#and i just rewatched a clip of him dancing and was like you know what now's the time LMAO

[ishikawayukis]

so cute indeed 😔

[mononijikayu]

criminal love — nanami kento.

"Look at me, siren." he commands, his tone steady but charged. "I want to see everything." Your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, locking onto him with an effort that feels monumental. There’s a glint in his caramel gaze—intense, searching, as if he’s reading more than just the surface of your expression. “Good little siren.” he murmurs, his voice softening but no less dominant. “Don’t run from it. Let me see what it does to you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - detective au;

WARNING/S: afab!, romance, smut, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, nudity, kissing, making out, clit stimulation, rough sex, p to v sex, teasing, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (pretty man, siren, etc), characters speaking in sexual innuendo, possessiveness, betrayal, faking death, crying, drama, violence, emotional manipulation, emotional distress, guilt, angst, depression, mention of extortion, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami ooc, detective! nanami kento, criminal! reader;

WORD COUNT: 20k words.

NOTE: this was roughly based on irene adler and sherlock from bbc sherlock. i ended up rewatching clips of them recently and i ended up wanting to write something about this in my own way and so i hope you enjoy it. ill probably be gone for a long while between these weeks as exam season is coming, so whatever i upload would be automated queued up. i hope you enjoy it anyway!!! i love you all!!! <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 2000;

if you want to, tip! <3

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MUCH WAS TO BE DISCERNED, THAT WAS FOR CERTAIN. Nanami Kento was yet unsure what to feel about this case. But he knew that he’d better just keep his opinions to himself. He was a consulting detective, more than he was a spy.

And he was the first of his kind, well — he created the job. But he found that in his own line of work, he made the rules. And he’s not like a rule breaker — not unless he was bored. Which happens all too often nowadays. 

But he made boundaries. And he likes to keep within them. A consulting detective is not meant to be a populist, nor someone who expresses the biases that come with his existence. A consulting detective was a blank canvas, a mask that never tires or tears.

The mind cannot be diluted nor dulled. Not even when it comes to personal intrigue. But as he looked at your personal profile, he couldn’t help but find himself intrigued by you.

He hums, staring at your profile. There wasn’t much to tell in detail. That’s why Yaga came to him in the first place. If they had known more about you, then they would have never come to him. But it was clear to him that you were too beautiful, much like a siren.

But then again, you were a dominatrix. That was how you grabbed your victim’s attention. That’s how you got the prime minister under your thumb and how you blackmailed him. 

Still there was something about your eyes. How they were so full of walls he wanted to pierce. He’d never seen them before. Perhaps that adds to the allure he already has with you.

He was enamoured by them in his own way. Your sharp eyes glaring back at him, full of mystery. Like a puzzle.  And he wanted to solve everything. He wanted to know you, unravel you for his own desires to escape boredom.

Nanami Kento leaned back in his chair, a heavy sigh escaping him as he thumbed through the sparse details of your profile once again. His office was dim, save for the soft golden light spilling from the desk lamp. It cast sharp shadows across his furrowed brow, accentuating the contemplative set of his jaw. The rain outside tapped a steady rhythm against the windowpane, a melody of monotony he had long grown indifferent to.

He tapped a pen absently against the leather-bound notebook on his desk. "A dominatrix, a prolific criminal." he muttered to himself, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course. Why else would someone like you have the Prime Minister dancing to your tune?"

He paused, letting the words hang in the air. A lesser man might have judged you outright, but Nanami Kento wasn’t a lesser man. Judgment required bias, and bias was a weakness. Yet even he couldn't deny the intrigue you stirred in him—a siren cloaked in mystery, luring him to uncharted depths.

Picking up your profile again, he scanned the details with a practiced eye. It was deliberately vague. Yaga Masamichi had been careful about that, only providing enough to hook him without tipping the scales. Clever. Kento appreciated cleverness.

“You’re an enigma, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. His gaze lingered on the photograph clipped to the file. Your sharp eyes seemed to pierce through the page, as if daring him to look deeper.

The phone on his desk buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. He reached for it, his tone clipped and professional. "Nanami Kento speaking."

Yaga's gruff voice crackled through the line. "Have you made any progress?"

Kento glanced at the profile again, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. "Progress? No. But I’m intrigued. That’s more than you can usually say after five minutes of reading these files."

"This isn't a game, Kento. This is a high profile case." Yaga growled. "We need results."

Kento leaned back, the smirk fading into something more inscrutable. "And you’ll have them, eventually. When I get into it.  But you brought me in because I don’t rush. I don’t make mistakes. Trust that I’ll deliver, Yaga. But you knew that already, didn’t you?"

A strained silence followed. Kento snickers silently. Yaga knew that he was right. He’s never failed a case before. He was their only shot at figuring this out.

Driving him away with their pondering would irritate him. So, Yaga knew it best. Yaga grumbled his assent on the other side of the line and then hung up. Kento replaced the receiver with a quiet exhale and turned his attention back to your profile.

"Who are you really?" he mused aloud. The rain continued its persistent tapping, as if echoing the question. He traced a finger along the edge of the photograph, his mind already dissecting the puzzle you presented.

This wasn’t just about solving a case anymore. It was about understanding the layers beneath your sharp eyes and enigmatic smirk. You were a challenge, and Nanami Kento never walked away from a challenge.

“Time to meet the siren.” he murmured, closing the file and grabbing his coat. 

The game had officially begun.

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HE LIKED GETTING THINGS DONE WELL. So, with meticulous precision, Nanami Kento began preparing. His process was almost ritualistic—a series of carefully honed steps that allowed him to immerse himself in the task at hand.

Research, observation, analysis; each was a brushstroke on the canvas of his understanding. He had done this countless times before, dissecting lives and habits like a surgeon with a scalpel. It was a game he played alone, and one he rarely lost.

It didn’t take him long to find you. You weren’t exactly hiding, after all. You were a bold one, he would admit that. Certainly, others would have tried to find a way to hide from him. But you did not. No, you don’t seem to have liked that.

The apartment you lived in was in the heart of the city. Though modest, it had an air of curated simplicity. A facade, he suspected. There could be some other place you found yourself to be at. It’s impossible to have no back up plan. Still, he’d start here. The moment he identified your specific location, he began to watch. 

At first, it was dull. Too dull. Your routines were painfully ordinary: niche little trips to the market, morning coffee on your tiny balcony, polite nods to neighbors as you passed. For all the whispers of scandal surrounding you, you seemed frustratingly… normal.

“Boring.” Nanami muttered under his breath, reclining in his concealed vantage point. He adjusted his tie absentmindedly, a habitual gesture when his patience wore thin. But he wasn’t one to abandon a lead, not even when boredom threatened to set in. Boredom, after all, was often a disguise for something hidden.

And he was right. It didn’t take long before the cracks in the surface began to show.

There were subtle inconsistencies. He picks on them right away, of course. Like the way your routine shifted ever so slightly every few days. The lingering looks you exchanged with strangers on the street, each glance charged with unspoken meaning. 

The phone calls you took late at night, your voice low and hushed as you paced your apartment. Much of those were patterned just as much. Of course, you would try to throw him off the course with your other calls. But he was not falling for it.

You were normal, yes—but only just enough to keep the untrained eye from noticing the undertow beneath.

Kento took note of everything, each detail cataloged with precision in his mind. How you lingered in front of a particular bookstore on days when the street was less crowded.

How your posture straightened imperceptibly when you stepped into the dimly lit café on the corner, like you were stepping into character. How your sharp eyes softened, just briefly, when you gazed out over the city skyline from your balcony at night.

"You’re meticulous, little siren." he murmured, watching from afar as you adjusted the hem of your coat before entering a black sedan one evening. "Calculated. And hiding something."

His instincts, honed by years of studying human behavior, told him you were more than the sum of your parts. You weren’t erratic, nor did you display the cold mechanical precision of a methodical planner. You were something else entirely—a paradox wrapped in elegance, wearing your secrets as effortlessly as a designer gown.

As the days turned into weeks, his understanding of you deepened. He noted how you interacted with others, your charm carefully measured, your words like baited hooks. He saw the way people gravitated to you, unaware of the quiet power you wielded over them. It was mesmerizing to watch, even for someone as detached as Nanami.

But then there were the moments that broke the pattern. The fleeting, unguarded seconds when the mask slipped. It was just for a split second and yet, it was glaringly obvious. when your smile faltered, when your gaze lingered on nothing in particular, as if lost in thought. Those moments fascinated him the most.

"You're not what you seem, aren’t you, siren?" Nanami said one evening, speaking to no one but himself as he jotted down another observation in his notebook. "And that’s what makes you dangerous."

He leaned back, letting the pen rest against his lips as he studied his notes. The bitter rain had begun again, a softly patters against the window. Watching you has become more than an assignment. It was a challenge, one he was determined to unravel.

Whatever secrets you held, he would uncover them. 

Whatever lies you told, he would see through them.

And perhaps, just perhaps, he would finally find something that would make him feel alive again.

Kento approached your residence with the confidence of a seasoned professional, every step measured, every glance purposeful. The modest, meek exterior belied the reputation you had earned—a mind sharper than most, a presence impossible to ignore. Well, not to him.

For all his precision and preparation, Nanami Kento prided himself on being unshakeable.

That illusion shattered the moment he stepped inside.

The scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, rich and intoxicating, blending seamlessly with the warm glow of the afternoon sun filtering through gauzy curtains. The room was immaculate, deceptively serene, yet every detail felt deliberate, as though the space itself were watching him. And then there was you.

You stood in the center of the room, utterly bare, holding a steaming cup of tea as though this were the most natural thing in the world. The room itself was dimly lit, the amber glow of a single lamp casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls. The steam from your cup curled upward in lazy tendrils, disappearing into the stillness that seemed to envelop everything around you.

For a moment, Nanami Kento froze where he stood, his usually unshakable composure wavering. He had been meticulous, quiet as a shadow as he made his way into your space, every step calculated. He hadn’t anticipated this—hadn’t prepared for the sight of you standing there, unguarded and unapologetic.

“You’re not easily startled, detective.” you said, your voice smooth and unhurried, like the tea you sipped from the delicate porcelain cup. The corners of your lips curled upward, though the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I think I managed to catch you off guard.”

"I... was unaware we had an appointment." he managed, his voice clipped, struggling to keep his gaze fixed on your eyes.

"Unaware? Oh, Detective, you wound me." You stepped forward, the subtle sway of your hips hypnotic, your bare feet making no sound against the polished wood floor. "But I knew you’d come. You’re far too predictable for your own good. Handsome, brilliant, but predictable."

Kento’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. You had noticed him before he had even made himself known, yet here you were, unconcerned and entirely in control. It was a calculated choice, he realized. Everything about you was measured. Everything from your posture, your tone, even your lack of clothing—was deliberate. A statement of power.

He stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His gaze remained steady, unflinching, as he addressed you. “You have a peculiar way of entertaining unexpected guests, don’t you?

You chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to ripple through the charged air between you. “And you have a peculiar way of entering someone’s home uninvited. But I suppose we both like to keep things interesting.”

Kento’s caramel eyes flicked briefly to the cup in your hands, the steam still rising. You held it with a casual grace, as though the vulnerability of your current state was irrelevant. He took a measured step closer, his voice as calm and steady as ever. 

“I’m not here to entertain. I’m here for answers.”

“And you think breaking into my home is the best way to get them?” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “Interesting method, detective.”

There was no fear in your voice, no tremor of uncertainty. You don’t seem to cower at the thought that he was in front of you. You were not at the least afraid, flaunting yourself bare as the day you were born right in front of him, no. If anything, you seemed amused, as though this was just another game—one you intended to win. As he usually does.

Kento’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t used to this. Being disarmed, even momentarily. You were unlike anyone he had encountered before, and it both intrigued and irritated him. You drank a handful of your tea, not breaking eye contact with him.

 “You know why I’m here.” he said, his tone firm. “Let’s not waste time pretending otherwise.”

You raised the cup to your lips, taking a slow sip before responding. “Ah, but time is all we have, isn’t it, mister detective? Besides, I’m curious to see how far you’re willing to go for your answers.”

Kento’s gaze remained fixed on you, his mind racing to piece together your intentions. He had come here prepared to confront a manipulator, a blackmailer, someone who thrived on exploiting the weaknesses of others. Instead, he found himself standing before an enigma. You were a person who seemed to thrive in the liminal space between predator and prey.

“You’re not afraid of me.” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost reflective.

You met his gaze, unblinking. “Should I be?”

The silence that followed was thick, charged with an unspoken challenge. Kento felt the weight of it pressing against him, but he refused to yield. He had come here to unravel you, to strip away the layers of mystery and deceit. But in this moment, with the air thick with the scent of tea and tension, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was you who was peeling back his layers instead.

Kento held your gaze, his mind a calculated storm of thoughts. You were testing him, pushing boundaries to see how far he’d go, how much of himself he’d expose in pursuit of whatever he sought from you. It wasn’t fearlessness that radiated from you, no. It was the epitome of control. Complete, unyielding control.

He didn’t like it.

But he couldn’t deny the subtle exhilaration it stirred in him.

“You know why I’m here, don’t you?” he said again, his voice colder this time, a deliberate shift in tone to reassert authority. “And you know I won’t leave without what I need.”

You smirked, lowering your cup and cradling it in both hands. “Oh, I know you won’t leave. Not yet, at least. But I’m not convinced you truly know what it is you’re looking for.”

Kento took another step closer, his hands sliding into the pockets of his coat as he surveyed the room with a careful glance. Minimalist decor. Sparse yet elegant, like an art exhibit curated to hide the truth. Everything was deliberate. Everything was you.

“What I’m looking for,” he said evenly, his gaze snapping back to you. “are answers. About the Prime Minister. About the leverage you hold over him.”

You raised a brow, your smirk deepening into something more indulgent. “Straight to the point. I like that. But tell me, Detective Nanami Kento—what makes you think you can find answers here?”

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “Because you want me to find them. Aren’t you someone as bored as I am, playing the game?”

That gave you pause, though only for a fraction of a second. It was enough. Nanami Kento caught the brief flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a soft laugh. He found that your laugh was a beautiful one, had it not been one that was dangerous venom, a double entendre.

“Touché, detective.” you said, setting the cup down on a nearby table with deliberate care. “But even if that were true, you’d still have to earn them.”

“Earn them.” Kento repeated, his tone flat. “Is that your way of trying to bargain?”

You stepped closer now, the soft light catching the sharp angles of your face. Barefoot and unguarded, you moved with the confidence of someone who knew they held the upper hand—or at least wanted him to believe they did.

“Call it whatever you like, detective.” you replied, stopping just a breath away from him. “You came here for the truth, and the truth is rarely free. Especially from someone like me.”

Kento didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. He held his ground, studying you with an intensity that bordered on invasive. “And what do you want in return?”

You smiled, but it wasn’t the warm kind. It was calculated, sharp. It was your favorite weapon of choice. “For now? Just your time. Let me see how you operate, how your mind works when it isn’t trapped behind your rules and decorum. Then, maybe, I’ll decide what else you have to offer.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to manipulate him, to pull him into their web. But you were different. You didn’t rely on desperation or brute force; you wielded intrigue like a scalpel, cutting just deep enough to make him curious.

“You think I’ll play your game, hm?” he said finally, his voice low and edged with warning.

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “I think you already are.”

The silence that followed was electric, the space between you charged with unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of you moved, two opposing forces locked in an invisible standoff.

Then, with a calculated step back, you broke the spell. “Well, my pretty detective, the night is young. Shall we begin?”

Kento’s gaze followed you as you turned and disappeared further into the apartment, your figure melting into the shadows. His instincts screamed at him to leave, to walk away before he found himself ensnared in something he couldn’t control.

But his curiosity wouldn’t let him.

Adjusting his tie, he followed. The game, it seemed, was just beginning.

"Do you always play fair, mister detective?" you asked, your voice laced with mischief. "Or are you tempted to bend the rules for me?"

"I don’t bend the rules." he said flatly, though the slight crack in his voice betrayed him.

"How dull." you teased, stepping closer. "Then I’ll just have to see how far I can push them before you do."

Kento swallowed hard, forcing himself to break eye contact. He scanned the room, trying to redirect his focus. Every detail he observed seemed to mock him—your careful minimalism, the way the soft lighting accentuated the curves you seemed so effortlessly confident in, and the unshaken calm you radiated.

“Come.” You urged him, walking away, expectant for him to follow you.

Kento followed you into the next room, his steps measured, his senses sharp. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. The dimly lit space you led him to was more intimate, yet it carried an undeniable weight of purpose. 

A single table sat in the center, flanked by two chairs. On the table was a deck of cards, pristine and neatly stacked, and a pair of glasses filled with amber liquid.You gestured toward the empty chair across from you, settling into your own with a grace that felt practiced, deliberate. 

“Sit down there, pretty detective.” you said simply, as though commanding a king to take his throne.

He regarded you silently for a moment, weighing the situation, before pulling the chair out and sitting down. His coat shifted slightly as he adjusted, the fabric catching the low light. He didn’t reach for the glass in front of him, nor did he touch the cards.

“Do you always greet your intruders like this?” he asked, his tone dry but probing. “Or am I a special case of favoritism?”

You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you studied him. “You’re not just an intruder, detective. You’re a puzzle. And I do enjoy puzzles.”

Kento’s eyes narrowed. “Flattery won’t distract me.”

You laughed softly, the sound melodic and tinged with mischief. “It’s not flattery if it’s true. But if you insist, let’s get to it, shall we?” Your hand moved to the deck of cards, your fingers deftly shuffling them with an ease that spoke of countless hours of practice. “We’re going to play a game.”

Kento’s brow furrowed slightly, though his expression remained otherwise unreadable. “A game.”

“Yes.” You began dealing the cards, your movements precise. “Call it… a test of wits. Each of us will ask a question. The other must answer truthfully—or pass. But passing comes at a cost.”

“And what cost is that?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

You leaned back, the flicker of a smirk gracing your lips. “If you pass, you lose a piece of yourself in this game. A truth you’ll never get back, if you will. And if I pass, well… you lose time. Precious time that you’ll never recover from.”

He exhaled softly, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the table. “Clever. But you don’t strike me as someone who’s interested in losing anything, especially time.”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “You’re right. I don’t intend to lose.”

