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faee-riee · 4 years

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let me see your soul; pt. I

let me see your soul;

SoulMateAU! OCs

\\ where everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate.

TRIGGER WARNING: A few swears, but other than that, none !

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It was depressing, to say the least - to witness people halt in their tracks as they meet eyes with a total stranger then suddenly, sparks fly. It is a monumental moment in every person’s life: they meet their lover, they can start a family with their lover, they can turn grey with their lover. However, they obviously do not know the risks of locking eyes with their lover.

Elena rested her chin on the palm of her hand as she peeks out the window at the tops of people’s heads, trying to find a subject to illustrate. Her gaze locks onto a couple parting ways, seemingly, for good. The girl walks away as the boy stands dazed. He stares at her shrinking form until she disappears out of his life completely. He looks heartbroken and that is exactly what ignites the fire inside of her. Elena’s brows furrowed together and she gripped her stubby pencil.

What’s the point in dating another person if you know they are not the one? Were they really soulmates? Is it possible for a soulmate to be unrequited? If so, is this man really heartbroken or is he just going through the notions? Either way, it’s just more wasted time that you could be using to do something more productive. The fact that some people pretend to be, bothers me. They don’t know what heartbreak looks like; and, they should be elated that they don’t.

Elena feels her pencil snap from the pressure that has been put on it in the midst of her irritation. She doesn’t need to look down to process what happened, instead she allowed her eyes to close as she sighed in frustration, “You’re kidding me.” She opens her eyes and gets up from her task chair to walk across her studio to where she keeps her graphite pencils. Passing by the door, she glances out to see her dad’s slumped form in his armchair. Elena frowned to herself by continues to open the drawer containing her regular graphite pencils. After tugging at the handle of the drawer, she groans at how light it feels and runs her fingers through her hair before looking inside.

“Empty. Okay. This is fine,” reaching for the other drawer, “Anything is okay. I’ll make do with whatever I find.”

She prays that it is filled with graphite sticks, pencils, pens, anything - but, alas, nothing. Deflated, Elena truds back to her seat and rests her head on her desk. Her lips involuntarily assumed a pout as she thinks back to her dad - she’s never seen him look that down before. Minutes pass by before she gets up and heads to her closet. She psychs herself up as she changes to go out to buy another bulk of her art supplies. Usually, she would ask her dad to buy her art supplies when he goes out to buy groceries but he hasn’t been in the mood to go outside. The food stashed at their house has been diminishing slower than normal so they did not need to head out as often. Elena deduced that her father had not been eating properly and chastised herself for not realizing sooner. She makes his favorite foods constantly, but it’s still never enough for him to finish a bowl. At the dinner table, she would look into his eyes and see a piece of his soul missing as each day goes by. His facial expressions lost its warmth: his soft dark hair, his smile, his dimple, his laugh lines. All of them were replaced with short strokes of depression etched onto his skin. Elena hated seeing him like this, and she hated her mother even more for making him like this. She has tried to convince him to go out and meet new people, telling him that maybe there was a mistake but, this would only bring up emotions that she would rather keep subdued.

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Her father’s eyes crinkled into slits, “No, listen to me, Elena. Your mother was my only shot. She was my person! My love! She left with all the color! This shouldn’t have happened -- no, this doesn’t happen! Who else has experienced something like this? No one! This is a predestined thing, and you know you fucked up when it turns out that you and your soulmate aren’t meant to be.”

“But dad! Who says that she was your one shot? Who says that--”

“No, Elena. Please, hear me out,” his sharp eyes softened considerably as he regarded her tense stance, “Her leaving isn’t the only thing that saddens me. It’s you.. You had to witness this, and you had to adapt to my behavior. I can no longer see the vibrant explosions of your work that you created. Your heart and soul. While you couldn’t see them the way I saw them, I saw you in your artwork. Along with that, I lost the colors of your warm brown eyes, your olive skin, your long black hair. That hurt my heart because all of those colors were you! All of them, painting or appearance.”

He let Elena process what he said and continued when he saw tears form in her eyes, knowing that she needed to hear this for her own good.

“I wasn’t able to hide the hurt and, I’ll admit, I let it get the best of me. But seeing you notice and start to use more colorless mediums that I told you about, just so I wouldn’t be sad made me realize that you had hidden yourself for my sake.,” he stood up from his chair and walked over to Elena to embrace her, “I’m sorry I got angry earlier.”

“Elena hid her face in her father’s chest, “It’s okay, dad, I’m sorry I pushed.”

“I don’t want you worrying about me like this, honey. Could you do that for me?”

“I can’t promise you that. I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. But please try? I hate seeing you like this more than anything.”

“I’ll try my best.”

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Elena stared at her reflection for a few more minutes and then grabbed her sketchbook before heading out into the kitchen to see which groceries she needed to buy. Okay, potatoes, carrots, chicken broth, what else..? Her dad slowly stood up, “You’re going out?”

“Yep. Ran out of some art supplies-- well, actually, all of them. But! I thought I’d restock on food while I’m out.”

Elena turned around and her dad was at the kitchen island, taking note of what was gone in the fridge, “What else do you need?”

“No, dad. Sit back down,” she pointed back to the chair and threw a playful glare at him, “I’ll be the one getting all the stuff today.”

Her dad smiled softly, “You don’t need to, I can do it. I know you don’t want to risk going outside.”

“I never said that you can’t do it,” Elena rolled her eyes, I know that you shouldn’t, “I’ve been in this house the majority of them time, that window really blocks where most of the action happens. So, I had the brilliant idea of actually putting myself in the action for once.”

She closed the fridge and smiled at him, “I’ll be fine. I’ll be out and back in no time, you wouldn’t have even known I left.”

“Why are you taking your sketchbook then?”

Elena walked over to the keyring and grabbed the spare key and put on her sunglasses, “I’ll be in the action this time, remember? I’ll do rough sketches of things and come back home to add more details.”

She walked up to her dad and stood on her tiptoes to give a kiss on his cheek then headed for the door. Once she stepped out, she realized that she actually truly missed being outdoors. While her parents were together, seeing how in love they were - it made her long to be in a relationship with someone like that. So, as a little girl, she always wanted to be outside staring at random boys around her age until she locked eyes with them. Of course, none of them were the one as she still sees in shades of black and white. Once her mother left them, she refrained from going outside as much as possible for two reasons. First being so she could stay and keep an eye on her dad to the best of her abilities, and second is to not risk ending up like him. She walked down the sidewalk until she turned onto the main road where all the businesses were. Elena waltzed through the doors of her local grocery shop and navigated herself to the vegetables. At times like this, she wondered if seeing in color would really make a difference. Words like Orange, Green, Vibrant, and Dull were just words. She knew basic things like, the sky is blue, grass is green, trees are brown, and clouds are white. But they meant nothing because she couldn’t manifest what she’s never seen. She picked up a carrot that did not look physically deformed and gave it a light squeeze to see if it was spoiled or not. Because she couldn’t rely on color, she depended on her other senses to make sure she was not buying potentially poisonous ingredients. She tossed a few more into the basket before continuing the same process with potatoes.

Elena rounded the corner into the aisle containing the chicken broth. Okay, a little rectangular carton with a picture of a chicken shouldn’t be that hard to find, right? It was. The relatively short length of the aisle seemed to drag on forever as there were multiple small rectangular boxes with a picture of a chicken. She browsed each row on the self reading the titles since she did not recall any unique features of the one they normally buy. Her walking back and forth in the same row did garner some unwanted attention.

Things like, “Poor girl, remember when we had to live like that?

“Colors really change the game.”

“Isn’t she like, twenty-one? How has she not found her soulmate?”

“I’m so glad I have you now.”

“I don’t appreciate color enough!”

They were poorly whispered around Elena. She heard every single comment, but she carried on with what she was doing until she found what she was looking for. Smiling softly to herself, she placed the chicken broth into the cart and grabbed a few more for good measure so she doesn’t ever have to do that again. She made her way to the self check-out, as she wanted to desperately get away from the eyes of those who saw her earlier, and paid for her items then immediately beelined to the exit. Elena peered into her bags to recount her items as she went through the doors only to run into a wall, effectively knocking her and her things to the ground.

A voice appeared, “I’m so sorry! Let me get those for you!”

Elena’s eyes saw a hand frantically grab for her sunglasses and her gaze couldn’t help but trail up the person’s arm until she met with this person’s eyes.

“Oh shit.”

She stared at this man’s face as it slowly started to warp into something unknown to Elena. Something new and scary - but so refresing!

“Definitely not what I thought my soulmate’s first word to me would be. But that works, too. I’m Adolfo.” He bent down to pick up the other items before he reached his hand out and patiently waited for her.

Elena’s mind wanted to start a war with her subconscious, but she put it on hold as she processed more colors becoming more saturated. She doesn’t know what she’s seeing, but she wants to see every single bit of it. It started with the color of his eyes, his skin, his hair, then it moved to the color of his shirt all the way to his shoes. Before she knew it, all her surroundings had painted themselves in all the colors known to mankind. She looked up to the sky, blue. Then to the trees, brown - her eyes went to the grass surrounding the base of the tree and jumped back up to the leaves on the tree, and green? A clearing of the throat from behind her made her take his and and jump up, apologizing profusely to the individual who wanted to get past them.

Her mind clicked and Elena whipped around to face the man who was flipping through her sketchbook, “Oh god. I said that out loud didn’t I?,” she was mortified.

He looked up and smiled, “You sure did, cutie. What’s your name?”

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out of me. I’m.. Elena.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “And that’s your real name, correct?”

“Of course! What makes you say that?”

“You hesitated.” Adolfo shut her carefully shut her sketchbook and handed it to her.

“Oh...”

“Well! Nice to meet you Elena, like I said before: I’m Adolfo. Your elated, and less talented, soulmate.”

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Author’s Note: It’s been awhile. Writing got rusty, but with all this online learning classes, an opportunity to write more stories came up. Revised the first part got tired on the rest :p This is actually supposed to be a short story for my english class, but I think I’ll make it into a series? Who knows. Hopefully through this, I improve some more and get better ideas!

I hope that you guys are staying safe and calm. If you are struggling with something and just need to vent, I’m here if you’re comfortable with that. I won’t push. In any case, if it’s more serious (because I know that some people are in unfortunate circumstances) please, don’t hesitate to seek help. People are here for you in this time of need, and they care for you.

Below, I’ll list hotlines that you or someone you know may need:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE U.S. National Domestic Violence Hotline: (800) 799-7233 The Trevor Project: (866) 488-7386 Crisis Text Line: Text ‘START’ to 741-741 National Runaway Safeline: 800-RUNAWAY (800-786-2929) True Colors United: (212) 461-4401

Stay safe and Take care. -s.

#soulmateau #ocs #writing #story #oneshot #drabble #writing prompt #random #fluff #angst #love

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kichimiangra · 5 years

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For poor artists...

