#you know how some brown eyes can take on some bits of fiery amber shades in golden hour lighting? miles' eyes

[honeyhobies]

🔀 punkflower u already knowwwwwww

til i die - THEY. / dillon francis — fast and furious au

but lets play with it a bit: miles is a vigilante who goes undercover in the street racing world to try to get to the bottom of the string of robberies happening around his city. he's heard of hobie brown, infamous leader of the FNSM racers, who has no qualms being the main suspect in everything and anything—except, apparently, these robberies.

no one believes him, but no one can pin him and his racers at the scene of the crime(s) either. whoever's doing it may as well be invisible, slipping in to steal what they want—gear, car parts, non-perishables, medical equipment, pharmaceuticals—and driving off before the hijacked truck can even come to a complete stop. every police report and truck scanner say the same thing:

"they're quick, they're efficient, and they're showy bastards. loud music, louder cars, i don't know how i missed them, but the fuckers got me anyway."

as a vigilante, miles isn't going to have access to the police reports, but he has followed the sounds of that blaring, victorious music and gunning cars around the city enough to fall into the same camp as everyone else: this has to be the FNSM racers.

but why these trucks? what exactly are they doing with all these stolen goods? and how can he get concrete proof it's them?

miles doesn't have the racing experience. but he's got the smarts to modify cars, the guts to floor them anyway, and most importantly that same drive to push against any blockades set before him until he's coming out on the other side triumphant, just like hobie does.

and hobie likes that. he doesn't trust him—until he does, and they're forced to reckon with the reality of who they both are—but he likes that burning earnestness in miles' eye, the fact that he seems determined to find his place right next to him. step for step, mile for mile.

when hobie talks about family to miles, he really likes seeing how that fire in his eye seems to shift into something a little warmer, homier. hobie doesn't lean in when he catches miles' eyes darting down to his lips while he talks about community, and he regrets it up until miles is forced to reveal his true motive and everything changes.

(he doesn't miss his second chance though. after his car is destroyed and the cops are bearing down on them and miles has thrown him his own keys, hobie doesn't even glance at the get-away car. he pulls miles in and kisses him until the approaching sirens are louder than his own racing heart beat. then whispers an address against miles' lips before he jumps into the car and makes a speedy escape)

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, get an au ask game!

[a-detraque-barista]

Prophecies

Yandere Werewolf Maknae Line x Witch Reader

Genre: yandere, werewolf au, witch au, eventual smut

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: witch hate (??), polyamorous, a little bit of yandere if you squint, that’s about it for this chapter

Synopsis: You get lost on one of the most infamous werewolf pack’s territory looking for your broom. Next thing you know, there’s three werewolves eating cake with you in your dining room.

It was early morning when the air was brisk and the sun was just barely peeking over the line of trees. A strong gust of wind blew all of the fallen twigs and leaves into the air. Your hand stood still above your head as you searched the ground. Growling, you dropped your hand without thinking causing the brush to fall into your hair. You huffed before shaking your head free of the tiny twigs and small leaflets.

The one time out of very few that you decided to fly over the Bangtan territory you get shot down leading to you losing your broom. You’ve never seen this part of the woods from the ground so you were practically lost. The Bangtan pack were known for their deep hatred for witches such as yourself. Well, kind of like yourself. 

Yes, you were a witch, but you weren’t like those goblins that live in candy houses and eat children. You stood out from the atrocious creatures you had to call your kin. Your skin was neither green nor a sickly gray, you were tan from working in your gardens of flowers and fruits and vegetables. You had no warts on your face or cracking. Even your eyes were different. All of the other witches had green or black eyes. And you, your eyes were purple. Better described as a lavender shade.

However, werewolves didn’t care if you were different, they’ll still do their best to kill you. The W&W Rivalry has gone on since the beginning. Millenniums ago, when the world was first created by the gods and goddesses of the universe. No one ever explained why witches and werewolves despised each other, it was just agreed upon. You believe that the Rivalry should end but that would cause even more chaos if brought up to anyone. Word tends to travel around fast through these woods. 

A growl broke you from your thoughts. Turning around slowly, you were now facing a silver furred wolf. It’s light blue, almost gray, eyes met yours and the snarl left its face. A beta. Its legs straightened from the predatory stance telling you he was no longer ready to pounce. 

The wolf cautiously took steps towards you as if it didn’t want to frighten you. On instinct, you turned around and ran. You were confused as to why the wolf hadn’t attacked you but you weren’t going to wait and find out. Running out into an opening you saw the infamous packhouse that was home to none other than Bangtan. Quickly, you changed your direction and ran to where the woods started again. 

You heard the slamming of a door and forced your legs to run faster. You may not be able to outrun them but all you had to do was to get back into the woods, then you’ll be able to lose them. The pounding on the ground from their paws had you beginning to panic. If they catch you, it’s over. 

Just as you stepped into the line of trees, you heard someone yell, “You forgot your broom!”

You stopped in your tracks. They had your broom and they knew how important a broom is to a witch. A witch’s broom was everything. It was not only transportation, but it was also how you paid for ingredients and everything a witch needs to survive, and it showed your status. You could hear the wolf behind you coming closer even over your heartbeat pounding in your ears. 

You could practically hear the wolf chuckling as it stood behind you. With its nose, it nudged the middle of your back like it wanted you to run. It was like it wanted you to play. You wouldn't fall for it though. You knew it wouldn't end well if you did. 

Taking a deep breath, you turned around and looked the wolf dead in the eye to see amber eyes staring back at you. This wolf had dark brown fur, almost black. But it wasn’t an alpha. Alpha’s only have black fur like the midnight sky and red fiery crimson eyes. This must be a general. Almost as strong as the beta but still no match for the alpha. And this particular wolf didn’t seem as nice as the other.

It huffed and circled around behind you to stand on your right. Its tail came to hit you in the ass to make you move forward. You started walking towards the packhouse that wasn’t far enough away. The wolf kept with your pace but kept a good distance from you. The wolf definitely didn’t like witches. 

You stopped in front of where the man that had your broom in his hands stood in front of the house entrance. The man in front of you was stunning. There were absolutely no imperfections visible on his face. The mole near the tip of his nose stood out to you but it was like it complimented his features even more, which you noticed twitch. Witches seemed to have a certain scent according to werewolves. The wolf that had escorted you walked behind the cracked open door to reappear in human form. He was hot but kind of intimidating. His black hair flowed past his eyes and he also had a mole, but his was right below his bottom lip. He seemed to be the youngest. You forgot how beautiful werewolves were.

