#(I was to lazy to male them all have the same canvas when I finished them

[latteandjacks]

It was a matter of time for me to make a spooky month au bsed on MIR

I was gonna use Jaune and Carmen, but I have several mini aus based on games and I wanted to leave them for The Leftvovers

So Doomed Skump it is (But as I said on another post, nah man the bride doesn’t deserve her so this same scenario applies here)

Small blood warning under cut

[vodika-vibes]

Hi! May I request an androgynous-presenting m!reader x Tech where he meets the reader at a club where they work as a dancer to get intel for a job and some… steamy stuff transpires? Perhaps with the reader and Tech being on kinda equal grounds flirtation-wise, as I always find overly blushy readers or Batch members a bit awkward.

Love your fics! Cheers!

The Dancer

Summary: You’ve been undercover as a dancer at the most well known night club on Coruscant for months now, and you’ve come to enjoy it. In part for the attention, in part for the extra money, and in part for him, Tech.

Pairing: TBB Tech x M!Reader

Word Count: 1756

Warnings: Smutty/Spicy/Steamy

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I don't use any pronouns for the reader in this fic at all, though if I had I would have used they/them pronouns. But the reader does have male sex organs. I hope this is close to what you wanted. You said steamy, rather than full on smut so I stopped before anything more happened. Please let me know if this isn't what you wanted, and I'll try again.

“Another theme night?” You ask, shivering as the cold paint is applied to your spine, “Kriff! That’s freezing!”

“Deal with it.” Ali, your friend and fellow dancer, says as he carefully paints another scale on your spine. 

“I have to wonder about the political correctness of this theme,” You continue, more to yourself than to your friend, “I mean, in a galaxy where Nautolans and Mon Cala exist, is a mermaid/merman theme really the way to go?”

“Turn around,” Ali says, as he sits back, “I need to paint scales on your neck and down your sides.”

You sigh, “I feel like a canvas.”

“That’s what we all are. Little more than canvases for the boss’s artistic vision.” Ali rolls his eyes, “He got new rings for all of us. With ‘beads that match his vision’.”

“Which means green or blue, right?”

Ali snorts, “They’re teal.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“Also, he has color spray for your hair.” He tosses a spray bottle into your hands, “Get styling.”

“This job kind of sucks sometimes.”

“Be grateful he’s going with a water theme and not the winged theme that he was originally planning.”

“Don’t remind me.” You carefully work the color through your hair as Ali paints your skin, and you’re thrilled when you both finish at the same time. 

“Don’t forget the earrings.” Ali says as he presses a new set of earrings into your hands.

“These are so tacky.” You bitch, even as you remove your simple silver studs and replace them then the teal teardrop shaped bead that hangs from a chain.

“And yet, we’re going to make bank.” Ali says, “Come on. It’s almost time to begin.” He flashes a sly smirk, “Maybe you’ll see that cute clone that’s been coming to watch you.”

“They’re all cute,” You reply with a lazy wave of your hand.

“The one with glasses.”

“What’s wrong, babe? Jealous?”

“Of you? Please. We both know I’m the pretty one.” Ali winks at you and then leads the way out of the room with you hot on his heels.

“Pretty? I think you mispronounced petty, Al.”

“I can be both.” He says with a laugh as he joins the sea of green and blue clad women and men.

You allow yourself to be swept with the throng of people, and a small smile crosses your face when you step into the club proper. As ever, it’s been totally transformed. The normal rich reds and golds, replaced with blues, greens, purples, and silvers. 

“Alright, alright.” The owner of the club climbs up onto a platform, his eyes alight with glee, “You all look amazing! You look exactly like I envisioned~” He claps his hands together, “Alright. The dancers tonight are anyone who has gold on their outfit.”

You look down at the panels of cloth hanging from your waist…blues, greens, and silvers. No gold. Guess you’re not on dancing detail tonight.