Okay so weeks ago I came across a post (That I can’t seem to find now...) that roughly went like this: “All you tumblrites with depression need some hobbies to help with depression because hobbies help.”

“Not everyone has the privilege of being able to afford hobbies! Hobbies cost money!”

“You don’t need expensive stuff to draw!!! Draw on scrap paper! Napkins! Go to the dollar store!”

Now for weeks since seeing that post it keeps coming back to me... almost hauntingly. It’s not that I can’t comprehend that people can’t afford expensive art supplies, on the contrary I very much remember being like that! But today you poor artists have access to something wonderful that I didn’t growing up:

Under the cut let me tell you a tale about a wonderful place that could have granted my wish for art supplies growing up!

And that place is called Wish.com!

(Disclaimer #1: Almost everything I’m talking about here are supplies that I myself have personally purchased and tried using AND STILL DO!)

(Disclaimer #2: I don’t believe that good supplies make a good artist, but good supplies can help make a good artist better/ make their life easier!)

Now growing up I did not come from a wealthy family. I had 3 siblings, all of us close in age so we were kids/ teens together. My father worked in a warehouse and my mother was a stay at home mom because it was impossible to find an affordable babysitter considering that My older sister had trouble in school with bullies and a reading disorder, I was an un-diagnosed autistic devil-child, my younger sister had severe asthma and was always sick, and my younger brother was deaf. We all kinda needed special attention. As you can imagine we didn’t have a lot of money, and as I got older and more Artish meant I had to make due with what I could get. That didn’t mean I went without, just often had to save and wait for what I could use, which followed me to adulthood. Had Wish.com been around in my teens it would have been a godsend and I’m patient enough to wait a few weeks to get my order!

God I love these things! These ball point pens with 10 colors are what I use for story boarding comics and note taking! I used something like these when I was in college because notes were much easier to organize and read when color coded!

“But KC! I like to sketch with blue/red pencil first!” Lookie here! Colored pencil lead refills in all sorts of colors! Cyan works great and so does the red!

Now I didn’t know they came this small until recently but I LOVE this 0.3mm Mechanical pencil!!! The lines are so thin and small!!! I have literally never seen anything smaller than a 0.5mm in a store!

Now I like mechanical pencils for their consistent lead size as you draw! They’re just a click away from being back to sharpness! But you may want a 0.5mm and a 0.7mm and this 3pc set is soo sleek looking! It’s good to have a 0.9mm too! I used to have a spongebob .16mm pencil I stole from my brother but it went missing! I have never found another one that HUGE again! T_T

Speaking of pencils this nice little set comes with a mechanical pencil+lead+a white plastic eraser. They work great though the eraser is not my personal fav...

THESE are my favorite erasers to use!!! Not only are they cute colors but they’re a good consistency! They’re softer than a plastic eraser but a bit harder than a gum eraser so they feel really good to erase with and do a good job!!!

If you really like working with Pencil you can prolly just get a cheap #2 pencil at a dollar store or a box of them at Walmart, but I Really like the feel of a 2B pencil! This lead holder comes with some replacement lead too so you don’t have to worry about sharpening it to nothing!!

This set of Graphite sticks are a little messy but it comes with all kinds of lead hardness and you can use an x-acto blade to sharpen them to different size points!!!

This is a pretty basic but nice sketch set and has a lot of size options to pick and buy from!! I’ve used the small 32 set and it has everything you need if you love pencil art!

FINE LINERS!!! I have a story about Fine liners! Internet shopping hadn’t quite taken off yet for my family and the only store I knew that sold Microns/Fabercastelle fine liners was a local store. They didn’t sell them in singles so the cheapest set you could buy was a $15 Faber Castelle set with 5 pens (Sm/Med/Lrg/Brush/Chisel). Now $15 doesn’t sound too bad until you remember my family was poor. How poor? Poor enough where my sister and I would each get one of these sets for Christmas and store one away while sharing the other set in hopes of getting them both to last until June where I could get another for my birthday that will hopefully last BOTH of us until next Christmas. I noticed when you buy Microns off of Wish.com you have a 50/50 chance of getting a knock off brand but these ones here worked pretty good for their price!

“But KC! Not only am I a poor artist... I’m a poor HIPSTER artist! I wanna kick it OLD SCHOOL!” WELL This is a nice cheap little set of dip pen nib holders and nibs! The pink one is cute but I have the black one. I personally love my Cork nib holder more but for plastic this one is decently comfortable to hold and a good price! I find Nibs are a bit of “You get what you pay for” but if I was displaced into an apartment somewhere without any of my stuff and I wanted some dip pens this set would do just fine! Dip pens take some skill to get used to so even if you want to just cheaply try some this is a good set to start with! And if you want better nibs later on they fit right in these holders!

I also have a very decorative (but functional) glass dip pen! Unlike the metal nib dip pens above the glass one doesn’t really allow for a lot of variation in line weight, but if you want the line work to stay a consistent size then this one is pretty good for that, though depending on your paper it can bleed a bit... once again takes some practice to get used to it.

Now you’re gonna need some ink for those dip pens! I haven’t really gotten to try any black ink from Wish.com because I have a few bottles of black ink that I keep getting for birthdays and Christmas and such, so I haven’t run out and gotten to try a new brand. COLOR ink on the other hand... These little 5oz bottles have gold sparkles in it!! And they look nice to boot! They can get a little expensive because on THIS particular order you can only order them one at a time (And pay shipping for each bottle) but you really don’t need all 24 bottles as a lot of the colors look similar to each other.

Here’s a sketch of Keira Hagai from Jak and Daxter along with the supplies used to draw it (Notice the ink, glass and black nib pens and the 0.3mm pencil. The only thing used not from Wish.com is the feather sweeper I made from sculpey and chicken feathers.)

The ink doesn’t work great as paint though but you know what does?

PAINTS! I didn’t buy this one but it’s a nice little affordable starter set with pallet and brushes!

Now I’m a bit snooty, I prefer to buy watercolor paints in tubes and an empty paint pallet. The paint pallet I have isn’t THIS one specifically but this one is a bit nicer than the one I DO have and a bit cheaper as well! (Mine doesn’t have a lid the folds out into a paint mixing area)(Now I wish I had this one!)(Maybe when my current pallet runs out of paint...)

If you use watercolor paints you’re gonna need some brushes! This is a pretty good deal! You get 12 brushes and get to pick either flat or round tip brushes! They’re also not too shabby!

I use a set like this though! They has a water reservoir in the handle so you squeeze the water out and onto the paint! The reason I prefer these is I have a lot of pets and they like to get into mischief, so having a pallet that can be closed if I get up for a bathroom break or water that can’t be knocked over is a must for me!!

“But KC I like more... dry mediums...” Lucky for you colored pencils are all over the place on Wish.com! You can get all kinds of different sets and sizes and some even have nice carrying cases too! I haven’t bought any because I own a LOT of colored pencil sets already and don’t use them frequently... I’ve also tried some chalk pastels from Wish that worked well enough on their own but the way I use them is grinding them into a fine powder and brushing them onto paper and that didn’t grind well...

And What’s art without PAPER!?!? Wish.com is tripping paper! Whatever is in your price range look around! I can promise you you’ll find a sketch book or two within your budget! Some even name brand sketch pads!

And now some miscellaneous stuff:

I LOVE binder clips! Great way to keep all my paper together and in some places hang stuff up so I can stare at it a bit before continuing working on it!

I like art markers and not many truly can fill in the shoes left by Copic brand markers. I have tried a handful of copic alternatives (And watched even MORE comparison videos by other people who own said markers.) I feel like there is no such thing as a GOOD CHEAP QUALITY art marker. There are lots of sets on Wish.com that (For their prices) are what I consider “Cheap enough to tinker with” When I was in highschool back in 2007-9 I really really really wanted Copics and was resentful that I was poor and couldn’t get any. I would get so angry when I saw 14 year olds on deviantart who drew like ‘14 year olds on devintart’ but had no less that two 72 sets of copics. I know, it was rather petty of me to be resentful of younger more fortunate artists... The trade off with my parents was that I would settle for Prismacolor markers, bought 1 per week with a 40% off coupon provided I did all my chores and kept my grades above failing. That was the closest I ever had to an allowance. Throughout the years I’ve settled with ‘Tinker Markers’ (Cheapish alternative markers) and Ohuhu, Prismacolor, and Touch New seem to be the better alternatives. Just don’t go looking for a brush nib >.<!

MASKING TAPE! Always good for taping things to other things!! Unfortunately I feel like Walmart gives you bigger rolls for better deals so if it’s going cheap I’d say you don’t need tape from Wish...

Aaaah! A light board! And another long trip down memory lane! Last October going into Inktober I noticed there were people throwing little fits about Inktober itself and if it’s okay to do it with a digital medium. One persons comment stuck out (And echo’d in my brain) where they said (And I’m paraphrasing): “How am I supposed to focus on my ‘self improvement’ with traditional art if I just can’t draw from the anxiety of knowing that every pen stroke is permanent and I could completely ruin my drawing at any second without the CTRL+Z and layers!?!?!?!” To which my first knee-jerk reaction was: “Wow kid... I think you have waaaay more problems than inktober if your anxiety levels are THAT high that you can’t just accept an oopsie doodle and try again...” But then I do remember a time when I was like that. In college I scheduled a really bad semester with too many classes, mostly art classes. One was a classic Pen and Ink class which I did fear screwing up, not because of anxiety of failure but because I would have to start over on my homework, and that would take time from all my other homework. Time I didn’t have. I found a large sum of money on the ground ($100.00) one day, waited a month (Nobody claimed it), donated half to my local animal shelter (As is a karma thing in my family with ‘found money’) and used the other half to buy a light board (With a 40% off coupon.) It was the size of a shoe box, thick and clunky, and didn’t get very bright, but it did what I needed it to. If I screwed up on ink homework I’d throw a new paper over it and start again. You can be cheap and use a window on a sunny day, but light boxes (or light boards now) are so affordable and sleek and thin and wish has a lot of them! I have a cheapish but large A-Line tracing board that sits on my drawing table and fits well and honestly saves 40% of what anxiety I would have putting pen to paper (If I hadn’t been drawing freehand so long that I just don’t get that kind of anxiety over it)

If Wish.com was around when I was a teenager art supplies would have never been THAT big of a deal and I wouldn’t have had to ‘Carpool’ 3 fine liner sets per year with my sister!

Really, I know there will still be people out there who still can’t afford some of the things listed above, but if you have an inclination to try art whether it’s with pencils, paints, markers, pastels, ink, dip pens, fine liners, whatever you lean towards, Wish.com has a cheap affordable version that may not be the best quality out there on the market, but thinking back 15 years ago little KC would have loved to save up some money, order some new supplies, and wait a month for them to arrive so she could use them.

Once again most of the supplies listed above have been bought and used by myself. There are some great materials at mostly affordable prices on Wish.com so if you are poor like Little KC was you probably know the patience of putting aside a dollar here and there and having to wait, or if you are well off but don’t want to spend too much on a hobby you haven’t tried yet and don’t know if you’d like Wish.com has you covered!