Nanami studied you for a moment, his analytical mind dissecting every word, every movement. This was more than a game to you, no. You liked being an actress. And this was a stage, a performance. A calculated way to see how far you could push him.

“Fine.” he said finally, his voice calm and steady. “I’ll play.”

You nodded, almost as if you had expected nothing less. Picking up your cards, you gestured for him to do the same. “Good. I’ll start.”

Your eyes gleamed as you asked your first question. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

Kento didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. He considered the question briefly, then responded with a measured tone. “I once let a guilty man walk free. It wasn’t my case, but I could’ve stopped it. I chose not to.”

You arched a brow, intrigued. “Why?”

He tapped a finger lightly on the edge of the table. “Because letting him walk was the only way to catch someone worse.”

“Interesting, detective.” you mused, drawing a card and placing it down. “Your turn.”

Kento’s eyes bore into yours, sharp and calculating. “What do you really want from the Prime Minister?”

Your smirk didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something else. There was something deeper in the corner of your eyes. “Power. Intrigue. Freedom from boredom. I think you can already tell, don’t you think? You’ve watched me for a while.” you said simply, your voice like silk. “I like my little games, detective. I don’t like boredom.”

Kento’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing. You were the same in that regard, he supposed. You smiled at him as you discarded the card. He continued watching as you played another card.

The game continued, each question like a blade, cutting deeper with every exchange. You asked about his weaknesses, his fears. He asked about your plans, your past. Neither of you passed, neither willing to give the other the satisfaction of retreat. The tension between you built with every answer, an unspoken duel fought in shadows and half-truths.

By the time the deck was nearly gone, the air between you was thick with something unspoken. There was a heavy mixture of understanding and challenge, of intrigue and something more dangerous. And slowly, Kento began to feel more intrigue gather like clouds around his head when he looked at you.

You placed the final card down with a quiet laugh. “You’re good at this, detective. Better than most.”

Kento leaned back slightly, his gaze still fixed on you. “And you’re not as untouchable as you think.”

You smiled at that, leaning forward once more. “Perhaps not. But tell me, detective—after all this, do you think you’ve won?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for the glass in front of him, finally taking a sip. The burn of the liquid was sharp, grounding. He set the glass back down, meeting your gaze with an intensity that could cut through steel.

“I think the game’s just begun.”

You laughed as you looked at him. “Then you’ll continue to indulge me?”

“I have all the time in the world.”

“Such a reply, detective.” Your lips curled into a sly smile.

“Much more I should be giving to you, siren.”

You laughed back at him. “Tell me, detective. Are you looking for something else, besides my secrets?” you asked, your voice dripping with amusement. You took another step forward, close enough now that he could feel the faint warmth of your presence.

"My resolve." he replied curtly, his gaze darting back to your face.

You laughed again, the sound teasing and far too pleasant. "I wouldn’t bother looking for that. It’s already mine."

Kento’s mouth opened, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but you raised a finger to his lips before he could speak. The gesture was bold, disarming, and far too intimate. His eyes narrows at you, meeting your orbs in an intense match of staring. Tension filled the air. 

“I do not like betraying my rules for fun, siren.”

"Hush." you said softly, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is far more entertaining when you let me lead, don’t you think?"

Kento felt his pulse quicken, though he loathed admitting it. Every instinct screamed at him to retreat, to regroup, but his feet stayed rooted to the floor. You circled him slowly, your movements deliberate and languid, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You’re tense, aren’t you, detective?" you observed, your voice lilting. "A man like you shouldn’t carry so much weight on his shoulders. Let me help you relax."

"Help." he echoed dryly, trying to inject a sliver of his usual deadpan wit. "Is that what you call this?"

"Call it what you like, pretty man." you replied with a shrug, your bare skin glinting in the warm light. "But let’s not pretend you’re not enjoying it just a little."

Kento clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms in a desperate attempt to ground himself. "You’re stalling again, aren’t you?" he said, his voice low and firm, though he hated how weak the accusation sounded even to his own ears.

"And you’re flustered. I like good, flustered, pretty men, detective." you shot back effortlessly. "But I’ll let you in on a little secret, detective." You leaned in, your breath brushing against his ear. "I don’t have to stall. You’re doing that all on your own."

Kento’s breath hitched. He turned his head slightly to meet your gaze, his brow furrowing as he tried to summon the cold, logical detachment he prided himself on. But your eyes, all bright, teasing, and endlessly confident had drawn him in, scattering his thoughts like leaves in the wind.

"You’re not going to win this little game." he said, though the words felt as much a reassurance to himself as they were a warning to you.

"Win?" You tilted your head, your smile widening. "Oh, darling, I’ve already won. You just haven’t realized it yet."

And there it was—the final, undeniable truth that sank into Nanami Kento like a blade. This wasn’t a confrontation he could reason his way out of. You weren’t just a distraction; you were a storm, unrelenting and impossible to ignore. Still, Kento wasn’t one to give up easily. He squared his shoulders, taking a small step back to create space between you. 

"You can play your games, siren." he said evenly, his resolve hardening. "But I will leave with what I came for."

Your grin turned wicked, your hands resting on your hips as you regarded him with mock pity. "Oh, detective. If you want it that badly, you’re going to have to earn it."

The gauntlet had been thrown, but as Nanami stared into your eyes, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a battle where victory. If such a thing even existed might come at a cost he wasn’t prepared to pay.

Kento’s resolve teetered on the edge of collapse. Your challenge hung in the air between you, daring him to act, to push back. For all his usual composure, the magnetic pull of your presence was undeniable. And you knew it. With deliberate slowness, you closed the distance he had just created. Your hand reached out, brushing against his tie, straightening it with a casual intimacy that made his breath hitch.

"Tell me, pretty man." you said softly, your voice a sultry whisper. "Is it always this hard for you to focus... or is it just me?"

Kento’s jaw tightened, his full luscious lips parting as though to deliver a sharp retort, but the words never came. Instead, his eyes locked onto yours, his usual clarity clouded by a storm of conflicting emotions.

"Careful." he warned, his voice low, though the conviction behind it faltered.

"Careful?" you echoed, your smile widening. "Detective, I don’t think you want to be careful."

The moment hung in a delicate balance, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. And then, with a boldness that took even you by surprise, you leaned in. Your lips met his, soft yet insistent, pulling him into the heat of your daring. For a heartbeat, Kento froze, caught off guard by the sheer audacity of the act. But then something shifted.

His hands moved instinctively, one gripping your wrist, the other curling around your waist as though to steady himself. He kissed you back, tentative at first, as though testing the waters, but quickly matching your fervor.

It was a clash of wills, a battle of control as much as passion. You smiled against his lips, sensing the conflict within him, the way his rational mind warred with his undeniable desire. When you finally pulled away, your faces still mere inches apart, you couldn’t help but laugh softly. 

"So much for not bending the rules, pretty man." you teased, your voice barely more than a breath. “Intrigue won you over.”

Kento’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his caramel eyes narrowing. "You think this changes anything?" he said, though his voice was rougher now, edged with something he couldn’t quite suppress.

"Not at all. We’re still playing this game, detective." you replied, your tone light, your smile infuriatingly smug. "But it does make things more interesting, don’t you think?"

His gaze burned into yours, but he didn’t let go. "You’re dangerous, little siren." he muttered, his voice both an accusation and a reluctant admission.

"And you’re intrigued about me, pretty man." you countered, your free hand tracing a light, teasing line down the lapel of his trench coat.

For all his strength, for all his discipline, Kento found himself at a crossroads. He could retreat, rebuild his defenses, and focus on the mission. Or he could lean into the chaos you so effortlessly embodied, knowing full well the risks involved.

For the first time in his career, the brilliant consulting detective wasn’t sure which path he would take. Nanami Kento’s breath hitched as his grip tightened, his movements becoming more deliberate, almost desperate.

“It’s for the game.” he muttered again, his voice low, almost as if trying to convince himself.

But the way your fingers dug into his shoulders, the soft sound that escaped your lips—those weren’t part of the plan. He could feel the way your body yielded to him, how every subtle shift and reaction drew him in further.

His mind wavered, the discipline he prided himself on fraying at the edges. This wasn’t just duty anymore. The mission was the furthest thing from his thoughts as he surrendered to the feeling of your warmth, your trust, and the undeniable connection that bound the two of you.

“Kento, that’s your name isn’t it?” you whispered, your voice trembling yet steady enough to pull him back into the present. 

The way his name sounded on your lips... it unraveled him completely. For a moment, he forgot everything else. He wasn’t sure anymore what this case was even about and what was left to desire—but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not when he was enjoying himself too much.

“K-Ken!” The word comes out strangled out of your mouth.

If anything, it was barely a whisper as his relentless rhythm forces your body to react in ways you can’t control. Each deep, forceful thrust hits with perfect precision, and your head spins, eyes crossing from the intensity of it all. He doesn’t care about the soft gasps escaping you or the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s on a mission.

But you’re not the same. The slick warmth building inside of you, the way your body feels stretched and filled by him. It’s all so much more than the physical. He’s not just moving through you. He’s pulling something from deep inside. Every thrust makes your spine arch involuntarily, and your chest heaves as your breath hitches with each stroke.

He’s searching. Not for your pleasure. He likes to think that he’s past that. He knows exactly what you need, but there’s one sound he’s after. That sweet little squeal, the one you only make when he’s pushing you just right, when the world disappears and all that matters is the way he makes you feel. It’s a sound so raw, so fragile, that it breaks his composure every time.

Kento’s grip on you tightens, a firm hand on your hip anchoring you in place as he drives into you with precise force. The pace is relentless, unwavering, and you can feel his determination, his need to hear it again. The pressure building inside you, so close now, your body humming with anticipation, a coil wound impossibly tight.

“Say my name, little siren.” he commands, his voice a low growl, dark with intent.

You can’t. You can barely think, much less speak. But you can’t hold it back. The sound breaks free—a high-pitched squeal that fills the space between you, a fragile, involuntary release that shatters whatever control you had left.

“There it is, little siren.” he murmurs, his voice triumphant, but there’s no slowing now. 

He digs in deeper, faster, with a relentless focus that makes it clear he’s hunting something. He was hunting for something intangible yet vital. That sound, the one he coaxes from you with every calculated movement, seems to fuel him.

It's primal, magnetic, as though the entire universe has narrowed down to this single exchange, to the rhythm of his pursuit and your response.

You’re trapped in the tension, every nerve in your body taut like a wire about to snap. The pleasure is sharp and consuming, pulling you under in waves that crash against the edges of your sanity.

Your breaths come in shallow, broken gasps, each one a fight to steady yourself against the relentless onslaught. But there’s no escape; the sensations are everywhere, an unrelenting tide that drowns out thought and reason.

Your mind is a haze, a tangled mess of fragmented impulses and fleeting clarity. You try to anchor yourself, to regain control, but the overwhelming rush of feeling renders you powerless. Every time you think you’ve caught your breath, he changes his rhythm, his touch, pulling a new sound from your lips, a new surge of heat that floods through you.

It’s maddening, the way he anticipates your every reaction, how he seems to know your body better than you do. The tension builds higher, tighter, like a crescendo that has no end, no resolution, just an endless climb. Your fingers clutch at anything within reach, a desperate attempt to ground yourself. But even that slips away in the face of the intensity.

You can’t think, can’t process. You can only feel. And in this moment, it’s as though feeling is all that matters, all that exists. It’s overwhelming, consuming, leaving no room for anything else. Just the tension, the pleasure, and the sound he’s chasing like it’s the answer to every question he’s ever had.

The next wave of pleasure crashes over you, almost too much to bear, and your body responds in kind. Everything was shaking, trembling, in pleasure because of him. The only thing left to do is submit completely to him. So he can win the game.

And yet, he isn’t finished. Not yet. Because now that he’s found it, he’s going to make you give it to him again.

The tension between you is palpable, every sound, every movement heightened by the closeness. His voice, low and rough, breaks through the haze, cutting through the cacophony of sensations that have overtaken your mind.

"Look at me, siren." he commands, his tone steady but charged. "I want to see everything."

Your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, locking onto him with an effort that feels monumental. There’s a glint in his caramel gaze—intense, searching, as if he’s reading more than just the surface of your expression.

“Good little siren.” he murmurs, his voice softening but no less dominant. “Don’t run from it. Let me see what it does to you.”

You try to speak, to form words, but they dissolve on your tongue, lost in the whirlwind of sensations. A small, breathless sound escapes instead, and his expression shifts ever so slightly, that satisfaction, mixed with something deeper, more primal.

“That’s it, yes.” he says, almost whispering, as though coaxing a secret from you. “Don’t hold back.”

You manage a broken, defiant whisper in response, your voice trembling but resolute. “You think you’re in control.”

His lips curl into a small, knowing smile. “Oh, I don’t think. I know.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air between you. You grip his arm, nails digging into his skin, as if to remind him that you’re still present, still capable of holding your ground even if it’s slipping beneath you.

“And you?” he pressed, his voice low, intimate. “Do you know what you’re feeling? Or are you too far gone?”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t tell if it’s frustration or surrender that flickers in your chest. His words are a mirror, reflecting the battle waging inside you. It felt so good, it swallowed you whole. And you couldn’t even describe it. Everything about the rising pleasure as he thrusted in and out of you was a clash of will and vulnerability, of defiance and need.

You needed more of him.

You needed him deeper.

You needed him closer.

“I—” you start, but the word fractures, lost in another wave of sensation.

He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. “Say it, siren.” he urges, his voice a quiet demand. “Say what you want.”

You hesitate, the words tangled in your throat. And in that hesitation, he holds you captive, his gaze unwavering, waiting for the answer he already knows is there. He bites your shoulder as he thrust hard, earning a loud cry of pleasure from you. He hummed against your flesh, satisfied at the reaction you gave him.

The silence between you hums with tension, the air charged and electric. His eyes remain locked on yours, dark and smoldering, the kind of gaze that seems to peel back every layer, leaving you exposed in a way that feels both terrifying and intoxicating. He doesn’t move, doesn’t touch, but his presence presses against you like a storm just waiting to break.

Your lips part, trembling as you try to form words, but they falter, caught in the haze of his nearness. Tears permeating from your eyes at the pleasure that he makes you feel. He slows his movements, earning a cry from you as he tries to coax those words out of you.

 “I…” you whisper, voice low, breath catching as if the mere act of speaking might shatter whatever fragile thread is holding you together. “I don’t know.”

The admission hangs between you, raw and unfiltered, cutting through the charged atmosphere. A slow, knowing smile curves his lips, but there’s nothing cruel about it. Instead, it feels like a quiet triumph, as if he’s been waiting for this moment, this unraveling of your defenses.

“Good.” he murmurs, his voice like a dark caress, low and intimate. “ At least some honesty suits you.”

A shiver courses through you, his words sinking deeper than you’d like to admit. His head tilts slightly, the faintest motion, but it draws your attention to the curve of his jaw, the way the soft glow of the room highlights his features. 

His breath, warm and steady, ghosts over your skin as he leans closer, the space between you shrinking to something nearly unbearable. Sweat glistens against the two of you, juices of your body echoing from flesh to flesh as he occupied you whole.

“I hate you.” you manage, your voice trembling but defiant, though even as the words leave your lips, they feel hollow. “You’re making me beg.”

His smirk deepens, and he raises a hand, slow and deliberate, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The touch is featherlight, enough to send a ripple of sensation through you, your breath hitching in response. He presses a kiss against your lips, earning a grunt from you.

“No.” he says softly, his tone velvet-smooth, a promise wrapped in certainty. “You don’t hate me. You hate this.” His fingers trace down, following the curve of your jaw, his touch impossibly gentle yet electric. “What I make you feel.”

Your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, your body betraying you even as your mind screams for control. His touch lingers, deliberate and unhurried, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

You don’t pull away; you can’t. You’re caught, pinned not by force but by something far more potent—his ability to see through you, to unravel you piece by piece.

“I don’t—” you start, but the words crumble as his thumb grazes your lower lip, silencing you effortlessly. The contact sends a jolt straight through you, your lips parting instinctively under his touch.

“Don’t lie, siren. ” he whispers, his voice dipping lower, wrapping around you like silk. “Not to me. Not to yourself.”

The challenge in his tone, in his touch, is impossible to ignore. Your pulse pounds in your ears, heat pooling in places you wish it wouldn’t, your body betraying every last shred of resistance you’re clinging to. His gaze never wavers, molten and heavy, pulling you deeper into the storm of him.

“I hate you.” you whisper again, but this time the words are soft, breathless, a futile attempt to hold on to a crumbling facade.

He leans in closer, his lips just a whisper away from yours, his breath mingling with yours in the charged space between you. “Say it again.” he murmurs, his voice a dangerous, sensual tease. “Convince me.”

Your mind spins, the tension between you unbearable, intoxicating. He waits, unyielding, his proximity burning into you like fire, daring you to say something, anything. But in this moment, words feel impossible, eclipsed by the raw pull of his presence and the electric current thrumming in the space between you.

“I hate you, oh—” you whispered again, before moaning and finding no words left as his fingers thrust against your clit in circular motions. You can feel him grind against you in a slow fashion, matching the echo of his fingers. 

You cry as everything in you starts to surrender before it defies. Your voice faltered just slightly, the vulnerability creeping through your chest, but you held on to it, stubborn in the way that only you could be.

His laugh was soft, almost a whisper itself, the sound vibrating against your skin like a quiet tremor. It was dark, low, and knowing, as though he found your words more amusing than anything else. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, the slight brush of his lips as he spoke, each word carrying a challenge.

“We’ll see about that, siren.” he murmured, his voice rich with intention, sending a shiver down your spine. The promise in his tone was undeniable, and it sank deep inside you, where the pulse of your desire had only been growing stronger.

With slow, deliberate movements, he continued to press forward, his rhythm steady, but unrelenting. His body aligned with yours in a perfect, consuming dance. Every shift, every movement sends waves of sensation crashing over you. 

His pace was measured, as much as there was that playfulness in the way he plays with your clit. But there was a quiet power behind it—an awareness of how easily he could unravel you, how each thrust deepened the tension that coiled between you.

The connection between you was electric, an undeniable force that seemed to press against the very air you breathed. Your mind struggled to keep up, lost in the clash of sensations that flooded every inch of you. Each movement made you dizzy, a mix of pleasure and frustration, but you were unable to pull away, unable to break free from the pull of him.