“If you have silver on you, you’re going to be wandering the floor.” The owner continues, “And anyone with bronze is a bartender or wait staff. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Ali raises a hand, he’s wearing an identical outfit to you, only with gold rather than silver, “Any special events tonight?”

“None that were cleared with me.” The owner replies, “Alright everyone, places! We open in 30!”

The crowd disperses into three distinct sections, and you head towards the door, joking lightly with some of your coworkers. You never get much intel on Theme Nights, but honestly, you’re not that bothered.

They’re fun.

Several hours later, you’re done with the night. 

Theme nights are fun, but they’re exhausting. All you want is to take a break.

Your eyes flicker across the club one more time, and then you see the one person you were hoping to see.

Tech is tucked in a booth in the back of the club, he looks kind of uncomfortable, but he also looks very curious about the employees.

Well, what kind of employee would you be if you let him remain curious. A sharp grin crosses your face, as you abruptly turn and weave through the crowd of people.

“Well now, color me surprised.” You joke as you lean your hip against the silver rimmed table. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Tonight of all nights.” 

Tech’s head snaps up, and he blinks at you, startled. 

His gaze flickers across the paint decorating your arms, sides, and chest, and then drops to the gauzy, floaty material hanging from your waist, and then his gaze snaps back to your face.

“You invited me.” Tech says, matter of factly, his gaze dropping back to the paint low on  your hips, “It would have been rude of me to not come.”

“Sure, sure.” You grin at him, your eyes sparkling, “Like the paint?”

“Yes.” Tech replies honestly, “It is very attractive.”

You laugh, “Have I ever mentioned how much I love your honesty?”

Tech’s lips twitch into a smile, “Not recently.”

“Shame. You should visit more often so I can heap praise on you.”

“I am afraid that you will make my ego swell.” Tech says as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Just your ego? Pity.” You say, once he’s taken a sip.

Tech chokes on his drink, “You,” He coughs, “You did that on purpose.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Of course not.” The sarcasm just drips from his voice, and you grin at him, “You know,” Tech notes after a moment, “My brothers say that you are a bad influence.”

“I don’t really care about what your brothers think.” You counter with a shrug, “I care about what you think. So, Tech, do you think I’m a bad influence?”

Tech gaze drops to your lips, to your chest, to your hips, “The worst.”

You grin at him, “You know there are private rooms available, right?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You know that it is.”

Tech glances away from you for a moment, “I…probably should not.”

“Why?”

“My brothers will not approve of any of this.”

You lean over the table, and hook your finger around the collar of his shirt, “I told you,” You say with a sharp smile, “I don’t care what your brothers think.”

Tech obviously wars with his indecision, and you decide to give him one more push, “If you’re really not willing, Tech, I won’t make you. But you know that anyone here can buy my time, right?”

Tech frowns, “Yes. I know.” He glances at his datapad for a moment, seeming to read a message on the screen, and then he stands. “I think I would like a private room.”

“A fine choice, sir.” You reply gleefully, “This way.” You lead him through the crowd of people, until you reach the quieter part of the club, where the private rooms are located.

Three of them are being used, but the one on the end isn’t, and that’s where you lead him. You open the door, and adjust the time so that the charges will be applied to you, rather than him, and then you move to the side to let him in the room.

You’re careful to lock the door, and then, promptly, drop onto one of the plush chairs with a groan. “That’s much better.” You say as you rip the ridiculous looking sandals that you were forced into off your feet and toss them to the side.

Tech settles next to you, and for one, he’s not even glancing at his datapad, instead his gaze is locked on you. 

“See something you like?”

“May I touch you?”

You arch a brow, “If you like.”

His rough, calloused hand lands on your chest, and lightly tracing the painted scales, he looks surprised. They’re not coming off.

“I have to use special soap to wash the paint off.” You explain as you allow him to push you to your back on the couch. “It’s about as much of a pain as you expect.”

Tech’s hands trace down your torso, lightly tracing the paint as it makes its way down your body. “How far down does the paint go?”

You arch a single brow, “Why don’t you look and see?”

