#xm!reader

[waywardsou2]

Shirtless Cuddles with The Batch

Tags: Trans!Reader/M!Reader, masculine terms, AFAB reader, romantic but fluffy, cuddles, just general nice fluff, gayness

A/N: This is a scenario for all of my trans fellas out there. Or anyone that was born AFAB but isn't necessarily comfortable with their chest. How the Batchers would react if you wanted to sleep without your shirt on.

Basically, for context I am trans, and I am AFAB. I have not had top surgery yet but find it uncomfortable to sleep with my shirt on most nights. I've been stuck in the Bad Batch brain rot at the moment and was wondering what it would be like to cuddle with the Clones for the first time without a shirt on. In a fluffy romantic context tho. (I don't even know if any of this is making sense but if it does then please read on. Also I wanted to include Omega but didn't really know how to make that work so she unfortunately won't be in this one)

Scenario: You and your Clone are settling down for bed, it's been a long day and the missions have been rough recently. The two of you make your way to your shared quarters and you both begin changing for bed. You go to change out your shirt for another more comfortable one but you stop before you can even pull it over your head. You've been with your partner for a few years now and they know about your identity, they accept it wholeheartedly, but you've never taken the step to show them your body. You never felt ready, but something feels different tonight. "Hey, I want try something tonight?" Your Batcher turns to you and waits for you to respond looking slightly confused "I don't really want to wear my shirt tonight; it gets irritating sometimes. But I didn't know how you would react to my chest"

Hunter

Hunter turns to you and gives you a soft smile, he's knows that you toss and turn a lot of the night not being able to find a comfortable way to place your arms with your t-shirt twisted around you body. It the exact reason why he hardly wears a shirt in bead. He reaches forward and slips his fingers underneath your shirt, he looks at you for consent to keep going and when you nod, he gently pulls it over your head and tosses it aside. His hands rest on your hips, and he looks at you, he doesn't even bother to look at your chest. It doesn't matter to him, he loves you for you, not your body, he loves the handsome man standing in front of him.

The two of you walk over to the bed and settle under the covers, you turn inwards, so your chest is facing his and curl up, he wraps his arms around you, stroking the exposed skin of your back and gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before looking back into your eyes, softly he says, "You will always be my handsome man, no matter what."

And with that you rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat as his torso rises and falls with each steady breath.

Crosshair

Crosshair looks at you with a small question on his furrowed brow "Why are you asking me? It's your body so it's your choice"

Knowing that's as about as good as a response you are going to get from him you turn around and pull your shirt off, discarding it.

He looks at the floor as you do so but when you turn back around he looks up, he looks at your chest briefly but only for a moment, your arms are crossed over it, but doesn't think much of it. Your chest doesn't change his image of you. He gives you a wry but reassuring grin and pulls you over to the bed and the two of you climb in.

He isn't wearing a shirt either so as he rolls over and pulls your back into his chest you can feel his breathing and his heartbeat and his warmth, the feeling very calming. He wraps his arms around your stomach careful to not touch your chest and pulls you closer to his so your spine curves into his chest.

He traces patterns into your stomach and lower chest, he traces a line up in the small space between your ribs in your upper chest, he does it slowly, creeping up ever so slightly and when you don't protest he lays his hand there, feeling your heartbeat. He sighs contentedly and so do you.

He gives you a kiss on the back of your head and mumbles "Love you" so quietly you almost don't hear it. You hum in response "Love you too Cross" and the two of you drift off to sleep.

Wrecker

Wrecker is a little slow on the uptake and doesn't quite understand what you are getting at, at first.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I wasn't born the same as you, remember? My chest isn't flat like yours"

He thinks for a moment and then it dawns on him what you are getting at "Oh?! Yeah, I did kinda forget, you are just so manly it's hard to remember that sometimes"

You laugh, he's so endearing and his blunt honestly makes your heart thrum with happiness. Even if he doesn't realise his comments about blatantly stating how "manly" you are always fill your heart fit to bursting.

"So is it ok?" you ask again

"Yeah?! Of course!" he cups your face in his hands and gives you a big kiss on the forehead.

You take a step back to take of your shirt and then you step into his space again and he gives you a massive bear hug, you let out a laugh as he throws you onto the bed. He dives after you and you are both a laughing mess. So much for going to sleep.

He pulls you over so you are laying on top of him and he wraps his arms tightly around you "You are amazing you know that?"

You giggle and reply "You're amazing too Wrecker" and with that you lay there together, humming and laughing softly, an endless loop of uncontainable happiness. You felt so lucky to be loved by someone like Wrecker.

Tech

Tech also doesn't quite understand, he looks at you quizzically and says "Yes? That is fine? Why do you ask?"

"Because it's important?" you respond a little upset by his blunt response

He thinks for a moment and studies your face as he does so, he seems to come to a conclusion and opens his mouth again "Would you like me to close my eyes or turn away?"

You shrug your shoulders noncommittally and Tech considers you for another moment, then his face lights up slightly, like a lightbulb going off in his head. He removes his goggles and places them beside your shared bed "There. This way I can't see and you know that I won't be able to see"

You chuckle at him, he's not wrong but it still feels a little bit silly. He seems to understand there is still some hesitancy and he takes your hand "You should only do what you are comfortable with, and you should know that I would never judge you for your body. No matter what"

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before he nods his head towards the bed. "Do you wish to cuddle or should I give you some space"

In response you scooch over to him and lay an arm over his side placing your head on his palm, which he turns over to cup the side of your face.

"Maybe one day you can ask the Kaminoan's to help alleviate your chest dysphoria. But you should know by now that your body will never define your gender."

His statement makes you tear up a little and you smile at him "Thank you Tech"

"It is no problem my dear"

Echo

Echo looks a little taken aback "Yes, that's fine" he doesn't really seem to know what to say, and neither do you.

Instead, you slip your shirt off and he looks away politely. You touch his arm to grab his attention and turn back but he continues to look at your feet.

"Can I look?" he asks shyly

"Yeah, that's the point silly" you say with a chuckle

"That's not exactly what I meant" he says even more quietly than before. "I mean can I look at you, all of you?"

You feel warmth creep up your neck and cheeks as he says this

"Y-yeah" you stutter out and he looks up at you.

He looks into your eyes first and then drops them to your chest, he doesn't say anything but he also doesn't look for very long. You stand there a little shy and a little self-conscious but he looks away quickly enough that you don't feel uncomfortable.

He takes his one good hand and raises it to your cheek, cupping it gently and you nuzzle into it humming.

"You are a very beautiful person. I feel like the luckiest Clone alive to be with someone as amazing as you. Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share your body with me. I know that couldn't have been easy"

You smile back at him, a grin stretching its way across your face "You can't be the luckiest man alive because I have you, and that makes me the luckiest" He blushes in return, the deep red a stark contrast to his pale skin.

You both crawl into bed and you wrap your arms around each other and slowly doze off, never letting go of one another.

Hope you enjoyed! This one goes out to all my trans brothers out there!

!Feel free to request any other ideas that you would like me to write!

[mattalit]

A Hundred Years’ Wait

Link x m!Reader

CW: angst, death

Link often found himself reminded that, after one hundred years, the world he knew had been drowned in fire—and then reborn again, the same and different together. He was almost thankful for his own forgetfulness and missing memories, but ever since he had awoken, he could almost feel the soft thrum of a deep, stagnant memory… but try as he might—and try he did—he couldn’t remember. But what good was remembering when Hyrule threatened extinction?

Of course, the nagging thrum never truly went away, and in moments alone, he could feel the very edge of his past life in his mind. He would reach for it and grasp helplessly, but it was always out of reach, as tantalizing as the ocean to a man lost at sea, yearning for a sip of water. 

It doesn’t matter, he would tell himself. It doesn’t matter. But it did matter, and it plagued his subconscious. At night, in his dreams, he would see that face, but he could never remember in the mornings. 

A hero, though, has no time for forcing memories, and his mission had already begun: find Impa. 

The ride to Kakariko Village took three days, of which the final day was filled with dark clouds and rain. It was dreary weather and Link would rather be holed up somewhere warm, but when duty calls, he answers. He must find Impa. 

He tried not to be intimidated by the looming gates of Kakariko, but it had been so long since he had been here that familiarity seemed harsh, unfamiliar, as though déjà vu met the uncanny. Real, and yet, unreal. 

The sad atmosphere of the village didn’t help, either. There were no children running around as he remembered, and the adults he did see were sluggish. There seemed to be both an overcast in the weather and in the minds of the villagers. He felt as though he was infiltrating a great mourning period.

He hesitated within inaction, glancing around the seeable parts of the village. I have no choice, he realized, unless I turn back, but he knew that was not truly an option.

Link slid off of Epona and patted her flank. “Don’t run off, girl,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Epona nudged his hand as if telling him to hurry up and go, so he turned away and began down the path to the village’s center. 

He pushed away his discomfort with the stares he received from the white-haired populace. I am obviously an outsider, he thought, but he didn’t allow the feeling to dissuade him. He forced his shoulders back and continued on his downward path.

Once he had reached the village center, Link’s eyes scanned up a staircase and up the wooden structure. This must be it, he thought. 

At the gate, he was stopped by a white-haired man in the garb of the Sheikah.

“Sir, you cannot pass���” The man paused, looking down at Link. His tone turned from hardened to confused. “Is that… is that a Sheikah slate?”

Link pulled out the Sheikah slate.

“It is! I’m so sorry, you must hurry up to Impa.” The man stepped to the side. As Link took the first step, he was stopped again. “Oh, and please be respectful. A beloved elder is at his end of days. Impa is with him now. You will find her in the main room.”

Ah, Link thought, that explains this place’s looming sadness.

At the top of the stairs, he paused at the doors. He could feel that nagging thrum of remembrance return, but he had made it too far to stop in an attempt to think. 

Link pushed open the double doors, revealing moderate-sized room. He scanned the walls, taking in scrolls and pictures on the left and right before settling his sight in the center. There stood a short older woman with a large hat next to an older gentleman in a chair. He has seen better days, Link thought.

“My life is fading, Lady Impa,” the man said sadly. 

Link froze. We know that voice, the nagging thrum said, and it was right. He did know that voice—from one hundred years ago. But from what?

Impa looked to the doors and recognition passed through her face. “Link?” she asked. She did not move from her spot next to the man, whose face remained unchanged. 

That face… he remembered that face.

Link took a step forward.

It had seen the years in a way Link’s own had not, but he was still recognizable under the wrinkles and sun spots and the wispy, white beard. 

Link took another step forward.

He remembered that face younger and in battle, holding determination and his sword as though they were a light weight. 

“It has been a long time,” the old man said, “since I have last seen you, swordsman.”

Link remembered that voice when it was still hindered with the naiveté and ego of youth, but now the scars of wisdom and diplomacy could be heard and felt.

“(M/N),” Link greeted. “It has been far too long.”

And Link could feel the full weight of time come crashing down, and he could feel the soft thrum of remembrance grow and grow as finally, finally, he remembered. 

(M/N), a Knight of Hyrule, a protector of the royal family, and an adventurer. (M/N), his sparring partner, his friend, and—dare he say it?—his lover. 

Like a symphony, he could remember all the hours spent training, the days spent adventuring in the wilderness, the late nights and early mornings, all spent together, and in anguish and in fear, he stared upon that wrinkled face, and the wispy white hair so different from its younger (H/C), and the fragile body, and Link finally realized how long he had been gone, how much he had missed, and how much he could never, ever get back. 

Link kneeled in front of (M/N); he hardly noticed Impa back away.

For a moment, (M/N) just stared. “I am dying, Link,” he said. “But I have held on for you. I always knew you would be back.”

Link did not respond, but he could feel a tear slip down his cheek. He had lost so much time, and there was nothing he could do. He had never felt so helpless. 

“The sands of time are cruelest to heroes,” (M/N) mumbled. He placed his hand softly on Link’s face, his thumb tracing his cheekbone, wiping away his tear.  “But you are as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

Link placed his own hand over (M/N)’s. He could feel that familiar thrum, and he begged himself to remember more—and he did. He remembered the night a week before his fall, the last time he had seen (M/N), where he had held (M/N)’s hand in the same way. 

I will be gone when you wake up, he had whispered.

Must you leave so late? he had been asked.

I have a duty to the Princess.

I suppose I cannot keep you. I will see you when you get back.

(M/N)’s hand was weaker and more weathered than when he had left him, but a hundred years had passed, and nothing these days was as he remembered.

I have been gone for so long, he thought, and he couldn’t fight down his own distress and anger and helplessness as he realized, all against my will.

“I am glad you have come, Link,” (M/N) said, “but our time together now ends.”

“Wait,” Link pleaded.

“I have held on as long as I can.” (M/N) took a shambling breath. “But time has been cruel to us.”

(M/N)’s hand dropped from Link’s face, but Link caught it and laid it across the old man’s lap. He could feel his own sweltering tears pool together. 

He felt Impa’s small hand be placed on his shoulder, and he half-registered her voice telling him, “He will not wake up again.”

[snowlithills]

increasingly believing that the amount of discussion/discourse time we give to bullshit artificial generational divides is a symptom of the broader crisis in social reproduction

[milfbrainrot]

on a practical level the g@il simone situation is just such a bad look professionally because do you really want the people who employ you to see you talking shit about decisions they've approved

[bratzkoo]

blueprint of us | minghao

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: rich af! minghao x architect! reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-15 Word count: 14k~ Warnings/note: enemies to lovers minghao kinda that i've been thinking about for weeks! i need this.

summary: you really thought minghao is just your usual old money prioritizing getting richer over the environment, not with his background and whatever he does, well, until you didn’t.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): -​

requests are close, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

Y/N straightened her blazer, mentally rehearsing counter-arguments to every possible criticism as she strode into the Seoul Metropolitan Government conference room. At twenty-eight, she'd earned her reputation as one of the city's most uncompromising sustainable architects through sheer determination and technical brilliance. The Hangang Riverfront Revitalization Project was exactly the kind of high-profile commission her firm needed—and she wasn't about to let anyone derail her vision of creating the most environmentally innovative public space in Asia.

She scanned the room, noting the familiar faces of committee members and developers, before her gaze locked onto an unfamiliar figure. Xu Minghao of XM Development stood near the windows, examining the site maps with intense focus. She'd never met him personally, but his reputation preceded him—artistic, enigmatic, and ruthlessly effective at getting his designs approved. His buildings were architectural marvels that graced magazine covers and won international awards while consuming unconscionable amounts of energy with their glass facades and dramatic lighting.

As if sensing her scrutiny, Minghao looked up. Their eyes met across the room in a moment of instant recognition—not of each other personally, but of what each represented. A subtle tension charged the air between them.

Joshua Hong, the city's cultural development officer, approached with his characteristic diplomatic smile. "Y/N! I see you've noticed Minghao. Let me introduce you properly before presentations begin."

She followed Joshua, maintaining perfect professional composure as they approached Minghao, who straightened to his full height, his expression coolly appraising.

"Xu Minghao, this is Y/N, principal architect at Green Path Architecture. Y/N, Minghao is the creative director at XM Development."

"Your Dongdaemun Plaza extension was featured in Architectural Review last month," Y/N said, extending her hand. It wasn't a compliment—merely an acknowledgment of fact—but she could acknowledge quality work even from the opposition.

Minghao's handshake was firm, his gaze direct. "And your critique of it in Sustainable Design Quarterly was quite... thorough." There was a hint of something in his voice—not quite anger, more like curiosity.

Y/N didn't flinch. "I stand by every word."

"I would expect nothing less." A ghost of a smile touched his lips, surprising her. "It was one of the more intelligent critiques I've read. Most critics don't understand the structural constraints we were working with."

Before Y/N could respond to this unexpected comment, they were called to take their seats.

Throughout her presentation, Y/N was acutely aware of Minghao's attention. Unlike other developers who checked phones or whispered to colleagues during technical explanations, he observed with complete focus, occasionally making notes. His scrutiny was unnerving—she found herself emphasizing certain points more forcefully, as if in direct challenge to his design philosophy.

When Minghao presented his concept, Y/N reluctantly found herself impressed by his eloquence and vision. Where her presentation had been data-driven and practical, his was almost poetic—speaking of architecture as cultural storytelling, of spaces that evolved with seasonal light, of connections between traditional Korean design principles and contemporary human needs.

"A truly sustainable space," he concluded, his voice quiet but carrying through the silent room, "must sustain not just environmental metrics, but the human soul. It must create memories, inspire creativity, and connect people to something larger than themselves."

It was beautiful rhetoric that conveniently sidestepped concrete sustainability commitments, Y/N thought critically. Yet she couldn't deny the power of his vision or the masterful renderings that accompanied it.

When the committee's decision came, delivered by Joshua, it landed like a thunderbolt.

"Both proposals contain essential elements the committee feels are necessary for this project's success. Rather than choosing between them, we're asking Y/N and Minghao to collaborate on a unified design—combining Green Path's environmental innovation with XM's cultural and aesthetic vision."

Y/N's expression remained professionally neutral while her mind raced through implications. A collaboration? With him? Their approaches weren't just different—they were fundamentally opposed.

Across the room, she saw Minghao's composed mask slip momentarily, revealing a flash of the same dismay she felt. Their eyes met again, mutual wariness transformed into shared predicament.

After the meeting adjourned, Minghao approached her with measured steps. "It seems we have a situation," he said, his voice low.

"That's one way of putting it," Y/N replied evenly. "I have serious concerns about reconciling our approaches."

"As do I," he admitted, surprising her with his candor. "But the commission is significant. Perhaps we can establish ground rules to make this... functional."

They agreed to meet the following day at a neutral location to establish their working parameters, both clearly determined to protect their core principles while finding some way to fulfill the committee's requirements.

The café they chose was halfway between their respective offices—a small, quiet place with good lighting and minimal distractions. Y/N arrived ten minutes early, selecting a corner table and arranging her materials precisely. Minghao arrived exactly on time, dressed in simple black that somehow looked both casual and impeccable.

"I reviewed your full proposal last night," he said without preamble as he took the seat across from her. "Your technical solutions are innovative, but they fail to consider the aesthetic impact."

Y/N set down her coffee cup with deliberate care. "And I reviewed yours. Your spatial concepts are impressive but environmentally irresponsible. Your projected energy consumption is triple what it should be for a public project of this scale."

"Those calculations don't account for the passive cooling systems integrated into the design."

"Even with those systems, the glass expanses you've proposed create unnecessary thermal management challenges."

They continued this technical sparring for nearly an hour, each demonstrating a surprisingly thorough understanding of the other's specialty. Y/N had expected Minghao to dismiss environmental concerns entirely but found instead that he comprehended them well—he simply prioritized differently. Similarly, Minghao seemed taken aback by her knowledge of architectural theory and cultural references.

"You've studied Korean traditional architecture," he noted when she referenced historical precedents for natural ventilation.

"You sound surprised."

"Most sustainability specialists I've worked with focus exclusively on contemporary technology."

"That would be shortsighted," Y/N replied. "Traditional builders solved climate challenges without modern energy sources. There's much to learn from them."

A thoughtful expression crossed Minghao's face. "On that, at least, we agree."

This small point of alignment felt like a minor breakthrough. They tentatively established a working schedule and division of responsibilities, each carefully guarding their core elements while identifying areas where compromise might be possible.

As they gathered their materials to leave, Minghao hesitated. "I should clarify something. I'm not opposed to sustainability. I simply believe it must include cultural and aesthetic sustainability alongside environmental concerns."

Y/N studied him, trying to determine if this was merely diplomatic posturing. "And I'm not opposed to beauty. I just believe it shouldn't come at the expense of future generations."

Minghao nodded once, accepting this. "Then perhaps this collaboration isn't impossible after all."

"I didn't say that," Y/N countered with hint of a challenging smile. "I said it wasn't entirely impossible."

Something flickered in Minghao's eyes—surprise, followed by what might have been respect. "Until tomorrow, then."

Their working relationship developed into a pattern of intense intellectual debate punctuated by rare moments of unexpected alignment. They established a temporary studio in a small gallery space Joshua arranged for them—neutral territory that became the battleground for their competing visions.