And if you’d like to, Reblog this for other poor artists so they know they don’t have to share their fine liners!

#For artists #Especially poor artists #Art resource

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beca-mitchell · 6 years

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if you want it, you can have it

Summary: (est. relationship) Beca and Chloe go back to Seattle to visit Beca’s mom/visit Beca’s old childhood home. Chloe finds out that Beca can play the piano really well. They have sex. That’s it.

Rated E for Everyone.

No, but seriously, high rating.

Word count: 4,381

Dedicated to @velmster, my bff (bechloe fanfic friend/best friend forever) who headcanons this stuff with me and tolerates my existence online and irl.

“Mom?” Beca’s voice echoes in the foyer. She hears Chloe quietly click the door shut and feels her footsteps behind her. “She did say she was going to be at a friend’s place today helping with some get-together.” Shrugging, she turns to help Chloe with the bags. “I’ll put these in my room,” she says.

Chloe nods absentmindedly, taking in the photos lining the walls. She grins at the sight of Beca as a toddler, posing and grinning cheekily at the camera while wearing the frilliest bathing suit. It’s possibly the most adorable thing she’s ever seen.

Upstairs, Beca takes stock of her room, mostly untouched by her mother over the years. She has tried convincing her mother to turn it into something more useful, like another guest room, but her mother is adamant about preserving this specific point of Beca’s life even though she’s almost a decade past this stage. Seattle will always be home, but lately she’s been thinking about how comfortable she feels in L.A. and how much she’s looking forward to making a home of her own with the one person that matters most.

She eyes the fading posters – various band and concert posters – and the sketches from when she had an art phase in high school. There’s something ethereal about her room, from the double bed – she’ll have to thank her mother for changing her sheets often enough – to the tiny desk where she used to spend hours mixing music that she never thought people would hear.

It reminds her of how there’s a very willing audience member, the person who has always valued her contributions – musical and otherwise – and who loves her through the chaos that has become her life since the fame she never expected.

Chloe’s carefully snapping photos of her favourite photos of baby Beca and grouchy teenage Beca when she hears the sound of Beca’s door closing upstairs. She hears Beca rushing back down the stairs, hair just the slightest bit out of place. She smiles, nudging her shoes to the side just as Beca eagerly grabs her hands and pulls her further into the house.

There’s a very specific warmth that Chloe attributes to the way Beca just lights up at the sight of old photos and the atmosphere of what Chloe knows to be her childhood home.

“I can make you something to eat, if you want. What do you want to do?”

Chloe shrugs, not really caring either way. She follows Beca into the kitchen and hops up on the counter. “I could go for water. We could hold off on food because we’re going out for dinner anyway, right?” Her smile becomes mischievous. “We could do some other things since we’re alone.”

Beca’s eyes dart up from where she’s washing her hands in the sink. “Oh?” she voices, interest colouring her tone. A half-smirk tugs at her lips, making Chloe instinctively clench her hand into a fist on her thigh. “Like what?” she asks, eyes darting to Chloe’s mouth as she nears closer.

Chloe blushes at the way Beca casually nudges her legs apart, moving so she’s standing right in front of Chloe, pressed against her lightly. She looks up, eyes bright and hopeful, of all things. Chloe can’t resist, so she cups the back of Beca’s neck and leans down for a kiss, instantly welcoming Beca’s tongue into her mouth. Beca tastes vaguely of mint and a little bit of the Sprite she had on the plane. It’s intoxicating enough by itself, though Beca’s hand gliding surely up Chloe’s thigh is enough to coax a quiet moan out of her.

"What should we do now?" Beca whispers again against her skin, lips gliding languidly along Chloe’s jaw.

Chloe manages a quick exhale, because obviously, but she wants to see everything about what Beca’s life was like before Barden – before Chloe. "Can I have a tour?"

Beca looks like she’s trying to figure out whether to let disappointment or confusion show on her face. “A tour,” she repeats, her eyes darting back to Chloe’s mouth helplessly. “Fine,” Beca grumbles when Chloe arches a brow.

Chloe just grins at her and leaps down, not giving Beca a chance to say anything else. “Where to first?”

Beca considers the question seriously. “How about my room?” Beca suggests. “There’s really not much to show in this house, I promise. I’ll show you my room and then the basement, I guess." She begins leading Chloe out of the kitchen. "There’s a piano down there,” she adds.

Chloe looks at Beca curiously. "A piano? Whose is it?"

Beca eyes her oddly. “Mine,” she admits, though it’s with hesitance.

“I – you can play?” Chloe feels mildly embarrassed even asking the question. Even after years of knowing Beca and just under a year of dating, she still feels like she learns something new about Beca every day. “I mean, I’ve seen your keyboard, the one you use for mixing, but did you…play? Lessons?”

Beca realizes they’re probably not going to start a tour of any kind in her room, so she twists her fingers with Chloe’s and leads her to the basement instead. “Years of lessons,” Beca says. “Dad’s idea.”

The basement is inviting, with a small seating area and comfortable couches. Just off-center, is a piano, standing alone. There are books on top of it, a metronome, and a few pens and pencils, as if the entire scene is just waiting for its owner to return home.

Chloe has loved music all her life – has lived and breathed it, essentially. She has never been particularly well-versed in the piano. She grew up dabbling in the violin because her parents thought it would help shape her character, but she dropped her lessons somewhere around the end of middle school and joined her high school’s choir, glee club, and whatever singing opportunities presented themselves. She reaches out with reverence, holding her breath, even, and traces the cold keys.

It’s an upright piano, nothing too lavish. It has a wooden finish, bronzed wheels, and well-kept keys. Chloe looks up to see a reverent expression on Beca’s face as well, directed at the piano.

Beca steps around the piano, eyes locked on the way Chloe’s fingers trace the keys that she spent so much time labouring over, sometimes even crying over them through the fights her parents would have. It makes her swallow, the duality of seeing her present and past mingling in the midst of everything.

Chloe looks like she doesn’t quite want to pry, so she draws her hand back, holding her wrist with her other hand. She inhales, nodding once, smiling at Beca encouragingly. She can tell that this is something important to Beca, something that defines her very existence, though she knows that prying does little good when it comes to Beca Mitchell.

The light is a little dim in the basement because there’s a bulb that hasn’t yet been replaced. Despite that, Beca can see the eagerness in Chloe’s eyes – the hope. She can’t help it, so she tugs out the bench and sits primly, hands folded in her lap. “What should I play?” Beca asks, offering Chloe the opening she didn’t take.

Chloe sighs. A million songs run through her mind. She settles on “something that you’d play, if you could play anything.”

Beca cracks her knuckles, making Chloe clench her fist again. “I’m going to warn you…I haven’t played in a while, okay? Not like this, anyway. I rarely get time to sit at a piano.”

There’s something about Beca sitting behind the piano, small and demure, that really does something to Chloe. “Take your time,” she rasps.

She expects something classical or formal like Mendelssohn or Mozart, but of course Beca Mitchell wouldn’t bother with that (though she could if she wanted to).

The beginnings of Adele’s “Someone Like You” ring through the basement, echoing beautifully. Beca plays surely, with flourishes and a small crease between her brows. Chloe’s not sure what to do or where to look. She settles on the way Beca’s fingers fly surely across the keys, not making a single misstep.

And, like magic, Beca transitions beautifully into Coldplay’s “Paradise”, lingering only for the first verse and chorus. Beca would choose a mash-up. She seems to breathe with the music, fingers confident and precise. It makes Chloe’s chest tighten. She barely remembers to snap a photo and haphazardly puts her phone away, too enthralled by the way Beca completely commands the piano. She leans on its surface, watching with rapt attention.

Beca glances up at her, smiling a little shyly. “You can…” she half shrugs. “Sing, if you want.” She transitions into “Chasing Cars” with finesse and ease.

Chloe doesn’t need to be told twice.

Together, they carry the song home, through the first verse and chorus, just as before. Chloe thinks that Beca is literally glowing, and Beca can probably say the same.

Beca tries to focus on closing out the song because she can feel tension coiling somewhere in her lower abdomen and an increasing pressure on her chest. Chloe moves to stand beside her, body radiating warmth. They gravitate towards each other, no matter what they’re doing. It’s a by-product of how closely they lived their lives prior to their relationship (as well as the mutual pining that took place over the years).

Beca loves the sound of Chloe’s voice like this – soft and reserved only for her. She has always loved it and now has the privilege to suss out the nuances of Chloe’s moods and emotions based on her voice alone. She likes the sound of Chloe’s voice when she attempts to speak upon just waking up, with its very specific rasp that never fails to get Beca going. She likes the sound of Chloe’s voice when she’s telling a story.

She likes the sound of Chloe’s voice when she’s trying to control herself - like now - because there’s always just the barest hint of thinly-veiled desperation. Beca clenches her thighs together, feeling the heat of Chloe’s body and the heat of Chloe’s gaze, which is fixated on her hands on the keys.

It’s making music – not just with their mouths – and Chloe eats it up. She tentatively reaches out to place a hand on Beca’s shoulder. There’s a brief moment as Beca tenses, but she relaxes, even going so far to tilt her head slightly into Chloe’s stomach. This – Beca and music – makes Chloe’s mind buzz with the sheer weight of how beautiful this moment is. It’s incredibly special and makes her wish that she could record this. She focuses on committing this to memory.

Fingers sure as ever, Beca wills herself to focus because Chloe’s breathing has quickened considerably.

Chloe watches the way her girlfriend’s fingers stroke softly over the keys until the song tepers out and finally ends altogether.

Beca clenches her hands this time and settles them on her lap, smiling weakly up at Chloe. “Well?” she asks lightly, standing to face Chloe fully, casual tone masking how weak she really feels under Chloe’s scrutiny.

Chloe’s breath comes out in short bursts, not entirely due to singing. Instead of responding, she tilts her head and pushes her mouth to Beca’s insistently. Beca’s hands fly immediately to her cheeks, holding her in place.

They war for dominance for a moment, piano keys clanging loudly in an ugly cacophony as Beca reaches a hand behind her to steady herself. She props a leg up on the piano bench as best as she can, trying to pull Chloe as close as possible.

With a firm grip on Beca’s thigh, Chloe struggles to contain herself for the moment. She can feel heat emanating from every part of Beca, especially from between her legs. The piano bench is too small and the basement is too sparse for either to serve any real purpose to her at the moment. “Show me your bedroom,” Chloe mumbles between kisses.

She’s thinking primarily about those long, talented fingers playing over her body with the same confidence and sureness.

There’s no room for argument, really.

Beca makes quick work of Chloe’s clothes, essentially dumping them all by the door of her bedroom once she kicks it shut with her foot.