Tech’s hands hesitate low on your stomach, and then, with surprising swiftness, he unfastens the belt holding the panels of cloth on, and he carefully sets it to the side.

The trunks that you’re wearing are low cut, intentionally so to allow for as much skin to be painted as possible, and you settle back on the couch as Tech’s hands drift lower and lower. 

He swallows, hard, “Does the paint go under-”

Truthfully, yes. Ali’s something of a perfectionist, so you are actually completely covered in paint, but rather than telling him that, you just smirk, “I’m not telling. If you wanna know, you have to see for yourself.”

Tech’s gaze locks with yours, “You do not think I’ll do it.” He accuses as he rubs small circles against your skin with his thumbs.

Honestly, his touch is starting to make it hard to think, and you can feel yourself hardening. Of course, you have no shame, and if Tech’s noticed he hasn’t said anything about it. 

“You think so?”

Tech keeps his gaze locked on yours as he hooks his fingers under the waist of the shorts, and he tugs them down sharply. His gaze drops from your face, and trails down to your now achingly hard cock.

It, like every other part of you, has been carefully painted. And Tech’s face twitches. 

He trails a light finger across the paint decorating your cock, and you twitch, a low hiss falling from your lips, “You let someone paint you.” He sounds jealous and you laugh.

“Jealous, Tech?”

“Annoyingly, yes.”

You smirk at him, smugly. 

“You are incredibly annoying.” Tech announces as he wraps his hand around the base of your cock and gives you a firm stroke, pulling a curse from your lips and causing your hips to twitch.

“I’m not the one teasing.” You reply. “I’m also not the one still fully dressed.”

Tech pauses, midstroke, and then he leans down and crashes his lips against yours. What starts out as a heated kiss, becomes softer and more needy the longer it goes on, and you reach around him to tangle your fingers in his hair at the base of his skull.

“I…” Tech breathes against your lips, “I want you. Need you.”

And you laugh, “You have me, Tech.”

[nestable]

BRING IT ON HOME NESSIAN ONESHOT

Bring it on Home to me by Sam Cooke is on of my favorite songs in the word and I highly recommend you go have a listen if you havent heard it, I promise you wont regret it. I was listening to it the other day and instantly thought of how these lyrics resonated with nessian, cassian more especially and couldn't resist writing this fic. Just a little soft, SFW, domestic Nessian. 🥺😭

"Nes." Cassian groaned as he rolled closer to her side of the bed. "Nesta?"

After being met with stark silence, Cassian outstretched his hand only for it to collapse onto cold sheets.

No Nesta, he realized with a start.

Though he and his Nesta have been mated for some months now, all of which have been without an incident, he can't help but worry.

Each night he reassures himself with the knowledge of their bond, the heat of her body pressed against his own, the words of love and loyalty she ensures he hears everyday, that she is safe and finally happy.

Not miserable and balancing on the cusp of oblivion where he found her last year. Juggling between drowning her sorrows and indulging in sub-par sex just to feel something, just to deny the connection they share because she felt that she wasnt worthy of him. No, that was all over now, but he can't help when the memories resurface.

The memory of Nesta writhing and arched in her bed as silver flames wreathed her body like a shroud. The screams of pain and anguish that left her lips only to be swallowed by starless night and Deaths flames. How the very mountain trembled beneath their feet, bracing itself for the potential explotion that Cassian could sense building up. Somehow he knew that Velaris would've been crumpled to dust that night and become a fond memory. He felt it in his gut. Just the same way he felt her night terrors take hold of her for her powers to bask in centre stage. And in the same breath, he also felt that he could stop it. Whether that was pure male arrogance or the suspicion of the bond that lay between them, that was yet to be found. And it was...the moment her powers seized in intensity when he said her name. Once, twice, just enough for Rhys to gain control and save them all.

