i think what i adore about ladynoir beyond high school age (18 and over) is the opportunity it leaves for some of the most DELICIOUS best friends to lovers scenarios. because, like, two people who've been fighting side by side for years? who've known each other long enough to make jokes about it, haha remember when we were fourteen and you-- we AGREED to never speak of it!!!! who've spent so long learning each other inside out, even, in chat noir's case, getting over feelings, that the idea of anything romantic between them is so far off the radar that they don't feel the need for certain boundaries, because why would it matter if they made jokes about how attractive they find each other, about getting married, about how they could totally mess with the rest of the miracle team by pretending they're hooking up because it's so far out of the realm of possibility.
but then there would be that imperceptible shift. the moment where one of them makes a joke and it feels just a bit more loaded than it should. gazes lingering where they never lingered and playful smiles turning curious. the sudden awareness that, while maybe they were cuddling on a rooftop with their best friend, they were also wrapped up in the arms of someone they trust with their lives, and is extremely attractive, and, wait, if the only reason it was platonic before was because there were no feelings, what does THIS mean?
THE TENSION. THE PINING. THE INHERENT MESS OF BEING IN YOUR TWENTIES. PLEASEEEE
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Crimes Against Existence
The High Queen Phantom has expressed concerns about the state of law within the Mortal Realms.
Walker, sensing a chance to redeem himself in her eyes, volunteers to go out and report the state of the lands to the Queen. She seems pensive, but agrees. Under strict conditions that Walker must NOT detain nor arrest any mortals that would not have been taken into custody or otherwise punished by mortal authorities in the same situation.
She hands him an addendum to his book the Duke has written up for him to use as reference while he operates in the Mortal Realms.
He reluctantly agrees and makes his way to a mortal settlement with that he can sense has strong criminal influence.
He follows the trail to one of most crime-infested cities on Earth: Gotham. His guards clean out an old office, and he sits himself down into a desk.
He turns on the TV and tunes into a random channel. A man who seems like he'd fit with the Far Frozen is locked in combat with a skilled mortal in some sort of outfit. After a bit of research, Walker learns these are the rogues and vigilantes.
Well, this explained quite a few of the High Queen's problems. Though she doesn't know of them just yet.
Now, how do we rectify that?
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roleplay
bartender suna x reader
You’re the one who comes in every Friday.
Approximately at the same time. Eight at night, when the club comes to life and the bar is at its busiest moment. You order the same thing—a lemon water—and you look around the room before leaving an hour after your arrival.
It always feels as if you’re on the quest for someone, your eyes darting around in a manner that is almost suspicious. It would be suspicious for most, he presumes, but Suna can’t find it in himself to care. Not when he has a dozen drunk customers to serve.
He doesn’t care, until the day you sit directly in front of him and ask for his number.
“Hello,” you say, and Suna notices the color of your eyes.
“Hi. Would you like your usual?”
“No,” your response comes quick, “I’d like to talk to you.”
“That’s not exactly in my pay grade.”
“You’ll make it work.”
He doesn’t care enough to argue, so he moves closer to you. It’s here where he notices the small wrinkles on your face—years of laughter and smiles have graced your face with such beautiful marks. He notices the scars on your hands, the birthmarks on your skin, and how your lips lean slightly to the left when you smile. (He’s never cared this much about someone else’s appearance. Maybe it’s just you. Maybe there’s a first time for everything.)
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Straight to the point. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only pure confidence and elegance to your speech.
“No.”
“Would you like a girlfriend?”
“I don’t care much about love.”
That makes you stop. He notices a slight twitch to your eye, and how your fingers tap against the table in deep contemplation.
“Maybe you haven’t been loved right.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re asking too many questions about a bartender you hardly know.”
“I could change that.”
He smiles. Typically, your persuasive attitude would annoy him. But there’s something about you, something so strong and captivating. He is simply a man at sea falling into the tune and tricks of a siren.
“You could. Or you could let me do my job.”
He’s playing hard to get. He knows it and you know it. He’s never been one to beat around the bush, but Suna Rintarou has never been desired and he wants to enjoy the chase.
You smile. He smirks. He has fallen for your tricks.
“You could do your job, or you could tell me what time your shift ends.”
“10 PM.”
Another smile. You’ve got him.
“I’ll wait for you.”
-
True to your word, you wait.
His eyes follow you whenever you move, a moth to a flame. He watches as your hands run over your face, when your fingers trace the worn-out scratches on the table, and when your eyes wander around the room.
He watches the clock till it’s time for him to leave, and you’re still seated pretty where he left you.
“Hello, stranger.”
“Hello, Rintarou.”
He smiles. He almost feels like jumping over the counter, but decency, dignity, and decorum stop him from acting like a fool in your presence.
“Did you wait for long?“ he asks, finally by your side.
“Only as long as I needed to.”
You place your hands on his cheeks. He warms at your touch, heart fluttering in ways he’s never felt before.
“You’re too cold.”
“It’s winter.”
You frown at his response, an action that leads him to dote on you further. He places his hands on your cheeks, squeezing the soft fat in his delicate hands.
“You know,” he starts, “you have got to stop acting like you don’t know me whenever you come over.”
You giggle, “where’s the fun in that? I like flirting with you.”
“Flirting or harassment?”
“It’s roleplay,” you’re quick to comment. “Strangers to lovers. It’s fun.”
A kiss is placed on your pouting lips.
“Sure it is, stranger.”
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