“You’re overdressed,” Chloe says immediately, tugging Beca’s sweater over her head and tossing it aside. She notes that Beca’s still wearing clothes and sighs, continuing to undress her girlfriend. “You could help,” Chloe murmurs, tilting her head to the side so Beca can nip at her neck leisurely while she unzips Beca’s jeans. She pushes Beca back, stumbling a bit over the clothes at their feet.

“You were doing such a good job,” Beca replies, tugging Chloe closer. “C’mere,” she mumbles, cupping Chloe’s jaw and tilting her head back towards hers.

Chloe whimpers and lets Beca kiss her again. Her whimper quickly transitions into a moan when she feels Beca’s hand rake down her collarbone to her breast, quickly tightening her hand into a firm grip. It only causes the throbbing between her legs to intensify, causes her to push Beca back onto the bed, finally.

She sinks onto Beca’s lap comfortably once Beca is backed against the headboard of the bed. Beca’s hands rub up her thighs languidly, the memory of seeing those same hands across the piano only turning Chloe on further. She slants her lips over Beca’s, moaning when Beca immediately tugs at her bottom lip before sucking at it slowly

“Right now,” Chloe mumbles. Beca obliges, gliding a hand between Chloe’s legs, stroking her gently, fingers nudging at a stiff nub. Chloe inhales sharply, moving to rest her forehead against Beca’s shoulders. She shifts her hips impatiently as Beca slides into her slowly, one finger first, then another. “God,” she croaks out, lifting her hips and dropping them back down once, experimentally.

Beca's gaze is dark – darker in the dim light. Chloe tries to take stock of how hungry Beca looks – the kind of hunger that means Chloe’s in for it – the kind of hunger that she saw a spark of downstairs by the piano.

Naked and sitting astride Beca’s lap, Chloe focuses then on the way Beca’s fingers feel inside her, curling slowly. She shifts restlessly, hips rolling experimentally. She whimpers at the sensation and feels Beca’s body shudder as well. Digging her nails into Beca’s shoulders, she tries to remember how Beca had looked, caressing ivory keys with finesse; the way she had moved masterfully.

Her knees dig straight into the slightly stiff mattress. Beca’s hand – the one that’s not currently occupied – comes up to stroke leisurely at her back. Just as Chloe moves her hips again, Beca’s fingers tense and dig right into the middle of her back, holding her close. She leans up, tilting her chin as if asking for a kiss, the delicateness of which makes Chloe’s heart leap straight out of her chest – or at least, attempt to. She slides her lips languidly across Beca’s, taking stock of how soft Beca’s lips always seem to be. Gently, she nips at her girlfriend’s lower lip, tugging as she pulls back. Beca’s mouth parts to accommodate her, and then they’re kissing.

Beca’s fingers move slowly – in, out – as best as they can while Chloe sits on top of her thighs. Chloe moans quietly into her mouth, the sound and vibration making Beca clench her own thighs trying to alleviate some of the pressure between her legs.

“You looked so good,” Chloe says, though she grits her teeth at the end of that sentence, when Beca adds a little more force into her hand’s motions. “The piano,” Chloe says weakly. “At the piano. I-I-“ she stutters, trails off when Beca nips at her jaw, her neck, then finally moving back to her lips to hungrily shove her tongue into her mouth. "I couldn't help it," Chloe moans, trying to figure out what to do with her own hands. She tugs at Beca’s hair, pulling at the back of her head.

At that, Beca moans, uncaring – though she’s briefly thankful that nobody’s home or in the vicinity. "Yeah?" she rasps, though it’s less of a question because she vividly recalls the way Chloe’s eyes had darkened nearly instantaneously when she started playing and how she was already on the verge when she had finished playing.

Chloe’s hips move insistently, grinding down hard into Beca’s palm. The sensation of Chloe on her lap as well as the very telling slick warmth slipping down and around her fingers and hand causes Beca’s own chest to tighten and stomach to coil in anticipation.

"Watching you play,” Chloe whispers, eyes fluttering shut, though she desperately forces them open again so she can see Beca’s wide-eyed, lust-filled gaze locked onto her own. “I got so…” she bites her lip, thrilled by the way Beca’s fingers curl into her surely, almost encouragingly. “I got so fucking wet watching you play that piano," Chloe finishes, breath stuttering. She licks swollen lips, moving to rest her forehead against Beca’s. “Fuck me,” she demands, lips descending for a kiss.

In, out – her fingers slip in and across Chloe insistently – the movement is encouraged by the consistent wetness coating her skin. Coating Chloe’s skin. Beca wonders if Chloe would mind terribly if she opted to use her mouth instead of her fingers, but with the grip Chloe has on her, trapping her in place, she figures she’s going to have to wait.

“Fuck,” she whispers, leaning forward to further mark Chloe’s collarbone with languid nips and open-mouthed kisses.

“Y-you, with that fucking piano,” Chloe pants, using her arm to hook Beca’s head closer to her chest. A loud moan slips through a clenched jaw when Beca’s palm brushes against her just right – “Fuck, right there,” she says stiltedly, back arching.

Beca resists the urge to laugh, though a breathless exhale does escape her. Chloe Beale is probably the only person she’s ever met to get off to music and on music. She kisses up, nipping at the spot on Chloe’s throat – just under her jaw – that she knows drives her girlfriend completely wild. She doesn’t linger, though Chloe’s keening whimper makes her want to stay to draw the same sound out of her again, and again, and again.

She punctuates each thought with a firm thrust, relishing each rock of Chloe’s body; relishing the way skin is sliding smoothly against skin. There’s a desperation in the way Chloe’s pants sound in her ear. She kisses back down, bending slightly so she can bypass Chloe’s neck, the strained tendons in her throat just begging for attention. Instead, she kisses down her chest, taking a stiff nipple in her mouth.

Chloe’s jaw slackens at the feel of Beca’s warm, wet tongue nudging insistently at her nipple. The sensation makes her thighs clench and hips stutter in their rhythm. She slides her hand to cup Beca’s cheek, then her neck. It’s gentle at first, though her fingers clamp down quickly into hair and skin to hold Beca against her chest. "I'm close," she informs Beca belatedly.

Humming in agreement, Beca throws some teeth into the mix, quickly mouthing around her nipple. It makes Chloe jolt. "You're closer,” she says, finally lifting her head.

"I'm close whenever I’m with you,” Chloe admits, tilting Beca’s head up as best as she can. Her vision wavers and she slams her eyes shut at the sensation of Beca’s fingers curling right up into her. “I’m close whenever you just look at me or - or talk to me," Chloe continues with some difficulty, only spurring Beca on further. “Fuck, when you s-sing to me-”

(Her favourite moments are when she reduces Chloe to inarticulate sounds and breathless pants. Less words would be a good sign.)

“Eyes,” Beca says quietly, too enthralled by the way Chloe's hair messily drapes over her shoulders and down her back - God, she could use some mirrors about now. “Look at me,” she tries again, uncaring that she's begging. She gets off on seeing the way Chloe's eyes fucking shine when she's like this, the way she struggles to keep her eyes open at all. “Fuck, Chlo-” She grits her teeth because the strain is getting to her arm, but Chloe feels so damn good around her fingers that she can’t bring herself to even move from this position. She figures it’s a good enough way to die.

Chloe all but sobs, eyes flying open as she clutches at Beca’s shoulders, hands scrabbling to find purchase somewhere. One hand flies into Beca’s hair, pushing her face against her chest, while the other clenches around Beca’s upper arm, holding her in place. Her body stiffens entirely and she whimpers once, a loud, drawn-out moan following immediately.

Beca clenches her thighs together again, biting her lip to stop the helpless whimper that threatens to escape when she takes in how thoroughly defiled Chloe looks at that moment: high flush, hair in complete disarray, swollen lips, and arched back. The deep-seated arousal in Chloe’s eyes only serve to spur Beca on again. She lifts her hand from between Chloe’s legs to slide up to her hip, coaxing Chloe to roll her hips once – twice – against Beca, both women moaning quietly at the sensation.

“I love you,” Beca murmurs, tilting her head to kiss Chloe’s jaw, then her lips. “Fuck,” she murmurs, nipping at Chloe’s bottom lip. “I need you.”

Chloe bites her lip, a soft noise escaping her when Beca parts her own thighs willingly for her. “I love you, too,” she replies. She flexes her fingers around Beca’s thighs before she slides back up Beca’s body, peppering kisses along the way, making sure to pay close attention to pert nipples. She’s desperate to hear Beca’s voice again – to hear the sounds that only she can coax out of Beca with her own brand of expertise.

“Please,” Beca begs quietly. “Chlo, now.” She looks up, eyes locked hazily on the ceiling fan, and wonders vaguely if teenage Beca would have ever thought this would happen.

(She knows the logistics are off: she never knew Chloe back then, but this is so akin to losing it to the most popular girl in school that Beca thinks that she’s probably experiencing something super religious right now.)

Beca almost comes undone immediately the moment Chloe’s fingers slide inside her. It makes her head thump uncomfortably against her wall, and she curses, partly from the sheer pleasure and partly from the slight pain. Chloe removes her fingers, gently tugs Beca into a prone position. She returns to fully hovering over Beca, strands of hair tickling the sides of Beca’s face. She pants out a breath, about to ask Chloe why she stopped, when Chloe’s fingers mercifully slide back inside her, slow, sure strokes causing Beca’s breath to catch.

Chloe is deliberate and careful. Her body thrums with arousal and the vestiges of desire coursing through her, but she carefully thumbs it down, only slightly stoking the embers with each passing moment.

She relishes the feeling of Beca already beginning to come undone around her – hot, wet, and sticky. It makes her already sensitive core just throb in response and she can’t help the whimper that escapes her. She leans down to press a sloppy kiss against Beca’s lips, swallowing the loud moan Beca releases at that moment. Beca’s hand comes to grab at her hair while the other hand rakes down her back roughly and quickly. It makes Chloe thrust a bit harder, eyes rolling back behind her eyelids at the slight sting of Beca’s dual assault on her hair and skin.

“Fuck,” Beca mumbles, swollen lips brushing against Chloe’s. Chloe's fingers curl just right, with a twist of her wrist. It makes Beca’s eyes fly wide open until she’s gasping and panting out Chloe’s name, intermingled with the occasional curse. She grips Chloe’s hair tighter, pulling until Chloe’s forehead comes to rest against hers. Arousal courses through her entire body, more than she’s ever felt before. It’s almost too much, but Beca welcomes it – has always welcomed these experiences with Chloe because she can’t imagine this happening with anybody else.

Chloe thinks that Beca looks beautiful, flushed, a little sweaty, and eyes bright with the height of her arousal. She pants out a breath across Beca’s cheek, using her nose to nudge at Beca’s chin and jaw until she can nip and suck at that one specific spot on Beca’s neck that drives her crazy. All she can feel is the way Beca’s thighs cradle her hips, the way Beca just fucking clenches around her fingers, and all that wonderful, delicious wet heat against her hand.