You tried to hold on, to maintain that stubborn edge, to convince yourself that your resistance could hold. But with every push, every breathless moment that passed, the lines between hatred and desire blurred.

It wasn’t just him moving inside of you—it was the way he knew exactly how to push you, how to pull the tension taut, drawing out something from you that you could barely name.

He shifted slightly, leaning closer, his chest brushing against your back. The sound of his breath, shallow now, mixed with the quickening rhythm of his movements. His hands slid across your skin, every touch searing, every caress a reminder of how deeply entwined you had become in this moment.

You couldn’t focus on the words anymore, couldn’t even remember what you had said. The intensity was too overwhelming, his presence too consuming. All you could do was feel, your body caught in the pull of him, trapped in the ebb and flow of sensation that made everything else disappear.

He whispered again, his lips brushing your ear as he moved, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I know what you feel. Don’t pretend it’s anything but this.”

His words broke through the haze, pulling you back to reality, but only for a moment. The desire was stronger now, an undeniable current that swept through you, making it impossible to think beyond the next wave, the next surge of pleasure. There was no room for resistance, not anymore.

And in that moment, you were no longer sure if you hated him or needed him.

You just wanted him to make you feel this good.

You wanted him to make you feel whole.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IN THE MORNING, IT’S NOT WHAT HE EXPECTED. He woke up early, as he usually did, the quiet of the morning wrapping around him like a cocoon. The room was still heavy with the scent of the night, the lingering warmth of your body where you lay sprawled across the sheets, naked and content in sleep.

It was a scene that could’ve been serene, intimate, a moment of peace—but last night shouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t part of the plan, and he knew that. Yet, as he sat up, his eyes lingering on the curves of your body beneath the soft, rumpled sheets, he knew that it had.

But there were no regrets. No hesitation. He had a purpose, and he had no choice but to play your game, to dive into the depths of it, as dangerous as it might be. Every move he made had to be calculated, every action precise. If he wanted to win, truly win, he had to risk it all. He had to let himself slip into the very thing that might unravel him, if only to see how far he could go.

Last night was a game, nothing more. But in the dark corners of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had meant more to you than you let on. He saw it in the way you moved, the way your breath had caught when he’d touched you in the right way, the slight tremor in your fingers when you’d whispered to him. But that wasn’t something he could afford to dwell on—not yet.

He stood, feeling the plush fabric of the night robe you had given him last night slide over his skin. It was a reminder, a lingering token of the intimacy between you two that he had to put aside. He couldn't afford distractions. Not now. Not when the stakes were so high.

His eyes flickered to the space where you slept. For a moment, he almost lingered, but he couldn’t. He knew the risks. He had to move. The urgency gnawed at him as he stepped away from the bed, the silence of the room pressing in on him like a thick fog.

He didn’t need to think twice about where you’d hidden the phone. He already knew. You weren’t subtle, and he was too good at reading people—especially when it came to you. Your body doesn’t lie. Your movements, the way you’d touched that phone last night, the exact spot where you’d set it down without thinking.

All spoke to him in a language he knew better than his own. He made his way to the desk, his fingers brushing over the surface, feeling the faint indentation left by your hand when you’d placed the phone there. He smiled to himself, a brief, knowing smirk, before he slid the drawer open.

There it was.

The phone, sleek and cold, resting where you’d left it. He picked it up with a certain reverence, his fingers brushing the screen, already knowing the passcode, already aware of what lay beneath the surface.

The secrets, the blackmailing material, the coded messages that could bring the world to its knees. He’d seen enough to know just how much power you wielded, how dangerous you could be when it suited you.

But he wasn’t worried. Not yet.

He pressed his fingers to the phone, feeling the slight warmth still radiating from where you had held it last night. The touch was almost intimate in its own way, like the faintest reminder of your presence, but he pushed that aside.

There was no room for sentimentality in this. He had to keep his focus. His eyes scanned the screen as the lock clicked open under his touch, revealing everything you thought you had carefully hidden.

You were easy to read in that regard. Your body, your habits, the way you’d hidden everything. All your secrets were all written in the lines of your movements. You couldn’t help but let slip your patterns, and that, he had learned long ago, was your greatest weakness.

With the phone in his hand, he knew he was one step closer. Just one step. But there were many more ahead, and the game wasn’t over yet. He’d made his move. All he has to do is figure out the password. 

He has a few guesses in mind, if he was being honest.

It’s why he was careful to measure everything about you last night.

Choices were good for a detective playing a game.

But as he was starting to get into his mind, he could hear the thumping. His face darted in annoyance. They’re already here to disturb his case. He moved aside as he heard the footsteps.

Just like that, the special forces stormed in like a thunderclap, their tactical gear and weapons clashing violently with the otherwise serene atmosphere of your home. The once peaceful, intimate space was now flooded with tension, the air thick with danger.

Kento could feel his body tense at the sound of muffled voices, his mind quickly shifting gears. The case was no longer about you, about the stolen moment between the two of you—it was all about the objective now. 

A quiet anger simmered beneath his calm exterior, but he pushed it down. His instincts took over as his analytical mind snapped back into focus. He had to get this right. He had no choice. He had to make this quick.

“Numbers... proportions…” he muttered to himself, his fingers itching for the puzzle’s answer. 

He looked at the phone, his hand moving automatically to input the code. His caramel gold eyes never left the paper as he punched the numbers into the safe’s sleek digital keypad of the phone. He hums to himself, trying to get various options right.

"Bust, waist, hips..." he muttered, piecing it together at last. He had known it all along, hadn't he? Should’ve guessed earlier. But now there was no mistaking it—the passcode was your measurements.

Just as he got to the size of your waist, everything had just clicked. The phone had opened and the screen opened with all the files welcoming him with open arms. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

Another case closed, another win for him, he supposed. The special forces were moving in quickly, eagerly. But just as they approached, something shifted in the room. Before anyone could take a step closer, you smiled as you appeared before him.

“Now, you don’t think I wouldn’t have a little fun of my own, don’t you?”

It was as if the world slowed. Your body blurred with speed and precision, a fluid motion that defied logic. One moment, you were on your bed upstairs asleep; the next, special forces agents were incapacitated, writhing in pain, their weapons scattered across the floor. Nanami Kento was too late to stop you. His own body, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, couldn’t react in time.

And then, as he tried to process what had just happened, your bright clouded eyes locked with his own orbs with a sharp, calculating gaze. Everything about that is filled with something darker. A quiet satisfaction, as though everything had gone exactly as you’d planned.

He stood there, caught in the unexpected chaos, watching you. The mission had shifted once again—now it was about survival, about navigating a trap he hadn’t seen coming. And for once, Nanami Kento soon realized that he wasn’t the one in control.

When Kento came to, the world around him was eerily silent. His head throbbed, the pain searing through his skull like a jagged blade. His hands were bound behind his back, his arms aching as if they’d been in this position for hours. 

His vision was blurry, hazy, and it took a moment for his mind to catch up with his body. The room felt wrong, too still, too quiet, as though the calm before a storm. He could feel everything was so out of place. So deeply disturbed. How could he have let this happen?

The memories hit him swiftly, a flash of what had just transpired. He had your phone, he had opened it, the special forces were here to assist him and had stormed in to do their job and then you, in your smiling nude form, walked over to him. 

He curses under his breath. That knowing smile. You were good. You were too good. The way you had incapacitated everyone so effortlessly. The look in your excited eyes were so determined as they were unreadable. That had unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

Before Nanami Kento could make sense of it all, he found that his vision blurred again, and his body once more succumbed to unconsciousness, drifting away from the present and into the chaos of his mind.

In the dream, the world was different. It wasn’t quite reality, but it felt more vivid, more alive—like a twisted, almost haunting version of it. The colors were sharper, the air heavier, and you were there beside him. 

Your presence was undeniable, a force he couldn’t ignore, and your gaze never left his. You were dressed sharply, every inch of you radiating confidence and poise, an aura of unspoken power that seemed to disarm even the most guarded men.

Your bright eyes glinted with mischief, that familiar spark he’d seen in you when you were toying with him in the real world. There was something dangerously playful in the way you watched him, as if you knew exactly what he was thinking and how to throw him off balance.

“This is why you can’t solve it, detective.” you said, your voice smooth, like honey dripping from the tip of your tongue. 

There was something unsettling in the calmness of your tone, almost too composed, like you were savoring the moment. It was the kind of voice that could lull a man into a false sense of security, a trick, an illusion—just like the puzzle you had expertly crafted around him.

“I thought you were good.” you added, your words almost teasing, laced with an unmistakable challenge, as though you were daring him to catch up.

Nanami Kento’s brow furrowed. It was a rare sight, him visibly unsettled, caught off guard. The detective in him prided himself on his ability to read people, to dissect a situation with precision, but in that moment, he realized how wrong he had been. 

He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected you to be a part of the puzzle. But there you were, standing beside him, offering cryptic insights with a calm that sent a shiver down his spine. You weren’t just playing the game. You were the game. You had manipulated every thread, every clue, just to see how far he would go before he cracked.

“See here.” you said, stepping closer, your presence leaning in like a quiet storm. 

You reached forward, your finger tracing a spot on the board in front of him, the motion effortless, deliberate. Your touch was controlled, tracing the edges of something he had missed entirely. His eyes followed, every movement of yours like a magnet pulling him closer to the realization that his assumptions had been all wrong.

“You focused on the suspects, the alibis, the motives, but you never asked yourself why this wasn’t adding up.” you continued, voice almost a whisper, a dagger slipping between his ribs. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”

Your finger glided over the surface, slowly but with purpose, pointing out a flaw in his reasoning that he hadn’t even thought to consider. A blind spot, now glaringly obvious. He watched as you dissected his work, the very strategy he had relied on crumbling beneath your hands. He could feel the tightness in his chest, a strange sense of unease creeping in.

“You’ve been chasing the wrong lead, Kento.” Your voice was quiet but damning. “This isn’t about them. It was about who was in the front car seat. You knew it couldn’t have been that. You knew that already, didn’t you? You always have.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The weight of them made his heart skip a beat, and for the first time in this case, his sharp mind had trouble keeping up. That car. Of course, he’d known something was off.

He’d felt it in his gut, the way the pieces didn’t quite fit together. But he had overlooked it. Too focused on the suspects, the alibis, the obvious trails. He had been distracted by the noise.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. The pieces finally clicked, and it was all too clear now. Your finger had pointed out a thread he hadn’t seen, the one that connected everything. You weren’t just playing a part in this.

You were the key to the whole puzzle. Your precision, your sharp ability to see things from a different angle, had allowed you to lead him down the path of his own mistakes. His breath caught in his throat as everything aligned. You knew. Even in his dreams, you had always known how to play the game with him.

“That’s why you let this said guilty man walk, didn’t you?” His voice was lower now, a realization dawning on him, both a question and an accusation. “Because you knew the murderer wasn’t him. It was that girl he was protecting. Because you knew she’d give you that hit on the serial killer you were finding, didn’t you?”

You didn’t say anything at first, but your gaze softened, an unreadable look flashing in your eyes. There was something in the way you looked at him, something that didn’t quite match the cold logic of your words.

“You’re catching on, detective.” you said, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. “The girl was always the key. The one everyone overlooked. But not you. Not anymore.”

His mind raced, scrambling to catch up with the torrent of information flooding in. You had manipulated him so effortlessly, guided him through a maze of false leads, making him chase shadows when the real answer had been in plain sight the entire time. He had been so sure, so convinced that he had it all figured out. But you had been several steps ahead, as always.

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time in this entire game, he wasn’t sure if he was the one playing or if he had been the one being played. He blinked, his mind racing as he took in everything you were saying. Your deductions were sharp, methodical. 

Together, you moved through the case, your minds combining in a beautiful, almost perfect dance of logic and wit. Every piece seemed to fall into place, the puzzle coming together effortlessly, as if it had been waiting for you to find the answer all along.

His heart raced, but he couldn’t help the sense of awe that filled him. You were good. Too damn good. And he realized, in that moment, that maybe he hadn’t been the one pulling the strings all along. It was you.

You smiled, a knowing, almost secretive smile, as you moved to stand closer to him. The case had been solved, but the triumph felt fleeting, overshadowed by the way your presence seemed to swallow the room, leaving him feeling small, uncertain. He wasn’t sure what to make of it—of you.

As the final pieces clicked into place, you leaned in, stepping close enough for your lips to barely brush his ear. The warmth of your breath sent a shiver down his spine, and his pulse quickened. You were so close now, the space between you almost nonexistent, your presence overwhelming.

“Brainy, that’s what you are, detective. You always have been.” you whispered, your voice low and sultry, just the right amount of tease in it. “Definitely the new sexy.”

Your words reverberated in his mind, burning into his thoughts. You had always known how to push his buttons, how to get under his skin, but in that moment, it was different. There was something dangerous in the way you said it, something that left him feeling both drawn to you and utterly helpless.

He pulled away just slightly, but your gaze followed him, never breaking. The mischievous glint in your eyes remained, and Nanami couldn’t shake the feeling that you were playing a game far beyond him, the one he hadn’t even realized he was a part of.

"Why do you do this?" Kento murmured, unable to hold back the frustration. "You throw me off balance, make everything feel like a damn puzzle."

You shrugged nonchalantly, your expression unreadable, but the smile on your lips never faltered. “Because, detective.” you said, tilting your head slightly, “I like games. And you play with me too well.”

He stared at you, his heart beating a little faster than it should have been. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or impressed. He lets himself be washed by the sight of you, the siren you were. The siren that’s playing a criminal for fun. He lets his lips echo into a line.

"You always think you’re ahead, don’t you?" you continued, your voice laced with amusement, though there was a challenge in your eyes. "Well, maybe you should start thinking of me as the puzzle, Nanami Kento. Because I’m the one who’s always going to be one step ahead of you."

He couldn’t argue with that. You had always been one step ahead, even when he thought he was in control. But something inside him, some part of him, didn’t want to accept it. He wasn’t going to let you get the better of him forever.

As the dream began to fade, the room around them blurring and distorting, he found himself reaching for you, his hand grasping at the air in an attempt to hold on to the only thing that had ever truly unraveled him. 

But you were gone. You already were. And this round was over. That’s just how it was. As he took a breath, he could feel everything was disappearing into the dream’s chaos, leaving him grasping at nothing but the lingering memory of your voice and the faintest scent of your perfume.

Nanami Kento woke with a start, groaning as the harsh light of reality pierced through his senses. His head was pounding, and the ropes around his wrists dug into his skin. The room was silent, the aftermath of the dream still clinging to him like a fog. The evidence was gone. You were gone.

Except for the lingering hint of your perfume, faint but undeniable.

He cursed under his breath, his jaw tightening in frustration. He had been so close. He had let himself be distracted, fooled by your words, your presence. He couldn’t afford that mistake again.

Next time, he thought, his mind sharpening as he refocused. Next time, you wouldn’t outsmart him.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DIDN’T KNOW WHERE YOU HAD GONE. But he had quite a few guesses, knowing you. But life moved on as it always has. And still continued solving cases left and right, as he always has. In the months that followed, Nanami Kento found himself caught in an unexpected dance with you, one he didn’t know how to step away from.

You had added a phone number on his phone.

Six months after he met you, you messaged him.

And ever since then, you kept texting him. 

Your flirtations, while playful, always left a subtle bite, a lingering edge to them. Your messages were never too forward, never outright invasive, but there was always something that felt like a slow burn. You knew how to pull him in, how to keep him wondering, questioning, and even when he tried to distance himself, the pull of your words, your subtle, calculated charm, kept him coming back for more.

Your Siren:

“Detective, you’ve been quiet lately. Too busy solving everyone else’s problems? Or is it that you can’t stop thinking about me?” 😏

Pretty Man:

“I don’t have time for distractions at this moment.”

Your Siren:

“Hmm, I’m not a distraction. Just a little... temptation. Don’t worry, I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me to.” 😈

Pretty Man:

“I’m not in the habit of asking for things like that.”

Your Siren:

“Oh, but maybe you should be. You might find it interesting... just a thought. How long do you think you can avoid temptation, Kento?”

Pretty Man:

“Too busy to play games.”

Your Siren:

“You sure? Because every time you text me, I can’t help but think you’re already playing. But don’t worry... I won’t push. Yet.” 😏

Pretty Man:

“You always do this. You don’t know when to stop.”

Your Siren:

“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t help it when someone’s so... irresistible. I’ll let you figure it out. But just so you know, I don’t mind being patient. We both know you’re not as immune as you think.”

Pretty Man:

“You don’t know me as well as you think.”

Your Siren:

“Oh, Kento. I know exactly what you want. And trust me, I know exactly how to give it to you. But only if you’re ready for it.” 😏

Pretty Man:

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

Your Siren:

“Of course, you’re not. But I think you might be interested in me. And I don’t mean the usual way. I’m more than just... a pretty face. You’ll see soon enough.”

Pretty Man:

“As I said, I don’t have time for games at this moment.”

Your Siren:

“The problem with you, Kento, is that you think everything is a game. But maybe... just maybe... the game is already over. You’re already playing, and I’m always one move ahead.”

Pretty Man:

“I’m not falling for this.”

Your Siren:

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just showing you how easily you can fall when you least expect it. You’ll see.” 😈

He’d wake up to your texts, your quiet, seductive words that danced between lighthearted banter and something darker, something dangerous that made his pulse race and his heart beat faster. It was a game, he knew, but it was a game he couldn’t seem to quit. 

Sometimes, he caught himself getting lost in those conversations, allowing his mind to wander to places he knew it shouldn’t. He never let himself acknowledge it fully, but deep down, he recognized that you were getting under his skin. You were more than just a case, more than a temptation. You were becoming a shadow in his life.

As Christmas drew closer, a sense of foreboding settled over him, thickening the air around him. It wasn’t just the weight of the holidays or the cases he hadn’t solved; it was you.

The last few months had made him feel like he was constantly walking a tightrope, one step away from falling off, and every text from you only deepened that sense. He tried to focus on his work, tried to keep his mind clear, but you were always there, lingering like an unanswered question.

Then, one evening, a package arrived. The familiar weight of it told him who it was from before he even opened it. He didn’t need to look at the return address—he already knew. Inside, wrapped in simple brown paper, was a phone. 

