It’s just barely dawn outside when she begins to feel herself stir, roused from a cocoon of warmth so comfortable she’s loathe to part from it. She curls closer, burrowing deeper and there's a breeze on her cheek as humid as a July evening by the Seine, and for a moment, Marinette imagines herself being back there, her legs swinging freely from the flying buttresses of Notre Dame de Paris, not a care in the world as her partner sits beside her, lays beside her, their thoughts and voices intertwined—
There's a sudden, startling sensation, the slightest pressure gentle and featherlight against her skin. It's on her brow, pressing there like a promise, returning once more on the tip of her nose. It feels good, she thinks, and she leans into it, soft and warm and safe and comfortable in an embrace she can't quite decipher yet but god , does it ever feel good.
She fades out again as the pressures cease only to be roused again by a weight, this time against her lips, dry and warm and barely moving. It's over before she knows it, the light rush of breath against her cheek fleeting and she chases it instinctively, curling into it, hopelessly tangled in bedsheets and warmth as she loses herself to the throes of sleep once again.
“A plus, princesse.”
There’s a shift in her mattress and the warmth and weight is suddenly gone to the tune of her trapdoor’s latch closing shut, a quiet sound that’s just enough to wake her. She opens her eyes just as her sleep addled brain catches up with the rest of her body, her fingers finding their way to her lips.
Did he just...kiss me?
Read more here (tumblr) or here (AO3).
Thank you to the incredibly talented @shaniartist for this amazing commission of my fic Sommeil!