No, he would never forget that and he'd be damned if it were to happen again and catch him in a helpless position as the first time he witnessed the extent of her power. A power that mostly returned back to the Cauldron, only to be replaced by 3 Dread troves and the Mothers favour. A different sort of threat perhaps. One sweeter, kinder, even benign from what he's witnessed.

Nesta barely speaks about the power the same way she did with her Cauldron gifts. She reassures him that these were different, these she understands and smiled every time he enquired about her connection with the Mother. He wishes to know more, his body yearns for it, but his mate has always loved surprises.

Cassian threw on a pair of his undershorts before leaving his and Nestas new room. Though the House of Wind has become their shared abode, its ill advised to walk around naked with the possibility of Azriel becoming an unwilling spectator with his prowling around the halls in the dead of night like he's been doing for the past year.

Cassian loves his brother, sometimes more than kin normally do, he believes sometimes, but he'll never forgive him for that night he ruined his birthday night when he walked in on Nesta modelling her new negligee in the library. He's never jumped from one intense emotion to another so quickly. Blinded by the red lace of her silk garments only to see red of a different kind when the blue of Azriels siphon opened the door.

The territorial male part of him nearly took over that night and he was inclined to let it ride him had Nesta not winnowed them to their room and pushed him onto the bed. The anger, the curiosity he had as to how Nesta was able to winnow around the House when no one else could were obscured then turned insignificant by the view of Nesta sitting astride on his thighs.

Cassian followed the music swimming through the hall which brought him to a new lounge area that didn't present itself in the centuries that he's been living here until Nesta inherited the place.

Many new things have made their presence known and sprung to life since Nestas made the House her home. Hidden rooms have materialized, troves have opened and a gorgeous garden has flourished on the top of the mountain. As if in preparation of someone, or little someone's who might need it.

Cassian isn't blind to the fact that the House makes things available according to Nestas hopes, dreams and wishes. All of which make Cassian excited for the future and a forever with his mate even more.

Nesta was leaning against the cream white wall that she and Cassian painted just last night, holding an A2 canvas painting in both hands. He couldn't decipher her facial expression or read some of the wild thoughts that were evidently bouncing around her head as Nesta was inclined to raising her mental walls to him when she was stressed. He'd once asked why and she told him that she didnt want to plague him with her problems. Didnt want to bother him. Little did she know that Cassian was built for her, problems and all. Nothing about Nesta could bother him. Not even the parts that bothered her.

"Hi." He whispered which startled Nesta before she composed herself. For her to be so drawn into her thoughts that she didnt notice him approaching, instantly put him on edge him.

"Hi." She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her face.

Cassian took that as an invitation to enter. His eyes swept across the room, taking in the organized clutter. From the closed boxes filling the lounge, the half hung snow white gossamer curtains blowing in from the open balcony, to the slightly dusty white marble tiles that were installed just last week.

Cassian was a bit skeptical when Nesta told him of her plans to decorate this room in all white. White cushions, white couches, white walls, white flower arrangements, white chandeliers and white fur carpets felt like a fever dream to Cassian, but now that it's all coming to life, he can see the vision of beauty that Nesta had in mind. A vision not only limited to this lounge but the entire House of Wind that Nesta will decorate herself with the input of the House itself to revitalize the place. All of which will be paid for by Rhys.

How the Cauldron matched him to such a female, not mere female but god, he'll never know. All he can do is be grateful and work to be worthy and deserve the gift to draw breath in her presence.

Now that Nestas accepted her Human emissary role and is the courts newly appointed courtier, she's recieving the same fat salary like the rest of the IC, but Cassian doubts that Rhysand will ever let Nesta access her funds because he insists on paying for everything for her. Which goes to show that Rhys' gratitude for Nesta runs very far. Or guilt, or both.