A camera phone, scratched and worn, with the screen cracked and a faded sticker on the back. Your phone. The woman whose disappearance had left a hole in his chest, whose death had been the catalyst for so many of his sleepless nights. The case had never sat right with him, and now, months later, this phone was reappearing in his life like some twisted ghost.

His fingers were cold as he held the phone, his breath catching in his throat. The smell of her perfume, faint but still distinct, clung to the device. The note that came with it was simple, almost too simple, but it sent a chill down his spine nonetheless: 

“You wanted answers. I think it’s time you got some.”

The words haunted him. His grip tightened on the phone as his mind began to race. He had tried to bury the case, tried to move on, but now this thing you had sent, this link to the past, dragged him back into the abyss.

The guilt he had buried deep down resurfaced, mixing with a sense of dread. This wasn’t just a message about the woman who was dead—it was a message to him, about him, as if he were being pulled back into the game he’d been trying to escape.

A few days later, the news hit him like a blow to the stomach: a body had been found. The victim was a woman, her body discarded, lifeless and cold. The description matched you—you, his siren.

The one whose death had never been fully explained, never truly understood. His mind raced, every instinct screaming at him that this was connected. It had to be. He should have expected it, but when the truth came crashing down, it was still a blow.

He couldn’t look away from the image of your own body, your face frozen in an expression of pain, the familiar features twisted by the brutal finality of death. The realization was slow to settle in, but it sank like a stone in his chest.

You had orchestrated this. You had sent him the phone. You were always the one pulling the strings. This was more than just a case to you. It was personal. It was a twisted game, and Nanami Kento was just another piece on your board.

Days turned into weeks, and Nanami found himself sinking deeper into a well of depression. The guilt, the despair. He couldn’t escape it. He had failed. Failed to protect you, failed to see the signs, failed to connect the dots in time. 

The person whose life he couldn’t save now haunted him, and the worst part was that it wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about you. You had been playing him all along, and now he was left to clean up the mess, surrounded by the broken pieces of a case that he could never close.

Each night, he would come home, exhausted from the mental and emotional toll, only to stare at the phone you had sent him. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. Something about it kept him tethered to the reality he didn’t want to face. 

It was a constant reminder of his failure—and of you. The scent of your perfume clung to it like a poison. The knowledge that you were still out there, still watching him, was a constant weight pressing on his chest over and over again.

He tried to focus on the case, tried to throw himself into finding answers, but the deeper he dug, the more he realized that this was a trap. It was a trap you had set for him long ago, and he was too far in to find his way out. Every lead he followed seemed to circle back to you. Every piece of evidence pointed back to you.

You were the mastermind, always just out of reach, always one step ahead.

By the time the holidays passed, Nanami Kento had stopped celebrating. There was no joy in the season for him. Only the gnawing emptiness and the crushing weight of his own inadequacies. He knew, deep down, that he would never escape you. You were like a shadow, always following, always watching. Always waiting for the next move.

And as he lay awake at night, the thought that gnawed at him more than any other was this: Next time, would he be able to stop you? Or would he fall for your game again?

But then he received that message. 

He felt his eyes widened at that beep.

Did you miss me, pretty man?

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YOU CAME TO HIS APARTMENT THAT DAY. He couldn’t believe it. His mind was racing, his heart hammering in his chest. You were still alive. After everything, after all the assumptions and deductions, after all the pieces that seemed to fit perfectly in their place, here you were. 

Full in the flesh, standing before him. The winter air was crisp around you, your breath visible in the cold as you stood there in a coat, a scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, looking as composed as ever.

Nanami Kento took a moment to take you in. His caramel eyes lingered, almost as if he couldn’t quite process the sight. You were here. Alive. Breathing. In the flesh. The siren who had been a ghost, a phantom in his case, who had slipped through his fingers. 

The same vicious smile you always wore was still there, tugging at the corners of your lips, as though everything was a game to you. And those eyes—those same cloudy, unreadable eyes. Eyes that seemed to reflect nothing and everything at once.

He felt a pang in his chest, the strange mixture of emotions flooding him all at once. Confusion, anger, horror, surprise. Some of it was easy to name, others not so much. But the most striking of all was the disbelief.

The realization that this was real, that this moment was real. His breath caught as he stared at you, frozen in place for a moment. How did this happen? How did you survive?

"You’re not dead." he finally managed, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. His hands were clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body taut with the need to understand, to make sense of it all. "How?"

You gave him no answer at first, simply letting your gaze hold his, piercing and cold. You were enjoying this, the way he struggled to find the words, the way the detective inside him  faltered. Then, as though sensing his confusion, you spoke, your voice smooth and mocking, a trace of amusement threading through your words. 

"You missed me, didn’t you?"

The question hung in the air like smoke, curling around him, suffocating him in a way that left him almost breathless. He didn’t know how to respond. His mind was still reeling from the shock, his pulse quickening. You were alive, and yet, everything he had come to understand about this case had been a lie. A carefully constructed illusion designed to deceive him.

"Missed you?" His voice was quieter now, laced with a mixture of disbelief and something darker. His eyes narrowed as he finally took a step forward. "You’ve been playing me from the beginning."

You tilted your head, a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. "Is that what you think?" you asked, your tone almost playful. "Tell me, pretty man, do you feel used? Confused? Or perhaps... a little betrayed?"

His frown deepened as he stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "All of the above." he muttered, voice low with frustration.

But despite his words, something else flickered beneath the surface. Curiosity, maybe. A strange pull he couldn’t quite ignore.

"You knew this whole time, didn’t you? You knew I’d be after you. You wanted me to come for you."

You didn’t answer at first, letting the silence stretch between you. Then, with a small sigh, you shrugged as if it was nothing. "You’re the one who followed the breadcrumbs. You’re the one who couldn’t resist. You wanted to solve it. It’s just a part of the game."

"Game?" he repeated, the disbelief turning to something sharper, more biting. "You think this is a game? People have died."

Your smile only deepened, colder now, the amusement never leaving your face. "And yet, here you are, still chasing after me. Yearning even, don’t you think? Still trying to make sense of it all."

His hands clenched tighter, anger flaring. “You’ve made a mess of everything. You’re toying with people’s lives like they don’t matter.”

"Toying?" You raised an eyebrow, amused, almost entertained by his indignation. “No. I’m giving them a choice. And you’re the one who chose to follow. After all, detective, you thrive on puzzles, don’t you?”

He took another step toward you, his voice a low, threatening murmur. “You’ve made your game far too dangerous. You’ve hurt people... innocent people.”

“You’re acting like you care.” you replied with a laugh, as if the idea of him being emotionally invested was laughable. “But we both know you don’t. You’re just trying to win. And you will, Kento. Eventually. But not without paying the price. That’s how this works.”

For a moment, the tension between you two was unbearable. He was so close now, the air thick with the weight of his anger, and yet, there was something else beneath it all. He wanted to understand you.

With how you thought, how you operated. But more than that, something in him craved the challenge you presented, even now, even after all the destruction you’d caused.

"You think you’re above it all, don’t you?" he muttered, his tone laced with both frustration and intrigue. "But you’re just as trapped in this as everyone else."

The smile never left your lips, but your eyes shifted, a flicker of something darker flashing beneath the surface. "Maybe." you said softly, the words drawing his focus closer. "But I’m not the one chasing. You are."

Nanami Kento’s frustration was palpable, his brow furrowing as he stared at you, unable to fathom why you were here, standing in front of him, alive. Alive. His thoughts scrambled, questions tumbling over one another in a chaotic mess.

He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t grasp the full extent of the situation. And yet, here you were, standing in the middle of it all, as calm and composed as ever.

“Why are you here?” he demanded, his voice rough with a mix of disbelief and barely contained anger. “You should be—" He stopped himself, the words hanging in the air as he realized how much had gone wrong. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

You let his question linger for a moment, your gaze never leaving his as the air between you thickened with unspoken tension. His eyes, sharp and searching, never wavered, as if waiting for some explanation that would make sense of the madness. But all you did was smile. Calm, almost indifferent.

“I needed a place to hide.” you said softly, your voice smooth, almost too casual for someone who had just reappeared from the dead. “And you’ve been looking for me for so long, pretty man. It seemed like the most obvious choice.”

His eyes narrowed, not sure whether to be more furious or more confused by your nonchalant answer. His breath came in quick, uneven bursts, his hands clenched tightly at his sides as if keeping himself from reaching out and shaking some sense into you. 

"Hide? Hide from what? From who? You’ve been playing everyone, manipulating them—manipulating me."

Your gaze flickered with something unreadable, but your lips quivered upwards, amused by his attempt to piece it all together. "You think you understand everything, don't you?" you said, stepping a little closer to him, the space between you closing, your body language daring him to act. "But you're missing the point. You're too caught up in your own game, in your own rules."

His breath hitched as he took a step forward, eyes burning with something darker, something more dangerous than frustration. "Stop playing with me." he warned, his voice low and tense, every word coming out with an edge that made the air feel even heavier. "Tell me what you want, what you're really after."

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you looked up at him, your eyes locking with his, and for a brief moment, the tension between you both was almost suffocating. The air was thick with unspoken words, with desire and anger and something else, something neither of you had been willing to acknowledge until now.

Kento couldn’t help but just stand there, staring at you, the weight of the situation sinking in deeper with every passing second. His mind was clouded, his control slipping just a little more with each heartbeat that seemed to thunder in his chest. And then, before he could stop himself, the last thread of restraint snapped.

Without warning, he moved, closing the distance between you in one swift motion. His hands gripped your shoulders possessively, pulling you into him as his lips crushed against yours. It was a kiss of urgency, of frustration, of desire that had been building since the moment you walked back into his life.

For a moment, you didn’t react. But then, slowly, deliberately, you kissed him back. Your lips parted, and the tension that had been coiling between you two unraveled, replaced by the heat of your kiss. 

The sensation was electric, a dangerous blend of anger and attraction that you both couldn’t seem to escape. His hands slid to the small of your back, pressing you closer, as if trying to imprint the feeling of you into his very being.

You let yourself go, the sharp edges of your emotions dulling under the intensity of the kiss. It was everything he hadn’t expected and yet everything he had craved in this moment. The game, the puzzle, the questions—they all faded into the background as his kiss consumed you.

His heart was pounding in his chest, every nerve alive with the need for more, but he pulled away just enough to look at you, eyes dark and intense. "You’re not getting away this time." he muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

You smirked, breathless but unfazed, your fingers lightly tracing his jaw as you met his gaze. "I never planned on running." you replied softly, your voice a whisper of something darker, something more dangerous.

The tension between you was palpable now, the air crackling with a dangerous energy that neither of you could deny. You were playing the game, and so was he—but this time, the rules had shifted. And neither of you knew exactly where it would lead.

As the days wore on, the subtle, electrifying tension between Kento and you only deepened. Your presence in his life was no longer something he could dismiss. Even though he tried to maintain his emotional distance, you had an uncanny ability to break through that wall, piece by piece. 

Every conversation, every look, and every small gesture you made slowly chipped away at his resolve. You were pulling him in with an invisible force, and despite his best efforts to resist, he could feel himself being tugged along, unable to escape the gravitational pull of you.

The house was quieter now, the days blending into nights where neither of you spoke much about the underlying tension. But you didn’t need words to communicate. The silence between you both was a language all its own, an understanding that neither of you could easily put into words. You didn’t need to talk about your past, about the things that had driven you to seek him out again. 

Kento knew that there was a story buried deep inside you, one you were unwilling to share, but it didn’t matter anymore. You had already told him more than enough, through your body language, the quiet moments where your eyes would meet just a little longer than usual. He understood you better than anyone else could, even if he hated it.

One evening, the two of you sat together at the kitchen table, an open bottle of wine between you. It was a routine that had become familiar, a time when the chaos of the outside world could be forgotten, even if just for a moment. 

You had been telling him about a case you were working on, but as you spoke, Kento found himself lost in your presence rather than the details of the case. The way you leaned into the table, the way your fingers brushed the rim of your glass, the way your voice carried effortlessly through the room.

Everything about that, all of it held him captive. You had caged him along with you. It was then, in the stillness between your words, that the question came, hanging in the air like a soft whisper. It always was.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?” Your voice was quiet but laced with something unspoken, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been.

Kento’s heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, he almost forgot how to breathe. He knew what you were offering wasn’t just a meal. There was something deeper, more intimate in the way you phrased the question. 

It was a silent invitation, one that promised more than just food and conversation. He knew that much. It was obvious. It promised the chance to finally break down the last of the barriers that had kept you both apart. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. He pursed his lips.

No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how badly his body and mind screamed at him to give in, he knew he couldn’t let himself fall back into this—this pattern, this trap. He had to maintain control, to keep his distance. 

But even as the words left his lips, as he said, “I can’t” something inside him felt like it was unraveling. The regret and the longing in your eyes, the way your smile faltered just for a moment, told him that you understood exactly what he meant. It hurt, but it was the right thing to do. Or so he told himself.

You didn’t say anything at first. You simply looked at him, the silence stretching between you like an ocean. And then, as if all of your plans had finally come to fruition, you stood up from the table and walked around it, your heels clicking softly on the floor. 

The distance between you both evaporated the moment you moved closer, your presence suddenly all-encompassing. Without a word, you leaned in, your lips barely grazing his ear as your breath sent a shiver down his spine. 

“You don’t have to say it with words, Kento.” you whispered. “I think you already know what I want.”

And in that moment, every single ounce of resistance he had left shattered. It wasn’t that he had stopped caring about the boundaries he had put in place. It wasn’t that he was suddenly willing to throw away everything he had tried to protect. 

It was simply that the pull of you was too strong, too irresistible. The magnetic force between you both was something that no amount of willpower could suppress. He was already too far gone.

Before he could think or process what was happening, your lips were on his, soft and urgent, demanding nothing and everything all at once. His hands, seemingly of their own accord, reached up to pull you closer, to feel the warmth of your body against his. 

The kiss deepened, slow at first but quickly turning desperate, as if both of you had been holding back for too long. The taste of you, the feel of your skin against his, was intoxicating, overwhelming.

It was more than just desire. It was the culmination of everything that had been building up between you both, an undeniable need that neither of you could control.

The night unfolded like a haze of touch, soft whispers, and heated moments that blurred into each other. The world outside ceased to exist as the two of you lost yourselves in each other, in the raw, untamed connection that had always simmered between you. 

Nanami Kento couldn’t remember when things had gone from tentative, unsure steps to something more frantic, more desperate, but he didn’t care. He was past caring. In the quiet aftermath, as you lay beside him, your body pressed against his, Kento’s mind raced. 

He couldn’t pretend that this didn’t change things. It had already changed everything. The walls he had so carefully built had crumbled in a matter of hours, and now he was left standing at the edge, unsure of how to move forward.

As you slept beside him, your head resting on his chest, he realized the truth that he had been trying so hard to deny: You were no longer just a temptation, a passing distraction. You were something else entirely—a force that had entered his life and shaken everything to its core.

And for all his attempts to hold back, to keep his distance, he knew, deep down, that he would never be able to escape you. The lines between right and wrong, between desire and control, had blurred beyond recognition, and now, there was only one thing he knew for certain: he was caught in your web, and there was no going back.

As the quiet settled over the room, Kento couldn’t shake the feeling of your presence beside him. It was as though every inch of him had been pulled toward you, and now that you were so close, the pull had only deepened. 

He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. The vulnerability of the moment was overwhelming, and he didn’t know how to handle it. You stirred beside him, your fingers tracing idle patterns across his chest. 

There was a quiet contentment in the way you touched him, as if you knew exactly how to make him feel both at ease and disoriented at the same time. Finally, you broke the silence with a soft, teasing whisper, your voice low and laced with something that made his pulse quicken. 

“You know, Kento, I never took you for someone who’d be so... unpredictable.”

Kento turned his head to look at you, your face still partially hidden by the dim light of the room, but he could see the playful glint in your eyes. Despite the heaviness of the situation, despite everything that had just transpired, there was still a challenge in your tone—like you were daring him to acknowledge what had just happened between you.

“I never expected you to be so persistent.” he replied, his voice hushed but tinged with the weight of the words.

You smiled, a faint, knowing smile that seemed to reach the corners of your eyes. “Persistence has its rewards, don’t you think?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let his eyes linger on you, taking in the details of your face—how you looked so much like the woman who had always been just out of reach, yet now was lying next to him as though you belonged there.

The closeness was intoxicating, and for a moment, Nanami Kento allowed himself to let go of the inner tension that had been gnawing at him.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” he muttered, almost to himself. His hand moved to gently push a lock of your hair behind your ear, a movement that seemed strangely intimate. “I’m not... someone you should be relying on for this kind of thing.”

You turned toward him, propping your head up with one hand, the other resting on his chest. Your gaze was steady, unwavering, and you leaned in slightly, as if closing the space between you would help you understand him better.

“You’re wrong.” you said softly, your voice carrying a quiet confidence. “I know exactly who you are, Kento. You’ve been so careful, so stoic, but underneath that... I see you. And I know this isn’t just a passing thing for you. You wouldn’t let it be. Not with me.”

His throat tightened. He wanted to say something in response, something to deny the truth of your words, but for some reason, the honesty in your gaze made him pause. It was almost like you had peeled back a layer of himself that he had buried for so long, and now there was no turning back.

“Do you think you’re the first person to think they can outsmart me?” Nanami asked, his voice surprisingly gentle, almost like he was talking to himself. “You’ve always been good at what you do. Too good.”

“Is that a compliment, or are you just being modest?” you teased, but your voice was softer now, as if the playful note was fading into something more serious.

“It’s the truth.” he said, his voice steady but filled with a new kind of weight. “I can’t pretend that I’m immune to you, that I can just walk away from all this.”

You shifted slightly, your body inching closer to his, as though the tension in the air had become too much for both of you to ignore. Your lips parted, your gaze never leaving his. A glint of something beyond the icy clouds he was enamoured about.

“You don’t have to walk away, Kento.” you whispered, a trace of vulnerability beneath your usual boldness. “But if you’re not willing to stay, then don’t bother pretending. I won’t waste my time.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on him, heavier than it had ever been before. Your hand rested against his own, smiling at him so tenderly.

“I’m not pretending.” he finally said, his voice quiet but resolute. “I know what I want. The question is... do you know what you want?”

