miraculous sins

ladynoire and mister bug

just a reminder these are not my story's

Marinette heard the commotion outside and rushed to her balcony. She had been sick for the past couple of days and didn't feel like doing much of anything. Chat Noir had noticed on their last patrol and suggested they swap their miraculous. If there was an Akuma he could try to cover it himself so she could have a better chance of resting. Normally she would have insisted she was fine, but she didn't have the energy to disagree. He was right.

before he headed out on patrol, he found himself delving into the most depraved part of the internet. . . Twitter.

"Do you ever wish that Ladynoire would come and rescue you from your life?". . .

He got up from his bed and stretched calling on his transformation and leaping from his bedroom window to the Parisian rooftops. About a minute into his journey to the meetup they chose for that evening he was surprised to receive a message from his lady.

"Chat I need you to give me your miraculous right now"

When Marinette gets hit by an akuma, and LadyBug can't come to save the day.

"Ready to go, milady?" he says fondly, green eyes sparkling. She could get lost in those eyes if she had the time.

Lady Noire nods, grabbing her baton from where it's strapped to her back. "Whenever you are, buggaboy," she quips in reply, extending her baton and hurling herself from the roof, partly to head towards her usual patrol route and partly so he can't see her burning cheeks.

Thud.

Lady Noire starts, looking over her shoulder from where she crouches at the edge of the cathedral roof. The late afternoon sun is blinding, glinting through the clouds like fiery shards of amber, and she squints, raising her arm to momentarily shield her eyes against the glare of the rays.

"Blinded by my charm, milady Noire?" Mister Bug's voice cuts through the afternoon haze, and her ears twitch at the maddeningly familiar sound. She can barely swallow the purr that erupts in her chest almost instantly upon hearing him.

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you, buggaboy?" she answers cheekily, flipping her braid over her shoulder. She hears him padding up behind her, his feet soft against the ancient tiles of the cathedral roof, and tries to keep her breathing in check. Lately he's been a bit too observant of her regard for him, and it's unnerving, to say the least. Because yes, she's totally head over heels in love with him, but that doesn't mean she wants him to find out, not yet.

(Even though she flirts with him on a daily basis.  Even though she blushes every time he speaks to her. Even though it's pretty obvious that her affection for him goes beyond just partnership).

He settles cross-legged beside her, folding his hands together in his lap and following her gaze to the city skyline. "Pretty evening," he remarks, soft and casual, as if he doesn't notice the burning of her cheeks at his proximity to her. (Their thighs are nearly touching. It's positively sinful, but as always, he doesn't seem to care). Fighting akumas is different; in the heat of the moment, close contact is quick and accidental, not like now, when she can actually savor it. When they're both so still and quiet she can feel the heat radiating off of him, even in the swell of sultry summer air.

She finds her voice where it is buried beneath the depths of her pounding heart, managing to faintly murmur a response in reply to his previous statement. He frowns, his easy smile flipping into disconcertment, and turns his head to look at her, his green eyes gleaming in the light of the sunset. "Are...you all right, milady?" he questions after a moment, his tone unsure, as if he thinks he has offended her but isn't sure how.