What Nesta did for Feyre, Nyx and Rhys was something that couldnt be described with words. She saved their lives and in doing so the entire court. Rhys failed to tell his family about him and Feyres decision and never left a plan of action to follow after his death. Had he died, the role of High Lord could've fallen to anyone. Probably Keir or one of Mors detestable brothers because they are Rhys closest male blood relatives. What they would've done to Velaris, done to the entire court....Cassian seldom contemplates that. Nestas sacrifice and mercy saved them all and in doing so, opened herself to a higher form of being that is yet to be seen.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I had a lot on my mind. I couldn't sleep so I decided to come and get this room in order." She explained, flipping her golden brown hair over her shoulder.

"What's been on your mind?" Cassian asked casually, taking a step closer.

He'd have embraced her and held her against his chest if it weren't for the massive painting in her hands. A painting that he can feel is the source of all her trepidation.

Nesta bit her lip before turning the canvas toward him and placing it in his hands. "Feyre finally finished that and it was delivered yesterday afternoon. I was too afraid to open it then- but I figured that I wouldn't be able to sleep until I saw it."

At first glance, anyone would assume that the muse was Nesta. From the steel eyes to the clear skin and poise in the pose. But upon further inspection, the age of the woman, the beauty spot beneath her right eye and slight darker tresses reveals the truth.

"This is your mother..." Cassian said lowly. The weight of the image, not the canvas itself but the obvious memories, pain and loss the painting held settled on him.

"Was." She uttered a bit sharply. Her throat bobbing up and down.

Cassians eyes darted between Nesta and the painting. Surprise and admiration pouring into him in droves. Her sisters did mention more than once that Nesta is their mothers spitting image, but this...it was as though the same person had been born twice.

"You stole her whole face." He chuckled, bringing a sweet curve to Nestas lip.

"I know...I know." She shrugged.

Cassian lay the painting carefully against the wall then wrapped his arms around his mates shoulders. Her own found their home around his waist as she rested her chin atop his chest so that their eyes could meet.

If it were a few months ago, a year, she would've furiously blinked away the tears that have settled in her eyes, or rejected their proximity entirely. Only to retain a semblance of control that shes strived so hard to maintain. But now shes opened herself to him entirely. Made him a part of both her happiness and pain, loss and gain, victories and failure. Just as their mating vows ordered.

"Talk to me." He whispered, dragging his fingers through her hair.

"I- I just...I know that my mother was not the best of mothers, nor did she love us in the ways that a mother should but....but that doesn't make me love her any less. She might've trained me instead of raised me, saw me as a ticket to wealth and leisure or lived vicariously through me but she was still my mother." Her tears fell down her cheeks as if a damn had been broken. "There were good moments as well as bad and I'm not going to pretend that she was never loving or good to me. Elain and Feyre might've forgotten her, but I can't... I wont."

Cassian lowered his head to press soft kisses to her cheeks where her tears left stains. "I know." He murmured. "You dont share the same memories as Elain and Feyre, it's only natural that you saw her much differently and remember her in a better light than they do." He rubbed feather light circles on the back of her neck in an attempt to assuage her from her pain.

"It broke my heart when I walked through Feyres house that day and didn't see a piece of myself or her. It felt like I was being erased, forgotten. Now I've found my place in that hall but she hasn't. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't let her be erased just like that."

"And she wont be, not if you will it. I'll remember her with you." Cassians lips found Nestas and before they knew it, the couple found themselves descending into a deep kiss that only a mating bond could conjure.

"You know that's one of the reasons I love you?" He stated, to which Nesta replied with a raised brow. "Your compassion, your massive heart, your loyalty... these are all qualities that you motivate me to pursue everyday. You've kept your soft side hidden for a long time and now we're starting to see it." She smiled. By far the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "That sweet love. Just bring it on home to me."

A giggle was shared between them as soon as the words left his mouth. The lyrics of a song, their song, that came on the day of their mating ceremony that they had on repeat for 2 hours straight. Cassian had never heard a song that spoke to him and his experience with love the way that one did. One that Nesta knew would speak to his very marrow and chose not to warn him in advance, only to see his reaction.

"You're insufferable." She said, only to hug him tighter and lay her head on his chest.

"Well then you're going to have to get used to it, Nes. We only have forever left together."