“I love you,” Chloe repeats, moving her head back up so she can kiss Beca. "God, I fucking love you like this," she mumbles.

Beca lets her head fall back on the bed, just shy of her pillow. She doesn't care about the uncomfortable arch in her neck because all that matters is that Chloe continues fucking her like this. She had been close when she had been inside Chloe. She's on the verge of exploding, now.

Chloe is conscious of how aroused she is, still, with the way Beca's thigh rubs against her center with each rock of her hips. She stifles her moan into Beca's neck, trying to focus on how close Beca is to her own release.

She stills at Beca's tell-tale whine - the one that rips from Beca’s throat nd sends jolts of pleasure straight through Chloe upon hearing it - and watches Beca with wide eyes as she comes undone, finally.

The thick air around them blankets over their quiet pants. Chloe moves off Beca, just to her side, and blinks, wondering absently if she can get a recording of Beca playing the piano.

Beca is thinking about whether she can afford to buy a baby grand for her apartment in Los Angeles and why she didn’t think about buying one ages ago.

“So…this is your bedroom, huh?” Chloe asks, once they both catch their breath. Kind of.

Beca laughs, unreserved and completely free, albeit a little breathless. It’s so completely Chloe – Chloe who has likely never mastered the art of pillow talk because she doesn’t bother pretending to be something she’s not, if she doesn’t feel like it.

She should have suggested they visited Seattle sooner.

x / now on ao3

#bechloe #bechloe pic fics #mine #photoset #social media #beca mitchell #chloe beale #brittany snow #pitch perfect #my fanfic #anna kendrick #long post #fanfiction #bechloe fanfiction #mine:smau

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i-write-shakespeare-not-disney · 7 years

Text

The New Romantics ch. 4

Part 1 Here

Part 2 Here

Part 3 Here

click the OP if the read more link doesn’t show.

When Keith opened his eyes, Lance was gone. It took him a moment to remember what had happened the night before and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it now that he was alone. He understood what Lance meant about cuddles to cushion the subconscious thought of feeling dirty.

Several lines had been crossed, and Keith was well aware there was absolutely no going back at this point. Maybe before they may have been able to laugh it off or pretend nothing had happened. But not anymore. Keith groaned and willed himself to go back to sleep, but he was also aware of how physically dirty he was since he’d simply fallen asleep the night before instead of cleaning up.

Scrunching his nose, he wrapped a towel around his waist and went to the showers. It was still early, and Keith knew he was the only one awake. As he showered, he wondered how he was supposed to look at Lance like nothing had happened. It had to become awkward. Keith had never been one to have a close relationship with anyone, emotionally or physically. He was close to Shiro, but even then he had his walls up. Now this physical thing with Lance which had put them both in vulnerable, exposed positions with each other in every sense of the word…. It was too bizarre.

It’d been vulnerable. It’d been open. And Keith didn’t do openness or vulnerability. Once he was done showering, he went back to his room, smelling the sweetness of whatever Hunk had concocted for that morning. He dressed quickly, throwing on jeans and a black shirt before racing down to breakfast.

He’d been starving, and was so overcome with the urge to eat he’d completely forgotten his apprehension until he found himself sitting across from Lance. Even Lance seemed a little awkward, eyes flitting along the table as he babbled on and on half about one thing, half about another.

Hunk managed to shut him up by forcing a spoonful of food down his throat.

“Pidge, you seem rather chipper this morning,” Allura noted after Lance had busied his mouth with food instead of words.

“Well, after sleeping in Green for a while, I missed my bed.”

“Why were you sleeping in your lion?” Shiro asked.

Lance had stopped eating. Keith clenched his jaw, careful to keep a poker face. For a half second, Lance locked eyes with Keith and they both turned to look at Pidge. The look on her face let them know that she hadn’t caught onto her slip up until Shiro pointed it out, but she recovered quickly. “I’ve just been tinkering with her system. I stay there late, so I just fall asleep there.” Lance turned back to his food and Keith ran a hand through his hair tiredly.

“Hey, Pidge, maybe you can help me out my lion. I’m thinking a special mini fridge to keep sandwiches, you know? In case I get hungry.” The others looked at Hunk in exasperation. “No?”

“Anyway... With our systems up and running, we may not need to leave this planet just yet,” Allura said. “However if the Galra are following us, we may want to be on the move.”

“In the meantime, we’re going to figure out how the Galra were able to infiltrate the system,” Coran said.

“What does that mean for us? More exploring?” Hunk asked.

“No. We should rest for a bit. I’m going to see if I can help Coran bring the castle defenses back up while Pidge and Allura make sure the systems can’t be overridden again,” Shiro said.

Keith hadn’t really been paying attention until everyone started bustling around. He rushed to finish his breakfast and figure out what he was supposed to do. Before he could berate himself for not paying attention, a pair of hands settled on his arms, stopping him in his tracks.

He blinked rapidly, confused until he saw Lance. He looked serious. Worried. “Are you mad at me?” he blurted.

Keith frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No? Why would I be?”

He shrugged, gripping the sleeves of his jacket. “For last night. Or for leaving. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don’t know. Last night just…. Felt like a major shift.”

A relieved sigh escaped Keith’s lips. He nodded and crossed his arms. “I think I know what you mean.” He frowned and managed to meet his eyes. He didn’t feel embarrassed like he thought he would. He felt a little exposed, but Lance wasn’t a person to exploit that. At least, Keith didn’t think he was. “I’m not mad. Just… not sure how we’re supposed to act like nothing happened when… so much did, I guess?” He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “You okay?”

The corner of Lance’s mouth quirked up. “I’m okay,” he answered. “So… we’re good?”

Keith nodded. “We’re good.”

He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and tilted his head. “Since we’re left to our own devices, you want to hang out?” Keith raised an eyebrow and Lance rolled his eyes. “Yesterday, when you were upset…. I guess I sort of realized that even though we’re friends- some days, of course- I don’t really know a lot about you.”

Keith immediately felt his defenses go up. He shook his head and turned away, walking down the hall. “No, no, no. I don’t do heart-to-heart talks, Lance. I don’t talk about my feelings or thoughts, okay?”

He could hear Lance’s steps behind him, and with his long legs, it wasn’t long before he was in front of Keith, stopping him again. “I’m not saying I want you to tell me your deep, dark secrets. I’m saying… I don’t know. Things like, what’s your favorite color, or your favorite hobby, those kinds of things.”

Keith looked at him suspiciously. “Are you asking me on a date? Because I don’t do those either, Lance, and this was supposed-”

“No!” he groaned in exasperation. “Just… never mind,” he sighed. He shrugged, and lowered his eyes. “See you at training.” He turned away and something about the tone of his voice made Keith feel a sharp tug of regret in his stomach.

The closer Lance got to the end of the hall, the more insistent the feeling felt, until he managed to call his name. Lance turned, and Keith let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. “Fine. But just because I have nothing better to do.”

He walked toward him and noticed the victorious smirk on his face. “Whatever you say, Mullet,” he chuckled. Keith decided to pretend he hadn’t heard him and followed him until they got to the lion hangar. Lance sat at the paw of his lion and Keith sat beside his own. It gave them a good five feet of space between them. Lance raised an eyebrow and snorted. “I don’t bite, Keith.”

“Um, yeah you do,” he pointed out. Lance’s eyes went wide, his cheeks flaming red under olive skin before he burst into laughter, with Keith following shortly after.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

Keith shrugged and leaned back against Red. “Black. And drawing,” he said. It was silent and he looked over at Lance who was staring at him in confusion. “My favorite color and hobby,” he explained.

The smile that spread on Lance’s face reminded Keith of a child’s smile on Christmas morning. “Really? I mean, I guess I could’ve guessed on the black. But drawing?”

“Any art, I guess,” he admitted. “I like seeing my hand smeared in pencil lead or charcoal or pastels. I like bringing a blank paper to life with a few lines or a few colors. Making something out of nothing. Even when I was little and I’d go to the beach, I’d sit in the sand and make stuff. Not sandcastles like kids usually do, but… faces, people coming out of the sand, hands, things like that.” He chuckled and looked at his hands. “I miss doing that. Sculpting, sketching, coloring. I was trying to get a hang of watercolors and acrylics, but I never really managed to get far.”

“I don’t think I’d ever have pegged you for an artist. Artists are so serene, so calm, so patient. You’re the opposite. Red can attest to that!”

Keith snorted and shook his head. “Are you kidding? Trust me, artists are not calm. It’s always, What fucking color am I looking for? Where the fuck is my pen? Fuck the other eye, fuck it. Fuck shading! Screw this stupid crick in my neck I’ve been working on this for hours! And many, many more f-bombs and anger.” Lance was laughing so hard, he was doubled over. He could imagine Keith in those exact scenarios. “As for patient? Well, drawing is the only time when I’m not really aware of time. There’s nowhere I have to be, nothing I’m rushing for. It’s my time to just… be. I guess.” Lance hummed and looked at Keith with the remnants of a smile on his face. “What about you?”

“My favorite color is lilac. Like the sky at sunrise. My favorite hobby?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. A little of everything I guess. I liked helping my mom cook, or playing tag with my siblings. I never really had a passion, you know? Until I got to the Garrison, at least. Then, being a pilot was all I ever wanted to do. That’s why I hated you so much when you were there. It came so naturally to you and I was working my butt off to be the best at something for once.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “‘Hated?’” he questioned.

Blue eyes flickered to him guiltily. “Envied? I don’t know. Very strong negative feelings,” he laughed. Keith laughed along with him, ducking his head.

There was a part of him that wanted to know how that hate or envy went away. If it was past tense, surely it was gone, right? What replaced it? Friendship? After the last few weeks… Keith doubted the term friendship even applied to them. He didn’t think it ever could again.

It was quiet for a moment as Keith lost himself in his thoughts. Being at the Garrison felt like years ago. He remembered caring so much about the stupid school. Now it just seemed so insignificant, such a miniscule problem compared to the things happening now.

He very vaguely remembered Lance in his time there. He remembered seeing him around the corridors, tall and lanky, always sticking out like a sore thumb because of it. He never really thought much of him. Keith never thought much of anyone. No one else really mattered at the Garrison. It was strange to think of those times. Those days when Lance was a nameless familiar face, then fast-forwarding to being a sort of coworker in defending the galaxy with his annoying bravado, and fast-forwarding once more to Keith squirming at his touch, his name falling from his lips like a desperate prayer.

He ran his hand through his hair, yanking at the roots to ground himself to reality again.

Suddenly, Lance’s uncharacteristically soft, vulnerable voice broke through his frustration. “What do you think they told my family?” Keith looked over at him, surprised to see his face clear of any emotion whatsoever. Stoic expressions were not a Lance thing. They were a Keith thing. And it looked wrong on Lance. When a few seconds passed without a response, Lance’s eyes flickered to Keith. “I don’t know if they think I’m missing, or ran away, or… dead. I don’t know what I’d rather have them think.” His voice was so flat, so empty, it terrified Keith.