For a moment, it seemed like the world outside the room had disappeared entirely. You were both in this space, suspended in time, just the two of you, your emotions intertwined in a way neither of you had fully prepared for.

“I know exactly what I want.” you replied softly, your fingers brushing his jawline. “But the real question, Kento, is whether you’re ready to let go of what you’re holding onto. You may be in control... but for how long?”

The challenge in your voice sent a shiver down his spine, and Kento couldn’t help but lean in just a fraction closer, as though the very air between you had become too thick to ignore. The magnetism of the moment was too strong, and even though he knew the risks, knew the consequences, he didn’t pull back.

“I’m not sure if I can let go.” he admitted, his voice low. His caramel eyes searched yours, looking for something—anything—to make sense of the chaos swirling inside him. “But maybe... just maybe... I’m starting to understand why I don’t want to.”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you closed the small gap between you and kissed him, a soft, slow kiss that held all the promises neither of you dared to speak aloud. It was a kiss that conveyed everything, a silent agreement that neither of you had the strength to pull away from.

And as the night stretched on, the boundaries between right and wrong, between need and guilt, blurred once again. Neither of you said what was truly on your minds, but in that moment, words weren’t necessary. 

The understanding was enough. The desire was enough. And maybe, just maybe, this—this strange, inevitable connection was more than either of you could ever have imagined. Even though he didn’t know how long this was going to last.

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YET HE KNEW THAT YOU WERE COMPETITIVE TOO. You didn’t want to lose the game. It was more than just a challenge to you—it was a test of your control, your power over the situation. You’d played the game so carefully, weaving each step, each move, into a perfect symphony of manipulation. 

But that night, before you disappeared from his apartment, Kento had seen it in your eyes. That brief, fleeting moment where the façade cracked, where the sharp edges of your confidence gave way to something far more vulnerable, something he would never fully understand.

The room was thick with tension, charged with an intensity that neither of you had been able to escape. You were face to face with him now, and the walls of your meticulously crafted world were closing in. The situation had shifted in ways you hadn’t planned for, and every move you had made, every carefully laid out strategy, was beginning to unravel.

You’d been the one pulling the strings, the one who had orchestrated everything with precision. But now, Nanami Kento stood before you, a force that had disrupted the delicate balance you had worked so hard to maintain. 

His sharp mind, his piercing gaze, and his unyielding persistence had become the thorn in your side, one you hadn’t expected. The game was still on, but the stakes were higher than ever. For a moment, you let your mind drift back to the past few days. 

How you’d thought you had him under control, how you’d been so sure of yourself. You had always been in control of the game. Whether it was your charm, your intellect, or the secrets you so expertly guarded, you had always held the upper hand. 

But with Nanami Kento, there was something different. Everything about him was an anomaly.  His presence was like a force of nature, one that couldn’t be ignored, one that made you question everything.

“This is what you’ve been working towards?” Yaga Masamichi's voice was cold, filled with disbelief. 

He had been observing from a distance, waiting for the right moment to intervene, but now it was clear that the game had reached its climax. You stood across from them, eyes sharp, calculating. You could feel Kento’s eyes burning holes into you.

"I’m not interested in your so-called justice, iceman." you spat, turning your focus back to Kento. "You both are just pawns in a much bigger plan. This—" you motioned vaguely around you. "—all of this is a distraction. A test. And you were so easy to manipulate, detective."

Kento stood still, the air thick with resolve. The betrayal in your voice stung, but he wasn’t letting it sway him. “You’re the one who’s been playing a game, siren.” he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. "And the one who's been pretending. Pretending like you didn’t have a stake in all this."

You scoffed. "Please. Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need you. I’m using you, just like I’ve used everyone else. You were always just a tool."

But there was something in your eyes, there was a flicker, an imperceptible shift. Something that betrayed your words. Kento, ever observant, didn’t miss it. He took a step forward, his brow furrowed, voice cutting through the air. 

“You’re lying.”

You froze.

His eyes narrowed, taking in the subtle signs you thought you had hidden so well. "Your elevated pulse. You can't fool me. You're interested in me. All this... it’s a game to you, but you’re not fooling anyone.”

You felt a chill run down your spine. How could he have figured it out so easily? You had worked so hard to keep up the façade, to maintain the power, but in that moment, Nanami Kento had seen right through you. He always has, the moment you both met.

“You really thought you had me, didn’t you?” Kento continued, his voice low and steady, almost teasing. “You thought I wouldn’t notice. But I can see right through you. The truth is, you’ve always been a lot more invested than you let on."

“How can you be so confident?”

The room felt smaller, the silence deafening as Nanami Kento moved closer, his expression unreadable. You were beginning to panic inside, but you refused to let it show. Your eyes tensed as he got to you. You watched as he wraps the fingers of his right hand around her left wrist, then leans forward and brings his mouth close to her right ear.

“Because I took your pulse.”

Almost suddenly, you could feel yourself going through your memories. You found yourself at that moment, where you were kneeling in front of him and smiling at him. Your hand on top of him. You hadn’t noticed it then. You were too busy looking at him.

It was then he, keeping eye contact, turning his hand over and resting his fingertips on the underside of your wrist. The beating of your heart echoes against the fabric of his flesh. He pursed his lips in a flat line.

You frowned, betrayal finally evident in your eyes as you gathered yourself to the present once more. You could feel his grip on your wrist tightens. You try to open your mouth but nothing comes out of your lips.

“They’re elevated.” He continues to whisper to you. “Your pupils dilated, just like back then.”

“I imagine people think that love seems like a mystery to me, that it’s of lesser value to my fondness of the game, of logic.Like you want it to be.” He tells you, brushing your hair and tucking it against your ear. “But it’s chemistry,a s simple as breathing. It’s just as destructive, don’t you think?”

Kento turns away and walks a few paces from you. You couldn’t help but try and follow behind him. But you stopped as he turned around and faced you once again. You purse your lips in a flat line. He smiles at you as he takes the phone.

“You know, you tried to convince me that this is all a game, that you were bored and this was you having fun. You played all those games over and over, tempting me and you couldn’t help it could you?”

He starts pressing the buttons on the phone. You could feel the air get punched out of your lungs. You wanted him to stop, but he didn't. He looks up to you, trying to see your panic and tension. 

“You knew I would try and use your body as much as you would use mine. You allowed me to take your measurements, everything. But this phone, everything about this is intimate. This is your heart.”

Without breaking his gaze into your bright emotional eyes, Kento pushes his finger and punches in the first of the five letter code. Then it clicked. You closed your eyes, tears pouring out your eyes. You could feel your heart beating loudly.

“And if you wanted to win the game.” He whispers to you, smiling. “You should never let it rule your head.”

You stared at him, trying to stay calm but the panic is beginning to show behind your eyes, tears pouring down your cheeks. You had lost to him. He smiles at you in a triumph as your breathing becomes heavier.

“You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you’ve worked for.” he tells you as he stares at the phone. “But after all that time, being obsessed about me. You just couldn’t resist it, couldn’t you?”

“Stop. Please.”

“I’ve always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage.” He continues as you try to seize his hand, gazing intensely at him. “Thank you for the final proof.”

He shows Yaga the phone. 

It was his name, K-E-N-T-O.

You felt the tears pour again.

“Everything I said: it’s not real.” You whispered back at him, lying through your teeth. “I was just playing the game.”

“I know.” He whispered to you, his eyes echoing fondness. “And this is just losing it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected him to be able to guess it so quickly, but of course, he was always ahead of the game. He knew what you had been hiding all along. With a sharp click, the phone unlocked. Kento glanced at the screen briefly before turning his gaze back to you.

Your stomach turned. The room seemed to tilt around you. For the first time in your life, you were the one caught in the web. You had underestimated him. The man who had been nothing more than a distraction was now the one holding the key to your entire operation.

Before you could react, Yaga moved swiftly to grab the phone from Kento’s hands, but you were already one step ahead. Your instinct for survival kicked in. You didn’t have time to make sense of it all. You needed to leave. Now.

With a sudden movement, you grabbed your coat, the weight of the situation pressing down on you as you turned to the door. Kento’s gaze followed you, but he didn’t try to stop you. You looked into his eyes. He knew that you wouldn’t last six months. 

“Not so fast.” you heard him say, his tone sharp. “You won’t get away that easily.”

But you were already slipping out of the room, the sound of your heels echoing down the hallway as you fled. Behind you, you could hear Kento and Yaga discussing the aftermath, but it didn’t matter anymore. 

Your plan was unraveling, but you were no longer in the mood to play by their rules. In the blink of an eye, you were gone, disappearing into the shadows of the city, knowing that the game had shifted—and you would need to find a new way to stay in control.

As you hurried through the corridor, your mind raced. The realization that Nanami Kento had figured out your carefully constructed ruse was a blow to your confidence, but you couldn’t afford to dwell on it. You had come too far, planned too meticulously, to let it all collapse now.

Still, the fact that he had guessed the password, his name, cut deep, deeper than you'd expected. You had thought your feelings were buried beneath the cold, calculated façade you’d built, but now, standing on the brink of losing everything, they resurfaced in full force.

Nanami Kento—the man who had been a mere pawn in your plan had somehow become the center of it. His presence, his ability to break through your defenses, it all felt like a betrayal, even though you were the one who had been playing the game. You didn’t have time to question what had gone wrong; you had to act fast.

As you made your way down the stairs, the voices of Yaga and Kento grew fainter, their words drowned out by the pounding of your heart. You knew you had to disappear before they caught up, but something inside you resisted, a strange mix of anger and... longing. You couldn’t let it show, not now, not when everything was slipping through your fingers.

Your fingers gripped the handle of the door to the street, but just as you were about to escape, a voice called out.

“You think you can just run?” Kento’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine. He had followed you.

You whirled around to face him, your eyes narrowing in defiance, your body tense with adrenaline. Kento stood a few feet behind you, the doorframe casting shadows across his features. He looked at you with a mixture of frustration and something else, something more complex than anger, maybe even understanding.

“Do you really think this is the end, Kento?” you sneered, trying to mask the uncertainty building inside. 

You had never shown this side of yourself to him before, this vulnerable, off-balance side that was beginning to crack under the weight of your own feelings. You couldn’t afford to let him see it, though. Not now.

“You always have an answer, don’t you?” he said quietly, his gaze steady as it locked with yours. “Always one step ahead, but this time, I’m the one who figured you out. I know what you're really after.”

You clenched your jaw. You could feel the heat of your emotions bubbling to the surface, but you held them back. “You don’t know anything, Kento.” you said, your voice was hard, but the crack in it betrayed you.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His presence was like an anchor, heavy and undeniable, making it impossible for you to ignore the magnetic pull between you. For a moment, the anger you had been holding onto faded, replaced by something much more dangerous. You could feel it in your chest. A thudding, tight sensation that wasn’t entirely from fear.

“I know you.” Nanami said, his voice low. “I know how you work. How you manipulate, how you play people to get what you want.” He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I also know something else. I know that you... care.”

You blinked, startled. "You're wrong." you hissed, your heart racing as you tried to shove the feelings back into the recesses of your mind where they had been hiding.

But he wasn’t finished. "No.”he said, his tone firm. "I’m right. You’re not as cold as you think you are. You’ve been hiding behind your plan, using it as a shield, but it’s not fooling me anymore."

You wanted to lash out, to deny it, to prove him wrong. But his words hung in the air, making it harder and harder to push them away. He was right, in a way. You had always told yourself that you were in control, that you could manipulate the situation, use it to your advantage. But now, standing there with him, with the evidence of your vulnerability laid bare, you weren’t so sure.

"Don’t make this harder than it already is." he said, his voice soft but resolute. “You don’t have to keep running, but if you do, you’ll only be fooling yourself.”

You could feel the weight of his words pressing down on you, the truth of them sinking in like a heavy stone. You were out of options. You didn’t have an answer. The truth of it hit you hard, and before you could stop yourself, you were already fleeing. 

Your heart pounding, the camera phone slipping from your hand as you disappeared into the night. You didn’t know if you were running from Nanami Kento or from yourself. But one thing was certain: the game was far from over.

“Run now, siren.” He whispers in your ear. “I’ll let you have the head start.”

He had won this time, and you lost.

You always will, when it comes to him.

You loved him, after all.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THINGS HAVE GONE AND PASSED AGAIN. The air was heavy with the kind of silence that could only follow about something like this. Yaga Masamichi. sat at his desk, the faint hum of the office lights above the only sound as he held the letter in his hands. Kento can only look at him, trying to keep a poker face.

He had received the news just moments ago. The news that people were expecting. News that even Kento knew would happen. But after you had lost the game, you were more vulnerable than ever before. And there was nothing that was to be done about it. That was just how it was in this world.

You, the enigmatic figure who had stirred the threads of chaos and manipulation in their lives, had been executed by enemy spies. He heard it was at least merciful, one clean cut.  And now he has to tell Nanami Kento. And that would close the case. 

"Yaga, you called me here too early for this.”

“I know, I know. But it has to be said in person.” Yaga said, his voice steady but grim. “It’s about the dominatrix.”

Kento looked at him for a moment.

He sighed as he straightened his position.

“What happened?” Kento’s voice had softened, as if preparing for the inevitable.

“They’ve been executed.” Yaga said, each word feeling like a final nail in the coffin of everything they had all been through with you. “Some of their enemies... They caught them. They’re gone.”

There was another long silence. Nanami Kento didn’t speak immediately. He sighed, and slowly took out a cigarette from his pocket. Soon, he pulls out a lighter. The soft click of a lighter igniting the moment filled the void. 

“Thank you for informing me.” Kento replied, his voice low, emotionless.

“Listen, I just—” Yaga started, sensing the complicated nature of their relationship, but Nanami cut him off.

“I’ll handle it.” he said, his tone final. 

And with that, Nanami Kento stood up.

The smell of nicotine echoed through.

And then, he left as quietly as he entered.

Nanami Kento arrived back at his apartment, the cigarette already gone. He sighed as he sat in the quiet of his apartment, the heavy weight of the news pressing against him. His apartment, usually a place of calm and routine, felt eerily empty now. 

The hum of the outside world fading into a distant, unimportant murmur. He walked to the corner where his violin sat. He had left it a while ago, having been summoned. There was a new piece he had to enjoy. A new refuge from the chaos of his life.

Sitting down, Kento lifted the violin, the bow in his hand as though it were second nature. He placed it against the strings and began to play—a soft, mournful tune that echoed through the empty space of his home.

The melody wasn’t one he had planned to play. It was a reflection of the tumult he felt inside. There was an unspoken grief, a lingering ache that he couldn’t quite place. It was almost as if he were trying to play the sorrow out of his chest, to make sense of the confusion swirling in his mind.

But his mind kept circling back to you. The way you had manipulated him, pulled him into your web, but also the way you had challenged him, pushed him to think in ways he never had before. He couldn't deny the complexity of his feelings for you. The mix of resentment and a strange, reluctant respect for the person you were.

You had been his puzzle, one that never quite made sense, and now, with your loss, that piece of his life was forever unfinished. You were the game that he enjoyed the most, the game that had excited him the most. The game he loved.

As he played, his fingers faltered slightly over the strings, the tension building in his chest as he remembered the last time he had seen you. The way your eyes had locked, full of unspoken words. The way you had almost reached for him, only for everything to crumble apart in the chaos of the mission.

The music began to swell as he poured his emotions into each note, but something else caught his attention. The glint of the camera phone in his breast pocket. The phone that had been the key to everything. 

The phone that he had kept close, far closer than he had ever intended. It wasn’t just a tool, a piece of evidence. It was a reminder of you, a tether that still held him in your orbit, even in your absence.

He paused his playing, reaching up to gently pull the phone from his pocket. His fingers brushed over the smooth surface, feeling the weight of it like a secret too heavy to carry. The camera phone wasn’t just part of the plan you had devised. 

It was a part of you. And in that moment, Nanami realized that he hadn’t just kept it because it was useful; he kept it because it was a connection to something deeper. You were gone, but the phone, the lingering traces of you, remained.

Nanami Kento sighed, placing the phone on the table before him as he continued to play, the melody soft and contemplative now. It was clear that, despite the distance between them, despite all the lies and manipulation, there had been something real there. A part of him, something he couldn’t quite articulate, had been drawn to you.

He didn’t understand it completely, but one thing was undeniable: you had left your mark on him, and in the quiet solitude of his apartment, Nanami Kento allowed himself to admit it. He would keep the camera phone close. Near his heart.

But then he smiles. 

His mind goes to months ago.

The air was thick with the sounds of an angry voice drifting over the low hum of a military vehicle. The camera shakes, blurring the scene in the darkness, until it finally stabilizes, the picture clearing as reality begins to take form.

You’re kneeling on the cold, unforgiving earth, the bright floodlights from the vehicle casting long shadows across your body. Clad in your death robes, you appear almost serene, a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding you. 

With one hand, you type slowly and deliberately on your phone, ignoring the shouts, the movement, the urgency of it all. Your fingers glide over the screen, eyes fixed on the message you’ve been preparing for hours.

Goodbye pretty man.

Your heart beats steadily as you press send. It’s the final touch. Your final act. To your right, a man holds a rifle with one hand, his other hand outstretched, demanding your phone. His voice is rough, laced with frustration as he calls for you to hand it over. 

But you don’t flinch. You don’t move. You’re not done. His voice sharpens with each demand, but you remain composed, fingers pressing the keys with a calm that unnerves him. Give me the phone! Now! he roars, but your gaze stays fixed on the screen.

Not yet. Not until you finish.

He steps closer, anger flashing across his face, rifle raised again, his grip tightening. But you don’t look up. You don’t react. You type with precision, your thumb moving over the screen with careful intent, as if time no longer holds any meaning.

The world around you may be closing in, but you’re lost in the finality of your message. 

It feels almost too simple, and yet, it’s everything. 

Then the atmosphere shifts.

A sudden tension cracks through the air, and the voices behind you falter, confusion rippling through the men as a figure steps forward from the shadows. You hear his voice before you see him, calm, unyielding.

“Stand down.”

Nanami Kento.

The man holding the rifle hesitates, looking between you and the newcomer. Kento’s presence is a force. It was silent, authoritative. His voice has the weight of a command, and it leaves no room for argument. The rifle lowers, and the soldier steps back, unwilling to face the quiet fury Kento brings with him.