Each morning began civilly enough, reviewing progress and outlining objectives. By afternoon, they were invariably locked in philosophical combat over fundamental aspects of the design. Y/N found these debates simultaneously frustrating and stimulating—Minghao challenged her assumptions with perspectives she'd never considered, forcing her to articulate her values with greater precision.

"You speak of environmental responsibility as if it exists in isolation from human experience," Minghao argued during a particularly heated discussion. "But people protect what they love. Create a space they don't connect with emotionally, and it will be neglected or demolished within a generation, regardless of its ecological merits."

"And you speak of human experience as if it can be separated from environmental context," Y/N fired back. "The most beautiful space becomes meaningless if the air is unbreathable or the temperature unbearable. Ask the residents of coastal cities losing ground to rising sea levels how much they're enjoying the 'human experience' of architectural masterpieces that contributed to climate change."

Mingyu, Minghao's assistant, had learned to make himself scarce during these exchanges, quietly leaving coffee and returning hours later when the conceptual storm had passed.

What surprised Y/N most was not Minghao's stubborn defense of his vision—she'd expected that—but his work ethic. He matched her legendary stamina hour for hour, sometimes staying past midnight to perfect details or research technical questions that arose during their debates. One evening, she returned from a quick dinner break to find him surrounded by books on wetland ecosystems, cross-referencing her water management proposals against ecological studies.

"I wanted to understand the biological implications better," he explained simply, not looking up.

Another night, Minghao found Y/N studying the historical design references in his original concept. When he raised an eyebrow in question, she merely said, "If I'm going to argue against aspects of your design, I should at least understand its cultural context properly."

These moments of mutual professional respect existed alongside their fundamental disagreements, creating a complex working relationship neither had anticipated.

Three weeks into their collaboration, they reached an impasse over the central plaza. Y/N's design prioritized permeable surfaces and rainwater capture, while Minghao's emphasized traditional patterns and ceremonial pathways. Neither would yield, their respective heels dug in after days of circular arguments.

"This isn't productive," Minghao finally said, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of frustration. "We're approaching this from incompatible premises."

"Then we need to change the premises," Y/N replied, surprising herself with the suggestion. "We're still thinking of our designs as separate entities being forced together, not as a new integrated concept."

Minghao looked at her thoughtfully. "What are you suggesting?"

"Let's visit the site. Together. Not to argue our positions, but to observe. Maybe there's something we're both missing."

The next morning dawned clear and cool as they met at the riverfront. By unspoken agreement, they walked in silence, observing how light played across the water, how people naturally gathered in certain spaces, how the existing landscape created patterns of movement.

An hour passed before either spoke. They had stopped at a particular bend in the river, watching an elderly man feeding birds while a group of students sketched nearby.

"There's a rhythm to how people use this space," Minghao said quietly. "Different but harmonious patterns overlapping."

Y/N nodded. "And natural cycles intersecting with human ones. The tide, the seasonal plants, the daily movement of sun and shadow."

They spent the entire day at the site, gradually beginning to exchange observations, then ideas, their usual combative dynamic softened by the physical reality of the place itself. As sunset painted the river gold, Y/N found herself sketching alongside Minghao on a park bench, their shoulders occasionally brushing as they worked.

"What if," Minghao said suddenly, looking up from his drawing, "the water management systems became visible features that change with the seasons? Not hidden infrastructure, but celebrated elements that tell an environmental story while creating evolving beauty."

Y/N stared at him, momentarily speechless at how perfectly this bridged their divided approaches. "That... could actually work." She quickly sketched an adaptation of her technical systems that incorporated his aesthetic principles. "The filtration gardens could become these sculptural elements that transform with rainfall patterns."

"Yes," Minghao leaned closer to see her drawing, his usual reserve giving way to genuine enthusiasm. "And these ceremonial pathways I proposed—they could be constructed with your permeable materials, creating traditional patterns that also serve ecological functions."

They worked with growing excitement, building on each other's ideas in a creative flow unlike anything their previous combative approach had produced. When darkness finally forced them to pack up their materials, both were reluctant to break the productive spell.

Walking back toward the subway station, Y/N glanced at Minghao's profile, softened in the evening light.

"I still think you're wrong about the glass pavilions," she said, but there was no edge to her voice now.

"And I still think your maintenance projections are unrealistic," he replied with the ghost of a smile.

"But today was... not entirely unproductive."

"A diplomatic assessment," Minghao agreed. After a pause, he added more seriously, "You're not what I expected, Y/N."

"Oh? And what did you expect?"

"Someone less willing to consider alternative perspectives. Less... formidable in defending her vision."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "I could say the same about you. I expected a developer focused exclusively on aesthetics and profit, not someone who would spend hours researching ecosystem impacts."

They parted at the station with a new sense of possibility, though neither would admit how significantly their perception of the other had shifted. Y/N found herself thinking about Minghao's unexpected depth as she rode home—his quiet intensity, his surprising knowledge across disciplines, the rare moments when his composed exterior gave way to genuine passion for architecture.

It was professionally inconvenient, she decided, to discover that your philosophical opponent was actually worthy of respect. Even more inconvenient to realize you were beginning to look forward to the intellectual challenge he presented each day. Most inconvenient of all was catching herself wondering what else might lie beneath his carefully controlled surface—and why that possibility intrigued her more than she cared to admit.

-

The breakthrough at the riverfront changed something fundamental in Y/N and Minghao's working relationship. Though they still disagreed—often vehemently—about specific elements, a grudging respect had formed between them. Their temporary studio space gradually transformed, walls covered with evolving sketches that showed a slow but unmistakable merging of their distinct approaches.

Y/N arrived early one morning, a week after their site visit, to find Minghao already there. He sat with his back to the door, so absorbed in his work that he hadn't heard her enter. She paused, taking the rare opportunity to observe him unguarded. His movements were precise as he sketched, occasionally pausing to reference her technical specifications before continuing. The morning light caught the edges of his profile, and Y/N was struck by the intensity of his focus—the same quality she prided in herself.

"You've adapted the rainwater system," she said, finally announcing her presence.

Minghao turned, not startled but transitioning smoothly from solitary concentration to acknowledgment of her arrival. "I had some thoughts about integrating it more fully with the traditional elements."

Y/N set down her materials and moved closer to examine his work. The technical system she'd designed remained intact in its function but had been transformed visually into something that echoed historical Korean water features while remaining distinctly contemporary.

"This actually improves the water flow," she admitted, studying the modifications. "The aesthetic changes create a more efficient path for heavy rainfall."

"Form following function," Minghao said with the slight upturn of lips that passed for his smile. "Or perhaps function following form. Does it matter which comes first if the result serves both?"

Y/N gave him a measured look. "It matters in the process. But I'll concede the outcome is... promising."

They settled into work, the morning passing in focused collaboration punctuated by their usual debates—though the tone had shifted from combative to challenging, each pushing the other toward more refined solutions.

Around noon, the studio door opened to reveal Seungkwan from Y/N's firm, carrying several bags of takeout.

"Lunch delivery!" he announced with characteristic enthusiasm. "Y/N, the office is buzzing about your collaboration. Everyone's wondering if you've strangled the famous Xu Minghao yet or if he's converted you to the dark side of luxury development." He stopped abruptly, seeming to realize Minghao was present. "Oh! I mean—that is—good afternoon, Mr. Xu!"

Y/N suppressed a smile at Seungkwan's flustered backpedaling. "Minghao, this is Seungkwan from my PR department."

"We've met briefly," Minghao said with a gracious nod. "At the initial presentation."

"Right! Yes! I was very impressed with your cultural integration concepts," Seungkwan babbled, setting down the food and backing toward the door. "I'll just leave this here and let you both get back to your... creative tension. Or harmony! Whatever you're creating!"

After Seungkwan's hasty departure, Y/N shook her head. "Sorry about that. He's brilliant at public relations but subtle isn't in his vocabulary."

"He cares about you," Minghao observed, arranging the food containers. "Your firm seems more like a family than a corporation."

"We're small but dedicated. Everyone believes in what we're doing." Y/N accepted the container he handed her. "What about XM? From what I've read, it's quite hierarchical."

Something flickered across Minghao's face—so brief Y/N almost missed it. "Traditional corporate structure, yes. Efficiency has its advantages."

"But?"

Minghao looked up, surprised by her perception. "What makes you think there's a 'but'?"

"Your expression. Just for a second."

He considered her for a moment before responding. "The traditional structure has advantages for executing projects efficiently. It has... limitations for innovation. Particularly regarding sustainability initiatives."

This was the most personal insight he'd offered about his professional situation. Y/N sensed something significant beneath his measured words.

"You're advocating for change within XM?"

"Let's say I have a longer-term vision that doesn't always align with quarterly profit expectations." Minghao's tone made it clear he considered this topic closed.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before returning to safer territory—the technical challenges of their current design integration. But Y/N filed away this glimpse beneath Minghao's professional exterior, another piece in the increasingly complex puzzle he presented.

Later that week, Y/N sat in her apartment surrounded by crumpled sketches, trying desperately to focus on refining the public garden layout for their project. Instead, she found herself repeatedly drawing Minghao's profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the thoughtful tilt of his head when considering a design problem.

"This isn't happening," she muttered, furiously erasing the latest inadvertent portrait. "This is Stockholm syndrome. Professional delirium. Sleep deprivation psychosis."

She crumpled the paper and tossed it toward the trash can, missing by a good foot. The floor was already littered with similar failures—evidence of her complete inability to focus without her thoughts drifting to a certain frustratingly elegant architect with stupidly perfect cheekbones and infuriatingly thoughtful design insights.

When her phone rang, Y/N nearly leapt for it, grateful for any distraction. Seeing Seungkwan's name on the screen was an added relief—at least it wasn't Minghao calling about work, which would mean having to sound professional while in the midst of this embarrassing crisis.

"Please tell me you're free for dinner," Seungkwan said without preamble. "We're all at the usual place, and Woozi is three beers in, talking about writing a concept album about sustainable architecture. You need to witness this."

Y/N stared at her disaster of an apartment—takeout containers from three consecutive nights of working late with Minghao, sketches everywhere, and a half-empty bottle of wine that wasn't helping her current crisis at all.

"I'll be there in thirty," she replied, grateful for the escape.

The hole-in-the-wall restaurant was already lively when Y/N arrived, sliding into a booth next to Jeonghan and across from Seungkwan and Woozi.

"The workaholic emerges!" Seungkwan announced dramatically. "How's life with the enemy?"

"He's not the enemy," Y/N answered automatically, then froze at her own defensive tone.

Three pairs of eyes locked onto her with laser focus.

"Well, well, well," Jeonghan drawled, sliding the soju bottle towards her. "That's new."

"What?" Y/N poured herself a generous shot. "He's a collaborator now. Professionally. On the project. That's all."

"Right," Woozi nodded sagely. "Totally professional. Which is why you just drew hearts around his name on that napkin."

Y/N looked down in horror, only to find a blank napkin. When she looked up, Woozi was smirking.

"Your face right now is all the confirmation we needed," he said.

"I hate all of you," Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It's not—I don't—UGH."

"Oh my god, she actually likes him," Seungkwan stage-whispered, eyes wide with delight. "Our Y/N has fallen for Corporate Architecture Ken!"

"I have NOT fallen for him," Y/N hissed, looking around to make sure no one from the industry was nearby. "I just... don't completely despise working with him anymore. He has... occasional good ideas."

"Occasional good ideas," Jeonghan repeated flatly. "Is that what we're calling it when you haven't stopped talking about 'Minghao's innovative approach to spatial harmony' for three weeks?"

"Or when you defended his honor to that sustainability consultant who called his previous projects 'ecological disasters'?" Woozi added.

"Or when you started wearing your nice blazers to the collaborative studio instead of your usual 'comfort over corporate' outfits?" Seungkwan chimed in.

Y/N looked between them, betrayal written across her face. "I just wanted to project professionalism!"

"Since when have you cared about looking professional?" Jeonghan laughed. "Your entire brand is 'too busy saving the planet to care about dress codes.'"

Y/N downed her soju in one shot, the harsh reality hitting harder than the alcohol. "This is a disaster. If—and I mean IF—I were developing... unprofessional feelings, which I'm NOT admitting to... it would be career suicide. Personal suicide. A complete betrayal of everything I stand for."

"Dramatic much?" Woozi raised an eyebrow.

"He works for XM Development!" Y/N whispered furiously. "They literally built that resort that destroyed an entire coral reef ecosystem! I protested outside their headquarters! I wrote a scathing industry article about their CEO!"

"Who happens to be his uncle," Seungkwan pointed out unhelpfully. "Awkward future family dinners."

Y/N dropped her head onto the table with a thunk. "This isn't happening. I refuse. I absolutely refuse to be attracted to Xu Minghao. He probably irons his socks. He definitely owns more black turtlenecks than Steve Jobs ever did. His idea of sustainable materials is 'slightly less endangered tropical hardwood.' This is a cosmic joke."

"But he's so pretty," Seungkwan sighed dreamily. "Those cheekbones could cut glass."

"And he did publicly challenge his board about sustainability initiatives," Jeonghan reminded her. "That article was everywhere in the industry. He put his reputation on the line."

"Not helping," Y/N mumbled into the table.

"Look," Woozi said, suddenly serious. "You've spent your entire career fighting against developers who don't care about environmental impact. Now you've found one who might actually be an ally—who gets your vision enough to fight for it within his own corporate structure. What's the real problem?"

Y/N lifted her head, expression pained. "The problem is I wanted to hate him. I was prepared to hate him. Hating him was simple and comfortable and fit my worldview perfectly. But now..." She gestured helplessly.

"Now you like him," Seungkwan finished for her. "Like, LIKE him like him."

"And I hate that I like him," Y/N groaned. "It's so inconvenient. So cliché. So... ugh."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Jeonghan said with philosophical air.

"Well, my heart needs to shut up and get back to focusing on sustainable architecture instead of Minghao's stupid perfect hands and the way he tilts his head when he's really considering an idea and how he remembers exactly how I like my coffee and—" Y/N cut herself off, horrified.

The table erupted in delighted chaos.

"This is the greatest day of my life," Seungkwan declared, wiping away a fake tear. "Our ice queen has melted for the prince of luxury development."

"I'm leaving," Y/N announced, grabbing her bag. "I'm moving to a remote island where there are no architects, no colleagues, and definitely no irritatingly perceptive friends."

As she stood to leave, Woozi called after her: "Just remember to invite us to the wedding! I've already started composing your processional!"

The wadded-up napkin Y/N threw hit him squarely between the eyes.

Meanwhile, across the city, Minghao sat perfectly still in his apartment's minimalist living room, staring at the scale model he'd been working on for the past three hours. It was meant to be a section of their riverfront design. Somehow, he'd unconsciously incorporated elements that were distinctly Y/N's—the curved rainwater channels, the integrated vegetation patterns, the community-focused gathering spaces.

"This is unacceptable," he murmured to himself, setting down his tools with deliberate precision.

He'd spent years cultivating perfect control—over his designs, his career trajectory, his emotions. Three weeks working with Y/N had somehow dismantled that control with terrifying efficiency.

His phone rang. Jun.

"Please tell me you're not still working," his friend said when Minghao answered. "It's Friday night. We're at Mingyu's place. Even Wonwoo left the office."

"I'm not working," Minghao replied, staring at the evidence that he'd been thinking about Y/N rather than actual work. "Just... reviewing some concepts."

"All work and no play makes Minghao a dull boy," Jun sing-songed. "Come over. Mingyu made his famous hotpot, and Vernon brought that weird board game where you have to build fictional cities."

The prospect of architecture-themed entertainment was the last thing Minghao needed right now, but the alternative was sitting alone in his apartment, fighting the unprofessional urge to text Y/N about a design idea that had occurred to him in the shower.

"Fine," he conceded. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Mingyu's apartment was chaos compared to Minghao's serene space—warm, cluttered, and currently filled with his closest friends sprawled across various furniture. The delicious scent of hotpot filled the air, and someone had put on a jazz playlist that mingled with conversations and laughter.

"He emerges from his creative cave!" Jun announced as Minghao entered. "We were taking bets on whether you'd actually show up or send another 'something came up' text."

"I'm not that antisocial," Minghao protested mildly, accepting the drink Mingyu handed him.

"No, you're just that obsessed with perfection," Wonwoo corrected from his position on the couch, not looking up from his book. "How's the collaboration going with the eco-warrior princess?"

Minghao nearly choked on his drink. "Her name is Y/N, and the project is progressing adequately."

"Adequately?" Jun repeated with a grin. "That's not what Mingyu said after he dropped off those materials yesterday. What was it again, Mingyu? Something about 'intense creative energy' and 'finishing each other's sentences'?"

Mingyu had the decency to look apologetic as he stirred the hotpot. "I just mentioned that you two seemed to be working well together. Better than expected, considering how you used to talk about her environmental manifestos."

"We've found professional common ground," Minghao said carefully, taking a seat at the dining table. "Her technical knowledge is impressive, and she's more open to aesthetic considerations than I initially assumed."

"Wow, from Minghao, that's practically a declaration of love," Vernon commented, looking up from where he was setting up the board game.

"It's professional respect," Minghao clarified firmly.

"Is that why you've saved every industry article she's ever written?" Wonwoo asked, finally closing his book. "For professional respect?"

Minghao shot him a betrayed look. "Those are research materials. Know your opponent's perspective."

"And is that why you specially ordered her favorite tea for the studio? And stayed up all night researching wetland ecosystems to understand her water management system better? And hand-crafted that traditional pavilion model that took you three days?" Jun pressed, clearly enjoying himself.

"Those were... professional courtesies," Minghao insisted, feeling uncomfortably warm. "The project benefits from a harmonious working relationship."

"Harmonious," Mingyu repeated with a knowing smile. "Interesting word choice."

"You guys are reading too much into this," Minghao said, helping himself to food in an attempt to end the conversation. "We're collaborating on a project with strict deadlines. That's all."

The room fell silent for a moment before Jun spoke again, his tone gentler. "You know, it wouldn't be the end of the world if you did like her."

"She represents everything I'm supposed to be working against," Minghao said quietly. "She's idealistic to the point of impracticality, stubborn about her principles, and has publicly criticized XM's projects multiple times."

"And yet..." Vernon prompted.

"And yet," Minghao admitted reluctantly, "she's brilliant. Her technical innovations are genuinely revolutionary. She sees connections in systems that most designers miss. And she cares about the impact of her work in a way that's..." he searched for the right word, "...admirable."

"Just admirable?" Wonwoo asked, eyebrow raised.

Minghao set down his chopsticks, suddenly finding it difficult to maintain his usual composure. "Fine. You want the truth? I can't stop thinking about her. I find myself sketching elements I know she'll appreciate into designs she'll never even see. I've started questioning corporate policies I've accepted for years because her arguments make compelling sense. I wake up thinking about our debates and go to sleep solving design problems we discussed."

He ran a hand through his hair in a rare display of frustration. "It's completely inappropriate, utterly unprofessional, and would horrify my uncle and the entire board if they knew. She probably still thinks I'm a corporate sellout despite everything, and the project will end in three weeks, after which we'll go back to being professional adversaries. So yes, maybe I do find her more than just professionally admirable, but it doesn't matter because nothing could ever come of it."

The room was silent for a long moment.

"Wow," Mingyu finally said. "That's the most words I've heard you speak consecutively in... possibly ever."

"She must be really special," Vernon added thoughtfully.

"This is a disaster," Minghao sighed, his perfect posture finally slumping. "Of all the architects in Seoul, why did it have to be her? The one person guaranteed to find my family's business morally reprehensible? The one designer who would consider my aesthetic priorities superficial? The most stubborn, principled, frustratingly intelligent woman I've ever met?"

"The heart is mysterious," Jun said, patting his shoulder sympathetically. "And apparently has terrible timing."

"The heart has nothing to do with this," Minghao insisted. "This is temporary insanity brought on by extended proximity and creative intensity."

"Right," Wonwoo nodded sagely. "That explains why you've started dressing even more impeccably than usual for your studio sessions. And why you've been turning down family dinner invitations to work late with her. And why you risked your position at XM to champion sustainability initiatives that align with her values."

Minghao stared at him. "How do you know all that?"