He had no idea how to offer comfort for someone so full of emotions like Lance. He didn’t know what to do if Lance started crying or if he begged Keith for consolation. That was something Shiro did. Something Hunk could do for Lance. Even Pidge could be better at this than Keith.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, lowering his head and hiding his face. Keith frowned, not understanding why Lance apologized when Keith was the one who didn’t even acknowledge him. “I just… thinking about tag and cooking just made me remember other things with my family. And I have this really painful pressure in my chest now, and I don’t want to cry because that won’t do anything, but I can’t help it, my throat hurts and I-”

His voice was breaking. It was weak. It was pained. And it was so unlike Lance, that Keith couldn’t handle it. And that was why he did the only thing he knew how to do when it came to Lance- he kissed him.

He heard the thud of Lance’s back against Blue, felt the shock and hesitation on his lips. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded against his lips. “Don’t cry.” He kissed him again, his lips familiar though still hesitant.

Then Keith felt his hands on his shoulders, pushing him back gently. He pulled away and looked at Lance worriedly. They’d never kissed outside of their rooms since their first kiss. It was like an unspoken rule. His blue eyes stared at him in shock and confusion, but he didn’t seem upset. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Keith gulped and stared back at him. “Um, well… I didn’t know what to do…,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what to say to make you feel better, I’m not good at those things.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows and gave him a small smile. “So you kissed me instead?” Keith frowned and sat back, pressed against Red, a bright blush dusting his cheeks. He crossed his arms and stared at the ground. A few moments later, Lance shuffled closer to him. “I appreciate the attempt,” he said with an honest smile. “As for how to comfort me, it’s like this.” Lance scooted next to him and pulled Keith’s arms away from his chest and around himself. Keith shifted as Lance placed his head on his shoulder and pulled Keith’s arms in tighter. “This is a hug.”

“I know that,” Keith grumbled. But he wrapped his arms tighter around him. “But does it even help?”

Lance shrugged. “I can still be sad. But I don’t feel so lonely anymore. It’s just… comforting.” Keith hummed and leaned his cheek against the crown of Lance’s head. “And even if I cry, it’s not like it’s your fault.”

“No, but you’re Lance. You joke around and you laugh too loud and you smile like you slept with a hanger in your mouth. You don’t cry.”

“Everyone cries,” he answered softly. “You don’t go kissing everyone who cries, do you?” Keith groaned and shoved him away, but he was delighted to hear Lance’s familiar laugh. “I’m kidding,” he chuckled. He pressed his shoulder against Keith’s and let his head rest against Red.

Keith bit his lip and sighed. “I’m not good with people,” he muttered.

“You can learn,” Lance suggested. “There’s comfort in listening to me. Thank you for that.”

Keith held out his fist. “Frenemies.” Lance smirked and touched his knuckles to Keith’s. “When I’m overwhelmed, I train. It gives me something to focus on, you know? Moving, sore muscles, it… it’s distracting. You want to try that? We could team up against the training sequences.”

Lance tilted his head. “Hm. Worth a shot. Come on.” He stood and hauled Keith up. They walked out of the hangar and to the training room in comfortable silence. Once they were there, Lance walked around, claiming to stretch, but it looked more like he was trying to imitate a ninja. Keith couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. What a goof.

“Initiate level two training sequence,” he said, pulling his hair up. Lance grabbed his bayard just as the first droid ran at them. It was simple on his own. It was even easier with Lance and his long range weapon. “Initiate level four training sequence,” Keith called.

Four different robots rose from the floor and started for them. “Oh, quiznak,” Lance muttered. In the time it took him to take out the one farthest away, Keith had unarmed the one closest, and used it to lift himself and kick it back enough. Lance shot it mid-air and Keith ran his sword through the last one. “Sweet,” Lance said, perking up. “Next level, next level!”

Keith rolled his eyes, but smiled. He continued to the next level, which took longer but was just as simple. It wasn’t until they reached level nine that they both seemed to get their challenge. Keith’s arm was extended, his sword menacing the faceless droids. Lance had his focus completely on his energy blaster, one eye closed the other zeroed in on a target.

“Watch your left,” Keith called as he lunged forward, wiping a droid legs out from under it. He stepped back right as another druid brought down a sword, where he’d been standing. A blue blast shot it back and Keith looked at Lance.

“Got your back, baby,” he smirked. Keith smiled and returned to the fighting.

It felt like he knew Lance’s next move as his own. They moved like it was a choreographed dance, a murderous, lethal dance as each robot fell. Keith found himself managing backflips before Lance shot his weapon for a final blow, and they finished back to back as each robot remained demolished.

Just as Keith was about to call for the next level, they heard a whistle. “Whoa. You guys were… awesome,” Hunk said. They turned, surprised to see the other paladins near the entrance. “Shiro heard fighting and then we all sort of-” He moved his hands in a grouping gesture. “Flocked. You guys… were awesome.”

“You already said that, big guy,” Lance said with a cocky smile. “But thanks. Just to show why I’m the sharpshooter of the group.” He stretched and tilted his head. “We training as a group or something?”

“We weren’t planning to. Like Hunk said, I heard fighting, and I found you guys. You seemed too concentrated for me to step in,” Shiro said.

“Well, good call, because I need a break,” Lance huffed, dropping to the floor. “I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Boo-hoo, princess,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes. “End training sequence.” He sat beside Lance and looked over at the others. “I haven’t gotten past level nine before. So this was pretty fun.”

“I’m glad to see you two are working together more,” Shiro said, giving Keith a proud smile.

Keith managed a small one back. Then Hunk yelped, “Lance what happened to you?”

Keith looked over where Lance had taken off his shirt and flopped onto his stomach. His back was covered in long, bright red welts that rose like ridges along his back. “Keith!” Pidge yelled.

“What are you yelling at me for? I didn’t do that!” he shouted back. “Lance what happened?”

Lance sat up and grabbed his shirt, but he wasn’t putting it on. “Nothing I just woke up like that, I'm fine.”

“You don't just wake up with scratch marks, Lance,” Hunk said.

Shiro turned him around and the Paladins grimaced. “They're not scratch marks. They're claw marks.”

“Those weren't there- uh, before. Were they?” Keith asked. He'd touched Lance all over last night and he hadn't felt anything but an expanse of smooth, warm skin. There had been no blemishes or scrapes. He was soft. He was always soft.

Pidge cleared her throat and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Maybe I can inspect it a bit, figure out the cause. Come on, Lance.” Keith watched as he followed Pidge pulling his shirt back on.

“You guys don't think the castle is haunted again right?”

Keith and Shiro shared a look. “Don't be ridiculous, Hunk. The castle isn't haunted and it never was.” Hunk didn't look too comforted by Keith's words. Shiro shook his head and walked away. Keith followed and Hunk scampered after them.

The image of the marks on Lance's back were etched into his brain. What could have happened between last night and this morning for those to have appeared on him?

A few ticks later, Keith heard a knock on his door. “Yeah?” It slid open and Lance walked in, looking slightly guilty. “Did Pidge figure out?”

“She didn't need to. I know how I got them.” Keith frowned. “Dude. It was you. You did that.”

He shook his head, scoffing. “No way. Those are claw marks; I barely have any nails, much less claws.”

Lance gulped and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “I have to tell you something,” he said. “But just stay calm okay?” Keith crossed his arms and frowned. “Yesterday… well, last night when we… you know really got into it…. You sort of… changed.” He raised an eyebrow. “Like… when I had to slow you down.” His cheeks turned red as he spoke, obviously nervous.

“What do you mean changed?” he asked.

“Into… something with… claws. You know?” Keith stared at him, not wanting to believe what he was insinuating. “You're not fully human, you know?” He shook head and backed away, feeling his stomach drop. Lance noticed the change immediately, his expression falling as Keith started struggling to breathe. “Hey, no, no, no, no, look at me, Keith. It's okay, it's okay. Calm down, listen. It's okay, you're still you. You're still Keith, okay?”

“No. No. Get out. Go away, Lance.”

Lance cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together, shaking his. “Don't do this, baby. It doesn't matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? I grew claws! Jesus what else happened to me?” he shouted. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I didn't want you freaking out like you are now! So what you turned sort of Galra, I don't care.”

Keith shoved him back. “Are you that desperate for a fuck, Lance? Willing to stick your dick wherever you can?”

His lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed, like Keith had hurt his feelings. But he was the one turning into a half breed alien, and Lance was the one who kept it from him because Keith was in the middle of fucking him for the first time, and of course you didn't care what was fucking you so long as you got fucked. Lance was not the one that should be upset. He didn't have that right.

“Well, when you decide to stop being an asshole, we can talk about this,” Lance spat before turning away to leave.

Keith watched him leave and stared at his hands. He'd actually changed? How had he not noticed it? How could he not have felt it? Had he been so wrapped up in Lance, in sex, that he didn't even realize his body was changing?

Frustrated, he fell to his bed and pulled the covers over himself. They smelled like Lance. And sweat. And sex. It wasn't very pleasant, but Keith didn't want to get up and wash them or change them, so he tried to focus on the smell of Lance.

Being part Galra was one thing. And it had taken a long time to accept it. To not feel unwanted and disgusting. Now he was looking like one? With claws? What else? Yellow eyes, furry ears, purple skin, fangs? Would he stay that way one day? Why had he changed? Why with Lance, why at that moment?

He laid in the bed unable to sleep. It was too early anyway. Breakfast, talking with Lance, training. It couldn't have lasted more than a few hours. Time was more difficult in space.

“Did you talk to him?” Pidge asked as Lance flopped onto the couch. “I'll take that as a yes. Did it go well?” Lance glared at her and she cleared her throat. “I'll take that as a no. What happened?”

“Exactly what I said would happen. He flipped out. That's why I didn't want to tell him!”

“He would've found out either way,” she reminded. Lance frowned and hung his head off the side of the couch. “What?”

“I think he thinks I'm using him.”

“Aren't you using each other?”

“Not like that,” he protested. He thought of the fear and betrayal in Keith's eyes when Lance told him. “He thinks the only reason I don't care about the Galra thing was because of what we were doing. He doesn't believe that I wouldn't care anyway.” She grimaced and leaned her cheek on her fist. “I'm sorry you're the only one I can talk to about this you're the only one who knows.”

“You could just tell the others. I doubt they'd really care.” Lance shook his head. “Give him time to cool down. You know him. It'll blow over.”

“Yeah,” he mused, looking at the ceiling.

Later that night, Keith only left his room to eat dinner and left as soon as he was done to go to bed. He tossed and turned unable to sleep. He thought it might be the smell, so he dumped the covers in the closet and pulled his jacket over himself instead. But even so, he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. Something felt wrong. Off.

He didn't feel overheated or anxious like Lance had before. It wasn't that kind of uneasiness. It was different it was… sadder. Like he'd forgotten something he just didn't know what.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been tossing around, but once the frustration made him stand, he realized Lance hadn't stopped by his room. Was he giving him space? Keith could barely remember what he'd told him. Lance was a patient person, but even he had to have a breaking point and Keith must have reached it for him.