And finally, the third wolf, the one who found you first comes to stand next to the one holding your broom. The most gorgeous man was now standing in front of you with no shirt and staring at you. Making sure you kept your eyes on the ground, you spoke quietly, “Can I have my broom back please?”

“Looks like she’s not dumb enough to make eye contact,” the youngest one practically glared at you.

You went to ask again when the familiar feeling of a threat nearby stopped you. Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. Quickly scanning the trees for any sign of movement. Taking out your hand you mutter, “Ostendo.” You whipped your arm from left to right and caused the trees to become transparent.

Wolves. More fucking werewolves.

“How the hell did they go undetected!!” the alpha roared getting ready to shift into his wolf form. 

He stopped as he saw you raise you your hand into the air. Black smoke wisped around your hand and down your arm as you said, “Sopio.”

It sent a shock wave through the ground and knocked down almost all of the werewolves. The few that didn’t fall only stumbled before beginning to sprint towards you. Two of the three men behind you shifted and headed straight for the oncoming enemy. Then suddenly more and more wolves came running towards the fight. The alpha stayed behind you before coming to stand next to you. 

“Did you lead them here?” It was blunt and straight to the point.

“Of course not! I’m just here for my broom,” you tried your hardest to make sure he knew you were telling the truth. The last thing you wanted was to start a fight with an alpha.

He stayed quiet before looking down at the broom. It was only a few seconds before snapping it over his knee. The crack resonated for miles. Everything came to a standstill. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. All the wolves, Bangtan and the enemy alike turned to you and the alpha. You stared at the two pieces lying on the ground. The only thing that began to stir was the wind. It grew stronger by the second, the fur on wolves, your hair, even the blades of grass began to sway with the wind.

“You werewolves are all the same,” you glared into the alpha’s eyes and his widened seeing your pastel purple irises. “Obeo.” 

Both you and your broom disappeared and the blowing wind died down. The enemy wolves retreated, not understanding what had happened. And the three wolves that had found you gather in the living room.

“Nice job alpha, you scared away our mate,” the man with pouty lips growled, not caring that he was talking to his alpha with a disrespectful tone.

“Shut it, Jimin. Was I wrong to suspect that she was the reason those bastards were able to sneak in?” the alpha grumbled while he rested his chin on his fist. “Jungkook was the one who said he was gonna break her leg if she ran.”

The said wolf spun his head to look at the alpha, “At least I didn’t snap her broom in half and made her disappear, Taehyung. If I would’ve broken her leg she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere very easily.”

“Well, fighting won’t solve anything. We just need to find her,” Jimin stood up to walk to where he knew the lead hunter would be lazing around.

❄❄❄

It’s been three days since then. You’re home focusing on connecting more splinters and cells of your broom. You’ve made a lot of progress but you still have a lot to go. You had to go out and get some sticky frog’s mucus but it was what you needed to help repair your beloved broom. 

After fusing as many particles as possible, you take a breath and go outside to tend to your flower garden. It was full of the fall’s annual florals. Leyort, Ovore, Demon Cornel, and Heart’s Clover. All of these could be used in potions. The Demon Cornel can also be used as incense that makes the whole house smell like autumn.

You had just gotten done with picking the last of the apples from your mini orchard that was close to your garden. Suddenly, you felt someone watching you so you scanned the area but saw no one. Maybe it was only a spirit looking for somewhere to stay. Spirits that have recently passed in the woods don’t realize they’ve died. So it could just be a deer or something wandering through the forest, looking for food. 

Walking toward the cart you placed the two baskets in the back before grabbing two more empty ones. You headed over to the four rows of pears and began to harvest them. And after, you went over to the vegetables, cabbage, onion, both white and green, and tomatillos. Only so much can grow in the fall. All the good ones won’t be in season until the summer. So until then, you have to buy them from the market...once your broom is repaired. 

You placed the last of the baskets into the cart and begin to pull it towards your cabin. Still feeling the boring gaze, you decided to invite them in, “Whosever out there you’re more than welcome to come in rather than to stalk me!”

And so you took two baskets inside at a time. As you grabbed the last two you looked up to see the three werewolves from three days ago. Of course. Why wouldn’t they leave you alone? Hauling the last baskets in, you left the door open and set the baskets on the counter. 

Looking in your fridge you tried to think of things you could make for three werewolves including you. You still had some pork shoulder so you can make pork blade shoulder ramen. You heard the three wolves shuffle in and close the door behind them. As you put the meat in the frying pan after letting the oil heat up, you turn around to look at the men standing awkwardly in your kitchen.

“You can sit down, ya know.”

And so they found their seats at your small dark wood dining table. You went back to the pork and flipped them over to start boiling the water. They never said a word as they watched you cook dinner. As you began portioning the ramen and pork evenly at the table, the alpha spoke, “I’m sorry, about your broom.”

He said this as he stared at the slowly forming broom sitting on a stand with burnt candles surrounding it. The other two wolves looked at it as well. They looked almost, perplexed at the sight. So you explained, “Witches can repair their brooms if they have the right materials. It’s too much of a hassle to get a completely new one.”

The boys turned back to you and watched as you sat down and put your hands flat together. Witches were raised to thank their ancestors before every meal. And you began to eat your delicious ramen. 

“Are you gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna eat?” 

“Do witches have mates?”

You stopped eating and set your chopsticks down to look at the werewolves who were staring at you.

“Kind of. It depends on what the witch’s prophecy says,” you explained before taking a drink of your water. 

“Prophecies?” the beta questioned as he looked to you for more information.

“That’s a complicated topic. Let’s introduce ourselves properly, first. I’m (Y/n),” you smiled and waited for them to tell you their names. 

“My name’s Jimin!” the beta said excitedly and even raised his hand.

“I’m Taehyung,” the man in the middle that you remembered to be the alpha.

And lastly, you turned to the last one you muttered, “Jungkook.”

“I’m assuming you hate witches,” you said bluntly and surprised all the males sitting at the table.

“Yeah, I do.”

“That’s too bad, you don’t seem like a bad guy.”

“So we were talking about proph-” Taehyung began to change the topic but you interrupted him and stood up with your empty bowl to bring it to the sink. 

“That can wait for another time. Now I have to repair my broom some more. You guys are more than welcome to stay if you want,” you refused to talk about your prophecy. Your prophecy spoke of nothing but nonsense. You would not allow that forbidden thing in your house, so your mother kept for safekeeping. She didn’t want you to destroy it.

“We’d hate to intrude, but I am kind of curious to see how you repair it,” Jimin said softly and walked up behind you as you kneeled down to the height of the broom. 