"I pay attention," Wonwoo shrugged. "And Mingyu talks a lot."

"Traitor," Minghao muttered, glancing at Mingyu, who was suddenly very interested in the hotpot.

The following day, Y/N arrived at the studio determined to maintain strict professional boundaries. She'd spent half the night lecturing herself about the absolute insanity of developing feelings for Xu Minghao, of all people. She had a plan: minimal personal conversation, focused work discussion, and absolutely no noticing of his perfect cheekbones or elegant hands or the way his eyes lit up when discussing traditional Korean architecture.

Her resolve lasted approximately three minutes.

Minghao was already there, arranging a collection of material samples on their work table. He looked up when she entered, and something in his expression seemed different—a flicker of self-consciousness that mirrored her own.

"Good morning," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "I brought coffee." He gestured to a cup on her side of the table. "Black with one sugar."

The fact that he remembered exactly how she took her coffee was not helping her resolution at all.

"Thank you," she managed, setting down her bag and picking up the cup to give her hands something to do. "I was thinking about the central plaza transition areas overnight. I have some ideas for improving the flow."

Minghao nodded, seemingly grateful for the immediate focus on work. "I was considering the same issue. The current design creates a bottleneck during peak usage times."

They fell into their usual pattern of collaborative problem-solving, but something had shifted in the atmosphere. Y/N found herself hyperaware of every accidental brush of hands when they reached for the same reference material, every moment their eyes met when making a point, every instance of inadvertent synchronization when they both had the same idea simultaneously.

Judging by Minghao's slightly stiffer-than-usual posture and occasional hesitations before physical proximity, he might be experiencing similar awareness. The thought was both terrifying and oddly exhilarating.

By afternoon, the awkwardness had somewhat dissipated as they became absorbed in a particularly challenging aspect of the water feature design. Their usual dynamic reasserted itself—Y/N focusing on technical efficiency, Minghao on experiential quality, both pushing the other toward a more integrated solution.

"If we adjust the flow pattern here," Y/N suggested, leaning over the model they'd constructed, "we can increase capture capacity while creating more interesting visual movement."

Minghao considered this, head tilted in the exact way that Y/N had embarrassingly confessed to finding attractive just the night before. She forced herself to focus on the model instead of his profile.

"That could work," he agreed, reaching for a pencil to sketch the modification. Their fingers brushed briefly, causing both to withdraw a fraction too quickly.

"Sorry," they said simultaneously, then looked at each other in surprise.

A moment of silence stretched between them, charged with something neither was prepared to acknowledge.

"We should take a break," Minghao finally said, straightening up. "We've been working for hours."

Y/N nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "Good idea. I need some air."

They stepped outside into the late afternoon sun, walking silently to a small park across from their studio building. Finding a bench, they sat with a careful distance between them, watching office workers hurry past on their way home.

"The project is progressing well," Minghao observed after a while. "Better than I expected when we were first assigned to collaborate."

"Agreed," Y/N said. "It's become something neither of us would have created independently."

"That's the value of diverse perspectives," Minghao replied. "When integrated thoughtfully rather than forced together superficially."

Something about his phrasing made Y/N wonder if he was talking about more than just their architectural collaboration. Before she could analyze this further, her phone chimed with a news alert.

"Oh," she said, reading the notification. "There's an article about you. About XM's sustainability initiative."

Minghao tensed visibly. "Already? The board meeting was just yesterday."

"You didn't know this was being published?" Y/N asked, scanning the article. "'XM Development Creative Director Challenges Board on Sustainability Direction.'"

"No," Minghao replied, his usual composure slipping. "Someone leaked it. This complicates things."

"In what way?"

He hesitated, then seemed to make a decision. "My uncle—the chairman—is deeply traditional in his business approach. He believes our brand is built on luxury and exclusivity, not environmental considerations. I've been trying to shift the corporate direction gradually, presenting sustainability as market advantage rather than moral imperative. A public leak makes it appear I'm forcing his hand through media pressure."

"Are you?" Y/N asked directly.

"No," Minghao said, meeting her eyes. "I would prefer to change the company from within, through demonstrating that sustainable design can be both beautiful and profitable. Our project is meant to be evidence of that possibility."

Y/N studied him, seeing the complexity of his position more clearly than before. "You're navigating a difficult path between family expectations and your own values."

"As we all must in different ways," he replied quietly. After a pause, he added, "Working with you has... clarified certain priorities for me."

The admission hung in the air between them, neither quite ready to explore its full implications. Instead, they watched the sun begin its descent, casting long shadows across the park.

"We should get back to work," Y/N finally said, standing. "The committee presentation is in two weeks."

Minghao nodded, following her lead. As they walked back toward the studio, he asked unexpectedly, "Would you join me for dinner tomorrow evening? There's a restaurant I think you might appreciate—they source all ingredients locally and power their kitchen entirely with renewable energy."

Y/N nearly stumbled in surprise. "That sounds suspiciously like something I would approve of," she said, attempting to keep her tone light despite her suddenly racing pulse.

"I do occasionally pay attention to your preferences," Minghao replied, a rare hint of humor in his voice.

"Then yes," Y/N agreed, telling herself this was still professional courtesy, nothing more. "I'd like that."

As they returned to work, Y/N tried not to think about Seungkwan's inevitable reaction when he heard she was having dinner with Minghao, or how much time she would likely spend tonight overthinking what to wear, or how the prospect of spending an evening with Minghao outside their work environment filled her with both anticipation and alarm.

This was fine. Perfectly normal. Just two collaborating professionals having a business dinner. The fact that her heart raced slightly at the thought was irrelevant and absolutely not worth examining.

Across the table, Minghao appeared to have regained his usual composed focus, though Y/N thought she detected a new tension in his movements, a heightened awareness that mirrored her own. If he was experiencing even a fraction of the confusing emotions currently churning through her, he was hiding it far better than she was.

Y/N forced her attention back to their design, trying to ignore how thoroughly Xu Minghao had disrupted her carefully ordered world—personally and professionally. The most infuriating part wasn't that she was attracted to him despite their differences.

It was that she was attracted to him because of them.

-

Y/N stood in front of her closet, surrounded by discarded outfits, feeling ridiculous. It was just dinner. A professional dinner with a colleague. The fact that she'd tried on seven different combinations was completely unrelated to the fact that said colleague was Xu Minghao.

"This is pathetic," she told her reflection as she adjusted a simple black dress. "Too formal." She changed into jeans and a nice blouse. "Too casual." A tailored pantsuit followed. "Too business meeting."

After thirty more minutes of wardrobe crisis, she settled on a dress that balanced professional and elegant—something she might wear to an industry event rather than a date. Because this was definitely not a date. Minghao had simply suggested they discuss their project in a different setting. The fact that he'd chosen a sustainability-focused restaurant was merely... thoughtful professional courtesy.

Her phone buzzed with a text from

Seungkwan: "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING??? Send pics!!! I need to approve!!!"

Y/N groaned. She'd made the tactical error of mentioning her dinner with Minghao during a work call, and Seungkwan had practically hyperventilated with excitement. She ignored the text, knowing any response would only encourage him.

Seconds later, her phone rang.

"You can't ignore me on this historic occasion," Seungkwan declared when she answered. "Our Y/N, sustainability warrior princess, dining with the prince of luxury development! The office has a betting pool on whether you'll come back engaged or covered in wine after throwing it in his face."

"It's a professional dinner," Y/N insisted, checking her watch. "And I'm going to be late if I don't leave now."

"Just tell me one thing," Seungkwan said, his tone suddenly serious. "Are you going to give this a chance? Whatever 'this' is between you two?"

The unexpected question caught Y/N off guard. "I... don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do," Seungkwan replied gently. "I've known you for years, Y/N. I've seen you passionate about projects, about environmental causes, about fighting corporate developers. I've never seen you like this about a person."

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, suddenly unable to maintain her denial. "It's complicated, Seungkwan. Even if there were... feelings... which I'm not saying there are... there are so many reasons it couldn't work."

"Name one that doesn't involve your stubborn pride or preconceived notions."

She opened her mouth to list the many practical obstacles, then closed it again, realizing how many of her objections had gradually eroded over the weeks of working with Minghao.

"Just be open to possibility," Seungkwan suggested. "That's all I'm saying. And text me immediately if anything romantic happens!"

"Goodbye, Seungkwan," Y/N said firmly, ending the call. But his words lingered as she gathered her things and headed out.

The restaurant was intimate but not overtly romantic—a renovated traditional building with contemporary sustainable elements seamlessly integrated throughout. When Y/N arrived, Minghao was already there, dressed in his usual impeccable style but with subtle differences that suggested he'd put thought into his appearance beyond his normal care.

"This place is beautiful," Y/N said as they were seated at a corner table with a view of a small courtyard garden. "I haven't been here before."

"It opened recently," Minghao replied. "The owner is an old friend who shares your commitment to sustainability. The building itself is carbon-neutral, and all ingredients are sourced within fifty kilometers."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You really did your research."

A flicker of something crossed Minghao's face—was that actually nervousness? "I wanted to choose somewhere you'd appreciate."

The thoughtfulness of this gesture was not helping Y/N maintain her professional distance at all.

After ordering, an awkward silence fell between them—so different from their usual passionate debates or focused work discussions. It was as if removing the shield of their project had left them both uncomfortably exposed.

"So," Y/N finally said, "how did your uncle react to the article about your sustainability initiative?"

Minghao's expression tightened slightly. "About as well as expected. There was a... heated discussion about company direction and my role within it. He believes I'm being influenced by outside perspectives."

"Am I the outside influence he's concerned about?" Y/N asked directly.

"Among others," Minghao admitted. "But my interest in sustainable design predates our collaboration, though working with you has... intensified certain convictions."

"Is your position at risk?" The thought bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

Minghao considered this question carefully. "Not immediately. Family dynamics complicate professional relationships. My uncle values loyalty and tradition, but he also recognizes that markets evolve. The question is whether sustainability represents a fundamental shift in our company identity or merely a strategic adaptation."

"And what do you believe?"

"I believe it's necessary," he said simply. "Both ethically and practically. The future of development must incorporate environmental responsibility—not as marketing strategy but as core principle."

Y/N studied him, struck by how similar his words were to arguments she'd made in industry publications. "That sounds suspiciously like something I would say."

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "Perhaps you've been a bad influence."

"Or a good one, depending on perspective," Y/N countered, returning his smile.

The arrival of their first course provided a welcome shift in conversation to lighter topics. Y/N was surprised by how easily they moved from professional discussions to personal interests—Minghao's background in traditional art, Y/N's early environmental activism, shared admiration for certain architects and mutual disdain for pretentious industry trends.

"I can't believe you also hated the Hansen Tower," Y/N said, laughing at Minghao's devastatingly accurate critique of a recently celebrated building. "Everyone acts like it's revolutionary, but it's just inefficient design hiding behind flashy facades."

"Form without function," Minghao agreed. "Beautiful from a distance but completely impractical to actually occupy. Architecture should serve people, not merely impress them."

"Another suspiciously Y/N-like statement," she observed, enjoying the unexpected alignment of their views.

"I've always held this perspective," Minghao clarified. "But working with you has helped me articulate certain principles more clearly."

As their meal continued, Y/N found herself increasingly aware of how much she was enjoying Minghao's company. His quiet intensity, thoughtful observations, and unexpected flashes of dry humor were dangerously appealing. The careful distance she'd maintained began to feel increasingly arbitrary.

When dessert arrived—a beautifully presented seasonal fruit creation—Minghao hesitated before speaking. "I've been considering a possibility that I wanted to discuss with you."

Something in his tone made Y/N's pulse quicken. "What kind of possibility?"

"A professional one," he clarified, seeming to sense her sudden tension. "I've been contemplating establishing an independent design studio focused on integrating sustainable innovation with cultural and aesthetic excellence. The kind of work we've been doing together, but as a dedicated practice rather than a one-time collaboration."

"You're leaving XM?" Y/N couldn't hide her surprise.

"It's one option I'm considering," Minghao said carefully. "Family expectations are powerful, but at some point, personal convictions must take precedence." After a pause, he added, "I would value your perspective on whether such a venture could succeed."

"I think it could," Y/N said slowly, processing the implications. "But it would be a significant risk compared to your position at XM."

"Some risks are necessary for meaningful change." His gaze met hers with unexpected directness. "Both professionally and personally."

The weight of his words hung between them, carrying implications beyond career choices. Y/N found herself at a crossroads—continue maintaining careful professional boundaries or acknowledge the growing connection between them.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed with an urgent message. Y/N glanced at it and frowned.

"Everything alright?" Minghao asked.

"It's from Seungkwan. Apparently there's been a leak about our project—some industry blog has published speculation about conflicts between our design approaches, claiming the collaboration is failing."

Minghao's expression darkened. "That could undermine the committee's confidence before our presentation."

"We should address this," Y/N said, professional concerns immediately overriding the personal moment. "Perhaps with a joint statement or preliminary images that demonstrate our progress."

"Agreed." Minghao signaled for the check. "We should return to the studio and review what might have been leaked and prepare a response."

The intimate atmosphere dissolved as they shifted back into work mode, both perhaps secretly relieved to postpone the more complicated conversation that had been developing.

The next morning, Y/N arrived at the studio early, determined to focus on damage control rather than dwelling on the unresolved tension from dinner. To her surprise, she found Mingyu pacing outside the door.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed when he saw her. "Thank goodness. Minghao sent me to wait for you. There's an emergency meeting at XM headquarters. The chairman is demanding to review the project immediately instead of waiting for the committee presentation."

"What? Why?" Y/N asked, alarmed by the sudden interference.

"The leaked information created concern about the project's direction," Mingyu explained as they hurried toward a waiting car. "Minghao's uncle is worried about the company's reputation if the collaboration is perceived as compromising XM's luxury brand identity."

During the drive to XM's imposing glass headquarters, Y/N felt mounting dread. This was exactly the corporate interference she'd initially feared when forced to collaborate with a luxury developer.

The building itself embodied everything Y/N had spent her career criticizing—excessive glass that created massive heating and cooling demands, dramatic but energy-intensive lighting, and materials selected for prestige rather than sustainability. As they rode the elevator to the executive floor, Y/N steeled herself for confrontation.

Mingyu led her to a conference room where Minghao was already engaged in tense conversation with an older man whose commanding presence and family resemblance identified him as the chairman. Several board members and executives observed from around a massive table covered with printouts of their design.

Minghao looked up when Y/N entered, his expression carefully controlled but his eyes communicating a silent apology.

"Ah, the environmental architect," the chairman said, turning to assess Y/N with calculating eyes. "I've heard much about you. Please, join us. We were just discussing certain... concerns about the direction of this project."

Y/N approached with professional composure, noting the specific design elements that had been highlighted for criticism—precisely the innovative integrations she and Minghao had been most proud of developing together.

"Chairman Xu," she acknowledged with a respectful nod. "I understand you have questions about our collaborative approach."

"Indeed," he replied coolly. "XM Development has built its reputation on distinctive luxury experiences. These elements," he gestured to their sustainable water management systems and community-focused spaces, "dilute our brand identity with features that could appear in any public park. Our clients expect exclusivity."

Y/N felt a familiar surge of frustration but maintained her professional demeanor. "With respect, Chairman, this project is specifically designed as a public space that balances environmental responsibility with exceptional design quality. The integration creates something unique rather than diluted."

The chairman's expression remained skeptical. "A noble sentiment, but our investors have specific expectations about XM projects. Minghao knows this," he added with a pointed look at his nephew.

"Uncle," Minghao said, his voice quiet but firm, "the committee specifically requested a collaboration that incorporates both companies' strengths. The design we've developed fulfills that brief while expanding XM's capabilities in an emerging market sector."

"A sector you seem increasingly preoccupied with," the chairman observed. "First your sustainability initiative presentation, now this project. One might wonder where your priorities lie."

The undercurrent of personal disappointment in his tone made the professional criticism more cutting. Y/N saw Minghao's carefully maintained composure falter slightly, revealing how deeply his uncle's approval mattered despite their differing visions.

"My priority is the future success of XM," Minghao replied. "Which requires evolution rather than rigid adherence to past formulas."

The chairman waved this away impatiently. "We need concrete adjustments to realign this project with our brand standards. I suggest removing these community elements, upgrading the materials to our usual specifications, and redesigning the central pavilion to feature our signature aesthetic."

Y/N bit her tongue, recognizing that these changes would effectively erase every sustainable innovation they'd integrated, returning the design to exactly the kind of environmentally irresponsible luxury project she'd fought against throughout her career.

She glanced at Minghao, expecting him to begin negotiating a compromise. To her surprise, he straightened his shoulders and spoke with quiet determination.

"No."

The single word fell into stunned silence. Even Y/N hadn't expected such direct refusal.

"What did you say?" the chairman asked, his tone dangerous.

"I said no," Minghao repeated calmly. "The design represents a balanced integration developed through genuine collaboration. Removing those elements would compromise both its integrity and its purpose."

The chairman's expression hardened. "Perhaps you've forgotten whose name is on this building, Minghao. Your experimental design theories are interesting, but ultimately, XM projects reflect the company vision—my vision."

"I haven't forgotten," Minghao replied. "But I also remember the principles my father valued before you took control—innovation, integrity, and creating spaces that elevated people rather than excluding them."

The personal nature of this statement clearly crossed a line. The chairman's expression turned glacial. "We'll continue this discussion privately. Everyone else, please leave us."

The executives quickly filed out, eager to escape the family tension. Y/N hesitated, looking at Minghao with concern.

"It's alright," he told her quietly. "I'll meet you downstairs after we've finished."

Y/N reluctantly left the room, acutely aware that Minghao had just risked his position—and family relationship—defending their shared vision. The implications of this were too significant to ignore.

An hour passed before Minghao appeared in the lobby, his expression composed but with a new resolution in his eyes.

"Walk with me," he said simply, leading her out of the building and across the street to a small park—one of the few green spaces in the corporate district.

They sat on a bench beneath flowering cherry trees, a moment of natural beauty incongruously peaceful after the tension of the meeting.

"I've been relieved of my position as creative director," Minghao said finally, his voice calm despite the bombshell.

Y/N stared at him in shock. "They fired you? Over our project?"

"The project was simply the catalyst. My uncle and I have been moving in different directions for some time. Today merely forced the issue into the open."

"Minghao, I'm so sorry," Y/N said, genuine distress overriding any professional considerations. "You shouldn't have sacrificed your position. We could have modified some elements, found a compromise—"

"No," he interrupted gently. "The compromise would have destroyed what makes the design valuable. And this isn't just about one project. It's about the future I want to create versus the past my uncle wants to preserve."

"Still, your career—"

"Is not defined by XM," Minghao finished. "Perhaps this was inevitable. I've been considering independent paths for some time, as I mentioned last night."

Y/N studied him, searching for signs of regret or uncertainty. Instead, she found surprising calm—as if a burden had been lifted rather than imposed.

"You seem... okay with this," she observed.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "There's freedom in clarity. For years I've tried to balance family expectations with personal convictions. Now the choice has been made for me."

"What will you do now?"

"Exactly what I suggested yesterday—establish an independent practice based on the principles we've explored together." After a pause, he added more softly, "Though I had hoped to discuss that possibility with you under different circumstances."

Y/N felt a flutter of something that definitely wasn't just professional concern. "With me? In what capacity?"

Minghao turned to face her directly, his usual reserve giving way to unexpected openness. "In whatever capacity you might consider. As a consultant, a collaborator, or..." he hesitated, then continued with quiet determination, "...something more. If that's something you might want."

The directness of this semi-confession left Y/N momentarily speechless. Part of her wanted to retreat behind professional boundaries, to remind both of them of all the reasons personal involvement would be complicated. But after watching Minghao sacrifice his position defending principles they both valued, such caution suddenly seemed cowardly.

"I don't know what I want," she admitted honestly. "Three months ago, I would have said collaborating with an XM developer was my worst nightmare. Now I'm sitting here disturbed by the fact that you're no longer with XM, which makes absolutely no sense considering I've spent years criticizing everything they represent."

"Life rarely follows our expectations," Minghao observed, a hint of humor warming his voice.