Kento doesn’t spare a glance at the man. His attention is on you. His steps are measured, purposeful, as he approaches. He kneels beside you, and for a moment, the chaos around you blurs into silence. 

His hand brushes your shoulder gently, a wordless comfort in the midst of everything. He doesn’t ask why you’re here, doesn’t ask why you’ve sent the message. Instead, he simply looks at the phone, glancing down at the words you’ve typed.

“Goodbye pretty man...” he reads softly, his voice a mixture of concern and something else—something unreadable.

You finally glance up at him, your expression a mask of calm, but your eyes flicker with something more. A slight smile, cold but there, pulls at the corners of your lips. You take a moment to breathe, taking in the presence of him.

“I didn’t think I’d make it out this time.”

His gaze softens, just for a second, before he stands, pulling you to your feet effortlessly. His fingers are warm against yours as he closes the phone, taking it from your hand. His grip is firm, sure, as he pulls you into his orbit, away from the danger, away from the violence.

Without a word, Kento turns his back to the men as he walks away. You’re with him now, an unspoken agreement passing between you. His presence is unwavering, the tension around you fading with each step. He leads you through the chaos, his voice cutting through the din with quiet authority, silencing any protest from the soldiers around you.

“You’re coming with me. Now.”

His words are simple, but there’s no room for defiance. You follow, not because you have to, but because for the first time in months, you feel something that’s been missing. An anchor, a safety in his steady presence. You couldn’t help but smile.

You don’t need to say anything more. He’s here. 

You’re not alone anymore.

The game has changed. 

And Nanami Kento is the one who changed it.

“My vixen of a siren, where could you be now?” 

[127rkives]

</3 hotline bling || j. jaehyun </3

about? jaehyun misses her, but she’s on to bigger better things. (world’s worst synopsis but it’s the best i got bro) warnings? angst!!! fwb? non idol au. fem reader. mentions of sex, alcohol use, drug use (weed). i think that's all. wc? 1.7k notes? another old repost👹

you used to call me on my cellphone late-night when you need my love

************************************************ 3 months, 1 week, and 4 days. that’s how long it had been since jaehyun last saw you. but, hey, who's counting? if he had been, he would have succumbed to that void feeling in his chest by now. the one created by you but ultimately worsened by his own actions. his own actions ruined the best thing he ever had. but it was your fault too, right? 

if you didn't have such an illuminating smile, such a feather-light yet addicting touch, such an effervescent personality, such a radiant aura, then he the both of you wouldn't be in this situation. no. if you hadn't wanted something more and jaehyun hadn't been too scared of ruining a good thing even though he knew you deserved more—deserved better. he knew you deserved the world and the stars along with it, but he was so afraid he couldn't give it to you. so he cowered behind his thoughts; he dismissed the relationship you had, shutting you out in the process. 

thankfully, you had a mind of your own. you knew better than to remain where you weren't wanted. you knew your worth. that's probably why jaehyun had that constant ache in his chest, that pang in his heart. the void. 

he was expecting you to dismiss the fact that he couldn't come to terms with himself you and continue with the late-night phone calls. sneaking out of the apartment at 1 and 2 in the morning—when he thought everyone was asleep—to spend hours at your place. half naked smoke sessions with deeply thought out conversations lingering in the air with every puff. or hot nights in your room that always seemed to end with clothes scattered here and there, fluffy comforter somehow still clinging to a corner of the bed, and the sheets tangled around only you because he was never there when you woke up. ’he had better, more important things to do.’ you would convince yourself. but when you finally stopped gaslighting yourself with that excuse, you realized he couldn't face his own music.

************************************************ ever since i left the city, yougot a reputation for yourself noweverybody knows and i feel left outgirl, you got me down, you got me stressed out'cause ever since i left the city, youstarted wearing less and goin' out moreglasses of champagne out on the dance floorhangin' with some girls i've never seen before

************************************************ guilt. jealousy. anger. sadness. utter outrage. one of these emotions—possibly even a mixture—was grasping at jaehyun's heart and yanking at the strings right now. even so, he couldn’t stop rewatching the clip on his phone in front of him. it wasn’t like he meant to find you. he just happened to be scrolling through the explore page on instagram and much to his sudden disbelief you were the thumbnail on some video. against his better judgment (of course) he clicks the video, watching you hold a cup of God-knows-what in the air as your body hazily sways in a sea of people inside of what looks to be a club. jaehyun’s face is still one of shock as the girl recording yells something cringey about all of her friends being ‘badies’ and ‘hot girls’ and continues to survey each of her friends, including you, while everyone gets more excited with the new song’s change of pace.

it could’ve been all in his head but that video seemed way longer than the allotted one minute. jaehyun doesn’t know how many times he watches the video before he decides to click on the girl’s profile (a bad decision on behalf of his 2 functioning brain cells). his thumbs seemed to move on their own as he scrolled down her page and searched through countless posts of herself, her with her family, and her with her friends. jaehyun couldn’t pry his eyes from the screen as he clicked on a picture with you in it, hoping you would be tagged. you were, of course, so he clicked. another mistake on his part.

your username and bio were both different. even though jaehyun hadn’t visited your profile in a while, he did remember the main details of it. jaehyun repeated his earlier actions and examined your page this time. there were posts of yourself. you and your dog. you and your family. you and this new group of friends he had never seen until now. you and some man? you and this man hugging, holding hands, kissing, traveling, eating out together? you and jaehyun used to tell each other about everything, and you had certainly never mentioned him before. you people aren’t supposed to move on this fast. hell, jaehyun hadn’t even moved on. he still listened to the playlist you two had created together. he still dreamed about you. he still woke up with the lingering touches of you on his body as if you had been beside him moments before. he still had late-night venting sessions with taeyong as he sniffled and wiped his teary face after genuinely expressing what he was never able to tell you face-to-face.

but, here you were. you had completely evolved from the person jaehyun knew almost 6 months ago. you weren’t the same girl who posted simple photos of herself in cute, comfortable outfits captioned with inspirational quotes, or wholesome reviews of the new greek mythology book you had bought at your favorite, cozy bookstore. this was some girl who had grown to almost a 80,000 followers in just 6 months. this was some girl who posted pointless photos of her newest hermes purse; some girl whose wardrobe would alternate between burberry pantsuits and louboutin heels, to nike tracksuits and air force ones, to what could very well be some bundle of strings fashion nova tries to pass off as a dress. this new girl—this new you—was copacetic, thriving, and glowing. you were happy with this seemingly very outgoing group of people who the old you would’ve never thought about fraternizing with. worst of all, the new you appeared to be enjoying life with some guy that wasn’t jaehyun. jaehyun’s a complete mess without you laying next to him at 2 in the morning and you were supposed to be the same. he was supposed to have the same crippling effect on you as you did on him. 

apparently, jaehyun had been sitting in his whirlwind of thoughts long enough for his phone to lock. he pulled himself out of his trance and made his only decent decision of the day. he went to find taeyong, knowing he would still be awake and available to examine whatever emotional baggage jaehyun had this time. he told taeyong about his earlier revelations (leaving out the part about your apparent love interest). “why don’t you just talk to her? tell her how you actually feel.” weren't the words he expected to hear. he didn't know what to expect, honestly. 

as jaehyun laid in his bed he picked up his phone with shaky hands. when he unlocked it, he felt another tug at his heartstrings, forgetting that his phone had locked on a gorgeous post of your beaming smile while he was in a daze earlier. the time on his phone read 1:46 A.M. he didn't want to call you. you might not pick up. but he wanted an immediate response. jaehyun needed validation right now. he silently prayed that your number hadn't changed along with everything else during your productive time away from him. he opened his messages and clicked on your name; ��y/n💛’. jaehyun smiled to himself as he looked at the last messages sent between the two of you. you had been sending memes back and forth, with the last message before the hiatus being three emojis expressing your laughter. 

jaehyun pondered for a few moments on what to type. ’yo y/n it's me.’ ’hey it's me, jaehyun.’ ’hey y/n we haven't talked in a while.’ he wasted a good twenty minutes overthinking, typing, and erasing potential conversation starters. then he just decided to pour out what was left of his heart. fuck it.

he didn't expect you to reply quickly, but he wanted you to, so jaehyun kept his phone unlocked and open to your messages as he waited. he had peeked two minutes after hitting send, but he didn't notice it then. jaehyun let five more anxious minutes pass before checking again. he almost didn't notice it that time, but somehow he managed to spot it.

the small subscript under his message. ’read’

jaehyun didn't know if it was him being delirious with fatigue or the actual fact of you acknowledging but ignoring him, but his breathing got short and shaky and his tears started to roll. it was finally happening. that void feeling in his chest—in his heart—that place where special memories of you were kept, had finally drawn him in and suffocated him with the realization that you didn't want him anymore, didn’t need him anymore. you no longer needed jaehyun to bring you the pleasures of life. for all he knows now, you never really did.

likes and reblogs are appreciated :)

this work is property of me, 127rkives! no copying, reposting, translating, etc.!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hiii, this is my first time requesting a Miguel fic😭😭😭 nervous

so like hurt/comfort where spider-woman reader was a mother and losing her child (preferably a daughter) was one of her cannon events.

Shes watching old videos on her phone/laptop where her kids kind of like, standing on her feet and they're dancing together to my love mine all mine by mistki (her new album destroyed me) and Miguel walks in and just watches.

Miguel gets caught staring at the videos but instead of telling him to leave she asks him to stay because she knows hes been through something similar. They're just watching old videos of her kid and then they eventually move onto talking about Gabi too.

im a sucker for friends/coworkers to lovers so maybe add a little lovey dovey smut at the end if you want <333

rlly sorry if this is a bit much i just had to get this out of my smooth little brain😭😭😭

hii!! AAA I love it!! but really sorry, no smut in this one :(( I had too many ideas but I had a total brain fart writing this. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

—

OF THE PAST

miguel o’hara x spider-woman!reader

word count: 550

warnings: mentions of death, grief etc

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

Grief and loss aren't uncommon emotions for a Spider-Person. They were feelings all Spiders experienced at one point- all of you connected by a singular canonical death. 

For many others, their event was the death of Uncle Ben, but not you. Yours was your daughter- your little love who 'mistakenly' got caught in the crossfire.

Not many Spiders could resonate with the grief of losing a child, nor could one imagine the weight of it. It's a feeling that can truly be understood by those who have experienced the same thing, by someone who had also lost a child. 

There was only one who could comprehend your grief, Miguel.

You'd often find yourself rewatching old family tapes of you and your daughter, replaying the clips over and over as if the memories weren't painful enough. 

You'd essentially watch your life back, looking over videos and pictures of you and your little girl- times when you baked cupcakes, or had secret picnics in the backyard. Beautiful moments where you danced in the living room, her tiny feet balanced on yours as you held her hands, spinning her around to the music. 

When you watched it back, you couldn't recognise yourself. The woman in the videos isn't here anymore. She was long gone, and you missed her. 

-

You were still at HQ, not wanting to return to an empty home, so you stayed, sitting in the vacant cafeteria as you stared aimlessly at your phone, honing in on the tiny writing at the top of the screen, '1 year ago today.'

"You can sit down," you whisper to the presence behind -Miguel- who has been lurking for the past few minutes.

"What gave it away?" he quietly asks, pulling out a chair next to you.

"Your heart," you sadly smile at him and turn your focus back to your phone. 

The subject of child loss is always incredibly tricky, never knowing what to say or constantly worrying if you said the wrong thing. It's hard to gauge what does more harm to the parent, and though Miguel is dealing with a similar situation, he still found himself at a loss. 

"I do that too," he finally speaks, nodding to your hand. "It feels good for a bit, then it just..." 

"Hurts some more," you finish his sentence, weakly chuckling.

"Yeah," he nods, twisting around in his chair to face you. "Can I see?"

You hum, lightly nodding as you press her photo album, turning it so Miguel could see. 

You swipe through with tears prickled in your eyes, looming in the water line as you smile at the screen. 

"This one," you speak up, clearing your throat. "She— uh, she got into my makeup bag," you laugh, recalling the memory. "And she— erm, she stained her face for a few days. Looked like a panda for a while."

Miguel chuckles, fully immersed in your story. "Gabi did that, too. But she," his smile widens, shaking his head. "Found high heels and dresses." 

"Mine too," you snicker, showing him the picture of your daughter playing adult dress up. 

You both stay like that for a while, sharing stories and memories of your daughters, recalling comical events to lighten the atmosphere. The pair of you telling tales in a way that connects you.

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

artwork by shuploc

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Alien!Art Donaldson Headcanons + Thoughts:

This is beyond odd but I just rewatched a few episodes of star crossed the alien show and the brain worms won't leave me alone. (Some of his body modifications are inspired by the show).

Very quiet prefers to listen to you speak than talk himself. When you first meet he prefers to write out his thoughts more than voicing them. He has the tendency to stare, it's a little unsettling at first his eyes open wide locked in on whatever he’s fixated on especially when he's in public and around strangers. You usually apologize for his actions through a forced smile and distract him with something else giving him fidget toys he insisted you’d buy

His curiosity tends to get him into trouble, walking around your home picking up fragile items and letting them slip out of his grasp as his attention is caught elsewhere. But he's very nifty with technology, you'll find him on your computer or phone making adjustments he see's fit that actually work out in your favor

Night owl he'll try to be quiet but you'll hear him snacking on chips while sifting through books, he's hyper fixated on the tennis section of sports illustrated magazine though

the most empathetic being you've ever met, he sits with you watching all your favorite films and shows. He'll hunker through thrillers, action even horror while cowering behind blankets his body basically meshing into yours in fear. But his personal favorites are romances shedding tears for the ones with tragic endings. Poor thing is weeping by the end of them. "Why would they end that way?" He blubbers eyes fixated on the screen as tears run down his face lighting up his birth marks a mix of intergalactic hues staining his cheeks. You can't help but reach out and wrap him in your arms "life doesn't always have happy endings Art.." you mumble rocking him back and forth consoling the weeping man.

Very sensitive to human touch at first it unnerved him your he would naturally stiffen up the minute you'd try lay a hand on him. You had learned to be gentle using hand signals to try to guide him to do things. On his home planet it wasn't really necessary unless it was for reproducing or being cordial between each other but he craves it the minute he realizes how nice it feels, initiating contact himself attempting to hold your hand in his, walking up and wrapping his arms around you randomly through out the day although the awkwardly/wonky the act slowly becoming his love language towards you.

Is a quick learner, his eyes are always observing you so he copies your actions, he picks up some of your own quirks as well, the way you scratch your nose or stand a certain way. You also see him copying other people around him or online, the funniest ones are of him imitating dances on tiktok.

He also wants to teach you some of what he knows, is eager to show anything that peaks your interest, sitting you down outside at night pointing at the stars explaining you some of what he knows. It's endearing when he get's so excited talking about home and his family is adorable. (he starts shaking with joy)

Thinks astrology is silly but entertains the idea for you anyways

Becomes interested in you and your body after learning about sex and human intimacy, he first had seen it on the titanic admiring how soft it was then flipped through the channels euphoria happened to be playing intrigued and unsettled by how aggressive sex could be trying to ignore how flustered it made him not understanding why something like that made him so horny. The last time he see's it before you find out is when he’s snooping through your computer opening up your history clicking on a link eyes wide when he sees the most recent video from an adult website 'woman getting fucked until creampied.' His eyes are open like saucers, his mouth agape watching the entire clip he's tugging his growing boner without realizing it.

That’s when you notice him staring a bit more ogling you whenever you’re wearing low tops revealing your chest or while your walking in and out of your bathroom in a robe as you get ready for the day he get’s shy after you mention it "is something wrong?” You frown a bit concerned. He vehemently shakes his head no but you can see right through it the minute your gaze shifts down to his pants and the tent in them. He's flushing red when he's caught, tinges of pale pink glowing through his birth marks betraying his true emotions.

He shows you some of his powers. Occasionally moving objects with his mind, toying with your emotions to make you feel better when you've had a bad day and showing you how his birth marks work, how water triggers the blue and purple galactic colors to arise, he secretly hopes you find him cool living for your praise.

Alien Art is very endearing once he begins developing feelings for you. Picking up picture frames around your home and tracing your face in them admiring how happy you look a tiny smile forming on his face. He'll sit at your vanity and spray your signature perfume on himself because it calms him down. Will steal your clothes and sleep in them whenever he can (you'll sift through your closet trying to find your favorite hoodie and shirts you find it all in a pile on his bed under the covers <3)

Strangest thing he does is mouth at cutlery and cups you've used. He'd be walking around your place sucking the rim of coffee mugs left out on the table or spoons you used to drink soup with (oral fixation goes crazy). He likes the idea of having your lips on his but he's too scared to actually try and make a move.

just loves you from a distance (for now).

I can go all day talking about Alien!Art <3 might self indulge in more

[herefortheships]

please, if you could asnwer me this...After the movie and it interesting end, what do you think happened? Lydia really married BJ?

You mean if she truly married him at the end of BJBJ?

I talked before about what I think the ending means in this other post, but in short I don't think she did. That said, upon rewatching a clip of the scene, I think that if Astrid, Delores and Wolf wouldn't have interrupted, there's a chance she would have gone through with it. This is just my personal interpretation, but think about it, did Lydia say or try anything to fight off Betelgeuse or try to banish him before the end of the dance number and Astrid's intervention? I wish I had the movie with me to rewatch the entire scene instead of a TikTok clip to verify this, so correct me if I'm wrong, but other than looking scared, I don't think she did anything to fight Betelgeuse away. // EDIT: I was just clarified that neither Lydia nor Astrid could say his name as per the contract. I just totally not remember the contract's full terms lol. But I think this still stands in the sense that we don't know if she would have decided to go through with the contract instead of going back on it this time. // She got into this arrangement herself fully knowing what it meant, and she wasn't backing out until Astrid pointed out the contract was null. Would she had been left completely alone with Betelgeuse, would she have acted differently? That's an interesting question.

I talked in the post linked above about how Lydia subconsciously doesn't truly want Betelgeuse gone; there's a part of her that wants him around, and that's why I think he's still hanging around her in the end, despite her sending him away. Her secret desire to keep him around is what continues to invite him into her life. He's in bed with her trying to communicate with her just like at the beginning of the movie, where she couldn't really tell if he was there or not. This time though, she fully knows he is. It's why she looks to the empty space next to her (and why she's totally sleeping at her side of the bed and leaving a side open for him, as I said, subconsciously wishing he was there and she wasn't alone lol Anyway that's just my interpretation).