Just when Cassian expected Nesta to respond, the soft melody of a piano begun in the corner of the room from Nesta symphoniam, followed by the ever true lyrics that might've been written for them, that might as well have been their wedding and mating vows.

If you ever change your mind

About leaving, leaving me behind

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Nesta begun the dance. Cassian followed with no hesitation. Though it was a far cry from the pulsating waltz they'd done in Hewn city or other court events thereafter. It was far more intimate, passionate. Just a sway of the hips and foot movements that reforged and strengthened the golden bond that surged through them on Winter Solstice and polished it to a shimmer. Their bond was not a mere tether, not a chain. It was a rainbow. Shimmering through storms and sunny days. It didnt only make its presence known or surge when they were in the throes of passion, it became more sentient when they were upset with each other. It was the musical and colourful road that led mate back to mate. Self back to self.

I know I laughed when you left

But now I know I only hurt myself

Baby, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

His heart cracked at the words and the truth they carry. The memories when they were so at odds with each other that they could barely be in the same room longer than necessary. The nights when he thought the immense sadness and grief at the prospect of losing her entirely would drown him and suffocate him. When he wished that he could rip his heart out of his chest only to get a reprieve from his anguish. Anguish he attempted to expunge with throwing himself into work and training only to realize that the further they moved from one another, the further they moved from themselves.

As if Nesta could hear and feel those memories, she held onto him tighter. This female, his tether to reality, his anchor, the tree that was able to weather a thunderstorm that left the land decimated only to come back and continue to grow with fruits and flowers on display for all to see.

I'll give you jewellery and money, too

That ain't all, that ain't all I'll do for you

Oh, if you bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian knew that from the moment he met Nesta, there was nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for her. Nothing too out of reach that if she should request, he would give. He was already hers in mind, body and soul. Their bond might've snapped into being after she emerged from the cauldeon, but the draw he felt toward her was infinite. Like their souls were made from the same essence but placed on earth in different time periods so that they know life without the other, to appreciate being together more.

You know I'll always be your slave

'Til I'm buried, buried in my grave

Oh honey, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian held up Nestas hand so that he may look upon the wedding and mating band. She requested that she have both and went to the best jeweler in Velaris to fuse both choices so that they sit as one on her finger. Both were made of rose gold, the slimmer wedding ring was imbued with three tanzanite diamonds and the larger mating band sports just one giant diamond that would need it's own security team. Cassian knew his mate loved nice things and made him pay a pretty penny to get it. He'd do again if only to see the stars that twinkled in her eyes when they chose the bands at the jeweler.

He looked at his own jeweled finger. A simple silver band that stood out more than he expected it to. He wanted to get black carbon fiber but Nesta threatened not to speak to him again if he had. Now he can't stop looking at it. He loves how it makes an appearance even though he's bedecked in full illyrian armour. He'll never forget the swell of pride he felt when his soldiers eyes zoned in on the piece of metal that could've easily been obscured by the red siphon that rests atop his hand, but chose to stand out and make its presence known. A symbol of his immature bachelorhood dead and gone, giving life to a new stage in his life. A stage he's waited for longer than he cares to admit.

He remembers using the word 'shackled' when describing his mating bond with Nesta when he was upset with her, but now that word seems appropriate. If the pieces of metal sitting on their matching fingers are the shackles of which he spoke, then he'd wear his shackles with pride.

One more thing

I tried to treat you right

But you stayed out, stayed out at night

But I forgive you, bring it to me

Bring your sweet loving

Bring it on home to me

Yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah) yeah (yeah)

Cassian rarely thinks about the time they spent apart. When resentment, self punishment and grief pulled them apart only because those memories are nothing in comparison to the centuries he spent without her.