"Tell me about it," Y/N sighed. "My entire worldview had such clear lines before meeting you. Sustainable architects: good. Luxury developers: bad. Now everything's complicated."

"Complexity can be valuable," Minghao suggested. "In design and in relationships."

Y/N looked at him—really looked at the person rather than the professional role he'd occupied. The man who had challenged her assumptions while respecting her principles. Who had matched her passion for architecture with his own, differently expressed but equally genuine. Whose carefully maintained reserve concealed depths she'd only begun to discover.

"I think," she said carefully, "that I would like to explore what 'something more' might mean. But slowly. This is all very... new territory."

The smile that transformed Minghao's usually composed features was worth every moment of confusion that had preceded it.

"New territory is where innovation happens," he said softly.

Their conversation was interrupted by Y/N's phone ringing insistently. She glanced at it and groaned.

"It's Seungkwan. Again. He's probably heard about the XM meeting already—news travels unnervingly fast in this industry."

"You should answer," Minghao suggested. "He'll just keep calling otherwise."

Y/N reluctantly accepted the call, holding the phone slightly away from her ear in anticipation of Seungkwan's volume.

"Y/N! IS IT TRUE?" Seungkwan practically shouted. "DID MINGHAO JUST QUIT XM DEVELOPMENT TO BE WITH YOU? THE ENTIRE OFFICE IS LOSING THEIR MINDS! WOOZI JUST SPAT COFFEE ALL OVER HIS KEYBOARD!"

"That's not exactly—" Y/N began, feeling her face heat up as Minghao raised an amused eyebrow, clearly able to hear Seungkwan's voice.

"IT'S THE MOST ROMANTIC THING I'VE EVER HEARD!" Seungkwan continued, undeterred. "GIVING UP A FAMILY EMPIRE FOR LOVE! IT'S LIKE A DRAMA BUT WITH SUSTAINABLE ARCHITECTURE!"

"Seungkwan, please," Y/N attempted, mortified. "It's much more complicated than that. He had professional disagreements with the company direction—"

"BECAUSE OF YOU!" Seungkwan crowed triumphantly. "BECAUSE YOU SHOWED HIM THE LIGHT OF ECO-CONSCIOUS DESIGN WITH YOUR PASSION AND PRINCIPLES! I'M WRITING THE WEDDING SPEECH RIGHT NOW!"

"There is no wedding!" Y/N hissed, avoiding Minghao's gaze. "We haven't even—that is—we're just—"

"Just what?" Seungkwan pressed, finally lowering his volume to merely enthusiastic rather than deafening.

Y/N glanced at Minghao, who was watching her with undisguised amusement and something warmer that made her pulse quicken.

"We're figuring it out," she said finally.

"HA! I KNEW IT!" Seungkwan's volume instantly returned to maximum. "JEONGHAN OWES ME DINNER! I SAID YOU'D ADMIT FEELINGS BEFORE THE PROJECT ENDED!"

"I'm hanging up now," Y/N informed him, doing exactly that despite his protests.

She turned to Minghao with embarrassment. "Sorry about that. Seungkwan has no concept of indoor voice or professional boundaries."

"He cares about you," Minghao observed, echoing his comment from weeks earlier. "Though his enthusiasm is... considerable."

"Wait until you meet the rest of them properly," Y/N said, then paused as she realized the implication of future social integration. "I mean, if that's something that might happen. Eventually."

"I'd like that," Minghao said simply.

They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a moment, the cherry blossoms occasionally drifting down around them in the spring breeze.

"So what happens now?" Y/N finally asked. "With the project, with the committee presentation, with... everything?"

"The project continues," Minghao said decisively. "My departure from XM doesn't change my commitment to our design. As for the rest..." he looked at her with quiet intensity, "that depends on what we both want to build."

The architectural metaphor wasn't lost on Y/N. "I've never been good at personal blueprints," she admitted. "Professional plans, environmental strategies, technical specifications—those I can draft perfectly. But this..."

"Perhaps we approach it like our design process," Minghao suggested. "Start with core principles, develop the framework gradually, adjust as we learn, and trust that something valuable will emerge from the collaboration."

Y/N couldn't help smiling at his architect's approach to relationship development. "That's the most Minghao way possible of asking someone to date you."

"Is it working?" he asked, a rare vulnerability visible beneath his composed exterior.

Instead of answering immediately, Y/N reached for his hand—a simple gesture that somehow felt more significant than their entire professional collaboration.

"I think," she said carefully, "that I'd like to see what we might design together. Beyond riverfront projects and sustainable pavilions."

Minghao's fingers interlaced with hers, his touch as precise and intentional as everything else about him. "I've found our collaborative process surprisingly rewarding so far."

"Despite the arguments?"

"Because of them, in part," he amended. "Few people challenge me the way you do. It's... invigorating."

Y/N laughed. "Only you would find someone questioning your every design decision 'invigorating.'"

"Only when the questions are intelligent ones," he clarified, his thumb tracing a small pattern against her palm. "And when they come from someone whose perspective I've grown to value."

The simple honesty of this statement affected Y/N more than any grand declaration could have. She looked at their joined hands—her practical manicure next to his artist's fingers—and thought about how unexpected and yet somehow right this felt.

"So we continue with the committee presentation," she said, bringing the conversation back to safer territory while she processed her emotions. "And afterward..."

"Afterward, we explore possibilities," Minghao finished. "Professional and personal."

"Seungkwan is going to be insufferable about this," Y/N groaned, but couldn't suppress her smile.

"As will Jun," Minghao admitted. "He's been making increasingly unsubtle comments about our 'creative chemistry' for weeks."

The thought of their respective friends' reactions to this development was both mortifying and amusing. Y/N could already imagine the dramatic speeches, the knowing looks, the inevitable "I told you so" declarations.

"We should get back to the studio," she said reluctantly. "We have a presentation to finalize, and now we need to address your change in professional status as well."

Minghao nodded, but neither moved immediately to leave the peaceful moment they'd created together.

"Just to be clear," Y/N said, feeling uncharacteristically uncertain, "you're really okay with what happened at XM? You didn't throw away your career because of our project?"

"I didn't throw away anything," Minghao replied with quiet certainty. "I chose authenticity over compromise. The project was simply the catalyst for a decision that's been forming for longer than you might realize." After a pause, he added, "Though I will admit that knowing you has clarified certain priorities."

Y/N felt a rush of warmth at his words. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me, and it wasn't even really a compliment."

"It was absolutely a compliment," Minghao corrected her. "Just expressed with appropriate restraint."

Y/N laughed, struck by how much she enjoyed his particular brand of reserved intensity. "You know, for two people who started out thinking we represented everything wrong with each other's approach to architecture, we've come to a surprisingly compatible place."

"Perhaps we weren't as opposed as we believed," Minghao suggested. "Just viewing the same principles from different angles."

As they finally rose to leave, still holding hands as they walked back toward their studio, Y/N reflected on the unexpected journey that had brought them to this point. From professional adversaries to reluctant collaborators to... whatever they were becoming now. It wasn't a path she could have designed or anticipated.

But sometimes, she was beginning to realize, the most interesting spaces emerged from unexpected intersections—in architecture and in life.

-

The committee presentation room buzzed with anticipation. Two weeks had passed since Minghao's departure from XM Development—two weeks of intense preparation, industry speculation, and carefully navigated new personal territory between him and Y/N.

"Are you ready for this?" Y/N asked, adjusting the display boards one final time. She wore her most professional outfit, a structured suit in deep green that somehow managed to be both authoritative and a personal statement.

"Absolutely," Minghao replied, his calm demeanor betraying none of the professional upheaval he'd experienced. If anything, he seemed more centered than before, as if shedding his corporate constraints had allowed a more authentic self to emerge.

Word of their situation had spread throughout the industry—the XM creative director who'd left his family's company over creative differences, continuing to collaborate with the sustainable architect who'd presumably influenced his professional rebellion. The resulting publicity had transformed their presentation from a standard committee review into a highly anticipated industry event.

Joshua Hong approached them with an encouraging smile. "Quite the turnout today," he observed, nodding toward the unusually full room. "Your project has generated significant interest."

"Apparently professional drama is good for publicity," Y/N said dryly.

"Quality work is good for publicity," Joshua corrected. "The circumstances simply brought additional attention to what was already an innovative collaboration."

As committee members and industry observers took their seats, Y/N felt a flutter of nerves—not about the design itself, which she knew was exceptional, but about the public perception of her relationship with Minghao. They'd agreed to maintain strictly professional behavior during the presentation, focusing attention on their work rather than the personal connection that had developed alongside it.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Seungkwan: "We're all here! Third row, looking FABULOUS and ready to cheer inappropriately loud!!!"

Y/N glanced over to see Seungkwan, Jeonghan, and Woozi seated together, all giving her enthusiastic thumbs up. Behind them sat Jun, Mingyu, and Wonwoo—Minghao's support team. The sight of their merged friend groups was both heartwarming and mildly terrifying.

"Your colleagues are here," she murmured to Minghao. "And mine. Together. This could be interesting."

"Should we be concerned?" Minghao asked, following her gaze to where Seungkwan was now showing something on his phone to Jun, both of them grinning conspiratorially.

"Definitely," Y/N confirmed.

Before she could elaborate, Joshua called the presentation to order. Y/N took a deep breath, centering herself in the familiar territory of professional expertise as she stepped forward to begin.

"The Hangang Riverfront Revitalization Project presented unique challenges and opportunities," she began, her voice clear and confident. "Our goal was to create a space that serves environmental needs, community functions, and cultural expression in equal measure."

As she outlined the technical aspects of their design, Y/N found herself naturally transitioning to Minghao's contributions without the planned handoff cues they'd rehearsed. Their presentation flowed organically between her explanations of sustainability innovations and his descriptions of spatial experience and cultural references.

The committee watched with undisguised interest as these former adversaries demonstrated a seamless collaborative vision. When they revealed the final design models and renderings, a murmur of appreciation spread through the room.

Their central concept—visible environmental systems integrated with traditional Korean design elements to create both functional efficiency and cultural resonance—was beautifully realized in the detailed models. Water features that processed rainwater while referencing historical irrigation patterns. Community gardens arranged to create contemplative spaces reminiscent of traditional courtyards. Solar elements that cast evolving shadow patterns inspired by traditional architecture.

During the question period, a committee member asked directly about the impact of Minghao's separation from XM Development on the project's viability.

"My professional transition doesn't affect my commitment to this design," Minghao answered with perfect composure. "The concept we've developed represents principles I intend to pursue in my independent practice."

"And how do you respond to industry speculation that personal factors influenced these professional decisions?" the committee member pressed, glancing between Minghao and Y/N with poorly disguised curiosity.

Y/N tensed, but Minghao responded with characteristic grace.

"Professional respect can develop into broader appreciation," he said carefully. "Y/N's environmental expertise and design integrity challenged me to reconsider certain assumptions. That kind of intellectual growth naturally influences career decisions."

It was the perfect answer—acknowledging their connection without feeding gossip or distracting from the work itself. Y/N shot him a grateful look as the questions returned to technical aspects of the design.

When the presentation concluded, the committee announced they would deliberate and provide their decision within the week. As the crowd dispersed, Y/N and Minghao found themselves surrounded by their enthusiastic friends.

"That was AMAZING!" Seungkwan declared, hugging Y/N before she could evade him. "You two have, like, actual presentation chemistry! It was like watching an architectural tango!"

"Please never say 'architectural tango' again," Y/N begged, though she couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm.

"Your integration of the water systems was particularly elegant," Wonwoo told her, adjusting his glasses. "I appreciated the technical rigor behind the aesthetic elements."

"And your cultural references were so thoughtfully applied," Jeonghan said to Minghao. "Not superficial at all."

As their friends chatted excitedly about various aspects of the presentation, Y/N noticed the easy way their previously separate groups had merged—Mingyu and Seungkwan comparing notes on their respective roles, Jun and Jeonghan clearly bonding over some shared mischievous energy, Wonwoo and Woozi engaged in what appeared to be a deeply technical conversation about acoustic design elements.

"They get along well," Minghao observed quietly, coming to stand beside her.

"Surprisingly well," Y/N agreed. "Though I'm not sure the world is ready for Seungkwan and Jun joining forces."

"Too late," Minghao noted, nodding toward where the two were clearly plotting something, occasional glances in their direction confirming that Y/N and Minghao were the subject of whatever scheme they were developing.

"We should probably be concerned about that," Y/N said.

"Definitely," Minghao agreed, echoing her earlier assessment.

Before they could investigate further, Joshua approached with news.

"The committee was impressed," he told them. "Very impressed. They've asked me to inform you that deliberations may be abbreviated—they're leaning strongly toward full approval with minimal revisions."

"That's wonderful news," Y/N said, relief and pride washing through her. After everything they'd been through, the validation of their shared vision meant more than she'd expected.

"There's something else," Joshua continued. "The city planning department was so taken with your integrated approach that they're considering a larger initiative—a series of sustainable urban interventions throughout Seoul, using your river project as a prototype. They'd be interested in discussing this with both of you, regardless of which firm ultimately leads the river project construction."

Y/N exchanged a look with Minghao, both processing the implications of this unexpected opportunity.

"We'd be very interested in those discussions," Minghao replied, his calm words belying the significance of Joshua's news.

After Joshua departed, Seungkwan appeared with an announcement of his own. "Attention, architectural power couple and assorted friends! We've arranged a celebration at The Garden Terrace. No excuses, attendance mandatory, first round on Jeonghan because he lost the betting pool about when you two would finally get together!"

"We haven't officially—" Y/N began, but Seungkwan waved away her objection.

"Semantics! You're holding hands right now!"

Y/N looked down in surprise to find that, indeed, her hand had somehow found Minghao's during their conversation with Joshua. She hadn't even noticed.

"The evidence is undeniable," Jun declared solemnly. "Subconscious hand-holding indicates advanced relationship development."

"That's not a real thing," Minghao told his friend with fond exasperation.

"And yet," Jun gestured meaningfully at their joined hands, "empirical evidence suggests otherwise."

Rather than pulling away in embarrassment as she might have weeks earlier, Y/N simply adjusted her grip on Minghao's hand more comfortably. "Fine. We'll come to your celebration. But no embarrassing toasts or relationship interrogations."

"We make no such promises," Seungkwan replied cheerfully. "See you all there in thirty minutes!"

The Garden Terrace was exactly the kind of place Y/N and Minghao might have designed together—a rooftop restaurant with traditional elements reimagined through contemporary sustainable design. Living walls provided natural cooling, solar canopies created dappled light patterns across wooden floors, and the careful arrangement of spaces allowed both community interaction and private conversation.

Their friends had reserved a corner section with spectacular views of the city at sunset. Y/N and Minghao found themselves at the center of a boisterous celebration, their successful presentation and potential new opportunities providing the official reason for festivities, though everyone present knew the unofficial cause for celebration was more personal.

"A toast!" Seungkwan announced, raising his glass. "To the most unlikely architectural partnership in Seoul—proof that opposites not only attract but create award-winning public spaces in the process!"

"And to new beginnings," Jeonghan added, with a meaningful look at Minghao. "Professional and otherwise."

Everyone raised their glasses, the genuine warmth of the moment overriding Y/N's usual aversion to being the center of attention. Under the table, Minghao's hand found hers again, a quiet connection amid the lively celebration.

As the evening progressed, Y/N found herself in conversation with Jun while Minghao was engaged in discussion with Woozi across the table.

"He's different with you," Jun observed, nodding toward Minghao. "More himself, somehow."

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, curious about this perspective from someone who'd known Minghao far longer than she had.

"Minghao has always contained himself," Jun explained. "Precise control in everything—his art, his work, his emotions. Necessary for navigating family expectations and corporate politics, but it became second nature. With you, he's still Minghao—still thoughtful and measured—but there's a freedom to it now. Less constraint, more authentic expression."

Y/N considered this, watching Minghao as he listened intently to Woozi's apparently passionate discourse on acoustic design. There was a subtle openness to his posture and expressions that did seem different from when they'd first met.

"I'm glad," she said simply. "He deserves that freedom."

"And what about you?" Jun asked. "Your friends tell me you've changed too."

"Do they now?" Y/N replied dryly, making a mental note to have words with Seungkwan about discussing her personal development with Minghao's friends.

"Apparently you smile more," Jun said with a grin. "And have developed a surprising tolerance for aesthetic considerations in your designs."

"Function still comes first," Y/N insisted, though she couldn't deny how her perspective had evolved. "But I've come to appreciate that beauty can be functional in its own way—creating spaces people connect with emotionally means they value and protect those spaces."

"Exactly what Minghao has always believed," Jun noted. "See? Perfect harmony."

"Hardly perfect," Y/N laughed. "We still argue constantly."

"Creative tension," Jun corrected. "Essential for innovation."

Across the table, Minghao caught her eye and smiled—that rare, genuine smile that still made her heart do ridiculous things in her chest. He excused himself from his conversation and made his way to her side.

"Stealing my architect, Jun?" he asked, his tone light.

"Just confirming you're worthy of her," Jun replied with theatrical seriousness. "The jury remains deliberating."

"A reasonable concern," Minghao acknowledged, surprising Y/N with his playfulness. "I have similar questions myself."

"On that note, I'll leave you two to your existential relationship doubts," Jun said, standing. "Seungkwan is demonstrating what he calls 'the dance of sustainable architecture' to Mingyu, and I can't miss that."

As Jun departed, Minghao took his place beside Y/N. "Having second thoughts yet?" he asked quietly.

"About?"

"This." He gestured between them. "Us. The complicated personal and professional entanglement we've somehow created."

Y/N considered the question seriously. "Second thoughts? No. Occasional moments of disbelief that I'm actually involved with someone who once represented everything I professionally opposed? Absolutely."

"The feeling is mutual," Minghao assured her, his eyes warm with amusement. "My uncle still can't comprehend it. He called yesterday to ask if this was an elaborate professional strategy to absorb your environmental expertise into a new luxury brand."

"Is it?" Y/N teased.

"If so, it's a strategy that's backfired spectacularly," Minghao replied. "I find myself increasingly aligned with your environmental priorities rather than his profit margins."

"Terrible business sense," Y/N agreed solemnly. "But excellent ethical development."

Their conversation was interrupted by Seungkwan's return, slightly flushed from whatever architectural dance he'd been performing.

"Stop being antisocial in your little couple bubble," he admonished. "We're planning the housewarming party for your new joint studio."

"Our what?" Y/N asked, bewildered.

"Your new studio," Seungkwan repeated as if it were obvious. "For the independent practice you're obviously going to establish together. We've already started a Pinterest board for the design. Very minimal but with plants everywhere. Mingyu suggested a coffee station that would make most cafes jealous."

"We haven't discussed—" Minghao began.

"Details," Seungkwan dismissed with a wave. "The concept is solid. 'XYN Design' or something similarly clever that combines your names. Sustainable luxury for the conscious elite. We're trademarking taglines as we speak."

Y/N looked at Minghao, expecting shared exasperation at their friends' presumption. Instead, she found him looking thoughtful.

"It's not an unreasonable concept," he said carefully. "Combining our complementary expertise in a dedicated practice."

"You're actually considering this?" Y/N asked, surprised by his openness to Seungkwan's meddling.

"I'm considering many possibilities," Minghao clarified. "Including professional collaboration that extends beyond our current project." After a pause, he added more quietly, "If that's something you might be interested in exploring."

Before Y/N could respond, Seungkwan clapped his hands delightedly. "See? It's practically decided! Jun, they're discussing the studio concept! Operation Architecture Romance is advancing to phase three!"

"We have phases?" Y/N asked, alarmed.

"So many phases," Seungkwan confirmed cheerfully before hurrying off to update Jun on this development.

Left momentarily alone despite the bustling celebration around them, Y/N turned to Minghao. "Are we really discussing a joint studio?"

"We're discussing possibilities," Minghao clarified. "No commitment, just... consideration of potential futures."

The careful way he framed it—open but not pressuring—was so characteristic of his approach to everything. Y/N found herself appreciating this thoughtfulness even as part of her marveled at how quickly her life had transformed.

"Three months ago, I would have laughed at the mere suggestion of working with you long-term," she admitted. "Now it seems like the most natural evolution imaginable."