If the story continues with a third part, I think she will end up marrying him (and I always say "for better or worse", because thematically that wedding has to happen, but we don't know what Tim Burton, et al, will choose to do with it. Considering the increased support for Beetlebabes after this movie and how much Winona, Michael, and definitely Tim love the couple, I think it should be a good outcome). Even if the story doesn't continue with another movie, the ending is open-ended enough that we can imagine what happened next. It's heavily implied BJ is still around, not letting go of Lydia, so we can easily conclude they'll continue to have some form of relationship which could eventually become a friendship or even a romantic relationship down the line. Lydia doesn't have to be afraid of Betelgeuse anymore; he has a dark af sense of humor, but she's seen he cares about her and wouldn't harm her or Astrid.

[iwtvfanevents]

On the video you can watch director/executive producer Alan Taylor and titular vampire Jacob Anderson talking about the tap dancing scene, and a clip of Jacob and Steven G. Norfleet rehearsing. Transcript and sources are under the cut.

Rewind the tape —Episode 1 highlights

One of our favorite bits of trivia is...

No doubles were used in Louis and Paul's tap dancing scene! Steven G. Norfleet is a professional dancer, and Jacob Anderson learned to tap dance in less than a month, over Zoom, while he had COVID.

What's a favorite fun fact of yours? Is there a line that was adapted straight from the page, or smartly repurposed? Did one of the people involved in the show say something interesting about the episode? Was there any review of the pilot that had you nodding and cheering as you read? Does any of the paintings that show up on the episode have an interesting meaning?

Reblog with your highlights, or make a new post with the tag #vampterview to join the conversation!

And, if you're just getting caught up, learn all about our group rewatch here ►

Transcripts and sources

Katie o'Shaughnessy Chatting with Alan Taylor! (Director/ Executive producer S1 IWTV!):

K.O. And with the dancing as well, I'd wondered, between Louis and Paul, the tap dancing scene, was that, how much of that was them and how much was doubles?  A.T. Like, entirely them. We had we had doubles come in, in case we wanted to do closeups of their feet and stuff, and we had the doubles standing by and almost never used them, because… Paul, it turned out, we'd cast because he was a wonderful actor with a heartbreaking quality, but it turned out he was a professional dancer too. We didn’t know that when we hired him. So Paul had it down and Paul was helping Jacob, who would spend his weekend half dancing with the coach. And so when the time came to shoot it, we didn’t need the doubles, and the energy between these two guys as brothers was so good that we didn’t want to, you know, break it with cutaways to professional dancing. So, yeah, wild. K.O. That’s amazing, I would have assumed it was doubles.

Xfinity Hangouts: Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid:

Interviewer: Jacob, I was not prepared to see you tap dance so beautifully in that first episode. Is that a skill you already possessed or something you had to learn?  J.A. No, it’s something that we had to learn. We had, how many weeks did we have?  S.R. Like a month to prep. But, but… J.A. Yeah. But I got COVID, and uh, so I had to isolate. I didn’t have any symptoms, thankfully but… so I had to then do all of my lessons remotely in my house in New Orleans. S.R. And they sent you a board, right? J.A. Yeah, I had like, some plywood on the floor and my tap shoes, and yeah, we had like three weeks after that to just keep practicing but… And with respect to the doubles, they had two tap dancing doubles that they sent home before we shot the scene.  S.R. Didn’t even use them. J.A. So all of the tapping you see in the show is me and Steven, and we learned most of it over Zoom.  Interviewer: Amazing.  J.A. So hard. Because tap is all about sound. The lag is awful. 

Tap dancing backstage video with Jacob and Steven, from @misaraesblog

[potionsprefect]

All From One Comment

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 977

Summary: The internet finds out Doctor Ramsey is off the market

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Fluff

“Doctor Ramsey please tell us you’re single” we’re quite possibly the worst words Ethan could have heard at that moment in time.

He wasn’t, that was the truth. But having to keep himself composed on live television was not ideal. He couldn’t blurt it out so he had to play it cool. Something Ethan was not always good at.

Ethan was sat in his office, the interview had been posted online and he had rewatched it several times, replaying the same clip over and over, each time watching a new face.

The host grinned as he said it, he should’ve known a question like that was coming. Other people’s love life’s were all society was interested in. And from rewatching him, he looked very pleased with himself.

Ethan looked at himself, he could just make out the slight shade of red he had turned. He remembered his cheeks feeling slightly warm but he was able to answer the question without stuttering.

Then he looked at Victoria who was struggling to suppress a laugh. He was not surprised she was finding this funny, she knew what he was thinking and from watching her reaction, she found it hilarious.

All of this just made things clear for them. Ethan knew he was dancing dangerously with her but he had to remain professional. But now he knew what he had wanted for so long.

He would be a fool to say he didn’t like her, both in a professional and leisure capacity. She had impressed far more than he could ever have dreamed of. She was talented, an expert in her field and was capable of defying the odds. She had loyalty to her patients, always going above and beyond for them even if it meant defying the odds.

They had gotten close, sometimes Ethan would say too close. He has tried to deny his feelings but he couldn’t deny them any more. He decided that he didn’t care about staying away from Victoria. He wanted her and he was determined to get her.

There was no chance anyone could find out. They had to keep whatever they had a secret.

Otherwise things could become very awkward.

Ethan was never one for social media but he knew he made the odd medical article every now and then. He always kept an eye on what was said and whether he agreed with it. But he wasn’t making articles for medical reasons now.

Ever since the Senator attack at the hospital, Victoria had gained a bigger following on social media. She took it in her stride, sharing tips and advice on how to stay healthy. Some would even say she has become as influential as Ethan but on social media. Ethan was proud that she was using what had happened for her to drive her forward. She was able to share her experience and help others.

When Victoria had posted that they were engaged, there was a lot of excitement from what Ethan would describe as strangers. He didn’t realise why people he didn’t know would relish in this news but he learnt not to argue. It was best to just take the compliment and move on. He had learnt that a lot over the years. And there was a lot of them.

“You are never gonna believe this.” Victoria said as she sat down on the sofa.

“Probably not.” Ethan put his book down.

Victoria showed him her phone. It was an article titled:

Doctor Ramsey is off the market, now we finally know who the lucky lady is

“What on earth?” Ethan said incredulously.

“They’ve even linked the interview.” Victoria laughed.

Victoria found the original video and the comments that came with it. Lots of them were regarding his comment and the reaction to it.

Whoever is dating him is a lucky lady

No way! I was ready to shoot my shot!

He could’ve been my giraffe any day of the week

“The giraffe comment still makes me laugh to this day.” Victoria laughed.

“No surprises there. Why are so many people interested?”

“Because it’s you! And the article is very complimentary of how you are able to keep business and pleasure separate.” Victoria winked.

“We both know that wasn’t true.”

“Yes but everyone else doesn’t need to know that. It can be our little secret.”

Ethan read the article. There were several pictures of him and Victoria in a work capacity and mentions of the Senator attack as the supposed start of the relationship. He had to give it to the writer, they were accurate on every paragraph.

“I’m quietly impressed.”

“Good to know. Unfortunately the internet is not happy that you are now taken forever.”

“They’ll just have to accept it.”

“I did like this part though.” Victoria pointed to the end.

It sounds as if Ethan Ramsey and Victoria Clarke have been through a tumultuous few months. And they have found happiness with one another after a very dark time. Congratulations to them both.

“That is a nice sentiment. All of it rings true.”

“Tumultuous is an understatement. But I’m in a good place now and that’s all thanks to you. How many more articles like this do you think we should expect?” Victoria asked.

“Because it’s you I’d say a dozen. I expect articles analysing who we are and everything we do next.”

“And more about you and how hot you are.” Victoria winked.

“Now that would be totally unnecessary.” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Not for me. I will enjoy ready every article posted about my fiancé.” Victoria laughed.

Whilst it was true they had been through many highs and many lows together, they were now happier than they could ever have dreamed of.

This was just the start of something very special for them both and they couldn’t wait to see what would come next.

Tag list: @ohchoices @swiftiexstarwarssimp @queencarb @genevievemd @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @gryffindordaughterofathena @sophxwithers @romewritingshop @coffeeheartaddict2 @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @lsvdw-blog @kiara-36 @quixoticdreamer16 @headoverheelsforramsey @shanzay44 @itsjustamesshonestly @josiesopenheart @mysticalgalaxysstuff @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @kachrisberry @rookiemartin @jamespotterthefirst @a-crepusculo @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @wanderingamongthewildflowers @rosebudde @lucy-268 @liaromancewriter @bex-la-get @writer-ish @toadfrog26 @tessa-liam @peonierose @cariantha @kyra75 @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

[bunthebreadboy]

so i’ve been on my atla bs once again, and while rewatching today i got the lovely thought that azula reminded me of a specific kpop idol and spiraled from there. so. here’s my personal list of kpop idols as atla characters!!

these are mostly based on vibes and/or visuals. by no means do i mean to make idols i think are similar to the show’s antagonists out to be bad people!!! i will give an explanation behind my thoughts as well.

also disclaimer, i know next to nothing about boy groups, so please spare me lol

anyways

seungkwan (seventeen) as aang

- once again, i know nothing about boy groups

- i did however watch the devil’s plan (amazing show by the way, it’s on netflix) and the positive but still very determined vibe seungkwan brought to the show reminded me of aang

- also, this selfie of him reminds me of the one scene with aang in the flower crown

jihyo (twice/soloist) as katara

- extremely hard workers who trained for years to get to where they are now

- have natural leadership abilities and are total mom friends

- would cuss someone out if they were very annoyed

- thanks to jeongyeon and her water bottles, jihyo is actually a pro waterbender already (jeongyeon is pakku but without the misogyny. the entire pakku/katara fight is just a compilation every single concert encore where jeong and jihyo bicker)

chan (skz) as sokka

- this honestly just felt right

- every time i see a clip of chan on a live i end up laughing

- i have also heard from stays that skz would collapse without chan and i very much think the same of sokka since he’s the ideas guy

- also aussie sokka lmao

hyunjin (loossemble) as toph

- competitive level 1000000 (please watch one episode of loossemble assemble and tell me i’m wrong)

- would do something out of spite but is also very protective of friends

- cannot be left alone without causing hazards

- theft (“stealing can be fun” -hyunjin)

- chaos reincarnate when younger, calmer (a bit) when older

- toph would also wear that shirt and pretend she didn’t know what it said even though sokka told her

heejin (artms/soloist) as suki

- i mostly thought of this because heejin and hyunjin are former loona members and good friends. which would make the scene where suki saves toph from drowning even funnier imo

- but also have you SEEN this woman’s muscles??? i have full confidence that heejin could handle her own in a fight

- every sapphic i know who’s seen atla had a crush on suki growing up and every sapphic loona stan i’ve met (which is most loona stans) has had a crush on heejin

- heejin’s lore in loonaverse is basically being a god and i personally equate that to suki

- also, they’re dorks

siyeon (dreamcatcher) as azula

- LITERALLY THE REASON I THOUGHT OF THIS POST (specifically vision era hello???) LOOK AT HER

- siyeon is at the scene of the crime like 90% of the time something chaotic happens in dreamcatcher so i can fully imagine her cosplaying azula and running around with sparklers or something

- she’s also very good at looking evil in mvs so i think she could play azula

- that scene in the deja vu music video right before the last chorus when fire shoots up from behind her? she’s literally a firebender

seonghwa (ateez) as zuko

- i know absolutely NOTHING about ateez aside from a couple of their title tracks but this man looks so much like siyeon i couldn’t resist

- idk i just feel like they’d be good at being the fire disaster siblings

- he also looks like he’d eat up the “the scar is not on the wrong side” line for some reason???

- was probably an angsty teenager at some point

miyeon (gidle) as ty lee

- nobody can out femme either of these two

- cute extroverts who could also be deadly (like imagine x-file miyeon during boiling rock)

- i feel like ty lee would LOVE doing dance challenges with anyone and everyone

bibi (soloist) as mai

- i am fully aware that bibi isn’t an idol but i couldn’t resist

- she just gives the mai vibes honestly. you know that trope where the guard asks the character to hand over all of their weapons and just stands there and stares as said character pulls out knives from everywhere? that is both bibi and mai

- bibi is also the queen of every concept so i fully believe she could probably play the entire cast of atla in a chaotic one-woman show

anyways i hope you enjoyed my chaos rambling and i kind of want to do this with other shows so if you liked this please leave me recommendations!

[meteor752]

Episode 6 and 7 thoughts

This will now be a regular thing

Also im writing this as I go

Episode 6

So Izzy thought Ed was Roach. Huh. Does he and Roach talk regularly? <- Coming from a Rizzy shipper

“Do weeeee?” Fang I love you

Oh my god, Frenchie and Jim coming to Ed and Stede like they’re kids asking if their cousins can sleep over

The crew going shoppiiiiiiiiing!!!

Frenchie’s lil dancey dance added many years to my life

Ed being nice and giving kids mon- oh never mind, oh that’s a knife okay. Ed never have kids please

“Don’t pirate kids” well listen okay I don’t have HBO Max it’s the only way I can watch this show

MY QUEEN

Wee John you’re so beautiful and amazing and we don’t deserve you

Jim’s lil mustache, like yeah me too <- Non-Binary person

Stede looks so happy about seeing Wee John!! He’s so proud of his son!

Izzy is gorgeous. I’m actually so happy to see him explore more sides of himself, and to find things he can indulge in. This whole season has really just been Izzy’s big therapy arc

His hair makes him look a bit like Cinderella’s evil stepmother though

Oh he can sing too! Izzy!!! <- A person who did not like Izzy in season one

Wee John X Izzy? Roach X Fang?

YO THE

POLYCULE DANCING?!

Ed protecting Stede….just, immediately putting him behind himself…I just…

I rewatched that clip five times

“Because I only hang out with cool pirates” Stede’s face!!! He’s just like Oh Snapppp

Despite it all, Stede and Ed are still the cutest couple that has ever graced the TV screen. Like hell yeah, make fun of people together!

Ed keeps being protective…..okay I need a moment…

Roach you’re a lunatic and I love you

“Whatever this is it’s just gonna turn me on” Izzy you’re a shining star

Also I just now noticed that Black Pete and Lucius aren’t there. I’m guessing they eloped somewhere and are currently taking care of their adopted cat

Nope okay, literally the second I unpaused there they are. That’s the worst timing

Hell yeah my dudes, I hope you broke whatever bed you used

“I’m just doing it for the lolz” Yeah that’s sounds like something someone from the 1700s would say

I know this is a pirate ship but why do they just have so many knives and swords laying about

Who is this fanged torture queen, and how do I acquire her number?

Stede remains best employer, while Aziraphale is the best landlord. Can these two people just run the world please and thank you

Hell Cat Maggie is my soulmate

I feel like there needs to be a pirate workers union

The crew of the revenge is the best found family of all time

Stede Bonnet can rival Steven Universe in reforming villains, like he’s just such a genuinely nice dude

“Alright gang! Let’s talk profit sharing”

Oh protective Stede, alright let’s go mate defend your mans

Okay but why is Stede kinda 👀 in this scene

Oh Stede, love…

OH THEY FAWHKING

That French? Izzy speaks french?

I want to see that man get dicked down

I guess the revenge now has a pet goat

Episode 7

Okay Ed is a soft boy again, aight

NO NOT THE LEATHER JACKET

The anime toast in mouth thing. He’s officially been baby girl for a long while, but we’re really solidifying it

OH THEY FUCKED

Isn’t there an anime where a mob boss becomes a house wife? Yeah that’s Ed

Oh we’re telling him about the mermaid fantasy, okay

Izzy what the fuck, you’re amazing

“He’s jealous” my darling

The polycule is going strong, and I love the absolute lack of jealousy. This is the best representation I have ever had

Oh they’re going on a date! That’s so sweet actually

It’s really sweet that they’re talking about their time apart

Stede’s famous now? Good for him!

I need to stop falling in love with every pirate lady In this show. That being said, I hope we see more of the fangirl lady

I’m reinforcing my claim that Stede and Ed are cuter than anything that has ever been on screen

OH MY GOD SWEDE

The Söt Och Saftig, my love. Also this far in and this is the first time the character “The Swede” actually says something in Swedish

Scammer Frenchie is back in business, love that

Jim and Archie trying to get their boyfriend set up is very sweet actually

The character development of Izzy going from wanting Ed to remain “Blackbeard” to him saying if being a softie makes him happy then he should do that, like I get it now, I know why you all love this man

OH MY FUCKING GOD STEDE

Can’t believe Stede is an official Slut now

Open communication? Like genuine conversation about their relationship, and the pace they’re taking it? Ed being honest that he’s not ready for the steps they’re taking in their relationship?

What is this argument

I live for Lucius and Black Pete’s nicknames for each other

“I’ve only known you for a few hours Bonnet, but I’d fucking die for ya” Same random dude. Same

Izzy🥹

Zheng and Olu are really cute actually

Oh my god the polycule will end my fucking life

DONT BRING ED INTO THIS ZHENG

“That was really mean” YOU TELL HER STEAK KNIFE

Protective Jim my beloved

Oh my god

Roach and Fang friendship?