Thinking about Lance made Keith feel worse. Guilty and jittery. He wanted to see him. Wanted to know why he hadn't said anything, why Keith couldn't remember a single instance of disgust on his face, only soft and desperate kisses and touches.

And he wanted to know why he never came back.

He stepped out of his room and walked over to Lance's, hesitating, walking back and forth trying to swallow his pride. Then finally he knocked. There was no answer. It occurred to Keith that maybe, just maybe, it was the middle of the night and he was asleep. Still, he tried one more time, knocking a little harder. “Lance?” he called. His voice echoed in the hall. He wondered if he would even hear it if the walls were soundproof.

Just as he decided he should walk away, the door swished open and Lance tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't smiling. “Yeah?”

Keith crossed his arms and kept his face passive. “You never apologized for keeping it a secret.”

Lance stared at him for a few seconds before shutting his eyes. “Are you kidding me right now? You say the things you said, lock yourself away like some damsel in distress all day, ignore me, and that's the first thing you say?” He opened his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Goodnight, Keith.”

“No, wait,” he growled, putting his hand on the door. “You didn't come back. That's… my point. You left and you didn't try talking to me again.”

“I told you, when you were ready to talk we would.” He leaned against the doorframe, staring at Keith with icy eyes. “Besides. I wanted you to see that you're not some meat stick. Or something to just put my dick in. I was planning on not going to your room at all until you realized that I really don't care about this Galra thing.”

“Why? Why don't you?”

Lance frowned and shook his head. “It's late Keith. We can talk tomorrow.”

He began shutting the door again, and again Keith put his hand against it, forcing it to slide back open. “Stop closing this thing on me!” he snapped. Lance's eyes widened and Keith averted his gaze. “I… I can't sleep. I feel weird I feel… sort of sad, but not. It's not sexual, I know that. It's just… I think you're the only one who can help.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith shrugged, not really knowing what he wanted or what he was asking for.

“I just-I.” He groaned and let himself fall forward, thumping against Lance's chest. He gripped his shirt lightly in his hands, his forehead dipped into the crook of his shoulder. Then Lance put his arms around him and Keith relaxed a little more.

“Oh. You're lonely.” Keith grumbled incoherently causing Lance to laugh. “It's okay, Keith. Craving affection is fine, isn't that something close to what you said when I had my problem?” Keith shrugged. “Come on,” he murmured.

He pulled him into the room and tugged him against his chest, tilting so Keith was at his mercy when it came to falling against the bed. His long arms were wrapped tight around Keith, warm and comforting. Like the hugs.

After a few moments of silence, Keith murmured, “You really don't care?”

Lance shifted behind him, his hand running up his arm and back down. “I don't. Why don't you believe me?” Keith shrugged. Lance nudged him and pulled him around so they were face to face. “So your skin changes color and you get claws. Honestly the scratching was kind of hot.” Keith rolled his eyes and when he focused on Lance again, that dorky, wide smile was back. “It doesn't mean you're not still my Keith.” His lips parted and he stared at Lance. My Keith. “The very same Keith who's my friend, my rival, who bickers with me and pretends to hate my jokes and makes me shiver just by running a hand down my chest. Purple or not, it's still you, Keith.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward brushing their noses together.

“Oh are we doing your method of comfort now?” Lance teased. Keith scowled and shoved him away, turning so his back was to him. “Aw, no, no, no, I was kidding come on,” he laughed. “Turn back around, come on.”

“Goodnight.”

“Ke-eith,” he whined. “Come on, baby. You know you want to.” He leaned into his ear and started singing, “You want to hu-ug me, you want to ki-iss me, you think I'm se-xy.” Keith burst into laughter and turned to face him. “Kiss me,” he sing-songed.

“No,” Keith yawned. Lance grunted and Keith shook his head. “I'm not kissing you, I'm tir-”

Suddenly a pair of warm lips pressed against his, Lance's tongue darted out against his lips and Keith didn't bother fighting it. He kissed him back and pressed against him. Slowly, Keith shifted over him, never letting their lips part. Lance’s fingers thread through his hair, pulling him in closer, his mouth working expertly against Keith’s. He only hoped Lance’s enjoyed the kisses as much as he did. Keith bit down on his lower lip and pulled back slightly, keeping Lance’s plump, swollen lip between his teeth.

“My way is better,” he whispered, letting go of his lip. Lance’s hands moved up and down his sides lightly. His eyes were bright, mischievous, and playful. Keith licked his lips and frowned as he looked at Lance. “I’m… sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

Lance’s smiled faded and he leaned up, pressing his lips to Keith’s softly. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“When did you notice it?” he asked, falling to his side. “How much did I change?”

Lance caressed his face. “You had purple here,” he murmured as he ran his fingers lightly across his cheeks and down his throat. “All the way here,” he continued, slipping his hand under the fabric of his shirt to stroke his shoulder. He leaned forward, planting warm kisses against Keith. “The claws. Your ears were a little pointy. That’s all. I noticed it when we first… went all the way. And it gradually increased as we went. It went away when you fell asleep.” His hand cupped his cheek again. “But I was focused on your eyes. Your eyes never changed.” Keith bit his lip and leaned into him.

He shut his eyes as Lance held him close. Keith’s hands went to the nape of his neck to play with the hair there, lulling himself to sleep while twirling Lance’s hair around his forefinger.

When Keith woke up, it took him a moment to remember he wasn’t in his room. He looked over and found Lance beside him, face smothered into the pillow, hands stuffed comfortably beneath it. His mouth was open, his long lashes fanning out. He looked small. Like a little kid. Keith could almost imagine Lance when he was ten or so. He looked peaceful. Suddenly, it hit Keith that he’d spent the night with Lance.

He jerked up in the bed, snatching the covers away from Lance rapidly. Lance grumbled and opened his eyes tiredly. “Wha-happen?” he mumbled.

“I… I think I spent the night. I… I can’t tell what time it is, but-”

“So?” Lance yawned.

“It was a rule!” he protested. Lance shrugged. “Lance, come on.”

“Keith, technically we didn’t do anything, so I don’t think it counts. Look everyone’s still asleep, so you have two choices: either come back to bed or go back to your room. I won’t be upset, I understand. But I’m very sleepy.” He turned his head and shut his eyes.

Keith hesitated, watching Lance breathe for a few seconds before walking over to him. He pulled the covers over him again and smiled at the sight of his sleeping form. He leaned forward, kissing his temple. “See you later, Sharpshooter,” he whispered. He stood and left the room, biting his lip as he walked back.

He and Lance were at a strange point. He wasn’t sure what that point was, but he didn’t mind not knowing.

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#klance #laith #voltron #au #sfw

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constelacionde-orion · 7 years

Text

Every you Every me (8/15)

Pairing : Tony!Father x Reader!Daughter x Steve x Avengers

Warnings: a little angst, Idk(? Summary: You are Tony’s daughter, everything was normal until you recall your past in your nightmares.

A/N : Steve’s point of view... okay I may not told this before... this story takes place in 2020 :v

Word Count: 3424

Chapter 1 Chapter 2.1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Tony sat on the couch with his hands covering his face, he was breathing heavily and was muttering himself things about Y/N. At first my blood was boiling about what Stark told us, but looking at him, made me shift my opinion and I tried to understand his point of view.

Tony's right. Y/N is his daughter, the only thing he have left, the only bond with his past, present and future, the only one in the world that shares his blood and the only thing he thought he'll never have but somehow he have it now and by far, he loves her, more than anyone could ever understand and if Y/N knows the truth about herself or if she remembers everything and leaves us behind, Tony will break, she's the only anchor left in Tony.

I looked around I need it to tell everyone what will happen, but I heard all of them, all their questions and opinions, 'what now?', 'when she will wake up?', 'She's going to get out of this right?', 'who is gonna tell her?', how are we going to tell her?', 'What if things turn worse, what if she actually remembers everything and turn into Lilian?', 'Are we going to fight her?' and the worst, 'If all of this happens and Y/N tries to kills us, will we have to kill her?'

When I heard that I didn't know what to do or thing, much less if Tony had heard them and I wish he hasn't.

"Everyone listen up" I said with a stern voice. I tried to play it cool, as if Y/N was just taking a nap and in hours she will wake up and crack jokes about how stressful was the mission, but it wasn't real, she was in danger of die or to turn into our worst enemy.

Everyone looked at me, questions still hanging on the air, others silent, thinking about all the damn possibilities. No one said a word in few seconds and I was thankful, I need it to find my voice.

"Can someone please explain to me, what was going on before I came?" Bruce said while looking at everyone.

"No one will tell Y/N, just because Tony's right. Y/N is her daughter, he has the last word here" I said while looking at them again.

I know what everyone was thinking but maybe that way they'll understand Tony too, or at least I hoped so.

"Why you changed your opinion Steve? how can you do this?!" Wanda shouted it.

"Because it's not our decision Wanda, she's our family too and it's in our hands to protect her. If she wakes up and remembers everything, what will we do?, fight her?... we have this little chance to keep OUR Y/N and if that means to avoid telling her, what would all of you do? " I asked them with a knot on my throat.

No one spoke, some of them were angry while other ones were looking at each other. Tony stand up and he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks Cap, but as you said, it's my daughter, let me deal with this" he said with a tiny smile.

"As Cap said, it's our Y/N. I'm not asking you to do this for me, I'm asking you to do this for her... I know this isn't going to be easy, but we can try, just, I can't let her down, not again and if that means that some of you walk out of that door because you don't agree with these, fine then, I will not fight you anymore, but if you really want thing to be normal, then, no one will talk to her about this" Tony said and soon everyone started to agree in a silent voice.

"Okay, can someone please explain what's the deal with Y/N's memorie?" Bruce asked desperate.

"So, fine, we won't tell her but, Y/N it's an important part of the team, we don't know when she's going to wake up... who are going to replace her?" Natasha asked

"Fine! I'll wait until everyone chill out!" Bruce said and then he took a seat on the couch.

"The bugs will do" Tony said more relaxed.

"Are you serious? One is a kid!" Bucky said as he threw his arms in the air.

"You mean, both are kids" Natasha said with a chuckle

"I see everyone agrees so, I'll call them in the morning, now Bruce..." Tony said while taking a huge breath.

"Wait Tony. Bruce, can I see her?" I asked hopeful.

"Yes, sure, go ahead" Bruce said before returning his attention to Tony.

I leaved the room and I went straight to her, I just need it to see her, to know that somehow she was still with us.

Four Months After

"And so now, Tony need a new suit" a said with a chuckle. I looked at her and I gave her a sad smile.

"You could've laughed a lot about it" I said with a sad voice.