"Evolution rather than revolution," Minghao observed. "Gradual integration of complementary elements."

"You make it sound so architectural," Y/N smiled.

"It's how I understand the world," he acknowledged. "Through spatial relationships and balanced tensions."

"And how do you understand us?" she asked, surprising herself with the directness of the question.

Minghao considered this with characteristic thoughtfulness. "As a harmonious counterpoint," he said finally. "Different melodies that create something more complex and beautiful together than either could alone."

The poetry of his answer caught Y/N off guard. For someone so reserved, Minghao occasionally revealed unexpected depth of feeling through carefully chosen words.

"That's beautiful," she said softly.

"It's accurate," he replied simply. "At least from my perspective."

Around them, their friends continued celebrating, occasional glances and smiles in their direction suggesting that their quiet conversation was not going unnoticed. Y/N found she didn't mind the attention as much as she might have expected. There was something affirming about having their connection witnessed and supported by people who mattered to them both.

"Whatever we decide professionally," Y/N said, returning to the question of their potential collaboration, "I know I want to continue what we've started personally. Despite how unexpected and occasionally inconvenient it might be."

"Inconvenient?" Minghao raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yes," Y/N laughed. "Do you know how often I have to hear Seungkwan say 'I told you so'? At least three times daily. And my entire professional identity was partly built on criticizing exactly the kind of development your family company represents. Plus, you're annoyingly particular about material selections and have opinions about literally every design element down to the smallest detail."

"All valid points," Minghao acknowledged, the hint of a smile playing around his lips. "Though I could note similar inconveniences—Jun's unbearable smugness, my uncle's disappointment, your stubborn insistence on prioritizing function even when aesthetic adjustments would create negligible efficiency impacts..."

"See? Completely impractical connection," Y/N concluded, her smile belying her words.

"And yet," Minghao said softly, taking her hand, "here we are."

"Here we are," Y/N agreed, feeling a sense of rightness that defied all her previous notions of compatibility. "Designing something neither of us planned but both of us need."

Six Months Later

Y/N adjusted the placement of the architectural model on the display table, stepping back to assess its impact in the gallery lighting. Around her, staff made final preparations for the evening's exhibition opening—"Sustainable Harmony: New Directions in Urban Design."

The gallery space—a renovated industrial building with exposed brick walls and carefully preserved structural elements—provided the perfect backdrop for their first major presentation as partners in XYN Studio, the name they'd ultimately embraced despite Y/N's initial eye-rolling at Seungkwan's suggestion.

The past six months had been a whirlwind of change. The Hangang Riverfront project had received unanimous committee approval and was now under construction, with Y/N and Minghao serving as design consultants. Their joint studio had formed organically from their continued collaboration, gathering surprising momentum as clients sought their unique integration of sustainability and aesthetics.

And personally... Y/N smiled to herself, remembering the incredulous looks on her friends' faces when she'd casually mentioned moving in with Minghao just three months into their relationship. For someone who had always prided herself on careful planning and methodical decision-making, the speed of these developments should have been alarming. Instead, each step had felt like a natural progression, as if they were simply acknowledging what had already formed between them.

"Perfect," Minghao's voice came from behind her as he surveyed the model placement. "The lighting highlights the water elements exactly as we intended."

Y/N turned to find him carrying two cups of tea—oolong for himself, black with one sugar for her. The simple gesture of remembering her preference, as he had from their earliest collaboration, still touched her in unexpected ways.

"Nervous?" she asked, accepting the cup.

"Appropriately alert to the professional significance of the evening," he corrected, making her smile. Minghao rarely admitted to anything as unrefined as nervousness, though she'd learned to recognize the subtle signs—the slightly more precise adjustment of his cuffs, the extra moment spent considering his words.

"It's a beautiful exhibition," Y/N assured him, looking around at the carefully curated display of their work. "The perfect introduction of XYN Studio to the wider design community."

Their exhibition showcased a series of urban interventions—some completed, others conceptual—that demonstrated their shared vision. Each project balanced environmental innovation with cultural and aesthetic excellence, creating spaces that served both planet and people with equal consideration.

"Your parents are coming tonight?" Minghao asked, a hint of that not-nervousness in his voice.

"Yes," Y/N confirmed. "They're excited to finally meet you properly. My father has read every article about your departure from XM at least twice. He's fascinated by your professional evolution."

"And your criticism of my family's company?" Minghao asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Also fascinated by that," Y/N admitted with a laugh. "He finds our entire relationship 'conceptually intriguing,' which is high praise from an environmental engineering professor."

"And your uncle?" she asked in return. "Any change in his position?"

Minghao's expression grew more thoughtful. "Some. The success of the river project has made him reconsider certain assumptions. He's even incorporated some sustainability elements into recent XM developments—though more as marketing strategy than core principle."

"Progress nonetheless," Y/N observed.

"Incremental change," Minghao agreed. "Sometimes that's how transformation happens—not through dramatic rejection but gradual integration of new ideas."

The philosophy could have applied equally to their personal journey—from professional adversaries to reluctant collaborators to partners in every sense. Not a sudden conversion but a gradual recognition of complementary values beneath seemingly opposed approaches.

Their moment of reflection was interrupted by the arrival of familiar voices—their friends coming early to preview the exhibition before the official opening.

"It's MAGNIFICENT!" Seungkwan declared before he'd even fully entered the gallery, Jeonghan and Woozi following with more moderate but equally supportive expressions.

"Professional bias noted but appreciated," Y/N replied dryly as Seungkwan embraced her enthusiastically.

"No bias, only objective recognition of excellence," Seungkwan insisted. "Though I do take partial credit for facilitating the partnership that made this possible."

"How exactly did you facilitate it?" Woozi asked skeptically.

"Through strategic encouragement and creating opportunities for romance to blossom," Seungkwan explained grandly. "Also, I totally called it from day one."

"We all called it," Jeonghan corrected. "Some of us were just more vocal about it."

As they bantered, Jun, Mingyu, and Wonwoo arrived, completing what had become their merged circle of friends. The easy integration of their once-separate groups mirrored Y/N and Minghao's own blending of lives and practices—unexpected but surprisingly natural.

"The central concept is exceptionally well-articulated," Wonwoo observed as he studied one of the display boards. "The balance between innovation and accessibility is precisely calibrated."

"High praise from architecture's most discerning analyst," Jun translated for Y/N. "He stayed up all night reading your design manifesto and called it 'refreshingly substantive.'"

As their friends explored the exhibition, offering commentary and support in their various styles, Y/N found herself standing slightly apart with Minghao, observing the scene with shared appreciation.

"Did you ever imagine this?" she asked quietly. "When we were first forced to collaborate on the river project? That we'd end up here?"

"Never," Minghao admitted, his honesty one of the many things she'd come to value deeply. "I expected a difficult professional exercise that would ultimately remain a compromise between opposed visions. I never anticipated discovering such fundamental alignment beneath our surface differences."

"Nor did I," Y/N agreed. "I was so certain I understood exactly who you were and what you represented. Being wrong has never been so satisfying."

Minghao's expression softened into the smile that was still rare in professional settings but increasingly common in their private moments. "Perhaps that's the most valuable outcome of our collaboration—the recognition that initial judgments rarely capture the complexity of another person's perspective."

"That, and the truly exceptional architecture we create together," Y/N added with a grin.

"That too," Minghao acknowledged. "Though I maintain the personal discovery has been the more revolutionary development."

Before Y/N could respond, Seungkwan's voice rose above the general conversation. "Everyone! Attention please! Jun and I have an announcement!"

Y/N and Minghao exchanged wary glances, all too familiar with the creative chaos that tended to result from Seungkwan and Jun's collaborative ideas.

"As the self-appointed chroniclers of the greatest architectural love story of our generation," Seungkwan began dramatically, "Jun and I have created something special to commemorate this exhibition opening."

"We call it 'From Rivalry to Romance: The Architectural Journey of Y/N and Minghao,'" Jun continued, producing a tablet with a flourish. "A digital scrapbook documenting your transformation from enemies to partners."

"You did not," Y/N said, horrified fascination in her voice.

"We absolutely did," Seungkwan confirmed. "Complete with candid photos, overheard quotes, and a timeline of significant moments—including Y/N's legendary takedown of Minghao's Dongdaemun Plaza extension in Sustainable Design Quarterly, which we now recognize as sublimated attraction expressed through professional criticism."

"That was genuine criticism," Y/N protested, though she couldn't help laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

"The glass curtain wall was legitimately problematic from an energy management perspective," Minghao agreed, surprising everyone by joining her defense.

"See? Still perfectly aligned in their architectural principles," Jun declared triumphantly. "True love."

As their friends gathered to view what promised to be an equally embarrassing and endearing documentation of their relationship, Y/N turned to Minghao. "Should we be concerned about this becoming public?"

"Definitely," Minghao replied, echoing their now-familiar exchange. But his expression remained calm, even quietly amused. "Though I find I'm less concerned about public perception than I once would have been."

It was true, Y/N realized. Both of them had grown more comfortable with the unconventional nature of their connection—professional rivals turned partners, environmental advocate and luxury developer finding common ground, opposites creating harmony rather than discord.

As the gallery began filling with exhibition guests—fellow architects, clients, critics, and friends—Y/N felt a moment of perspective on the journey that had brought them here. Not just the architectural achievements displayed around them, but the personal evolution that had made those achievements possible.

Later that evening, after successful introductions between families, enthusiastic reception of their work, and countless congratulations from colleagues, Y/N and Minghao finally found a quiet moment alone in the corner of the gallery.

"A successful launch," Minghao observed, his composed exterior barely hinting at the satisfaction she knew he felt.

"For the studio and the exhibition," Y/N agreed. "Though I could have done without Seungkwan and Jun's multimedia presentation of our 'architectural romance.'"

"It was surprisingly well-produced," Minghao noted with that hint of humor she'd come to treasure. "The timeline of our evolving design approach alongside our personal development showed genuine analytical thinking."

"Of course you would appreciate the organizational structure," Y/N laughed. "Even in embarrassing friend interventions, you find design elements to admire."

"Pattern recognition is fundamental to architectural thinking," Minghao replied solemnly, though his eyes betrayed his amusement.

Y/N studied him in the gallery lighting—the elegant lines of his profile, the careful precision of his movements, the subtle warmth in his expression that most people missed but she had learned to read fluently. All the elements that had once seemed to represent values opposed to her own now recognized as simply different expressions of shared principles.

"I love you," she said simply—a statement they'd exchanged privately before but never in a professional context. "Not despite our differences but because of how they've helped us both grow."

Minghao's expression softened in the way reserved only for her. "I love you too," he replied, his quiet voice carrying the depth of feeling he expressed more through actions than words. "You've changed how I see everything—architecture, sustainability, purpose, balance. It's been the most valuable revelation of my career."

"Just your career?" Y/N teased gently.

"Of my life," Minghao amended, taking her hand with characteristic intentionality. "The most unexpected and essential discovery I never knew I needed to make."

Around them, their exhibition—the physical manifestation of their shared vision—drew appreciation from the design community that had once seen them as representatives of opposed approaches. Their friends and families mingled in unlikely but harmonious combination. And between them, something had formed that neither could have designed alone—a connection that balanced strength with vulnerability, principle with flexibility, certainty with growth.

Not a compromise between conflicting visions, but a new creation altogether—unexpected, challenging, and ultimately more beautiful than either could have imagined when they first faced each other across that conference room, certain they understood exactly who the other was and what they represented.

The most exquisite designs, they had both discovered, emerge not from perfect agreement but from productive tension—opposing forces finding balance to create something neither could achieve alone.

In architecture, and in love.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

♧ Xmas Times ♧ Various AIB!Boys x GN!Reader

AU: No-Borderlands - Established Relationships with all of them - SFW - Banda is still red flag - grammar mistakes -

ARISU

Soft boy! He loves this month. Not only because he gets an excuse to buy new lights and re decorate him room and gaming room. He actually decorates the whole aparment.

"Its never too early too set up the tree" Him probably

If you two are living together its going to be a hell of a month in the good way. Arisu LOVES IT. He is going to look out for different activities around the city and take you there. Try the new sweets and even go and buy matching sweaters and socks.

Loves to cuddle with you on the sofa while drinking hot cocoa, corny films ? Yes. Hell yes. He is all up for them even if he knows the ending.

MISTOLETE KISS!! Uses any chance to get you both under one and kiss you. Depends on his mood where he is going to kiss you but nose and lips are his firsts options.

CHISHIYA

This Man never cared over festivities and would actually to and take the xmas turn at the hospital to keep himself away from it.

Quiet insensitive about it and sees it most like a way of corporations to get money.

Plus he never got to experience a good xmas with his family..

Its up to you to take on the decorations and xmas mood!! He Will let you do whatever you want with the aparment as long as it does not touches his home office.

If you two prefer to mostly ignore it then its just another month. But Chishiya Will take xmas off and stay with you.

Gets you a big suprise present and when you do the same for him, he tries his best just how happy he is.

NIRAGI

Maybe you never imagine this, but he loves this month. During his childhood him and his mother would have the best of times setting up the tree and getting decorations, making cookies and singing xmas songs.

So yes, he expects quiet the same now that he is with you.

Like Arisu, he uses this time to buy more lights, the house looks like a dance place during night. Because he cant settle down for one color.

Will make you a cute interactive game that ends with "Happy Xmas, I love you"

Now wont admit it, but please cuddle him. Specially on cold mornings, he loves the natural heat more than having the califaction going on.

Kisses your head all the time and gets you a scarf tras too big For you. He thinks you look adorable.

TATTA

Another soft boy who has no idea what to do. If he is honest he cant really recall a special memory of xmas so he is lost and doing the standar things.

Totally checks the internet to see whats he is supposed to do.

Gets you tons of presents (five at least) because he feels like he is not at home a lot since his work gets more demanding during this month.

Get him a toy car with a controlled and he is the happyest guy alive.

Does not waste a chance on kissing you. Does not care if its on public or at home. Because to him its not only xmas but love season as well!!

BANDA SUNATO

He likes it because red blood goes amazing with white snow.

Really. The only time he leaves the city and goes to the countryside to hunt down peopel in the woods.

Does not care much for presents or decorations.

Just get him a New knife and he is happy, let him use it on you and its even better.

KARUBE

Man he is burned out with his bar. This month is demanding for him. Gets home late and tired. If you caress his hair and tell him sweet nothings he becomes a puppy.

Asks you to help him out decorating the bar (and Arisu) it ends looking amazing and then you make a personal competition to make your aparment with him look even better.

Is amazed how you managed to over due yourself.

Get him hawaii shirts please. Even if its no the time for it. He loves them and hates snow clothes.

The most kisser one.

You bet he adds mistelotes at home and at the bar. And is so ready to jump over you at any moment.

AGUNI

Asks you to help him decorate his flower shop but not too much cause he is worried the flowers Will suffer.

Sings xmas songs softly when he thinks you are not near (you are, you recorder him).

The xmas tree looks healthy and Aguni its so proud of how it looks he cant stop taking pictures of it.

Gets all flustered when you give him presents during the month. And wonders how did you get such a comfortable sweater for him ? Since he is all muscles?

Well he doubles it getting you a big Teddy bear.

[myth1cs]

The deal (Nayeon xM!Reader)

This is a relatively short smut .... I'm sorry

Word Count: 632

I hated going to school

Every day I went to school I was bullied by a girl named Im Nayeon.

I don't even know where her hatred for me originated from she just one day decided to hate me while I was just minding my own business .

While I was in class I had to use the restroom, So I raised my hand and the teacher allowed me to go use the restroom.

As I was walking towards the bathroom I saw Nayeon turn the corner and we made eye contact.

Well fuck

"Y/N!" Nayeon yelled

I immediately turned the other way and tried speed walking my way back to class

I suddenly heard Nayeon running towards me and she quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me into an empty classroom

"AGH NAYEON WHAT THE-"

She quickly covered my mouth and pinned me to the door

"Listen up loser I have a proposition for you" Nayeon whispered into my ear in a low voice

This must be bad but she's the one who has me pinned to a wall so it's not like I have any option to decline "Go on"

Nayeon gave me a smirk as she grabs my hand and brings it up to her clothed breasts "If you can pleasure me I'll stop bullying you and I'll even give you a little something if you do a good job at it"

I was shocked, My face started turning red and Nayeon noticed

"So I'll take that as a yes?" Nayeon said as she locked the door

The only thing I could bring myself to do was nod as I started to squeeze her soft breasts which elicited moans from Nayeon

"Ahh~ Fuck yes loser keep going"

"Nayeon you need to take this off" I said as I started to grab her shirt and pull it off her

I tossed her shirt to the floor and then sucked on her left boob while squeezing the other ones nipple

"Ah shit Y/N your so good at this! Keep sucking!"

I took my mouth off her boobs which resulted in a complaint from Nayeon

"Agh Y/N why did you-"

Before she could finish I kissed her lips which she melted into and kissed back

"Ah Y/N this is so hot" Nayeon mumbled into my mouth

While I made out with Nayeon I reached down and squeezed her ass which made her moan into my mouth.

"You naughty bunny do you want the whole school to hear you?"

"Fuck yes Y/N let them know how good you are pleasing me"

I pulled Nayeons skirt down and started to play with her pussy while deepening the kiss with Nayeon

"Y/N please stop teasing me"

I inserted my 2 of my finger into her pussy and started to quickly finger her

"AH FUCK YES Y/N KEEP GOING FINGER MY PUSSY"

After a few pumps of my fingers Nayeon started cumming onto my fingers and screamed. I had to kiss her to muffle her.

When Nayeon came down from her high I licked her juices.

"You taste so good Nayeon"

Doing all this made a big visible bulge in my pants

Nayeon looked at my crotch and smiled

"Well you pleased me so let me please you too"

Nayeon grabbed my clothed cock and started pumping

"Oh~ Nayeon your so good at thi-"

Suddenly the school bell ringed and the noise of students leaving the classroom to go to their next class filled the halls.

"Well I guess next time I'll be pleasing you. Same time tomorrow alright Y/N?"

I nodded

"Alright well I'm looking forward to it, see you later loser"

Nayeon put her clothes back on and left the room

I sat in the empty classroom contemplating her words

"Next time I'll be pleasing you"

I couldn't wait

------------------------------

This is my first smut so sorry if it wasn't to your liking.

Yes I do need to touch grass

[aliorsboxostuff]

ANOTHER SELF INDULGENT FIC? YES. I told yall i love fangs SO MUCH AAARGHH and MIGUEL?? HAVING FANGS?? HELLOOOOOO anyhow this is just full of me simping for that beautiful, insane man. Gotta love me a dilf with fangs and claws. Anyhow enjoy this piece yall lmao. I PROMISE ILL GET TO YOUR REQUESTS

Canines

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Miguel O’hara x gn!reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Jessica Drew, Ben Riley, Spider Society, No Smut, Almost ig?, Fluff, He/Him prns for Reader, Reader is a sunshine, Soft!Miguel, Established relationship, This is just me simping for Miguel tbh, gotta love this man, slight sub!Miguel, Kissing, making out, HIS FANG BRO

Even after spending time with Miguel, successfully becoming his boyfriend and getting on his good side, there's the one thing you can get your mind off of; those damn fangs.

—

You and Miguel have been dating for a solid 5 months now. You still remember the day you got introduced to the spider society and met him. Those dark eyes that flash red, tall and broody, sharp talons that scrape against metal, swept back hair that might as well have swept you off your feet. No literally. The first day you went to meet him you tripped on air and fell straight into his arms. 

How did that manage to win his heart? Now that's the real anomaly. 

One thing you can't get over and can't seem to wrap your head around is his fangs. You’ve been told by him it's used to paralyze enemies when needed, and most of the time he forgets it’s there. But in your mind, you keep replaying the times when he talked, or his rare smiles and laughs reserved for only you. How does he eat with it? Did he ever bite himself when he goes on his rants? How does he not have a lisp with how big they are?

When the sharp fangs glints and it sends shivers down your body. Curiosity and arousal clouds you whenever Miguel talks, and it’s honestly distracting at team meetings.