Roach is the queen of self care

[knifesxedge]

stuck in funpoison world rn and you are The funpoison guy to me so please.. any spare funpoison thoughts for the poor?? 🥺

WHEE i’m honored!! and YES i would love to talk about them ❤️❤️❤️

FIRST AND FOREMOST i’ve been rewatching the mandalorian so i’ve been thinking about the fab four mandos au again which means that i’ve been considering mando’a again which MEANS i’ve been thinking about funpoison + “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum” (“i love you” in mando’a, literal translation “i will know you forever”). AUGH AUGH AUGH AUGH AUGH AUGH. they are SOOOOOOO.

in unrelated thoughts, stream of consciousness style. they love each other SO much like before they’ve started dating kobra likes to make fun of poison because they will straight up just Stare at ghoul with this really big goofy smile just SO “anything you say, baby” but he also makes fun of ghoul because he’s always making excuses to touch them, to brush hair behind their ears and clean up their makeup for them and squeeze their hand. once they’ve started dating they’re SO shy with being affectionate around each other just because it’s so new but poison really loves being held and ghoul makes them feel safe so it’s not uncommon to see them curled up together on the couch with their hands wound together. and ghoul will blush and grin and roll his eyes whenever jet or kobra walk by but just sweep poison’s hair out of their face and tuck them a little closer.

ghoul likes to say they’re soulmates not because their love story lacked any hardship or was fairytale perfect from the beginning but because it WASN’T. and even though it wasn’t perfect, because life isn’t perfect, they kept running into each other. their lives kept meeting and intertwining for better or for worse. and ultimately what came of that was them both gaining an understanding of each other that blossomed into friendship that then slowly turned into being in love with each other. because they’d seen of the worst of each other right from the start and still ultimately said “you’re the one that i want”. for ghoul it means that the witch set their feet on a path towards each other, for poison, who doesn’t believe in the witch and barely believes in the idea of a higher power at all, it feels like maybe they could believe in destiny if nothing else.

oooohhh my god. i do not use tiktok so forgive me if i’m getting the source wrong but the one adventure time clip that’s like “you were a wonderful experience”/“you were everything”. in terms of personal flaws, poison is not necessarily always 100% healthily attached to their loved ones and i honestly think that ghoul’s death ends up being a kind of world-shattering life-altering event for them because he WAS everything. it’s like sometimes they don’t even know how to breathe without him. between the two, ghoul would have been better equipped to deal with poison’s death than poison was for ghoul’s not because he didn’t love them completely or because it wouldn’t have meant as much to him but because ghoul has been dealing with death of his loved ones from a very young age. it’s part of why he became so spiritual, because he let that belief that he would see his loved ones again, that they were safe and protected in their afterlife, be a comfort. poison doesn’t have that, and has never dealt with the death of someone so close to them before in a meaningful way. so it kind of breaks something in them. they don’t handle it very well in any sense.

on a less serious note i think ghoul loves to take poison dancing because it’s one of the only times that they’ll let their mask come off in public. they love to dance, they’re not fantastic at it, and unlike other times where they’ll feign disinterest in a skill if they know they aren’t good at it to save face publicly, if ghoul asks them to dance they’ll do it and they will honestly not focus on anyone else except for him. ghoul likes seeing them when they’re sweaty and breathless and happy and not caring if their makeup is running or if they look silly or how their clothes cling to their body. so a lot of date nights end up being “hey, there’s a band performing at this bar tonight” or “want to go to this party in zone two?” or “the roller rink is having a disco night on friday, want to go?” in fact, i’ve mentioned it before but their first official date is a couples’ night at the zones’ premier roller rink, Mega Moon’s, which used to be a lesbian bar before the wars and now is a locale for all sorts of folks but mostly LGBTQ-oriented :]

another thing i’ve mentioned before but ghoul loves to cook and party is not so great at it. HOWEVER, party DOES like to bake, though that’s not as feasible always in the zones. on the rare chance they get the opportunity though, they’ll get ghoul to help them — their excuse always being that they could use the extra hands but the real reason being so they can hang out together (and steal sugary kisses). i think their favorite thing to make is cookies but brownies are a close favorite just because those are GHOUL’S favorite & he’s written down his grandmother’s brownie recipe which is a hot commodity in the diner.

OH AND I HAVE TOUCHED ON THIS BEFORE but i don’t think i ever properly mentioned that they’re sun and moon coded. TO ME. more specifically day and night coded. i try to push that personal agenda with my writing when i can. when the day met the night……….

i think that’s all i have for you tonight. feel free to put a quarter in another time and see what i have to say then 👍

[chvoswxtch]

speak now — any headcanons about Matt and music?

i’ve been thinking about this since you first submitted it & doing some research (rewatching DD clips) so let's explore together nonnie

headcannon below the cut

timeless (matt's version)

so we know that matt likes vinyl records, which is one of the very few clues we get about what devil boy does for fun besides argue and bleed, which I think might be a preference passed down from his dad (jack might've been a collector and passed some down to matt as a kid), but I think it also has to do with the listening experience

I myself collect records, and have for several years, and listening to a vinyl vs listening to music on the radio or your phone is a different experience. sometimes the music can get a little distorted when listening on a phone, or there's interference from the radio, but vinyls usually produce a very crisp and clean sound which might work better for matt's sensitive hearing

I personally think he has a pair of noise cancelling headphones that he plugs into his record player sometimes when he wants to be able to listen to the music without any distractions picked up with his other senses (the buzz of electricity in his building, traffic, conversations of his neighbors, etc.)

I also feel like his taste in music changes depending on what he's doing

for example, if he's working on a court case, I feel like he would pick something like classical music or something instrumental so that there's background noise to soothe his already overstimulated mind, but no lyrics or anything to disrupt his train of thought/focus. think music you would hear playing quietly in a local coffee shop

however when he goes to fogwells, I think he definitely chooses music that will keep him amped up, probably some kind of high energy rock or hip hop with heavy bass and beats he might use to time his jabs at the punching bag

as for what his favorite kind of music in, honestly I think it varies

I could see him in the kitchen cooking with a glass of wine, playing something like frank sinatra, etta james, the temptations, sam cooke, etc. something soulful and a little jazzy that makes him feel relaxed, but also move around his kitchen with a pep in his step

something tells me jack was a classic rock guy, that's just the feeling I get from him. I think this is what matt listens to when he wants to feel close to his dad, or maybe like on sundays when he's cleaning and unwinding, trying to get ready for the week. maybe like the eagles, fleetwood mac, pink floyd, journey, led zeppelin, etc.

I think all of the newer music he listens to is definitely influenced primarily by foggy and karen

foggy nelson is a huge 80s guy. he knows EVERY hit from the 80s and will proudly sing them drunkenly at karaoke. given that he and matt lived together, and shared a broom closet at landman and zack together, and are essentially in a civil union for all intents and purposes, Matt knows a lot of 80s hits bc of foggy.

karen on the other hand is a 90s/early 2000s girly. she's definitely the reason matt suddenly realizes one day he knows all the lyrics to "baby one more time" by britney spears and was quietly humming along in his office while foggy was belting it in his. i'd like to think she plays "wannabe" by the spice girls at least once a week in their office and one night after a few drinks taught both of them the dance which she can only get them to perform after several rounds at josie's

I also think frank is a classic rock kinda guy (we know he likes bruce springsteen) and I have this adorable picture in my head of frank coming over to borrow vinyls from matt, and even adding a few of his own to matt's collection

all the grunge in his collection came from jess and no one can convince me otherwise (here's the angsty music I like to brood to, enjoy- jess)

given the fact that matt speaks spanish, i'd like to think that he enjoys reggaeton and maybe even tejano music (I like to think he's a selena fan, but that could be me projecting)

he's a swiftie. foggy and karen are swifties and successfully convereted matt into a swiftie, whether he likes to admit it or not. i said what i said (frank is next to be converted)

now i'm very curious to know what kinda music y'all think matty likes??

[nerdyenby]

Things I noticed rewatching DR pt2 (spoilers)

Episode 11

“I love you” counter: 1

Arin and Sora’s lil handshake ;-;

Episode 12

Lloyd honey, you should know better than to say anything should ever be easy

Remember how scared we were that they would start deadnaming Sora when this clip was first released?? The way they handled Zanth was the best possible outcome and I’m so impressed with how they handled that

How did I miss Zane’s “finally” lmao

Sora and Arin being each other’s greatest strength will never not get to me

Where’d the red/purple water come from?? It’s too random a detail for it to immediately be forgotten

I would just like to appreciate Lloyd effortlessly deflecting an onslaught of arrows, he’s op your honor

These people knowing the Merlopians’ name implies they’re from ninjago, right?

Episode 13

Kai is so smart you guys, we don’t talk about it enough. He could not write an essay to save his life but he’ll recognize and commit death trap patterns to memory while arguing with a preteen

“That’s the second fastest I’ve ever seen anyone grow a mustache” is funny as hell because that’s an extremely ninjago joke (ex: second biggest snake, “I’ve been deeper”) except we have absolutely no idea what’s taking the top slot and it’s hysterical

Episode 14

Cool how Jiro is entirely unbothered, he hadn’t really been treated like a character up to this point, but Zanth being the only one who recognizes the Djinn magic is a fun detail

It’s small, but Nya’s reaction to hearing Arrakore’s a djinn being to squint and put herself between him and Sora is a good detail. We don’t have time to unpack all her history with the djinn, but her reaction displays a wariness we don’t see from her very often

I love Arrakore so much, he’s a great mix of friendly and mistrusting while being a depressed icon for the ages

Wish magic being powered by belief my beloved

Episode 15

Kai isn’t even mad the dude absorbed his fire, he’s just disappointed lmao (he’s done this song and dance way to often to be anything other than mildly annoyed)

[steddiemunsington]

i just cane back to tumblr and saw you're back too, so I hope you're doing alright!!

I've been rewatching obx (what else is new) and baby j is pretty much the only thing i think about 😭

i was wondering if you had any more hcs left about him? i know i always ask about him, but you just do him justice!!

plus you're literally one of the only obx agere writers I've seen

i genuinely hope you're doing alright <3

hii welcome back! yes i ALWAYS have hcs for my little pookie <3 i’m glad you think i do him justice because i adore him

more little!jj hcs

does a little happy dance when he eats his favorite foods

LOVES piggy back rides

not allowed to sit in the front of the car/van (because he wont stop touching the aux/radio + hes too small!!)

a bit more sensitive when regressed. emotions that he would usually try to push away he lets himself feel when hes regressed

thinks cleo is so cool

LOVES bubble baths. he likes giving himself bubble beards

on days when he regresses to the point where he may need a pacifier, he always has to have a clip on or else he’ll lose it

needs something to watch when he eats (bluey more often than not)

if age regression bothers you or you are nsfw, please do not interact! no need to be rude :(

[keef-a-corn]

Rewatching TFP-

Giving you commentary of episode 6 -Masters and Students.

(I would talk about episodes 1 - 5, except I watched them yesterday and it made me realise that they stress me the hell out. Instead I’m going to cover episodes that don’t stress me out nearly as much)

Also I watch Transformers Prime on Stan (I’m pretty sure Stan is only in Australia, but it’s a streaming service and has every episode of TFP), so if any of these time stamps don’t match up, I’m sorry.

~~~~I begin now~~~~

Not saying much about the first part because it’s pretty much as seen.

*intro*

02:52 - scenes like these where it’s just Ratchet and Optimus cannot be viewed without at least one ‘this is proof their marriage certificate exists’ moments.

03:14 - and there it is. Optimus literally just when ‘mm’ and Ratchet immediately switched up his approach, the second approach worked significantly better.

03:44 - I like how you can tell Optimus has significantly larger strides when running compared to Ratchet. He started off further away, but arrived faster and closer.

04:00 - NOTHING BOILS MY BLOOD MORE THAN WHEN MIKO SAID

‘Whoopsie’ LIKE WHO THE FRAG ARE YOU?! WHERE TF DID MIKO GO?!

04:02 - ‘h-what… in the allspark’. Ratchet pronouncing ‘what’ that way is all the proof that’s needed to come to a conclusion that he’s old. Take that clip outta context and everyone witnessing it will know that he’s closer to his deathbed than a mid-life crisis.

04:15 - Not even close to being an accurate comparison.

04:21 - DAMN RIGHT, RATCHET! THEY ARE MAKING A MESS! MIKO BEING WEIRDLY MESSY WITH THE PAINT, BEE AND RAF TRIGGERING FIGHT OR FLIGHT, JACK AND ARCEE… Being weird- I mean.. for the bots, wouldn’t that be like trying to construct a body?

04:27 - then why did you leave it to the last minute, Raf?.

04:34 - Soooo close, Ratchet, but Bulkhead doesn’t need to know about the solar system to help Miko paint, same with Bee needing to know about Volcanoes to assist in constructing a model like that.

04:33 ~ 04:46 - Optimus just standing but like ‘just gonna let him talk it out’

~sorry, not much to say either~

05:55 - I wanna know what Bee’s saying. It seems interesting!

05:58 - Honestly Raf saying that clues me in even less.

06:05 - OPTIMUS’S HAND ON BEE’S SHOULDERRRRR! It’s so big! Aaaaaa

06:06 - Optimus calling Bee awesome.

Also Optimus confirming Bee’s very young.

06:54 - I really like how Peter pronounces ‘Bumblebee’ in Optimus’s voice. Just makes it sound so regal, then you remember it’s the word ‘Bumblebee’. + Optimus had no reason as to choose Bumblebee (aside from plot), Bulkhead was most likely not needed because we saw Miko’s project was pretty much complete and Jack was most likely the only one that would require assistance from Ratchet as Arcee was clearly no help.

07:07 - damn, those two strong as hell.

07:40 - Gotta keep his Bee safe. + he looks so concerned as he watches Optimus walk away.

07:49- Starscream had a whole choreographed dance for ‘rise and serve’

08:15 - I like Skyquake. What a waste. ALSO HE LOWERS HIS UPPER HALF TO TALK TO STARSCREAM, BUT TECHNICALLY HE IS BOWING!

08:55 - LMAO he really just pushed him away.

09:11 - Aww Bee gotta check on Optimusss

09:39 - Optimus just watching them like: 🧍

09:40 - SLAY, SKYQUAKE!

10:11 - Scraaaaaaaaap I love Soundwave’s designnn (I know he shows up earlier in the ep, it was just at this point that I truly stopped to appreciate them)

10:37 - Bee’s eyes are so interesting.

10:50 - Gotta protecc his faaather.

10:56 - Ayo- Bee- WTF?? He really just tapped into his inner insect abilities.

11:01 - Optimus immediately stepping in when Bumblebee was down *cri*

11:04 - He really just threw Bumblebee.

11:30 - Optimus leans in a bit closer when saying ‘vehicle mode’ to Bumblebee. He doesn’t want Skyquake to hear. And Bee kinda perks up as he realises Optimus is right.

11:52 - Ratchet’s inner goat

12:17 - That’s me doing all the work in science because the rest of my group is an idiot.

13:40 - It took me four rewatches to understand that Soundwave repeats ‘must bear witness’ as a command he’s making.

14:00 - of Agent Fowler didn’t show up in this episode, I bet that Optimus and Bee would’ve benefited greatly.

14:22 - Now that I think about it… odds are, Skyquake isn’t calling Bee ‘bug’ because his name is ‘Bumblebee’, instead it’s more likely he called Bee ‘bug’ because he considers him a small inconvenience that could simply be squished. I feel ashamed that it’s taken me this long.

14:39 - Bee’s face rises ever so slightly- he’s obviously happy, it’s just that I never noticed it.

14:58 - See? He’s distracting the bots and giving Skyquake a vehicle mode.

16:33 - Starscream landing so nicely gives me life.

16:58 - he touched da boob.

17:18 - to disagree~ I’m sorry-

18:34 - Oh that must’ve hurt-

18:39 - Father watches son fly off on plane.

18:41 - Father immediately calls in only air support to retrieve son.

18:53 - Bee showing off his surfer skills, but also that he’s smart by committing mid air murder.

19:01 - whoever chose for Bee to make that sound when plummeting to his death, thank you. You couldn’t have chosen a more perfectly silly sound for this very dangerous situation./g

19:04 - yeas, it is, Fowler, so why are you waiting?

19:12 - Bee showing off perfect coordination abilities

19:40 - Damn- Bee teleports now-

19:56 - Optimus condemning the strategy before praising the performance is very smart. I will not explain further

20:08 - I DON’T CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS, TO ME, OPTIMUS SMILED WHEN RATCHET GOT EXCITED.

20:49 - if there’s a remote, why does the volcano have buttons?

21:08 - Optimus engages with a joke.. why does no one mention this?!

M’kay, those were my thoughts.

Lemme know if you thought differently/disagree with my points/have more to add.

I like hearing people’s perspectives.

[irrealisms]

isolate song liner notes

fic here if you haven't read it; i'll be posting liner notes for my most recent three fics sort of periodically over the course of the next week or two

fic idea credit goes entirely to my friend birdy, who does songbird neurology research and had a bunch of xenofiction ideas about birdsong + tommy and ghostbur

this fic was almost named so this is what the volume knob is for, from dance music by the mountain goats, and i listened to that song on repeat a lot while writing this. highly recommend it as a song pairing. it's about abuse and music and it's one of my top picks for c!tommy in general. it also makes me think of @divinekillcam a lot (so look i'm seventeen years old ... when the police come to get me i'm listening to dance music, dance music), who is also c!tommy in a way, and who i thought about a lot while writing this fic. he was the first person i sent a draft of it to

the fic was originally written as though tommy was a normal songbird with just the one critical period and then i sent it to my Bird Knowledge Betas and one of them (soroka) went "tommy should be a starling (here are some Reasons it would be Themes)" and the other (birdy) went "starlings are actually open-ended song learners, this is also themes". birdy's comment is almost word-for-word copy-pasted into the end note, lol. this did genuinely make me emotional, though. man. his song will get better ... T_T

something i tried to capture and don't know how well i did at is that techno & tommy are really, really funny. i rewatched some bedrock bros streams for this and spent the whole time laughing. like, tommy's being annoying, but also they're just really funny together! no one writes technoblade funny enough. idk if i did either but i did try.

relatedly: no one writing tommy-sympathetic bedrock bros abuse recovery fic writes him annoying enough. i wanted to make Tommy Is Being So Very Annoying And Frustrating To Techno (and yet they do like each other) a major element in this fic even as i gave the readers sympathetic reasons why

something i didn't get a chance to really include in the fic for wordcount reasons is that tommy is soooooo parasocial and weird about phil for reasons of "he's a corvid TOO.... he's got wings just like me...." etc. even while not really...knowing phil very well

birds with clipped wings can get more anxious and have more behavioral problems (including screaming/being louder!) because they can't do their automatic reflex of flying away when in an anxiety-provoking situation! this felt very bedrock bros era tommy to me. also, "tommy's wings get clipped in exile" is such a stereotypical fanon thing and the exchange i wrote this for was about "what if we wrote stereotypical fanon tropes But Good", so.

did you know that birds don't actually sing while in flight? i didn't! shoutout to birdy for telling me this--the original ending had tommy singing while he flew. luckily i had already set up the tower for him to land on.