This one was written for anonymous, who requested number 20 and Adrienette.

20: Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.


Tallernette

Age has not blessed Marinette with extra centimetres of the vertical kind. Her boyfriend is another matter. Adrien Agreste, at age twenty-three, is now a giant compared to her. Long limbs, lean but muscled frame, a heart-ruffling smirk that taunts allow me, smol one every time he has to bend down so they can kiss. (Sometimes he even has the nerve to call her Shortinette.)

So when she pauses on the stairwell to speak to him, she is delighted to find herself looking down at him.

"What are you smiling about?" he asks.

"You're shorter than me."

A laugh is startled out of him. "Technically the step you're on is making you taller."

"Technically you're an unfairly attractive giant and you should let me have my moment."

"Unfairly attractive?"

She can't quite supress her smile, not when he's wiggling his eyebrows at her like the huge dork he is. "Don't fish. You know you're hot, Mr I Have My Face on Every Paris Billboard."

"Not every Paris billboard. There was a great insurance one with a pun just on—"

"Adrien."

"Yes?"

He looks at her all innocence and too-knowing grin. That dork. Slowly, she leans down and brushes the back of her hand against his cheek before taking his chin between her finger and thumb. A light dusting of pink glows on his face. Her lips curve. Ha. Now he knows how it feels.

"Let me enjoy my moment," she murmurs.

His eyelashes flutter shut. She kisses him full on the mouth, capturing his bottom lip in a silky caress. Hints of passionfruit and vanilla tingle on her taste buds—an echo of the dessert they'd shared. So sweet. So addictive.

She pulls back, and he follows like one enchanted, his eyes still shut and lips ready to kiss.

"Goodnight," she says.

It's flattering the way he takes a moment to open his eyes. Even more so is the resigned but adoring smile that settles on his lips.

"Goodnight ... Tallernette."

Ugh.