Dripping some of the frog mucus onto the broken ends you held your hands just above the wood. Your hands began to glow blue and more of the splinters connected to show half of the broom now good as new. You sighed as you dropped your hands. “Only a few more days. Then it’ll be fixed.”

When you stood and turned around all three men were standing close to you. “I think we’ll stay, if it’s not too much trouble,” Taehyung muttered.

“Of course not, I invited you to stay didn’t I? And I know the trip back to your packhouse isn’t a short one,” you smiled at Taehyung making him blush.

"How come you can't fix it all at once?" Jungkook grumbled from the dining table.

"Because there's a lot of magic that goes into creating these brooms alone, it takes just as much, even more magic to repair them. Especially if it's such a clean break."

Taehyung gained a darker red hue on his cheeks as he sat back down at the table. 

"Do you guys like cake? I made some earlier. It was for a friend but he couldn't make it today," you smiled as you waited for a response and stood next to Jimin.

"We would love some," Jimin beamed as he followed you to the kitchen to help cut slices and put them on plates. "So, who's your friend that you were talking about?"

"Hm? Oh, you're talking about Namjoon. He's a wizard that I met a while back at the market one day," you and Jimin set the plates down and then sat down yourselves. 

You weren't worried about telling them Namjoon was a wizard. Wizards were very neutral in politics and races. They never intervened unless provoked and that's why you got along with Namjoon. He was understanding and saw that you weren't like the other witches. However, you could feel the tension begin to become thick.

“Why didn’t he show up today?” Taehyung’s voice had dropped as he stared at you while Jungkook was stabbing his slice of cake and Jimin had slouched in his chair.

“He said the trip back home was taking longer than expected, so can’t really blame him,” you shrugged as you took a bite of your cake.

The rest of the time was silent as no other questions were asked. It seemed strange to you that they would care about why he wasn’t able to come. Did they know him by any chance? You were in no position to ask questions, especially when they hated witches in the first place. But one question wouldn’t leave your head since they walked in, “Why did you guys come here?”

It’s quiet as they tried to think of a response. They didn’t want to scare you away with mate talk. But they needed to be with you. Witch or not you’re their mate who needs to be protected and loved by them. Jungkook still had mixed feelings about you being a witch, but he needs you. And they’ll have you.

“To make up with you, of course,” Jimin takes your hand in his and smiles. A visible shudder ran through his spine.

Your eyes widened and your lips parted. That was the last thing you expected to hear. Not even members of your family or close friends came to make up with you over pettier subjects. All of this was too much for you, not being used to so much interaction in one sitting. “I need to go take a shower. There’s a tv in the living room and blankets in my room. I’ll be back,” you were surprised all of your words didn’t come out in one heap of syllables as you quickly made your way to the bathroom.

“Did I scare her?”

“Probably.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

Jimin stood up to go follow you so he could apologize about making you uncomfortable. He just couldn’t help it. Your hands looked so soft and small compared to his, he needed to hold your hand. His body reacted to it as well when it sent a shiver up his spine. Werewolves were very touchy with their mates, Jimin had already been a clingy person so now it was tenfold when it came to you. He was happy just holding your hand. Imagine actually cuddling you, he would be in euphoria when that day came.

“Oh Jimin, did you need something?” you were about to walk out of the bathroom because you had forgotten to grab a towel when you came across Jimin walking in the hallway.

“Huh? Oh right, I just wanted to say sorry if I made you uncomfortable back there,” Jimin spoke quietly as he looked down at his shuffling feet.

“You’re apologizing?” Jimin nodded his head. “There’s no need to. I was just overwhelmed was all. I’m not used to somebody holding my hand and people talking to me this much. It felt...nice when you held my hand.”

Jimin had looked up at you for the first time and saw that you were only in a tank top and underwear. His face became hot as he looked up to you to see you smiling, not realizing what you were wearing. 

You had spent years living by yourself so it was normal for you to walk around the house like this. You had accidentally done it around Namjoon too which after that he couldn’t look at you without blushing for a while. 

“Well I-I uh, just-just wanted to say sorry and now I’ll leave you to do whatever,” Jimin’s whole face and his ears were red at this point. He headed back towards where his other mates were still sitting at the table. “I just saw our mate in panties and a tank top.”

The other two looked at him like he was crazy before asking him a boatload of questions. Jimin kept zoning out, he had never seen such a pretty sight.

[ladyluck678]

Steven Universe: The Malevolent Shard

Deep in a remote canyon, a dark and spiteful weapon was forgotten over 5,500 years ago during the Gem Rebellion. Can the Crystal Gems with the help of Blue Diamond stop the darkness before it consumes them? Join Steven as he tries to stop this menace while strengthening the his friendship with the "merciful" Blue Diamond. Set a few months after CYM in the (mostly) canon universe.

Once again, just posting some of my writing that I said I’d share but then never do. Don’t know if I’ll post the entire story but, here’s the AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398669/chapters/48383983

(Maybe if enough folks ask I’ll post the entire work.)

Chapter 1: Arrival

Homeworld, in its broken glory, was a stunning spectacle when its sun rose. All of its crystal spires, quartz guards, and polished pathways reflecting a brilliant mirror shine as if yearning to be just as bright as the star it orbited around.

Blue Diamond barely gave the sight more than a glance; however, there was work to be done.

She had to consult with Yellow Diamond on a rather urgent request, and Yellow wouldn't be overly pleased with what Blue had agreed to.

She stepped past some burly Topaz guards into Yellow's golden palace grounds and quickly walked over to her private chambers. Anyone requesting to see Yellow Diamond needed an appointment, and appointments were rarely made voluntarily... But Blue always had free range to come and go as she pleased, and when she walked up to the large amber doors to Yellow's chamber, they opened without hesitation.

“Ah! Blue Diamond! Please follow me.” Blue couldn't help but smile a little, her expression expertly hidden in the shade of her veil. Yellow's pearl, she was a high strung creature but very diligent in her duties.

“My Diamond, Blue Diamond, is here for an audience.”

The little yellow pearl saluted as she spoke, “That will be all pearl.” The small gem bowed once more to Blue as she made her way back to the entrance.

The room was dim, a majority of the light coming from the consoles and screens that Yellow had up around her. Blue sauntered over to the chair that Yellow occupied, “You've been here since the middle of the day yesterday, haven't you?”

She let the veil that covered her head slip down on to her shoulders as she sat on the arm of the chair.

“I'm reorganizing the armies in sector 3874. I called off the invasion on the system there.” The gold general took a deep breath after she stated what she was doing and sat back. A long pause drew out after the revelation.

Blue wrapped her arm around the latter's shoulder and kissed her gently on the temple. “Things are changing, for better or worse, I suppose.” Yellow said reflectively, “However, I'm sure you're not here to listen to me muse.”

