them and acts out a deep thought. “Well, let’s see,” he begins, his hand grazing past Marinette’s elbow and landing atop her shoulder, “I’m nice and I’m funny, and I’m very, very hot, like, so hot, like, unbelievably attractive, not to mention, you are just so in love with m—”
“Okay, okay, God, stop. You are so annoying,” Marinette interrupts, and before Adrien has the opportunity to react, Marinette leans in.
She places a small palm onto the plane of Adrien’s jaw that she had kissed just moments before and pulls their lips together, memorizing the way it takes Adrien off guard and causes him to hum into the contact, vibrations sounded against Marinette’s mouth.
Adrien’s lips are soft, languid and pliable against her own, and Marinette can’t help but relish in the sensation. He tastes of mint and strawberries; cool and summery.
Adrien runs his thumb in absent-minded circles against Marinette’s shoulder, massaging it ever so lightly, and Marinette drags her own thumb across the tan, sun-splotched field of Adrien’s cheek. It’s smooth beneath his fingertip; creamlike.
Marinette exhales a weak puff of air onto their locked lips and the chill breath floats around their mouths momentarily as Marinette mildly works to stray away. She giggles at Adrien, who chases her lips.
“Are you happy now?” Marinette whispers against his mouth.
The blond immediately smiles and lays his own larger hand over Marinette’s to secure it in place so that when he twists his head, his mouth scrapes over the inside of Marinette’s palm. He plants a gentle kiss onto the delicate skin there and turns his face back from it only trices later to enable them to return to their former position.
“Very,” he says.
Marinette tries her best to ignore the supple feeling of her heart melting into a puddle but it proves useless when Adrien looks at her like that.
Like Marinette is the only person in the entire world, like she’s more beautiful than any stars outside, like she’s perfect.
She dips down and happily kisses Adrien again—on the forehead this time—with all the love she can muster and Adrien leans into it flawlessly.
“I can’t believe you kissed me while you thought I was sleeping,” Adrien says casually and Marinette immediately detaches her lips from Adrien’s hairline.
“Shut Up.”