“Hey, you there?” He snaps his fingers in front of you as you blink away the thoughts, realizing a couple of other Spideys in the briefing looking at you with squinted eyes. 

“Oh yeah- Sorry, pre-mission anxiety and all,” You tried to laugh it off, averting from Miguel's worried gaze. He knows you're capable, he knows you're strong, that's the reason why you're always with him on missions, why you're trusted with a team. But those flashing red eyes couldn't help but hesitate each time you leave the base. 

Miguel continues the brief, assigning teams to universes and anomalies. He sends you off with your teams while he leads his. Each team consists of two spideys, if the anomaly is a particularly notorious villain in their respective universes, Miguel would send three. You’re standing next to Jessica, her bike parked just meters from the portal. While the others had already jumped, Miguel stayed behind while Ben jumped first into the portal. The hum of Jessica’s bike startles you and breaks your eyes from staring at Miguel, and she seems to notice.

“Go ahead, go talk to him,” She nods, a small smile on her lips before she rides off into the portal. You sigh, with your boyfriend staying behind, he seems to have the same idea. 

You walk across the metal floor, Miguel standing just near his portal. “So, an easy one today, huh?” 

“Yeah, me and Ben can take care of him, it’s just another Doc Oct,” He checks something on his watch, the orange hologram lighting up. You can't help but notice it gleams against his fangs. 

“Alright, uhm-” You cough, alerting Miguel as he turns to you. “Be safe out there, babe,” 

The way you said those last words, too small for your usual cheerfulness, makes Miguel’s brows furrow. He reaches for your hand, softly holding them. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine! Don't worry baby,” You smirk, patting his arm where he’s still holding your hand. “Stay safe, and come back home, okay?” 

Miguel tilts his head slightly, before his lips quirks, a ghost of a smile. “You too, my love,” 

And with that, Miguel turns and enters his portal, the circle closes as he disappears. You sigh, both relieved and frustrated somehow. You shook your head, trying to dissipate those thoughts, at least for the time being. Glancing at your portal, you take another breath, before running and leaping into it, another day of saving the multiverse.

—

“Okay, what's going on?” You turn to Jessica leaning on her bike, arms crossed and one brow raised. It’s the ‘Spill It’ face you’ve come to love, but also loathe when she uses it on you.

“What’s ‘what’ going on?” Jessica scoffs, tilting her head when your back is still facing her while you twip a web at the Lizard's jaw, the anomaly tied and secured, ready for transport. “Nothings going on,”

She sees you shrug as you turn around, her only response is to nod again, gauging an answer. Her eyes stare deep into you, making you gulp as you aver her sharp, questioning glare. A beat passes, your suit suddenly feels clammier than usual. You tug slightly at the part that hugs your neck, looking down at the street. 

“Okay fine!” You huff, a satisfied smirk from Jessica. “I’ve been thinking about Miguel-”

“That's not new sweetie,” She snickers, making you stumble on your words. 

“I’m- I know but it's not about him… I guess?”

“Go on…”

“Have you-” You huff, crossing your arms. “You’ve seen his fangs, right? Those sharp things,” You point to your own little fangs, which makes Jesicca hum.

“Hard not to,” She shrugs.

“You ever wonder how sharp they are?” You tilt your head, fully turning to Jessica. “Y’know it's pretty big, and pretty sharp, I wonder how he doesn't bite himself with it? Or how he doesn't have a lisp, or maybe he can retract them but then when he talks it’s always out so I don't know if he can do that, we’ve kissed a couple of times but I didn't feel those things-”

“Okay whoa there,” She chuckles, walking towards you. “I get it, cool fangs, you’re curious about them,” 

She places her hands on your shoulders, a grin on her lips. “That's what got you all distracted today?”

“Yeah… Sorry,” 

“Oh don't be kid, I get it,” She nods, before giggling. “Not ‘get it’ get it, but you're in love, and love makes curiosity and wonder, and I get that,” She pats your arms.

“Bring that up with Miguel, would’ya?” She grinned, a mischievous glint behind her goggles. You blink, realizing she has started walking back to her bike. You chuckle, a steady blush spreading on your cheeks.

“Y-yeah, I will,” You smile, shooting out webs to bring the anomaly back while Jasicca rides into the portal first.

—

Once the anomalies are stored in their cells and boxes, Miguel debriefs the others while you were making sure each anomaly is accounted for.

“I think that's all, right Lyla?” You nod to her small figure sitting on your shoulder. She looks at one of her holograms before nodding.

“Yep! All here,” Her holograms disappear as she glitches and changes to your right shoulder. She suddenly leans in, a dangerous smirk on her face. “So that's what’s up huh?”

You groan, flinching your shoulder which makes her hologram change to stand in front of you. “Lyla you know I hate it when you listen in,” 

“Hey I always listen in, y’know I’m online at all times,” She snickers. “Don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” 

You huff, which makes her laugh as you roll your eyes. You glance at Miguel, still talking with the other spideys, those distracting fangs just barely visible between his soft lips. 

“Sooo…” Lyla floats in front of you, again. “You plannin’ on saying anything?” 

She can practically hear the gears in your head turning, before you sigh and remove your mask, adjusting your ruffled hair. “I suggest you stay offline tonight,”

Lyla spots the blooming red that spreads across your face, at which she giggles mischievously. “Okay, whatever you say,” She shrugs before glitching to your right. “I'll just hang out with Margo then,” 

“Yeah, thanks Lyla,” A grateful smile on your lips. Lyla nods before she disappears and leaves you alone. 

Miguel has finally wrapped off the debrief and sent the others to do what they please since today's mission is over. The other spideys wave their farewell to you as they pass, you reply while you walk closer to your boyfriend. Jesica passes you, a sly smirk on her lips, before she pats your shoulder. You give her a small smile before nodding, and she’s on her way.

Miguel’s back is turned, busy with his monitor, wrapping up the day. His head tilts a bit, as he notices you're walking toward him. You pull one of the stray chairs to Miguel's platform and as if instincts, he sat down just as you pushed it behind him. His eyes are still scanning the monitors but he turns slightly towards you as you lean on the consoles. 

“Good job out there Miguel,” You smile, glancing at the screens.

“You too, as always,” His lips quirks, one arm rests on the chair while the other swipes at the screen. “Though I have seen some things we can improve on the teams. I haven't debriefed you yet like the others, so listen to me okay?” 

You nodded, crossing your arms into a more relaxed tone. “Good, so according to team three we need to-” 

And that's the last thing you hear before you turn to look at Miguel, catching that sharp glint of those fangs. Around you, Miguel usually lets his guard down, his way of letting you know he trusts you. So he talks more, his hands punctuate what needs to be punctuated, and those lips move wider. In other circumstances, listening to him would be easy, but with each word he spoke, a peak of those sharp fangs caught your attention instead. Miguel continues to point out the images on the screens, occasionally asking you a question to which you responded with a ‘Uhuh’ or ‘Yeah’. That seemed to satisfy Miguel until—

“-And that's to add the upgrades on your suit, what do you think?” 

“Uhuh,” 

“What?” Miguel retracts, tearing his eye away from the screens. “I asked about your suit?”

A beat passes, before you blink, realizing your boyfriend was staring, and shaking yourself out of the daze. “Huh? What did you ask?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. Sadly those muscles adds another point to the distraction. “Were you even listening to me?” 

He stiffens, watches as you stand in front of him, one arm on the chair's headrest, completely trapping him in. Slowly, your other hand moves up, and settles on his jaw. Throughout the months of dating you, Miguel has never seen this side of you, never seen how bold you could be. Steady hands cup his jaw, your thumb gliding across his lips, before you press slightly. As if a switch is flipped, Miguel inhales sharply and parts his lips, inclining his head when you hold his chin. Your thumb moves over his lower set of fangs, before suddenly followed by your other hand, pushing his mouth open to expose his upper, sharper fangs. His eyes flashes and brows furrows slightly, surprised at the sight of your rapt expression, eyes scanning him.

There's a hint of fondness behind those usually irritated gazes as he looks at you before he sighs and opens his mouth to continue his question before you were overcome with the sudden urge to see. You lean off of the console and approach your boyfriend. “Sorry, Miguel I just have to-”

“Fascinating…” You lean closer, taking pride in the way Miguels is stunned, practically crushing the armrest under his claws. Your index pushes at his upper jaw, letting you get an eyeful of that part of Miguel you’ve been dreaming about. It reflects the blue lights in the room, your eyes widen at it. Your thumb touches its start before gliding down to the pointed end, Miguel pants lightly. How would they feel against my skin?

Your eyes roam up to the prominent blush on Miguel's cheeks, the red in his irises shakes. Slowly, you bring him closer, one hand stays on his chin while the other moves behind his head. His eyes flutter as you press your lips against his, his gasp allows you to slide your tongue inside. Carefully, you trace that sharp fang, making Miguel grunt, his hand suddenly gripped your wrist, pulling apart.

“Don't- It’s dangerous,” He says between pants, the blush coloring his beautiful complexion. 

“Paralysis, right?” You smirk, fingers playing at his curled strands. Miguel shivers then swallows hard. “How about we unwind from today,”

A glint in your eyes, watching as Miguel becomes putty between your hands, his blown-out pupils staring at you in reverence. You smirk, breath ghosting against his lips when you bring him closer again.

“Show me what those fangs do, baby,” 

Reblogs appreciated! Requests are opened! <3

[amphibiahawks321]

Hey there, man I appreciate your work It’s hard to find. Male reader X female characters these days, surprisingly I also had a request if you’re interested Azula XM reader From avatar the last Airbender Hope you have a good week

[Y/N and Azula staring at the sunset]

M!Reader : Haaaaaa... The world always looks so beautiful when the sunset appears ^v^

Azula : I'd let the world die if it meant saving you~

[Y/N stares at azula]

M!Reader : .....

[Y/N kiss her cheek]

M!Reader : I know ^v^

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

I NEEEED som jealous possessive bam bam, like I need that injected in my veinsssss PLEASEE

When You Don’t See Me

Y/N tells her boyfriend she want to take a break, not knowing the whirlwind that would follow.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Angst, Fluff)

3k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, unhealthy relationships, a LOT of unhealthy coping mechanisms, depression, alcohol, alcoholism, description of injury, fights, piss, manipulation, drug use mention, hookups, gossip, lovers to enemies to lovers, possessiveness, jealousy

An: Thank you for the request!! I got the idea to explore not only how Y/N reacts to his behavior, but the psychology behind all of his outrageous behavior in his relationship with Y/N and how those around him react to it! This is decently darker and more metaphorical than my usual work, but I wanted to branch out a little and try new genres :) Lmk if you wanna see more stuff like this and keep sending in those requests! ;D

When you told him you wanted to take a break, you tried to let Bam down as gently as possible. Not two days later, you caught your now ex-boyfriend airing his dirty laundry on Sirius XM for all of America to hear. “But, Like- really, I don’t think she even cared about me...” Bam leaned back in his chair, the way his voice rose from emotion making your blood boil and heart ache at the same time, “ Like, ever.”

Ryan, always one to come to your defense when one of Bam’s dumb little buddies would give you a hard time, must’ve sensed the crumpled look on your face as you listened from your car. “I mean, maybe she just…couldn't handle all the fame stuff- I know chicks got issues with that sometimes.” “No- no, cause listen!” Bam interjected in that far too familiar tone, throwing himself into a rant, “Cause I come home with a broken elbow, and you know what she says? Nothing! Doesn’t ask what happened or anything! It’s like she doesn’t even give a shit. ”

When he came home from that skate tour touting a sling, you hadn’t asked him about it because it was the fourth time he’d broken it since you had dated him, and in all likelihood he’d get pissy with you if you did. Novak took the opposite position, “Dude, don’t even fuckin’ worry about it. You could get pussy in any zip code- youre Bam Margera!”

You’d half expected this shit, preemptively dashing the idea that Bam could handle this the way a mature adult might. Still, you had decided that you weren't going to let some schoolyard bully keep you from being happy. So, you managed to score a date with some nice guy who worked your shift- Friday, you got yourself all preened up with the intention of making a good impression at the local bar that night. And it started out nice enough- plenty in common, good chemistry, and a far cry from the manchild you were with before…

But when your date stepped away for a minute, you turned back to your drink only to hear, “Hey, who’s captain dipshit?” The way his voice grated on you made taking a rusty butter knife to your inner ear sound pretty tempting right about now. Trying your hardest to keep your nerve, tension settled in your throat, “Bam, I told you: I want to take a break. We agreed,” Without missing a beat, the little shit stepped closer, getting all up in your face with that dull, possessive look in his eye, “What? You fuckin’?” “Bam!” He shot a practiced glance over his shoulder, provocativity cloaked by liquor-fueled nonchalance, “What? M’just wonderin’ what you an’ Mr. Three Sided Dick Duster over there’ve been gettin’ up to- real catch y’got there.”

Leaning against the sticky bar top, frustration was heavy in your worlds as you spoke up over the excited roar of the bar, “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” When you were together, it seemed you were the perfect, warm little center of the universe. The room still got quiet now, but in this terrible, bitter way that made unlucky witnesses' skin crawl. “For one goddamn night, would it-“ At the slightest resistance, Bam backed off as if you were some aggressive animal snarling at him, “Alright, alright! Jeez, woman…”

Letting out a sigh mixed with relief and resentment, you didn’t end up catching what he did after disappearing into the crowd. See, Bam had been watching you with your date from afar before he’d stepped in, so he knew what the guy looked like before he stepped away to the men’s- enough to know the back of his head when he strutted into the bathroom and nestled right right next to that asshole. “Hey. Y’know that chick y’were talkin’ to? Yeah, keep an eye out- that one’s a psycho bitch.”

Bam didn’t seem to care how your date just stared at the tile in front of him, a little uncomfortable with the way he’d chosen the urinal right next to his despite nearly every other one being open. “Fucked half’a Westchester. Got all these gnarly STD’s an’ shit too.” Intimidated, he actually believed him. Blinking with recognition, your date zipped up his pants. “Oh. Thanks, man- really dodged a bullet there…” And thus began the awful corrosion of Mr. Bam Margera’s soul.

A couple weeks of no contact later, Bam discovered that the journey to the palace of personal enlightenment begins and ends with beer. Sure, he had drank before you left him, but it was sissy shit. Now, he was drinking. Unseasonably cold, he hunched his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets to fight off the wind. “Alright, man!” Novak, who was always happy to be drinking on Bam’s tab, threw an arm around his shoulders as the rest of the gang followed behind into the bar, “Let’s get wasted.”

It was the same cheesy ass line he’d used three times this week, and it was only Thursday. Nobody, not his close friends nor the general public, made any mention of this shift in Bam's behavior, writing it off the same way they did when he dumped his hummer in the quarry- the disease of having too much money: Affluenza. Spoiled MTV rich boy acted like a spoiled MTV rich boy- alert the presses…

Drunk, Bam was a neglected child- brooding over lost pool games and getting into petty arguments in which he was obviously in the wrong- these nights usually ending with him passing out and needing to be carried home by Dunn. Glancing across the bar, that anxious, stir crazy feeling simmered deep in his loins.

“Yo, I’m gonna go take a leak.” Dunn shot him a nod as he hopped off the barstool, “Alright, don’t fall in.” Though he didn’t say anything, he was the only one to notice Bam’s off behavior; that flimsy look in his eye when he made a joke that nobody laughed at, the weird intensity that followed him around in this evil cloud- and of course, the drinking. But, I mean- Dunn didn’t say anything. Listen, if Ryan’s girl dumped his ass and he turned to the bottle, the last thing he’d want is his best friend stagin’ some kinda intervention. So he kept his mouth shut.

Bam discovered that, in crowded college bars, you could take a piss in some corner or on an arcade cabinet, and nobody’d ever care. Cruising across the dance floor he was moving a checker to another square, Bam started sizing up the population for a worthy target. Bingo. So inconspicuously, he crept up behind the biggest, roided-up frat dude in the joint, who too busy bragging about how much he could bench to hear the soft teeth of a zipper undoing.

“Yeah, I’m gonna hit the ARC tomorrow with Brett an’ Travis. I’ve been workin’ on this-“ Oh, that look on his face once he noticed the warm, dark spot on his khakis after Bam had emptied his bladder on the back of his leg...Priceless. “Dude- what the fuck?!” And when that man twice his size got all up in his goddamn face to freak him out, the shit eating grin on Bam’s face didn’t even twitch. “Yeah? Cmon fucker, whatch’a gonna do ab-“ In one quick twitch muscle jerk, mister Beta Alpha Mu swung a quick right hook, plating MTV star teeth in thick, tan knuckles.

So Bam swung back. Weeks of petty, dumb fights morphed his hands into over-pruned tree branches, with purple knobs of broken bone that were more a result of his limp-wristed punching than they were actual battle scars. The angry, little red scrapes, the black eyes that changed color in the mirror like mold; he was alive, and this shit was proof of it. Bam had free fucking will and freedom- and he still had all of his teeth despite the blood that was painting his enamel.

Diffusing the situation, Ryan tugged his best friend into the crowd, away from the still shouting meathead and toward the door, knowing his friend would’ve gotten turned into burger before he conceded. Stumbling behind, the cool night air bit at Bam’s adrenaline flushed skin, muscles burning as he collapsed against his chest. Ryan held him steady as if he were waiting for the gears in his best friend's brain to start turning, “What the hell happened?”

There’s blood on Ryan’s t-shirt now. The question was rhetorical. The passerby who stared at the two knew that; it’s Bam, that’s what he does. And he knew that too, glancing up with those big, painfully blown out pupils. His eyes were so goddamn blue…

Most mornings, Bam woke up tangled in sheets that were not his. It was as if waking up cold and alone in the bedrooms of strange, blood-sucking sycophant women was anything other than a cry for help. Disoriented, he blinked awake, the early morning chill of the air alerting him first to the fact that he was naked, before the sounds of life- female life, in the next room over, hit his ears.

Bam went out and hooked up with girls, which was never hard. Women caught wind that he was out at some bar and they started throwing themselves at him like Hands on a Hardbody; with a Lamborghini instead of the D12. The events blurred together in this vestigial memory of sleaze, but that isn’t to say he didn’t remember some of it. Take this scene from the previous night: tucked away in some intimate little corner-of-the-bar pleather booth, there were five chicks to the one him- and they were just relishing him with all that delicious attention. Bam needed it the way he needed air. Melting under this affection, he chuckled, “I’m goin’ on this tour with Tony Hawk this summer, and-“ The one running her fingers through his curls cooed, “Really? That’s so cool…”

Bam was occupied with the notion that all those shit feelings could just shoot out his dick with his load…Yeah. Soft curves, warm bodies, and all the free range pussy a guy could drown in. He fucked and, he fucked, and he sowed his wild goddamn oats with any woman who’d seen his face on MTV. And here’s the weird thing: Bam could reach out and touch these girls; he could feel the flesh on their hips pool between his fingers, and he could feel the silicone in their lips when he kissed them, but beneath the skin, there was nothing. He was simply not there.

Stumbling to his feet, he wandered over to the mirror in the hall, taking a glance at his reflection as he passed. That’s who he was: Bam fucking Margera. He was private jets to skate events, and brand deals with designer sunglasses, and the winding filigree down his ribs that caught that light as he examined himself. That hollow collar of bruises and hickeys was worn with pride. Bleach washed laminate of Ms.Whoever’s Chichester condo felt cold on his feet as he stumbled into the kitchen, trying to get his bearings. “Oh, morning!” The big green eyes on the chipper blond stranger at the island lit up as he sat down, bare ass on one of the stools, “Hungry?”

Bam gave her a drowsy, nondescript hum, leaning his head into his hand. He wasn’t. Yet that bowl of cereal slid in front of him, little rainbow O’s bobbing and swirling in the milk. It reminded him of how, when you dated, you never made him breakfast. You never fussed over him, or asked him where he was going, or told him to call when he was across the country, filming…Anyways, breakfast- the two of you usually ended up going to Denny’s the morning after: french toast and pancakes and moons over my hammy…

“I could start you a shower if you’d like.” He was shaken from his carby fantasies by the cheerleader titter, “Maybe we could go out later, or-“ Bam waved her off, not even meeting her gaze as he stood up from artisan, hand carved Ziricote to to grab the same jeans he’d worn for a week from where he kicked them onto the floor last night, “Nah, I got some…things’t do today.” And that cereal sat there as she watched him do up his belt with a dreamy smile.