The golden diamond clasped the blue hand that was delicately touching the gem on her chest. “I am, as always, at your service, my darling.”

A mischievous smile drew across Blue Diamond's face. “You won't say that once I tell you what I'm up to. I need to discuss with you my plans to visit Earth. Steven spoke with me at length last night; there's a particularly nasty weapon giving the Crystal Gems some problems.”

“So, you're going to drop everything and go to Earth?” Yellow Diamond's brow knit together; she was trying to digest what was said.

“Blue, while I'll agree that our relations with Steven are much better, I don't feel comfortable with you going there on your own. We're not exactly friends with the Crystal Gems...”

Yellow gave the elegant blue gem sitting next to her a piercing look. “Why don't you order an Aquamarine and some Topaz soldiers to go again?”

Blue shook her head and got up abruptly. “No, that didn't go well at all last time, and we need to build some trust with the gems residing there. Besides, wouldn't you feel bad if something happened to Steven? We put a lot of dangerous weapons and relics in place during the rebellion.”

White had also placed some nasty artifacts on the Earth in an attempt to quell the rebellion. The relic in question was admittedly from White’s arsenal of weapons. Blue had to dig particularly deep in her archives to find the specifics. After researching for a couple of cycles, she knew Steven and his unorthodox court of gems, and humans would need assistance.

“We are ultimately responsible my love.” Yellow looked at the resolved Blue Diamond and sighed.

Blue had a look of pure determination in her eyes that Yellow hadn't seen in thousands of years (about 5000). She got up and walked over to her cerulean queen and wrapped her arms around her waist.

Blue reciprocated by placing her arms around Yellow's neck, “For the record, I don’t approve.”

Blue arched a thin eyebrow, “Noted.”

“I'd also like a full report of whatever this weapon is.” Blue's brow narrowed in annoyance; it was a millennia's old argument between them about who would handle what situation when intelligence and military oversight crossed into each other.

“You know that artifacts, intelligence, and policy are well under my purview.”

“Yes, but this a weapon as well, putting it in the peripheral of my responsibilities.”

“Why do I get the distinct feeling that this is more about me traveling solo to Earth than it is about your responsibilities?”

The pair didn't break the embrace; it was clear; however, that Yellow was incredibly agitated at Blue questioning the general's judgment.

“Because the last time I let someone important to me travel to that dammed planet by themselves to face possible danger, I lost them forever!”

There it was, it actually shocked the both of them. Ever since the Diamonds had found Pink Diamond (or her son rather), Yellow had been more forthcoming with her feelings.

Blue didn't expect such a significant admission, and neither did Yellow, judging by the contorted look on her face and the tears in the corners of her eyes.

Blue drew herself a little closer, their noses almost touching. She cupped Yellow's cheek with soft fingers, thumb caressing a strong chin.

“Let me handle this, I won't belong. I'll even send you the data on the object I'm dealing with.” Voice soft as crushed velvet. Blue tenderly kissed the corner of Yellow's mouth, letting it linger for a moment before parting and resting her forehead against Yellow's.

Against her better judgment, the golden matriarch relented with a heavy sigh; “You're going to have to be more discreet than last time you visited...” ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Steven sat on the sandy beach in front of his home with a large rose-colored lion napping behind him. Lion was his name as well, and Steven thought that maybe a more original name would be appropriate. But then again, the overly large pink cat behind him was unique enough.

“So, she said three days, right?” Connie Maheswaran was sitting next to Steven, leaning back on Lion. Her warm brown eyes questioning as she looked at the sky. It was dusk, and the first stars of the evening were poking through some pastel-colored clouds.

“She said three Earth Sol cycles, I hope that means three days, it's hard to tell with gems sometimes.”

Connie smiled, the concept of time for a gem compared to a human were very different things; a gem could live for tens of thousands of years. What was three days or even 30 years to beings that were almost immortal? “I'm pretty sure that's what she meant.” Connie smiled at Steven, and he smiled back, best friends forever.

Just as soon as the two children got back to their comfortable silence, a booming sound came from the sky far above them. The unmistakable sight of a fiery entrance into Earth's atmosphere. However, instead of landing in front of the beach, the foreign object made its way to the far side of Beach City. Only tall cliffs and large seaweed-covered rocks occupied this part of the coast.

“That has to be her!” Steven said wide-eyed. “Come on, Lion, warp us to the cliffs!” Lion only grumped a bit and turned over. “Aw, come on, Lion! It'll take forever to get to that side on foot!” Steven huffed in frustration as Connie laughed.

“Fine, I'll get you two Lion Lickers if you get us over there, one for bringing me and one for Connie. What do you think, buddy?” Lion stood up and stretched as both Connie and Steven got on the large cat's back, seemingly pleased with the bargain. (Who knew you could haggle with a lion?)

With a mighty roar, the trio was instantly warped to where the ship landed. ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The ship was a much smaller version of the arm ships that the Diamond Authority used. In fact, it was the same model ship that Peridot was using when the Crystal Gems first had a physical altercation with her and Jasper. This ship, however, was colored blue and in typical fashion, landed palm up.

An encapsulated sphere soon appeared in the palm and collapsed almost as soon as it appeared, revealing a shrouded Blue Diamond.

Near 50ft in height, she still managed to gracefully jump to the rocky beach (careful to not make too much of a ruckus).

“Steven, I'm so happy to see you!” She said with her soft lilting accent, smiling.

“Blue! You made it, I'm so glad you're here!” Steven and Connie got off Lion and began walking towards the large blue woman. She held out her left hand, palm out to stop them from proceeding further.

“Just a moment, Steven, I want my visit to be... less disruptive than last time.” The shrouded figure then turned and lifted her right hand, the ship levitated unnaturally and following Blue's movements flipped palm down and then into a fist. Finally, it was submerged under the salty waves of the ocean.

Satisfied with how the ship was stowed, Blue let her shroud slip off her shoulders. Her projection shimmered around her gem into a bright light, then contorted and curled into a much smaller version of herself. Deep breath in, then out as she stretched. Gems didn't need to breath, but it had its uses.

Blue looked over to the children, and her smile grew wider. Steven had nothing but stars in his eyes as he stared with his jaw dropped open. Even his human friend Connie had an astonished expression (the sizeable pink animal only regarded her with a snort).

“Blue, you can do that!?” Steven ran up. He jumped in the cerulean matriarch's arms, she caught him effortlessly. She planted a few wet kisses on his cheek in rapid succession. “Of course, I can! You're so silly, Steven, all gems can do this.”