It have been four months in which every day I have come to see her and talk to her. Sometimes I just come to tell her about what happened in a regular day or other times I tell her about our special moments. Many other days I came to tell her my dreams and how hard it is to sleep alone.

I take her hand on mine, she's warm but it doesn't feel like her. My eyes drift again to her face, it makes me happy that she doesn't need machines anymore to be alive, but still she can't wake up.

"I miss you so much... I miss your voice, you don't know how many times I have seen our videos just to see you laughing, singing or just speaking. I miss you hair in my face in the mornings or your perfume in my clothes but, mostly I miss your hugs, your kisses, your smile, god..." I have to cut myself there, I felt the fear the she wouldn't wake up and that breaked me.

"I don't know where's your mind or why you still don't come back to me, but, if you can hear me Y/N, please just open your eyes, I can't stand it anymore, I need you Y/N I need you to come back to me, please" I said after I took a long breath.

My eyes were looking at her face, waiting to see her eyes open but it didn't happened.

"Steve, it's four in the morning, go to your room" Tony said, I looked at him, standing in the door frame.

"Even if I want Tony, I wake up every half hour... what are you doing awake anyway?" I asked him, my hands still gripping hers.

"Trouble mind Rogers and I actually want to talk to her too" Tony said, he took the chair in front of me.

"Fine, just... If anything happens just, let me know" i said when I stand up. I give her a kiss on her forehead and I said my goodbyes.

I couldn't help it, but when I left the room I heard Tony's voice talking to her, I really wanted to leave them alone but I stayed in the hallway, outside the room.

"How are you Honey?" I heard Tony asked her and of course there wasn't an answer, still he kept going.

"You will scold me if you see me now, I haven't sleep or eat very well, you know? and I go that way to missions, you'll be pissed, but anyway, I'm here because I need to tell you something Y/N, well many things" Tony said and he made a big pause before speaking again.

"Since you know, this, I have some nightmares, I don't know if they are like yours but, it's always the same dream. It's a normal day, you're awake, your laughing, we have a happy family day, even with Steve" he said with a chuckle

"And then your eyes turn white, your smile fades and you can’t hear any of us..." Tony said, by his voice one can easily guess that his worried.

"You kill us all Y/N, you didn't stop until everyone was dead and when you walk towards me you see me, your eyes looking at me, I don't fight you, never could I, but you start to kill me anyways... and then, when I'm dying, your eyes are normal again, you look around in horror and you scream, shout, cry.... you want to keep us alive but you can't... you realized it and then I hear one last scream from you and I wake up... that's the longest I have seen Y/N, I don't know what it means..." Tony said with a sob.

"And I'm sorry. I let you down since you born and I let you down again, this time I could've done something and look at you now I don't know what to do, the only thing I know it's that I want you back, I want my Y/N back" I could hear Tony's voice full of sadness and tears.

"Sometimes I think I can't protect you, that I can't save you... that it would've better if you- you have never went out with Maria that night, maybe you should've stayed home and never know me...This kind of things have always happend to me you know? your grandfathers, gone, Pepper, gone, I thought I've lost every single one in this tower but somehow I didn't, and then you came and I don't want to lose you..." Tony said with another sob.

"So I came here to talk to you Y/N. I will not force you to stay, you can go if you want to, but I really hope you don't" he said with a sad chuckle "but, if you stay, please, keep being you, stop being an avenger, just forget about your past and live your own life Y/N..." Tony said once more with sobs.

"I couldn't stand to see you die again Y/N I can't" he said now crying.

"If you want to stay with Steve, then stay with him and I know what you're thinking, but I changed my mind Y/N, of all the people in these world, I know you're going to be okay with him... If I can't protect you, for sure he will" Tony said with big breath.

After hearing that, I decided to leave, I walked to the elevator and then I stept in, and I couldn't help my mind about thinking in all the things Tony said, all of those thoughts were running in my mind and I was hoping that Y/N would wake up soon, as he said, everyone was going crazy. I saw the numbers of the floors and I stopped the elevator on her old floor.

I walked until I arrived to her old bedroom, when I opened the door, the nostalgia hit me like truck. Everything was like the last time I saw her here, she was grabbing few things to move them to my room. In her desk were few drawings about different things, sketches and doodles everywhere, pencils, pens, markers, few notes and some old missions reports. Up, her shelf full of books of different colors and sizes, I remembered seeing her in different spots of the Tower reading books, I smiled to myself when I saw the old blue one, the one she used to read once to Bucky when he couldn't sleep.

I kept walking, looking at her old room, she had this wall full of photographs, all of them with the team. In some she wasn't in the picture, but they were beautiful, all of them with different tales, like halloween, birthdays of all of us, our road trips, karaoke nights, after a long mission, pranks, us. I grabbed one of them, when I saw something different, it was a city but it wasn't New York, I turned it over and I saw a few description.

"June 8, 2017. I came here with Tony for some job issues, he told me I would love in here, and somehow I remember this place, like if I really was here before. I didn't told anything to him, we walked around town and few spots felt familiar, guess I just saw them in movies, but one never knows"

I took another photograph, and I saw it have a description too, this one was the Christmas in Clint’s, and so I kept going to her photographs.

"December 25, 2017 I think I would treasure this day forever, not only because I found my family, but it feels like it's my first Christmas in so long, I can't remember when it was the last one or if I even have one, so this one, for sure, will be the most beautiful memory of all"

“September 18, 2018 I came to the graveyard to look for my uncle’s grave, but I didn’t find it anywhere. I went to different places looking for her but she’s nowhere, like if she didn’t exist. It sounds weird, but maybe there’s something I’m not looking at”

“November 3, 2017 Today I grabbed hands with Death itself. Tony told me to go to the roof, because it was a ‘beautiful sunset’, so when I arrived he gave me a wristband, after he placed he threw me off the FUCKING roof. I screamed at top of my lungs, I mean I was falling!! I was going to die by my father hands! but then the wristband made an unusual sound and in a blink of an eye, I has covered with a full iron man suit and I was flying in New York skies, still I wanted to kill Tony″

"February, 10, 2018 Today I went to Coney Island with Sam and Bucky, those two dorks really make me laugh, but I was even happier to see Bucky smile and seen him happy, I wish he stayed like that forever. The short story, we ate a lot of hot dogs and Cotton Candy, my cheeks hurt from laughing and my feet ache, still, it was an amazing day"

"March 25, 2018 So last week I arrived with Steve from this long mission, but during all these days I couldn't help myself but stare at him, the way he speaks, his huge smile and mother of god when he hugs me. I think I'm falling in love with my friend and that kind of scares me, but anyway, this picture it's from our pop-culture marathon, because there's a lot of things I don't quite remember and they're new for Steve, so it's a win-win"

I continued looking for some of them but then I stopped when I saw and old picture, it was Tony's father's, her grandfathers. Backwards the old photograph said.

"I know what happened to them, I'm not mad or anything, but I know Tony's hearts still ache, and I can't bring myself to tell him anything, I don't know him so well, so it hurts me too. Sometimes I think we forget people of ours lives, and I don't want Tony to forget how special they were, and other times I'm afraid that one day I'll wake up in blank again, so I guess, that if I wake up and look at photographs maybe my mind will never forget who I am"

So, this huge wall was her memory, her backup. She indeed didn't want to forget us and she was afraid to lost everything she had, like Tony. God, they were so alike in their own ways. I sit on her bed, looking at the pictures and I didn't notice when I fell asleep in her room.

"Captain Rogers, Tony needs you in the main room" F.R.I.D.A.Y. voice waked me up.

I groan with my face pressed in the soft fabric. I sigh and I stand up.

"What's the matter F.R.I.D.A.Y?" I asked the A.I after rubbing my face.

"Nick Fury it's waiting with all of the other avengers for you" F.R.I.D.A.Y. said and now I was running to the main room.

"So, the sleepy beauty finally is awake" Tony said when I step in the room, everyone was looking at me, even Nick.

"What's happening?" I asked avoiding Tony's reference.

"Well, you have a mission Captain. I brought everything you need to know about it" Nick told me.

"So, why is everyone here?" I asked confused.

"Tony asked me the for the retirement of Y/N Stark, but first everyone needs to agree, you are the only one left Captain, you have the last word here" Nick told me.

I looked at Tony but he couldn't see me in the eye, of course he wouldn't.

"May I ask why?" I asked Fury.

"Tony wants Y/N's safe, just that" Nick said in a stern voice.

I figured out that he didn't told Fury about her past, so of course I woulnd't tell him. I look at everyone of them, Peter and Scott were here too, after Tony contacted them they felt sorry about Y/N too, after all, she was their friend too.

"What did they say about this?" I asked.

"They leave the decision to you Captain, there's no pressure, still haven't wake up, but when she finally does, there must be an answer, understood Rogers?" Fury asked me, his eyes trying to find a hidden truth in my face.

"Now, come with me, I explain to you the mission" he said after I nodded with my head.

I leaved the main room with Nick Fury, we stepped into other private room and he locked it.

"It's easy Rogers, search the intel and bring it to us. You will go to Germany and look for Alexander Günther, he escaped from Hydra in 2017, anyway be careful with him. The intel we are looking for it's about some serum they used to work with, that's all, we need to found out how they get it" Fury told me as he hand me the files.

My mind was running wild again when I heard the name, Alexander Günther, if I was right, he was the one that knows everything about Y/N.

"Are you okay Rogers?" Fury said when I didn't took the files.

"Yeah, just thinking. I don't speak german" I told him after I grabbed the files.

"No need, you'll be a scientist named, Christopher Pace, there's all you need to know in those files" Nick told me when pointing out the files on my hands.

I open them an I saw the fake ID's and passports, and then I saw the picture.

"Do I really need to grow a beard?" I asked him with a chuckle.

"You have a month to practice everything Rogers, and yes, you need the beard, they can't recognize you, and try to dye your hair a little darker, just that" Fury said with a kind of smile.

"That's not everything you wanted to tell me, right?" I asked him when I saw him still standing in front of me.

"What's the matter with everyone there? When Tony said he wanted the retirement for Y/N, everyone went wild, they were yelling and I heard something I think I wasn't supposed to hear... 'you can't take that away from her too'... you know what does that means, Rogers?" Nick asked me.

I have a knot on my throath. Nick is in front of my, he knows something is out of place, he knows we are hidding something and he will found out in any moment, but, what would he do if he founds out?

"Y/N loves missions Fury, you know that, she loves her job." I told him trying to act like I didn't know anything.

"Yes I know, she has a perfect file about missions on field and other subjects. But this tiny word makes everything different, what does Tony took away from her too?" Fury asked me with a threatening face.

"She's her daugher Nick, Tony had take away a lot of thing from her, even a dog, it can be a lot of things" I tried to play it cool as Nat showed me.

"You're really a bad liar Rogers, but anyway, I have other issues to attend, and think about Stark's proposal. Anything you need to know about the mission, contact Maria" Nick said before he leaved the room.

"This is going to be harder than I thought" I said to myself before leaving the same room.

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