He was a trophy to these women, something they could hang on their shelf and brag about: it’s the new Bam Margera doll by Element Toys! Bring him home and take his clothes off! Steal his sports watch off his wrist while he’s sleeping and refuse to return his calls! Don’t tell him your boyfriend’s on his way home until he’s gettin’ pulled off you and thrown out your front door, pants around the ankles! Accessories not included…

It got to a point where he had to wonder: what’s the point of the drinking? I mean, you have fun and fuck arround, but a while ago, it was just work to keep up that exciting, MTV rich boy persona that everybody’s expecting when they hear Bam’s making public appearances. Sure, he could do a bump or whatever to keep being fun, but that gets stale. And if he drank alone in his bedroom, he would really have a problem. What about the girls? Sure, they felt good for a night, but again- even though they were jumping at him, Bam felt like it was so much work to get in their bed…He was tired. So, he slept- well, more accurately he laid in bed. It was the longest he’d gone without skating since he twisted his ankle on the vert ramp. Phone calls and emails went unanswered, videos stayed unedited far behind schedule.

Rock bottom would be delivered by the divine messenger that was Bam’s cd player. To think back on this- it’s fucking shameful. He’d sooner take an ancient dagger to his wrists and make a blood oath to never, ever, ever commit such an egregious, melodramatic deed. Bam listened to Razorblade Romance, cover to cover, three goddamn times. Curtains drawn, his body nestled firmly in the him shaped divot in the bed. Oh, Ville…he made this kind of emotional suffering sound beautiful.

And between tracks twelve and thirteen, he got to wondering: what the actual fuck was he was doing? Bam came to the base realization that he didn’t want to feel this bitter, stabbing unhappiness anymore. By extension, didn’t wanna wallow in his own self pity which he’d previously been trying in vain to satisfy. So, what was he doing?

You opened your front door, and Bam was standing on your front step. More than angry, you were bewildered as to why the hell he’d even want to see your face, “What do you want?” Met with what he perceived as utter indifference from his once adoring girlfriend, he thought to tell you everything. Bam imagined himself putting his foot down and laying into you about how fucking miserable you’d been making him by being such a cold bitch, and how much he was entitled to feel better, but you hadn’t done anything but being gone. You weren't holding Bam at knifepoint and forcing him to pity himself. This was all him.

“I missed you.” It was the truth- the underlying truth to this bullshit. Coincidentally, that's the moment you noticed it: the healing split lip, the lingering green from an old bruise on his cheekbone. “What happened to your face?” Bam stepped through the open space not occupied by your body in the doorway, murmuring “Fight at the bar…” he paused at your perplexed expression before admitting with a ragged sigh, “A couple’a fights.”

So, you let him in. The little spiral Bam had tripped into after a few months without you had shattered him, and come to find out, nobody cared enough to put back those pieces well, nobody except you. “You look like shit...” Yeah, great attempt to keep things light. Bam was looking at himself through your eyes: the way his clothes hung off his frame, the sunken-in way his eyes sat in his skull- yeah, he probably did look like shit. “Are you okay? Can I get you somethin’ t’drink?” Bam gave you a nod.

You started out sitting on the couch, discussing the events that led to this, which morphed into laying, then your fingers weaving in his curls, holding him just like you used to. And there’s something funny that happens in men’s brains when they get sorely needed comfort. “I just…I gotta hole in me, you know? Like, this big, empty space in my heart or whatever- and I try to fill it,” Just barely restrained, Bam’s voice cracked in a way it hadn’t since he was a teenager, “and nothing ever fucking works, and I feel so lost, and…I’m cold.” Warm breath against your neck as he burrowed into you, he mumbled, “Fuckin…hold me. I’m cold.”

This sheer quantity of exhaustion drew uncharacteristic honesty from Bam’s lips. As pathetic as this would look to an outside observer, you felt empathy for the crumpled man-shaped ball of nerves in your lap- after all, you did date him. There was something cloyingly sweet about how bad he needed you.

As a consolation to his sorry state, you offered him something to drink, as is customary when you have guests over. Yes, he would like that very much. A few beers in, Bam mellowed out, and that brings you to the present. Looking down at the way he was sprawled out on your chest, you murmured, tenderly pushing some hair off of his forehead, “Y’wanna go’t Denny’s in the morning?” Bam couldn't imagine anything that sounded better than that.

[vividc4ndy]

Guys if I told you about my oc's would you wanna hear about my Villain with a soft spot for the healer or a sea monster prince who's constantly trying to sink a very specific ship? (The captain is obsessed with him.)

These are both MLM duos, just by the way. And you can ask to be the partner, or see their lover in third person!!

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I try my absolute best to not include to much control with the reader like race, hair color what you wear etc… but in this remake I’m having the reader is something else rather than a dress for the club. However, the clothing is still imaginative for you, I didn’t detail it.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams(Have a refined treat, for your birf day.), @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You get swindled into going to a shitty party, but now? You don’t think it’s too shitty…

"Automotivo Bibi Fogosa" by Bibi Babydoll X DJ Brunin XM.

TW // SMUT/NSFW, Using Water As a Bit Of Lube, Fingering.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

“It would be fun!” Stacy had exclaimed to you, pressing her hands together in hopes you would follow her. Her green eyes begging you, pleading with you. “It will go great!”

Yet, her “promising” words never seemed interesting to you. Especially when it came to parties: Stacy was never a good person to stay in one spot. She was a wanderer when she was drunk, and it was a wonder how she even returns safely sometimes. Also, you didn’t feel nor think some hormonal party was fun to go to. Everything felt… judgmental, sweaty, shoving and grinding… It was 10x worse if it was some youngsters' party that didn't know what to do with their life. Which, it most likely was with how much Stacy was encouraging you to go and pleading with you, wanting you to be her ride.

Yeah, she wasn’t fooling you.

“Please! You need to get out!” She groans, unfolding her hands to pull at your upper arm, shaking you; rocking you back on fourth on the balls of your feet. “Get laid! Something! You have a boring life!”

“Boring life?” You scoff at her, barely amused. How dare she say responsibility was boring? She knew how life works too! Not that she abides by it…“It’s called adulting, Stacy.”

The young woman deeply and loudly groans at your response, hanging off your arm and tilting her head back like a toddler having a temper tantrum of not getting what they want. “I knooooow that!”

“Good, that means you can leave me in peace.” You immediately say after her whine, shrugging her hand off your arm. Heading for the small kitchen of your 2 bedroom 1 bath apartment that was 3 stories high.

“Wait! No!” Stacy denys, rushing forward after she had gained a temporary disbalance from your shrug off. Her hands tightly grasping at your wrists to stop you. “How about I make a proposal?”

A proposal? Hmmm…

“What do you have to offer?” You bite into her play, turning back around to face her while she lets go of your wrists. Wondering what she could offer you. Surely, she can’t offer anything good? Well, besides some bomb ass pasta but that wasn’t the point…

“You come to the party, and I…” She pauses for a moment, thinking, hesitating as her eyes roam the archway of the living room and kitchen. “I won’t bother you for a month.”

For only a month? You fold your arms and shift your weight, raising a brow.

“Two?” She raises a brow herself, questioning.

You don’t budge.

“…fooooour?” She tries, cringing at even offering such a high number.

You shift your weight, nothing else, not a peep.

“4 and a half. I’m not going any higher.” She states, shaking her head and hand in a ‘no’ motion. Her form standing up a bit straighter.

You think on it for a moment, hoping she would go to five months… but you suppose 4 and a half would be logical enough… “Fine, give me the address…”

Stacy squeals out at your answer, throwing her arms up in excitement. Practically jumping in her spot before she suddenly dashes off into her room. Immediately getting ready for the party she had swindled you on. Shoes flying from just peeking in through the archway to her messy room.

“You’re the best! I’ll give you the address when we get in the car!” She shouts at you, making you cringe at the noise level before you shake your head and deeply sigh. Slightly regretting your choice to even accept her offer.

Well, at least you have a bit of a ‘“membership” of her leaving you alone for 4 and a half months…

The party was absolute shit.

So shitty that you regretted even making the offer with Stacy, it was that bad. The young adults (more like fake ID teenagers) were flat faced drunk, couldn’t even get a word in to greet them. It made you wonder just how much alcohol count could be served here, not that you would drink alcohol. You were more of a wine person, and this place didn’t even have that either. This was supposed to be what? A high-end party? That's what Stacy had told you…

Taking a sip of your-self bought drink (as you knew not to trust youngster parties drinks and bar drinks themselves.) You eye the party around you, being weary of your surroundings. Looking at every possible shadowed corner within the building playing an made-up, self imaginary game called “Is there a Night Lord or not?” It was honestly a… fun game if you were extremely bored yourself, and if there was actually a Night Lord involved. Which, you believe you saw a flash of purple in one of the many dark corners, and you silently hope one doesn’t follow you home like the other one had. You had to report the poor, bat-like Astartes to some local Ultramarines. It wasn’t like you really wanted to! You just didn’t want to risk being an object of their… desires.

Sighing out deeply at your predicament, you swirl your drink in your hands, looking down at it. Wondering where Stacy may have gone, if she was still at this party or not— Oh, wait, there she is, stumbling into view and using other people as support… Oh, lord…

“Heeeeyyyyy, best friend!” She laughs, throwing her hands wide and aiming to hug you, nearly missing you as she puts you in a surprisingly tight hug. Her breath drowning in alcohol and a hint of… lime? So that Cherry Limeade is spiked, too spiked. “I got something for youuuuuu!”

You give a grunt at her tight lock around you, looking down at her practically folding herself in half to hug you around your waist. Her dark blue, shimmering and wrinkled dress very much done for the night. You're surprised she wasn’t complaining about her heels yet with all the flirtatious activities you watched her do all night.

“Stacy, let. Go.” You gently as you could, demand of her: voice low and a bit irritated by her drunken acts. Your eyes narrowing down at her before relaxing a little. She did say she had a gift…

“Hre’ you goooo…” She ignores you, sliding her hand down the side of your waist before putting her four fingers in the back pockets of your pants, shimmering something down in the pocket, and you're not sure if you should be disturbed by her or not. “I hop’ you ike’ it!”

Then she was off, slipping away from you, like she hadn’t just stuck potential illegals in your back pocket. Her form just slaunting away; confident in her surroundings and ability to get home safely. Never once did you see how she gets back home safe as she would always tell you “You can leave me at the party, I can find my way back,” and sometimes you do take the offer, but most of the time you’re pretty patient with her. You know how the world could work.

Sticking your hand down in the back pocket she placed the object in. You take it into the palm of your hands, observing it… confusingly. What was this… thing? It was small, black and has an option to turn on?

Oh, oh! Oh.

How the hell did she have one of these… vibrators? Tiny, portable… is this what Stacy does most of the night when she isn’t flirting with people? How in the hell? Where did she even purchase such a thing? Most importantly, was it even new? Clean? On your mercy, you hope it was…

Puzzled and a bit… icky, you try and put the thing back in your back pocket to hide it from the public eye because you did not want to be caught dead with that tiny thing if someone recognized it somehow. Your arm moving back to your side to put the small vibratior back in your pocket. Your hold on it light as if you feel like you must be sneaky with the thing. (That, or you just didn’t want to touch it.)

However, your hand holding the vibrator is thrown out of your grasp and somewhere in front of you as you turn to look at the cultript that knocked into you, and of course. It was a couple of ‘young adults��� grinding into one another, not even knowing they had bumped into you. Their forms still shuffling around, and for a brief moment you wanted to snap at them but decided against it. You would be 1 against like… 100+ other people here.

Deeply sighing out, you look away from the 2 youngsters and towards where you remember the vibrator that had flew out of your hands. Only to jump when you find a regal purple with a magenta gradient Space Marine, kneeling and shivering in front of you. Your form taking a step back to give the both of you some space when their gauntlet abruptly shoots out, grasping tightly at your arm. Not enough to break bone, but enough to give you a bruise.

Your heart is stuck in your throat while your breath (that was normal) turns into long exhales and inhales as if you were trying to hide yourself where you stand. Your eyes never leaving the Marine while you look at them over and over again, trying to find a reason why this Marine was grasping at you; making you stay in place from where he kneels. His other gauntlet rummaging around the joint of his armor near his waist.

“Enough of that.” A masculine, French accent comes out of the marine. The fingers of his gauntlet squishing something within their armor with a small, electric crack. His voice sending a tingling sensation down your spine. “Is that your way of a greeting?”

“I…uhhh.” You stammer, stammer! You're an adult and this was making you blush like a schoolgirl? Get a grip! “Not preferably…”

“Preferably?” The Marine repeats with a chuckle, rising his form from keeling. His stature, now seemingly tall rather than shaking when he was kneeling… His grip was still tight on your arm, never letting you go. “You don’t greet everyone with a vibrator?”

“I…what? No!” You scoff, trying to pull your arm out of his grip to no succession. Your face going red, burning with embarrassment. You do not greet everyone— especially Astartes with a vibrator! Fuckin’ Stacy!

“Oh, no need to be embarrassed, little rose.” The marine purrs, leaning forward to nearly press his helmet against your blushing face, and you swear to god you can feel his words against your skin. Your nerves just tingling with the sensation of his voice. Not only that, but he moves you with such ease. (Gently) pulling your arm out to make you stumble more towards him. “I wouldn’t mind a greeting like that everyday with that petite face, and body of yours~”

Oh, fuck. He was going to have you in a choke hold—

“It’s uhh… not for free.” You come up with something quick, wanting to just dash off and burry yourself 6 feet under some Astartes-made concrete. Yet, you just had to say something even more stupid?! “Not for free.” Who the fuck says that?!

“Hmm, no?” He hums deeply, leaning his helmet into— near your shoulder. It definitely felt like he was on your shoulder. His gauntlet on your arms slowly sliding down to your shoulder, ribs then waist. “Then what do you offer, little rose?”

“Your voice.” You blurt out, your eyes flickering over the sides of his helmet. Both of your arms now able to brace yourself on the pauldrons of the Marine. Unsure if you wanted him close or not. This feels dangerous; unspeakable.

“My voice?” He rumbles, almost surprised by your answer, but at the same time it pleases him greatly. His helmet slightly tilting into your neck. His armored fingers gently digging into your waist. He still needs your offer, not your demand. “What is it that you offer then?”

Ah, right, so stupid of you! Him and his sexy voice and accent! Gah! Stupid! Stupid! Wait… what could you possibly offer this Marine? A Emperor Child no less? A new bottle of perfume? That you didn’t have at the moment? No, that was too minuscule… He needed something… suitable, lasting, up to glory…

“If, you have nothing to offer…” He pauses, grinning beneath his helmet, noticing your silence. His helmet gently nuzzling the side of your neck, touching you. Sending bolts of tingles down your nerves. “Perhaps… you, can be the offer? Lié (Bonded.)”

“M-Me?” You stutter, bamboozled by such a proposition. Were you willing to do such a thing? To have… a stand with a Marine? Wasn’t it up the Marine to accept you too? Did he really…?

“Yes, you petite rose.” He purrs a small laugh, leaning back a little bit to look down into your eyes that look up at him in total surprise, or was it confusion? “I don’t see anyone else that is as sober as you here nor as extravagant.”

His comment makes you blush, but his own offer still hesitates you. If you were to go with the Marine… How would it fit? This man was like… 3x bigger than you, but oh… that is the trick? Isn’t it? Trying to straddle him and struggling to take him—

No! No, we must stay focused.

“I can smell your arousal, little rose~” He purrs, leaning in close again. His armored fingers twitching, just itching to pick you up and toss you over his pauldron.

Fuck it.

Going on your tippy toes, you bring one of your hands to the side of his helmet, bringing him down a bit more. Your lips coming forward to give his helmet a kiss to the cheek, (and giving the kiss extra pizzazz.) You open your mouth, pushing your tongue out and slowly giving a lick, tasting the metallic ceramite of his helmet. His lime green visors flickering in and out for a split second.

You don’t even have time to react when he has you over his pauldron. His gauntlet giving your thigh a tight squeeze as he hurries to go to some employee restroom, and growls at anything that gets in his way (including the frolicking employees inside the restroom.) His gauntlet quick to close and lock the door before placing you down on the counter: between the sink and wall.

“Oh, little rose, little rose, little rose.” The Marine repeats like a mantra, raising one of his gauntlets to his helmet and the other down to his codpiece. A hiss going through the bathroom that dully thuds to the bass of the music. “You play unfairly.”

“Unfairly?” You deride, shaking your head slightly as you look up at him taking off his helmet. You form still clothed with your thighs wide and your shoes positioned on top of the counter. One of your hands on the counter and the other on the tile wall with your back touching the cold mirror behind you. “You’re the one with all the thick layers of armor on. I can’t rip through that, you know.”

The dark purple haired Marine deeply chitters down at you for your snark. His eyes a full on pink color as he places his helmet on the opposite side of the sink. His other hand still messing with his codpiece while he uses the other again to turn on the water of the sink. “I’m sure you would like the armor kink, little rose.”

“Hmmm, would I?” You ask, tilting your head. Looking up at him through your lashes. Your legs extending to press up against the sides of his waist, trying to pull him closer (which he allows.) Yet, your legs cannot wrap around him fully, especially with his armor on.

“Your smell is telling on you.” He rumbles, managing to take off one of his gauntlets before he puts his fingers under the running water. Another hiss sounding out as his codpiece dislodges. “You may lie, but your smell betrays you. You want me to fuck you.”

“You’re obvious yourself, Marine.” You huff, rolling your eyes but smirking at the Astartes. Moving your legs slightly. “I don’t think one will be eager to get laid.”

“Hmmm, with you, yes.” He hums, moving his codpiece off of him and on the counter too. His cock jumping up in proud arousal, and you can’t help but blush at the size of him. His gauntlet moving to your waist, thumbing at you. “Your scent is deep and sweet like a field of roses.”

“Really? I’m not wearing any perfume…” You tilt your head, just how much could the Marine smell? How powerful were their senses that goes beyond yours?

“Good, it hides your natural scent; your beauty.” He doesn’t hesitate to reply, his gauntlet moving to the zipper of your pants, pressing lightly into your clothed folds. Threatening to rip your only pair of pants and underwear tonight. Not that you would really complain… “Ambrosius.”

“Hm?” You hum, questioning. Your eyes focused on how gently he actually rips at the bottom of your clothing with eerie ease, like he may make experience with this…

“My name is Ambrosius: Ambrosio Vérany.” He introduces himself, his gauntlets pulling the rest of your bottoms off before moving his hand: wet with water at your folds. “I want you to scream it once I’m inside of you. Giving you what you want, what you need.”

“Oh? Ambrosius.” You test his name, teasing him with it. A little growl leaving him when you do, his wet finger pressing lightly between your folds, going up and down in a slow motion. A small pleasured grunt leaving you as your hands come to grasp at his hand threatening to breach you.

“You say it so sweetly, so teasingly…” He rumbles again. His middle finger going between your folds with a slick squelch. Your back arching and your mouth opening to silently moan out. Your hands grasping up to his rerebrace as he pushes forward through your unprepared walls. “Again, little rose.”

“Nnng, Ambrosius.” You sigh, leaning forward a little bit, curling up while his finger works you. Your eyes looking down at his finger going in and out of you at a leisurely pace, but it brings so much pleasure of how big his finger feels inside of you, stretching you.

“Hmm, yes little rose?” He purrs lowly with a teasing tone in it. His body curling forward to press his lips to your forehead before he opens his mouth himself, a long almost silky-like appendage going down your cheek. A heavy weight of wet heat suddenly staining your cheek, the tip of his tongue nearly prodding into your mouth and ear before he returns his tongue with a deep chuckle. “Show me; tell me what you need~”

“I… I— ah! I need you Ambrosius.” You groan, throwing your head back before looking back down to his finger that continually penetrates you. Your grip on his rerebrace tight. “I want to cum on your cock Ambrosius, please.”