Connie walked up as Blue set Steven back on the ground, she crouched in front of them so she could speak to the pair at eye level.

“So, you are well?” She looked at both children intensely, questioningly.

The diamond reached out to the young human girl, and Connie hesitantly gave her hand to Blue. She gently wrapped her elegant fingers around the small dark hand, almost completely engulfing it.

Connie is important to Steven. She wasn't just a “pet,” as was first thought. The young gem hybrid had a very high opinion of the little human girl, so that was something worth noting.

The boy was distraught, Blue picked up on his anxiety almost instantly when they had conversed nearly three days ago.

Connie had injured herself while defending Steven, and now held the appendage that was damaged during the Crystal Gem's attempt to try and neutralize the artifact in question.

Steven cared so much for this girl... If she were important to him, then Blue would endeavor to care for her, too; she had to at least try. She needed to listen, to understand, the past could not be repeated...

Blue snapped out of her musing, an urgent question spilling off her tongue, “No permanent harm was done to either of you?”

Steven paused and scuffed the sand with his feet. “I healed Connie's broken arm, and Amethyst was almost poofed, but she's okay.”

"Poofed," a slang term that the Crystal Gems used instead of dissipation, were a gem's form was damaged and brought down to its base component.

“Hey, uh, let's go to my house and talk about this. Garnet and the others are gonna want to hear what you have to say about this thing. Honestly, we don't even have a name for it... we didn't even get a look. Just a horrible feeling.”

The gem matriarch nodded and stood, Steven gently tugging her robes in the direction home.

[changingchances]

Crossing Senses Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor Part Seven

A/N: 2806 words. HELLLLLOOOOO LOVELIES! I’m sorry it’s taken a hot minute for me to post! Now that classes have started, I have a lot less time to write in between studying. I have around 18 credit hours this semester, so I apologize if updates are scarce or a little scattered right now. Thank you so much for your support and your feedback! Please feel free to message me with any questions, suggestions, comments, etc! I hope you enjoy this next bit! Much love! 

P.S. If I missed anyone in the taglist, please let me know and I’ll add you to the next post!!

Warnings: Swearing

Roe is greeted with a headache that she can feel in her teeth before she even opens her eyes. She’s nauseous. Her throat hurts. She can feel her heartbeat in her face. To try and relieve whatever discomfort she can, she rolls over in bed and lays face down into her pillow, breathing deeply. Her eyes pop open, though, when she realizes that her pillow doesn’t smell like her laundry detergent. Sitting up on her elbows, she looks around in a daze, trying to ignore the pounding in her head when her eyes move too quickly.

This is not her room. The walls are white rather than the strange off cream paint in her apartment. There is a television on the wall across from the bed as opposed to her rickety desk and old bookshelf. The bed is far larger than her own, with white sheets and blankets instead of grey. She turns over onto her back and sits up straight, one of her hands moving to press against the side of her head. It takes a long moment to figure out where the hell she is, but once it comes to her, everything else about last night comes crashing down as well.

Roe’s soulmate was at the party, so she got drunk. Matt was at the party, and he got into a fight with Brian. Roe had a panic attack- the worst one she’s had in years. Roger was taking her upstairs to a room, so she could calm down, be alone, but… she saw colors dance across his face. She’s painted those colors before. She knows them far too well after all of these months of listening to the same song again and again. Even if Roe were the type of person to believe in coincidences, this would be too much of one. She has no doubt in her mind that she is Roger’s soulmate. Her heart plummets and lands in the soles of her feet.

Roe rests her face in her hands, knees to her chest. She isn’t sure why this doesn’t feel like good news. She should be elated, right? But Roger Taylor has a reputation. He is known for taking what he wants from the women who throw themselves at him, and then moving right along to the next most interesting thing to cross his path. He’s a cocky musician basking in the beginnings of fame. He has tendencies to drink, to get incredibly angry, to start fights at gigs. Roe’s not certain what she had been expecting in a soulmate, but those characteristics hadn’t made the list. And she’s willing to bet that she isn’t what Roger was hoping to find at the beginnings of forever, either.

But he wants so badly to find her. It troubles him a great deal that he has no clue about her. He isn’t avoiding the rest of his life like Roe is, he is actively searching for her. And here she is, harboring what may be one of the most important discoveries to him as though it were a tragic diagnosis.

God, I have to tell him, don’t I? Roe blows out a heavy sigh and lifts her head. The poor guy deserves to know the truth, if she didn’t make it obvious already in the elevator last night. She hopes she maintained some level of composure. She can’t imagine anybody would want to realize who their soulmate is through the likes of her reaction. She runs a hand over her eyes, deciding that she desperately needs a shower before she can function in any capacity. She needs to think. Showers are good for thinking.

Once out of bed, she pads over to the huge bathroom. She doesn’t even want to think about how much this place must have cost Freddie. It’s when she catches her reflection in the mirror that she realizes she isn’t in the dress she had on last night. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind before now. She’s wearing nothing but her underwear and a white button-down shirt, just long enough to reach the top of her thighs. She draws in a shaky breath. It has to be Roger’s shirt. She doesn’t remember getting undressed last night- she went straight to the bed once Roger unlocked to room and must have passed out in moments.

She stares at her reflection, stares so hard she imagines the glass may crack beneath the weight of her gaze. Roe has never considered herself to be beautiful. She’s rather pretty, not plain, but not traditionally attractive. She doesn’t have long locks of silky hair. She’d chopped her curls off, nearly shaved her head, when she was fifteen to piss off some wanker she was dating at the time. She feels short hair is simply easier to manage and suits her far more than the tangled mess that were once her long ringlets. She isn’t blonde, nor a fiery redhead. Her hair is simply brown, so dark it almost looks black. Her ears, not covered by any curls, stick out in a rather average way, minus her variety of piercings. Her grandmother nearly had an aneurism at the sight of the hoops and studs several years back- told her that pretty young ladies shouldn’t have chunks of metal sticking out of their skin. Roe rolls her eyes at the memory.

She continues to study herself, unconsciously comparing her appearance to that of the variety of young women she’s seen Roger with in the past month alone. Roe’s face is narrow, jaw a little square, cheekbones a little higher than average. Her eyes aren’t particularly slanted, nor particularly wide, merely almond shaped and framed by bushes of God-given lashes and naturally thick, messy brows. Her irises look brown. Everyone tells her they are a nice shade of brown. But Freddie, who’s known her for over a decade, and Brian, who’s been close enough to her face in the past month, have pointed out the green and amber flecks scattered within the wooded hues, commented on how they are in fact hazel rather than brown, told her they are beautiful. She can’t help but wonder if Roger would notice the forest greens and touches of sunlight in her eyes. She wonders if he’d think they’re beautiful, too.