Living life believing the words of the ignorant and seeing oneself as a inferior and undeserving of the love that he relishes in now. The love that has somehow wiped away centuries of self hate and lack of self awareness. He figures that the reason why he used to be the first to throw himself into deadly missions were all desperate plea to prove himself, to put it into stone that he isn't a mere worthless bastard but is someone worthy of respect. But now his outlook has completely shifted. He is no longer living only for himself, but for another. He remembers the blind terror he felt when he thought that Nesta was swallowed by the black water in the Bog, or how she screamed when she thought that she lost him on Mount Ramiel.

He doesnt want either of them to go through that again. To be without the other. To feel that their very heart was ripped out of their chest, when both had taken permanent residence in the other.

He saw how Feyre reacted when Rhys died, and heard when Rhys screamed when Feyre was on deaths doorstop. The mere thought of Nesta experiencing that pain or him has softened his daring heart.

He will live, he will love and he will do it with Nesta in his arms.

As the song drew to a close, Nesta shifted from her position on his chest, too look upon him again. She brought her slim fingers to his cheeks and smiled. "Forever."

He could offer nothing but the same. A truth that had been both a promise and a prayer from the moment they met, "Forever."

Tag: @bakingandbooks3 @rhysandsdarlingfeyre @arinbelle @silvernesta @darklobe @haepaw @carlieg20 @illyrianshadowhunter

[nsfwhaikyuu-knb]

Yes please! Pink Shin-chan and Pink Kazu-chan, with a female s/o. Thank you!

I’m sorry, I got lazy so I just did Midorima! You’re free to request Takao separately if you’d like~

Your nose scrunched up at the sight of the tall male, “What are you doing in here?”

It wasn’t that you hated him; he was your soulmate. But you were an artist, being around him was dangerous enough— once a person is near their soulmate, they lose the sight of colors. Unless you kiss them they’ll come back once they’re out of your sight though.

“My lucky item is paint today, I had none at home and they ran out in the store,” he made up an excuse, looking at your painting with scrunched eyes as he tried to guess what colors graced the canvas. It took him a moment to notice that you were already holding out a tube of acrylic paint for him.

He accepted it with a sigh, placing it by his side as he took the seat next to you, “How long do you plan on avoiding me?”

He noticed the tension rising in the room as you placed down your brush, swirling it inside its cup, “Forever? I can’t afford losing the ability to see colors, I’m an artist! I don’t even know you well enough to tell whether or not I’d even consider throwing away the only thing that makes me good at what I am.”

“Unless we kiss, you won’t lose your ability to see colors,” he commented, shifting slightly before he adjusted his glasses by pushing them up the bridge of his nose, “I won’t force you into anything. We’ve known about this since high school and we’re adults now. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

Your hand went out for your neck as you began massaging it, “Why, do you like me that much that you’re willing to come to my store and beg for me?”

The green haired male’s cheeks turned a scarlet shade as he denied it straight away, “I merely needed my lucky item. The fact that I had a bone to pick with you because my mother forced me to do it is simply a nuisance along the way.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “Your mom made you? And I’m supposed to believe that? Honestly, you don’t seem worth my colors.”

With his brows raised in shock and his mouth slightly agape, the male remained speechless.

“I’ll show you just how worthy I am if you give me a chance, (Last name)-san,” his voice dropped for an octave as he leaned in, grasping your chin gently. Thank the heavens that neither of you could see colors at that point because you had both turned into tomatoes.

“Alright, one chance,” you muttered, moving his hand away as you hoped that he couldn’t hear your raging heartbeat. You passed him your visit card, scooting him out of the store, “Don’t blow it. Now please leave, I really have to finish that painting.”

As dumbfolded as he was, the male just shook his head, glancing at the card that you gave him. He has liked you since high school; he attended every exhibition you ever had, he had seen you smiling and he had seen you crying. You were best friends before you hit the delicate age of 18. That’s when you started avoiding him to the best of your ability; that’s when you started losing the sight of colors whenever you’d see him.

“You’re making this difficult for me, Shin-chan,” he remembered you crying, “I care about you, but art is my passion. I’m not ready to throw it away this early on, I don’t want to live wondering what could have happened had I pursued my dream.”