“How can I refuse such sweet manners?” He teases, rubbing your wall just right, leaving you on a high before his finger leaves you. His form standing tall as he positions his tip leaking pre-cum at your entrance and if feels; looks bigger than you have originally thought…

You move your hands back to the tile wall and counter, mentally preparing yourself to take this Marine. Your form shifting a bit, getting a bit more comfortable before he makes his attempt. His hand staying on his cock, leading it as he slowly pushes in. Your breath leaving you as you throw your head back once more.

“No need to be breathless yet, my little rose.” He grunts, throwing his own head back for a second before looking down were you two join together. “I have plenty more to offer.”

“Nngg, really?” You gasp, failing to keep yourself up right as your hand on the wall slips, your body going down a little, his cock jumping a bit more further into you as you turn a bit to your side to have your elbow hold you up on the counter and your other hand just right beside it. “Show me then, Ambrosio.”

He laughs, his French accent showing through. Taking his time putting you on his cock before thrusting in small motions, rolling his hips. His armored body suddenly curling over yours, blocking out the bathroom light, casting his shadow over you. His hot breath on the top of your head.

“If you say so, little rose~” He purrs into your ear, keeping up his purring to send vibrations through his cock and through your walls. His hips going back a bit before sliding through you again, shocking your nerves with pleasure as you shiver and shake. Your breathy moans coating the counter and tile with heat.

He grunts and groans loudly with each thrust he gives you. Both of his gauntlet and hand on your waist has he pistons in and out of you, slowly gaining pace with each movement. His armored body ever slowly curling over you more and more, his mouth opening again as his tongue rolls out. Swirling before lapping at your cheeks and down your neck. He isn’t really sure if you would… accept him with your mouth as his tongue is… inhumane; not even Astartes level… but he doesn’t mind tasting your skin.

“I’m going to nest you, little rose.” He groans, briefly putting his tongue back in his mouth. His pace going swift as your walls’ pulse. “I’m bring you back to the nest and fuck you properly.”

You could only moan back a response. Your head resting on the counter as he uses you. Saliva leaving your lips; your eyes almost delirious looking, absolutely blissed out with how his cock ruins you for another man. You definitely won’t be fucking a human man after this either.

“Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?” He growls, thrusting a bit hard to get your whole body to bounce. A pleasured yelp leaving you. “To be nested? To be cared for?”

“Tell me, little rose. Tell me you would like to be underneath me, withering… or perhaps on top? Taking me the best you can. I’m open to try.” Ambrosius continues, feeling your walls constrict around his cock, trying to milk his cock. Your climax coating his cock while he continues to thrust. Feeling how your body relaxes a bit more in his hold.

“Already? Such a good little rose~” He thrusts just a bit quicker, burning a bit but still pleasurable in your afterglow. His cock twitching and pulsing inside of you before he shuffles a bit in his spot, coming in closer. Stilling when his cock goes the furthest it can inside of you, pulsing while a new heat coats your insides. “Good little rose…”

Everything takes a moment to register. Your body still a bit… limp. That climax being one that was rather intense considering you haven’t gotten laid in a long time, and you were pleasured by an Astartes no less…

“…Want to go again little rose?” Ambrosius sighs, nuzzling the side of your neck. His gauntlet and hand still on your waist, and his cock still hard inside of you. “Preferably in my nest?”

“Nest?” You say, a bit confused. Not really sure what he was saying. Raising a bit on your elbow to give the Astartes a glance.

“Nest it is.” He rumbles a light laugh, pulling out of you slowly. A whine leaving you at the emptiness that suddenly envelopes you. His hand and gauntlet gently wrapping around you, covering you with himself. Having a bit of decency in order to claim you more properly.

Oh, how he was going to leave your bare and stained in his nest.

[scekrex]

HIII🫶🫶🫶🫶💍💍💍

I had an idea for a adam xm!reader and its like reader became in a way a sort of friends with the main cast of the demons (Charlie, Vaggie angel ect.) and adam finds out about it when he finds reader with fat nuggets in hel for funzies idk im not so great at English its absolutely not my first language nor the second so if its a complicated idea you can just scrap it dww!!

Furthermore i hope you have a great rest of you’re day 🫶🫶

Sup hun, I simply assumed you mean angel!reader bc it makes the most sense (and it's what I've written) hope ya like it xoxo/p

Forbidden fruits cause damage

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

You knew you weren't allowed to, you knew that if Sera or the other seraphims were to find out, they wouldn't let you come back, that you would only see Adam once a year during extermination day and it really messed with your head to be constantly reminded of how tight heaven's rules were.

And yet you came back over and over again.

At first it had been to visit Charlie's hotel, to make sure she wasn't violating any rules heaven had made - that had been an order from Sera. But when Charlie had greeted you so warmly as if she was one of your closest friends and Niffty had dubbed you 'totally hot not-badboy' you couldn't resist when it came to visiting these shitheads.

At first your visits had been rare, they had been a once every couple month kinda deal, you needed to be careful not to draw any attention to you after all. But soon every couple months turned into once a month, once a month became once every two weeks and every two weeks quickly switched to every week.

And while heaven seemed to either not notice or not care enough - maybe they thought you were doing business with Lucifer, who knew - Adam noticed. Of course your boyfriend would notice that every week you'd suddenly disappear for an entire day. You always made sure to leave early in the morning to be back for dinner. However, whenever you left during the early morning hours Adam woke up due to the lack of warmth that you took with you when you left. He was a cuddly guy, even if he would never admit it so of course he would notice his beloved boyfriend’s absence.

Today was yet another day to visit hell. So you went down to hell early, you had left Adam a note that stated something along the lines of 'visiting Ma & Pa, see ya tonight, big guy'. He however wasn't buying any of it. You had once lied to him by telling him you were hanging out with a friend of yours and when Adam had left the apartment for a walk he had seen said friend alone. The same thing happened a couple weeks later again.

He crumbled the little note in his hand and threw it onto the bed. He trusted you, he really did, but then there were his insecurities. His first and second wife had both decided to cheat on him and leave him. What prevented you from doing so too? He didn't know and the thoughts of you fucking another guy were eating him alive.

What if you disappeared once a week to enjoy time with someone who was more charming and loving than him? With someone who'd constantly tell you how much he loves you instead of jokingly insulting you? He couldn't stand his mind for fucking him up so badly, he wanted to crash his head against a wall until it would split open, but he didn't.

Instead he snapped his fingers to let a small orb appear in front of him. The scene the orb showed him was fogged up at first but the picture got clearer only seconds later. He felt disgusting for spying on you, wanted to scratch the skin off of his bones and claw out his eyes but it was the only thing that quieted down his mind at least a little bit.

The orb showed you a bright smile on your face as you held a little pig, petting the small animal lovingly. Next to you stood Angel Dust.

Angel Dust?

“Fat Nuggets really loves you, y’know, poor baby always gets sad when you have to leave,” the pornstar explained with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. Adam couldn't believe what he was seeing. You were in hell, even worse: you were in hell to hang out with the demon scum like it was the most normal thing to do for an angel as pure as you were. The brunette was so overwhelmed by his feelings that he didn't even recognize it when the orb disappeared again, the only thing that was on his mind was why you didn't tell him.

You were apparently regularly hanging out in hell and instead of telling him you always made up some sad excuses why you were gone for the day. Did you not feel comfortable sharing such a big secret? Adam's mind went crazy, the wildest trains of thoughts were running through his head and there was not a single thing the first man was able to do about it, the only thing that was possible in a situation such as his was to take it.

-

When you got home that evening Adam was walking up and down in the living room. “You okay, babes?” you casually asked, your voice didn't indicate that you had been lying to him for months, it didn't indicate that you had just gotten back to heaven after spending the entire day with some demon fuck-ups. “You wanna explain me where the fuck you were?” Adam asked instead of answering your question and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes gave away that he was pissed about something yet they were glued onto your body leaning against the door frame. “I wrote you a note, I was-” you were about to explain but the first man to ever be created didn't let you finish, “Fuck you and fuck your lies. You weren't visiting your parents bitch, you were in hell visiting the demon fuck-ups who think redemption is possible.”

You frowned at his words - yes that was true but how the fuck did Adam know about that? “What? So you were spying on me?” you questioned his behavior and stepped towards Adam. The brunette seemed to be close to crying yet his body was ready for a fist fight. “After I figured out you lied to me twice about hanging out with friends? Duh,” he made a hand movement that was supposed to symbolize something along the lines ‘obviously I did’.

You let out a deep sigh. He was right. And that was way too fucking hard to actually admit. But you swallowed your pride and gave in. You walked past him, your hand reached out for him but he flinched away from your touch which resulted in you sitting on the couch alone. He didn't move an inch from the spot he was standing on, the only thing he did was to turn around in order to look at you. “I’m sorry.” A look of surprise washed over the brunette's face and his body language visibly softened. He had expected many things but an apology without a fight hadn't been one of them. “What?” he dumbly asked as he blinked at you in confusion. His wings, which had been fluffed up to make him seem bigger than he already was, dropped until they were pressed against his sides again. His beautiful golden eyes which had been full of anger only moments ago had softened too, they reflected empathy.

You couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eyes as you continued to speak so you stared at the floor instead, “I’m sorry that I lied to you, that I visited hell without telling you, I know I should have but -” you shook your head as you paused for a moment. “No. No excuses. I was afraid of your reaction to it, I know you hate them, I know you hate their project but they're actually so sweet and caring and- and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about all of it. I should have shared this with you.”

Now it was Adam who sighed as he flopped down onto the couch next to you, he kept his distance though, “I don't fucking like that you're visiting them, what if one day you'll get locked out of heaven? The fuck am I supposed to do without you?” You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes. “I honestly don't fucking care who you're friends with and what they are. That's your fucking life, I won't control that shit, that's yours to decide. Just promise me to be fucking careful ‘n’ stop fucking lying to me about it.” You nodded silently, it was the only response that felt right in that moment.

“N remember, if I have to go to fucking hell just to fuck your juicy little ass, I fucking will. You're not safe from me, not even down there,” the grin in Adam's voice was audible and you peeked up a little only to see the taller man grinning down at you. That made you smile a little.

-

It was the next day that you called Charlie to inform her that you wouldn't be able to visit as regularly anymore. You weren't willing to risk everything, especially Adam. She being the supportive girl she was obviously understood. “Who are we talking to?” Adam asked sleepily as he entered the kitchen, the poor man had just woken up and followed your voice immediately. “Charlie,” you cheered at him, “You wanna say hi?” You held your phone in front of his face, his mimic was a mix between annoyance and sleepiness as he spoke, “Sup, bitch.” Then he went to make himself a coffee. “You want one too, babes?” he offered to you and you nodded before giving him a quick ‘thank you’ kiss. “Was that Adam?” Charlie asked in surprise over the phone. “Yeah, y’know how I told ya that we're dating?” Your words made pride bloom in Adam's chest, you had been talking to your new friends about him and you weren't hiding that he was your boyfriend even though Charlie and Adam weren't exactly on good terms. “Well yeah you mentioned that but I didn't think- nevermind. I hope you two have a wonderful morning, I assume we'll see each other in two months?” Lucifer's daughter seemed eager to get off the phone now that she knew that Adam was with you. You chuckled at that, “Yeah, sure, see ya then.”

Once the call ended Adam turned around with a sharp grin on his lips, “So, how's hell reacting to a pure babes like you dating me?”

[nebulaeternal]

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ABOUT ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Last updated: 01/31/25

✦ INTRO ────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆── ―୨୧⋆ ˚ Hello! I'm Nebula. 22 | Writer | Artist | She/Her. Believe it or not, I actually love to draw a lot more than I show through this blog. Currently brainrotting over Sylus and Caleb (so that's all you might see ngl)

―୨୧⋆ ˚ I write f!xm! oneshots, series, and headcanons. I am tryna expand on this tho. I do write mainly for Sylus (and now Caleb since his release) but the other boys are sprinkled in there :3 (sorry Zayne)

―୨୧⋆ ˚ I do take ideas/requests but do keep in mind they are not guaranteed.

―୨୧⋆ ˚ This blog contains mature/explicit content. MINORS DNI. I will be blocking you if you do.

✦ NAVIGATION ──────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

―୨୧⋆ ˚ Below you'll find my LADS masterlist. It's really the only thing I have right now as it's my current fixation, but be aware—I write a lot of smut, pretty much everything there is smut. I will try to start writing other things like fluff and angst tho. Anyway, enjoy looking around!

―୨୧⋆ ˚ LADS Masterlist

✦ LINKS ────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

―୨୧⋆ ˚ Taglist Sign-up

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୨୧⋆ ˚ Hope you enjoy browsing around~ ୨୧⋆ ˚

[goatcheesecak3]

Masterlist & request conditions

Requests are currently open :^)

Request conditions

Sfw only

Short fics and hcs

Asking me to write for a hyperfeminine reader would be like asking a fish to ride a bike (I do not have the facilities for that)

I'll probably get to you faster if you request literally anyone other than Rodrick, just bc i get a LOT of Rodrick requests so I'm more excited to write for someone new (I'll still get round to u tho)

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated because my ego needs feeding (she's a ravenous bitch)

Characters I write for

Rodrick heffley (doawk)

Dean taylor (the entitled)

Adam (being charlie)

Mike (sacrifice)

Casper Galloway (dead Before dawn)

Freddy Klein (small time)

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight (Saw, 2004)

Specs (insidious)

Matt (dying breed)

Gavin (the mule)

Masterlist

All character hcs

What devon's characters would get up to on Halloween

World's best venn diagram

World's best venn diagram part two: electric boogaloo

Rodrick

Beach date

Cuddly Rodrick

Meeting the parents

Getting ready

Cuddling hcs

Dating hcs 1

Dating hcs 2

Character hcs 1

Character hcs 2

Character hcs 3

Cooking hcs

Birthday hcs

Artistic partner hcs

Adam

Blind date

Getting serious

Dating hcs

Dean Taylor

Come to bed

I'm sorry

Don't go

Nightmare

Dating hcs

Adam Faulkner-Stanheight

Dating hcs

Adam gets a good ending because I said so

Warm

Bus stop (m!reader) (f!reader)

Bus stop pt 2 (m!reader) (f!reader)

Bus stop pt 3 (m!reader) (f!reader)

Bus stop pt 4 (m!reader) (f!reader)

Bus stop pt 5 (m!reader) (f!reader)

Bus stop pt 6 (m!reader) (f!reader)

Bus stop pt 7 (m!reader) (f!reader)

Dad bod hcs

Hot head (m!reader) (f!reader)

Art teacher

Specs

Specs xf!reader

Specs xm!reader

Coming out ( x ftm!reader)

Drunk (m!reader) (f!reader)

Gavin

Gavin x F!reader

[seeminglyranch87]

Taylor & Travis Timeline

February 2024 - part 1

February 4 - Taylor Swift cryptically changes her social media profile pics to black & white images sending us Swifties into a frenzy of "what does this mean?" & "Taylor is up to something!"

This is followed by her website going down - people investigate the error code and determine that this was done on purpose and that the letters "hneriergrd" spell "red herring" and 321 is a count down. Many fans expect the announcement of Reputation (Taylor's Version) others are wondering if she will announce the release of TS11?

What is Taylor up to ?????

Travis Kelce arrives in Las Vegas ahead of the Super Bowl. Travis will not be attending the Grammys due to his commitments with the Chiefs.

66th Grammy Awards - Taylor is nominated for 6 awards:

✨ Album of the Year ✨ Record of the Year ✨ Song of the Year ✨ Best Pop Solo Performance ✨ Best Pop Duo/Group Performance ✨ Best Pop Vocal Album

Taylor arrives at the Grammys in a white Schiaparelli gown (x)

Taylor Swift receives her 13th Grammy for Best Pop Vocal Album. Taylor uses the occasion to announce the release of her 11th studio album "The Tortured Poets Department" on April 19, 2024! (x)

Taylor is awarded the history making Album of the Year Grammy for her album "Midnights". This is the 4th time Taylor has received this award - the most for any artist in Grammy's history (x)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Recording Academy / GRAMMYs (@recordingacademy)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Recording Academy / GRAMMYs (@recordingacademy)

February 4 - Taylor releases the tracklist of The Tortured Poets Department in order to get ahead of leaks. Swifties are collectively floored by the track names.

TTPD Tracklist:

1. Fortnight (ft. Post Malone)

2. The Tortured Poets Department

3. My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toy

4. Down Bad

5. So Long, London

6. But Daddy I Love Him

7. Fresh Out the Slammer

8. Florida!!! (ft. Florence + the Machine)

9. Guilty as Sin?

10. Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

11. I Can Fix Him (No Really | Can)

12. loml

13. I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

14. The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

15. The Alchemy

16. Clara Bow

17. The Manuscript

February 5 - Travis likes NPR IG post (x)

February 6 - Travis Kelce attending pre Super Bowl promotion and being interviewed. He handles SO many questions about Taylor (x)

Travis talks about leaving his ego at the door and bring the right energy with Taylor (x)

February 7, 8, 9, 10 - The Eras Tour, Tokyo Dome, Tokyo, Japan

Dear Reader (guitar) & Holy Ground (piano)

Eyes Open (guitar) & Electric Touch (piano)

Superman (guitar) & The Outside (piano)

Come in with the rain (guitar), You're on your own kid (piano)

February 10 - Taylor departs Japan to fly back to USA to attend the Super Bowl with Jet renamed (The football Era).

Ed Kelce speaks to People Magazine ahead of the Super Bowl (x)

Sirius XM Sports interview Andy Reid (x) and ask if Taylor is a distraction for Travis? Chiefs head coach Andy Reid replies

"...it's a tribute how [Taylor] has handled it, how Kelce has handled it. It hasn't been a distraction so there haven't been any problems with it... She loves the game and she obviously loves Kelce, I'm happy for both of them..."

February 11 - NFL Super Bowl LVIII, Allegiant Stadium, Las Vegas NV

Chiefs v 49ers

Travis up early and liking a post by Sportscenter where Shaq expresses his interest to meet Taylor (x)

Chiefs defeat 49ers 25 - 22 in a nail biting game that went to overtime. This is Travis Kelce's 3rd Super Bowl victory within 5 years.

Taylor is joined by Blake Lively, Ice Spice, her parents Scott & Andrea Swift, Travis' parents Ed & Donna Kelce, Jason & Kylie Kelce, Ashley Avignon, Austin Swift & girlfriend Sydney, Miles & Keleigh Teller, Aric Jones, Ross Travis & Lana Del Ray & others in a private suite at Allegiant Stadium, Las Vegas. She wears a corset top by an Australian designer, quite possibly a nod to her next tour stop...

Blake telling Taylor “He is going to win for you” (x)

Celebrating the Super Bowl win together!

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A post shared by NFL (@nfl)

"Thank you for making it half way across the world, you're the best baby, the absolute best. Was it electric?" says Travis to Taylor (x)

*take special note of the caption!

Post Super Bowl press conference (x) Travis is asked "Has any couple had a better week than Grammys to Super Bowl cleaning up?"

Taylor, Travis and their friends attend various after parties to celebrate the Chiefs win. The Chainsmokers play multiple Taylor Swift songs, including You Belong With Me (x) Travis and Taylor are spotted singing along together at Zouk Nightclub, Resorts World.

Taylor says "that was the most romantic thing that ever happened" and then Travis kisses her on the cheek (x)

Taylor posts a tiktok about the event...

There is lots of PDA (x)

Travis gives his jacket to Taylor (x) on their way into XS at Wynn Resort, Las Vegas to continue celebrating.

Travis and Taylor dance together when Love Story is played (x) (x) (x)

February 12 - CBS Sports air Travis Kelce Super Bowl Interview with Tracy Wolfson (x 1:35)

Tracy asks what it is like to have Taylor alongside him on this journey?

"It's been nothing but fun. We've both been learning about this lifestyle, knowing that I brought her into the football world. It's been an unexpected ride that I've just been having a blast with."

Travis also addressed fan conspiracies that the relationship is a fraud. "You're all crazy," he said with a laugh. "Every last one of you is crazy."

February 14 - the Chiefs post-Super Bowl win parade in Kansas City.

Go to previous update -> January 2024 Part 2

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