Roe sighs, long and heavy, before scanning down her body. She is on the thin side, but with no assets of the small-waisted, supermodel quality women on billboards, on commercials, on Roger Taylor’s arm. She used to hate not having large breasts, not possessing hips “fit for child-bearing”, as her aunt once put it. She’s gotten better, though, at really loving her body for what it is. She is flat-chested, small-boned, not particularly curvy, not tall in any sense of the word. But she’s got the look of a dancer, long lines and defined muscles. Her head is always held high, her feet a little turned out at all times, shoulders back and down, ribcage closed and posture taut. Roe is certainly not unattractive, but she does not fit the standards of Roger’s most preferred type. She chews her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth.

You’re thinking too hard, Roe. She turns away from the mirror and glances down at the white button-down shirt she’s wearing.

She really tries not to dwell to long on the fact that Roger must have gotten her out of the dress and into the shirt while she was asleep. She imagines his intentions were nothing but good, but all things considered, she doesn’t know whether she’s grateful or uncomfortable. The thought of him seeing her naked makes her throat tighten, and she sheds the clothing, gets into the shower, and cranks on the water before she can think too hard about it. But she does think about it. She thinks about how she hated the man until his apology last night. She thinks about how she probably wouldn’t have given a shit had he seen her undressed before she her revelation.

She thinks about how everyone talks about feeling elated, relieved, so very in love when they find their soulmates, and here she is, standing at the edge of another panic attack.

Deep breaths. Roe reminds herself, ducking her head under the scalding hot water and reaching for the shampoo. As she washes her hair, she tries to take inventory of her thoughts to ground herself, an attempt to make sense of the array of emptions she’s bombarded with. She feels some sense of dread. In all honesty, that isn’t unusual. Anytime the topic of her soulmate has come up for the past couple of years, she feels overwhelmed, tries to avoid the conversation at all costs. So, it’s possible, and very likely, that she is nervous about Roger being her soulmate, but not merely because her soulmate is Roger. Soulmate scenarios scare the hell out of her on their own.

Now, about his shirt. She recognizes that it was a kind thing to do. She recognizes that he did not do anything inappropriate or malicious to her. She understands that she typically has no problem getting naked in front of any men. So, what about this is so bothersome?

Roe pauses in rinsing her hair to glance down at her body. While she’s in fantastic shape, she recognizes that her body is not the type of fit most men fantasize about (because who’s is?), but that hasn’t deterred her for several years. She figures that if a man doesn’t like her body, it’s his problem and not hers, as she is incredibly healthy and feels she looks pretty damn good. But the idea of Roger, her soulmate, seeing her undressed, possibly comparing her body to the bodies of countless other women…. Maybe she doesn’t feel good enough. Roger has been with so many beautiful women. This insecurity where the drummer is concerned likely stems from the fact that she fears rejection from her soulmate above most things.

“Great,” Roe mutters to herself, scrubbing at her sudsy hair. “I’ve become the stereotypical psychoanalysis.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Roe? Is that you in there?” Roger Taylor’s voice is muffled from outside of the bathroom. Roe’s fingers freeze in her hair. Her stomach drops, the reality of her situation hitting her once again. She clears her throat and forces herself to reach for the soap.

“Yeah, who else?” She calls, praying that the quip sounds realistic. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

There is no answer. She stands there for a few more moments, huddled under the hot water. She’s not sure what comes after this, once she steps out of the shower and rejoins the world outside of her head. Is she going to have to face Roger right now? Or will she have to wait until she goes downstairs? Until the next band rehearsal? Until the next gig? Roe can’t decide which would be worse- coming clean now or harboring her epiphany indefinitely. Surely, it would be better in the long run to just get it out in the open, get it over with, to have an answer now. A jolt pulses in her stomach, uncomfortable and anxious in its presence. What the fuck would she even say to him? Hey, man, it’s me, Roe, your soulmate, Miss Forever. Should she make some grand gesture? Roe shudders at the thought, her face heating up with humiliation at just the idea of it. No, she needs to do this privately, and if Roger is here now, then this is the most appropriate moment. And God knows when a moment like this may make itself available again.

She doesn’t move from beneath the water.

Just get it over with. That nearly electric feeling in her gut hits again. She takes a deep, deep breath and wills her hand to shut off the water. Stepping out of the shower, she grabs a hotel towel and dries off slowly, buying time, putting off the inevitable. Another deep breath. She opens the door, quietly calling the drummer’s name. When she goes to step out of the bathroom, she comes face to face with a yawning woman. Roe pauses, expression carefully blank.

“Excuse me,” the woman smiles and squeezes past into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Roe stands for a short moment, face expressionless, but mind racing. Her headache had eased some in the shower, but her temples are pounding again. it feels like someone’s stuck an ice pick behind each eye. And then she’s moving to the bed, searching for her dress, for anything to put on so she can get the hell out of this room. But the dress is nowhere to be seen. Her shoes are nowhere to be seen. At this point, Roe is more than half tempted to simply march out wrapped in nothing but her towel.

“Looking for these?” Roe turns so quickly at Brian’s voice that she swears she gives herself whiplash. He’s stood in the doorway, still in the clothes he wore last night, though this shirt is mostly unbuttoned. When her eyes meet his, her stomach drops for the millionth time this morning. His nose has blood crusted beneath it. Both his under eyes are swollen and purpling. His lip is split, and there are bruises smattering the skin exposed by his undone shirt. Roe approaches him, one hand clutching at her towel, the other immediately reaching for his face. When she’s directly in front of him, she hesitates, her hand hovering at his cheek, but he leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. They stand that way, silent, and then Roe is choking on the tightness in her throat, trying to blink away the burning in her eyes. When she takes a breath, it’s a little too sharp to go unnoticed, and Brian opens his eyes, brows furrowing in concern.

“Roe, it’s alright, love.” He reassures, covering her hand, still resting on his cheek, with his own. Roe shakes her head though, lips pursing as the tears well up. Brian, who’s been holding a bag in his other hand, drops it to the floor and wraps her up in his arms, burying his face in her neck and practically lifting her off of the ground in the embrace. Roe can’t keep the tears from falling, but she doesn’t let them overwhelm her. Brian’s already witnessed the beginnings of a break down. The only thing a full out sob session will do is worsen her headache.