“I understand; I’ll wait for you. I’ll never force you into anything you don’t want me to.”

Since he was 18 he made sure to remain close to you, he wanted you to remember what you once felt for him. He wanted you to remember it because he never forgot- you were both 27 years old now and he wanted to know if he was truly barking up the wrong tree.

He buried his face in his palms; how could it be the wrong tree when it’s you?

The date night finally came and it was everything that he hoped for. You looked stunning, not a single trace of paint on you as your cheeks practically radiated warmth. He had no place to judge, he was probably even worse.

The conversations started off as random bickering, sarcastic comments and eye rolls but  they ended with fond memories of your high school days. You made it a goal for yourself that night to embarrass him as much as possible about the attitude he had back then.

He remembered laughing. He remembered laughing a lot.

The male woke up next morning, his lips curling upwards at the sight of your message.“You didn’t blow it.”

Ever since, you made sure to make time to meet up with him as often as possible. He started bringing you your lucky items just like he did when you were young. You’d protest and roll your eyes at him, but it didn’t stop the man.

Two years had passed and you became incredibly close with Midorima. However, that didn’t change the fact that you still avoided his advances like the black plague. You noticed how his eyes would glance away remorsefully whenever you’d flinch away. It made sense, you were being cruel.

At that point you were aware that he wasn’t bothered by the fact that you wouldn’t kiss him- it bothered him that your work was still more important to you than he was. He never mentioned it, he’d switch the topic and move on, but you knew.

Art was your first true love, it hurt you that you had to let it go.

You made a decision. One more exhibition. One more and you were done.

You wanted to keep it a surprise for him; you wanted to call him up to the stage and kiss him in front of the cameras at the opening.  True, he’d probably kill you for putting him in such an embarrassing spot but you wanted the world to know that you were one and the same.

So you can imagine the fear washing you over upon having to drag his seemingly unconscious body to the shore as the moon acted as your only guide. The stupid giant was too proud to admit that he doesn’t know how to swim! He tried to go in as deep as possible while you were afar and it almost cost him his life!

“Shintarou, wake up!” you tried pressing onto his chest in hopes of getting him to open his eyes, “Don’t scare me like this, wake-up!”

You could feel tears streaming down your face as you felt your hands shaking.

You pressed your lips upon his, doing your best to perform mouth-to-mouth as adequately as possible.

You were scared, shaken and alone.

Wake up, wake up, wake up! Please, Shintarou! I’m begging you!

Finally, he opened his eyes and you heard the long-awaited coughing fit as you let out a sigh of relief.

You pulled him upwards, patting his back in order to help him get it all out, “You scared me! I almost lost you—I kept pressing  your chest and you weren’t responding and then when I tried mouth to mouth you were still out cold! Do you—do you have any idea how scared I was?! Next time you don’t know something, tell me, we’re in this together, you prideful jerk!”

Midorima kept one of his arms wrapped around you, his eyes widened in shock.

“Mouth-to-mouth? You- (Name), you lost your—“ his voice was filled with sorrow and you knew he was going to start apologizing. Before he even had a chance to utter anything remotely similar to an apology, you slapped him before pulling him into a bone crushing hug, your form still shaking.

“I don’t care, stupid! The very fact that I could have lost you, even in theory, is much worse! Don’t you dare do this to me ever again!” you cried out, feeling his warm arms wrapping around you with a firm grasp as you finally felt safe.

The sea was gently crashing against the shore, your heartbeats were synced into one and you found yourself being able to calm down.

“I refuse to accept that out first kiss took place was while I was out cold; let me show you what a true kiss is,” the male growled before gently laying you down on the sand, his hands supporting him by your sides as he hovered above you.

“The ocean will get jealous of how wet I’ll get you.”

——hit me up if you’d like a nsfw continuation ;)

I genuinely hope that this is alright because I’m not into the simple aus where they just have the same tattoo and they immediately fall in love once they figure that out. Feedback is appreciated, thanks for requesting~