But, hell, she feels like her thoughts are tidal waves crashing against the walls of her mind. She’d seen Matt for the first time in over a year, and the guy fought with Brian, who she’s been sleeping with casually for over a month. She had that damned panic attack in front of the whole band. She met her fucking soulmate, but he doesn’t know that he’s her soulmate, and she woke up this morning in his shirt even though he obviously slept with the long-legged beauty that Roe met outside of the bathroom, a woman he likely picked up after dropping Roe, his soulmate, off in the hotel room. Is she missing anything?

Roe abruptly pulls away from Brian, her hand moving to pinch the bridge of her nose. She can hide the tears pretty well, but they’ve been replaced with a swell of ire, sheer resentment for the whole situation she’s found herself in, and she doesn’t do as well at concealing it.

“Roe, it’s really alright-“

“No, Brian, it isn’t.” She exhales, still facing away from him. Her voice shakes the smallest amount, only serving to feed her irritation even further. “This whole thing is so fucked up,” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The smallness of his voice, typically so eloquent and certain, causes Roe to turn her head, glancing back at him. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She wants to get the hell out of this hotel and as far away from Roger Taylor as humanly possible. But the look on Brian’s face keeps her from saying anything along those lines.

She sighs again. “No, not really,” there’s a pause where neither of them say anything. Taking in a deep breath, Roe continues. “It would probably do me some good, though.”

Brian smiles a little at that, small and concerned. He nods and picks up the bag he’d left on the floor, holding it out towards here.

“These are your clothes from last night. I imagine you’d rather have these than be stuck in that towel all day,” He smirks a little. “Though, I can’t say I’d mind you choosing neither of them.”

Roe snorts, rolls her eyes as the takes the bag from him.

“I think I’ll stick with the clothes.”

Taglist

@voidfanfiction

@raveng1rl

@itsgrassy

@d-r-e-a-m-catchme

@legendsaresooftenwarnings

@armadaextra

@radioblahblahh

[fmdxkit-blog]

setting: august 2006 to present day. warnings: death. word count: 3321 (// icb).

white with hints of grey and purple was all kit saw in his reflection. not too long ago—124 days, to be exact (but who was really counting?), he saw peaches, browns, flecks of pink, amber, blue, yellow. so many colors; he took them for granted, believing they were eternal. now, flooded in the lifeless hue of white (which wasn’t even a bonafide color, as his friend told him), kit felt dead. there was no life around him. the plants sat on the window sill were fake, devoid of mother nature’s gift (or curse).

he pulled a maroon beanie over his head, adding a splash of color to the canvas shade of his skin. the striking contrast brought the magentas out on his cheeks, but kit still looked as sickly as ever. bracing a knit cardigan around his slim, fragile body—his teacher gifted him (out of pity, no less), kit waddled towards the open door of his private hospital room. he asked a nurse to keep it open because he was so tired of hearing nothing but the voices tick away in his head, gnawing, scratching. kit would go mad if the silence persisted.

he stalked the corridor, rolling the IV pole next to him. it was the wilson to his—whatever tom hanks’ name was in that movie he was stranded on an island and his only friend for seven years was a bloodied volleyball. the IV pole was his only friend at the hospital.

kit strolled to where the other children with cancer usually gathered as the nurses tried to serenade them by singing kumbaya, as if that made the cancer nonexistent. he scoffed upon entering the room, immediately regretting the idea of having some sort of human interaction that day. before he could vanish back into the white surroundings, he caught a nurse’s periphery, and she waved him to join. he scanned the room. it was less dead than the rest of the ward. colourful, connected mats shielded the floor as toys laid scattered about: blocks, rag dolls, toy trucks, action figures. the whole shebang. the children were in a circle, surrounding a nurse with a ukulele.

begrudgingly, kit entered the playroom but lingered behind everyone else. he didn’t like drawing too much attention, nor was he in the mood to be singing songs, pretending he wasn’t confined out of his will because of an ailment 21st doctors still couldn’t solve. at eleven, he was already so much of a cynic. most eleven year olds were waiting for hogwarts letters (as if). he was losing his childhood day by day at an alarming rate.

“hey, i’ve never seen you around here.” soft but distinct. the voice crawled into kit’s personal bubble but he turned his head but saw no one. he then glanced down, blinking at a girl in a wheelchair.

“me too,” kit contested, eyeing the stranger. she wore the drab hospital gown and cliched beanie over her head too. it wouldn’t take a brain genius to realize she was a cancer patient just like him. “leukemia?”

“leukemia.” the girl nodded, lips twisted to a subtle pucker. “i’m elena, by the way. nice seeing someone else my age here.”

“kit.”

“kit? like kit-kat but without the kat? is your sister named kat?” elena giggled, tossing jokes as if they were funny. well, they were but kit wasn’t easily humored when his mood was at an all-time low.

“i don’t have a sister. i have a brother and his name is henry,” he answered diplomatically.

“you do know your parents named you after chocolate bars, right?”

kit scowled, annoyed by the wisecracks. “who asked you? why are you even talking to me? we’re not friends.”

elena fiddled with the hem of her blue hospital the gown. “how else do we make friends if we don’t talk, kit-kat?”

“first of all, i don’t want any friends.” kit resented anything or anyone who even vaguely reminded him he had cancer and was practically perched on death’s doormat. befriending a fellow patient was a definite no. “second of all, don’t call me that.” irritated, kit clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and vacated the room. he was done with the crappy music and interrogation—none of which he signed up for, nor appreciated.

“hey, wait!” elena called behind him.

kit tossed her a glare over his shoulders, grimacing as her frail arms spun the large wheels of the wheelchair. “why are you following me? don’t follow me.” when he reached his room, he planned to slam the door in her face but a tire prevented him from doing so.

“i’m sorry i called you kit-kat. i won’t call you that again. i’ve been here for months and i haven’t spoken to anyone my age. i’m tired of listening to toddlers rave about dora the explorer. and frankly, i can’t look at them because i feel so bad. babies shouldn’t have to go through this,” elena emphasized gravelly, voice on the verge of breaking after an emotional and sincere speech.

kit was taken back by the burst of honesty and also by how much he related to her words. they struck a chord, so he opened the door.

“no one deserves to go through this,” he corrected passionately yet grimly, his jaw clenched so tight as his adam’s apple bobbed.

elena mustered a small, relieved smile. “let’s start again.” courteously, she extended a hand. “i’m elena. nice meeting you!”

kit stared at the pink palm, contemplating on accepting the offer of friendship. he had plenty of friends outside of the hospital but no one on the inside. he was so exhausted of pitied looks, maybe having someone on the same boat wouldn’t be a constant remainder of his situation but a person to relate to. to talk to. to understand him and his fears.

he shook elena’s hand, watching her smile overwhelm her freckled face. kit was stunned by the radiance; he was almost persuaded to mirror the expression but slickly caught himself and dropped the handshake a fraction later.

“and i’m kit. nice meeting you too.”

—

propped up by a number of heavy duty pillows, kit stared lifelessly at the television screen. old reruns of sitcoms from before he was born played: a group of elderly women spewing comedic jokes, a nanny with a nasally accent provided laughter, and a prince from bel-air but kit doesn’t bat an eyelash. his expression is forlorn, eyes an empty abyss of dull, mousy brown.

there was a knock on his door but he forewent a reply, wanting to have some alone time. then there was another until the knocking was constant, ringing in his ears. he snapped his head at the door as soon as it opened without a verbal permission of sorts.

“get out,” he hissed, voice eerily too deep for a boy of eleven.

elena stepped in, no longer bound to a clunky wheelchair. she padded to his bed, ignoring his wishes. “i heard you screaming earlier-“

the pink, swollen skin around kit’s eyes tightened, his jaw clenching as venom laced his words. “i was not screaming.”

“crying, then.” elena sat herself on the edge of the bed, hands folded on her thighs as she studied his appearance. there was no pity. just curiosity. “you’re not going home anytime soon, huh?”

kit glanced away, hard expression set on the cracks through the blinds. he saw nothing but pretend to be invested in anything else but the truth. the silence answered her questions and elena nodded knowingly.

“i’m glad you’re here.”

“excuse me?” kit grimaced, half disgusted by her confession and half confused. he returned his glare onto her and she refused to meet it, sight set on the floor.

“i’m glad you’re here. we can keep each other company. if you stay at home, who will be there for you? your parents have work and henry has sch-“<\small>

“your logic makes no sense,” he scowled. how could anyone wish for him to stay in some place he detested with every cell of his existence.

“you’ll get better, kit,” elena said wisely, as if she was certain his fate was guaranteed or written in the morning paper she fancied reading. “i know it. i can feel it. just hold on a little longer. the hospital isn’t so bad. the food, though.” in synchronization, they glanced at the tray of food settled on a bedside table. “that can be better.”

it didn’t know whether to groan or laugh but the most natural of chuckles spilled from his lips when he allowed himself the pleasure of loosening up. he was never so high-strung but the ambience of the hospital changed him. chemotherapy and radiation left him wilted, draining his last bits of energy until he was a blackhole, destructive to only himself. a rose, who was once brilliant red, now decaying with no color to its merit.

“finally,” elena grinned, her freckled cheeks pushing her eyes into merry crescents. “a smile. you look better when you smile.”

“you’ve been reading too many romance novels. you need to lay off.” flushed cheeks and heat prickling the tips of his ears, kit cleared his throat to act unaffected. aloof, even.

“what can i say, they take me away.” shutting her eyes, the sunlight peering through the gaps in the blinds settled on her face. the brown, orange, tan specks on her complexion luminescent, matching the radiance of her fiery, orange hair.

kit felt a strange, foreign beat in his chest. he clasped a hand over his heart, worried of yet another side affect of his treatment: he was exhausted of the migraines, the nausea, the vomiting. all he wanted was peace. but the sensation was different. it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it felt oddly calming while encouraging all at once.

he gulped, flickering his gaze anywhere but not on the trigger of the new anomaly.

—

“woah!” elena gaped in awe at the music video kit showed her on the computer once it came to an inevitable and bitter finish. her eyes were glazed, starry and astonished.

“what did i tell you?” kit stood proudly, hands perched on his hips. “cool, right?”

“very cool,” chuckled elena, scenes of the video zipping through her head in rewind. “i can see you doing that.”

bashfully, kit ran his hands over his beanie, adjusting the elastic hem around his pinkish ears. “you think? i don’t know. i can’t really sing, dance or rap.”

“but you can learn!” elena positively quipped, nothing short of belief etched on her façade. “some people are born great and some are taught greatness.”

“did you get that from a book…” kit laughed, resting his weight on the foot of elena’s bed as he pulled the laptop closer, typing in something else into the search engine.

“nope! i thought of it all on my own.”

“três cheesy,” kit pursed his lips, tossing her a teasing glance, eyebrow arched and disappearing under his favorite maroon beanie.

“oh, you like my cheesy butt!” elena giggled, unknowingly hitting the nail squarely on the head.

if kit wasn’t used to the cheeky lingo, the smile on his face would have faltered and the truth would have been revealed. he couldn’t have that. he watched many shows and learned feelings between good friends ultimately ruined the friendship. no, he would do no such thing.

—

“elena!” kit shouted as soon as he raced into elena’s hospital room. she laid in her bed, head in the clouds per usual. knowing her like the back of his hand (better, even), kit could tell she was restlessly daydreaming by the foggy disposition in her hazel eyes.

“hey, kit,” she greeted less enthusiastically, tired from treatment. warmth still graced her features, pursing her lips to a sincere smile. “you came just in time.”

no longer bound to the four walls of the hospital, kit would drop by weekly to pay elena a visit. he never missed a date; he was always on time. never tardy.

“i have great news to tell you!” the grin on kit’s face was so broad, so spectacular that it threatened the sun’s intensity and power. happiness was alive and well, setting fireworks in every nook and cranny of his body. “i’m cancer free!”

elena couldn’t hide the joy on her face. the tears welled up in her eyes, clouding her vision. her sobs were incoherent but kit understood every word.

“i’m so happy for you! i knew you could do it! didn’t i tell you you’ll get better?”

kit found a box of tissues stowed away in elena’s hospital bag. he ripped open the seal and plucked a few sheets for her to dry her damp face. the sincerity of her reaction touched kit immensely. he felt like bursting into tears too but refrained from doing so.

“yeah, you did.” he grabbed her hand, squeezing her fingers. “and you’ll get better too. and when you do, we’ll go to korea and you can cheer me on at my audition!”

elena grinned flawlessly, flooding kit with an emotion he didn’t know existed prior. “i’ll be your first and biggest fan!”

—

“are you sure we won’t get in trouble for this?” the squeaky wheel of the wheelchair and the pads of kit’s steps are the only sounds they hear in the midst of their privy conversation.

“certain,” kit fibbed. a little while lie never hurt anyone. partially, it was honest. she wouldn’t get in trouble; but he would. 

he pushed the rooftop door open with his back, wheeling elena out delicately. the wind blew through them. that winter night was courteous. not too cold. kit’s winter coat around elena kept her cozy.

“wow,” elena marvelled, eyes everywhere on the starry sky. the white, silver specks glistened. “the view is better up here.”

“beats that crappy room you’re in,” kit retorted, rolling her close enough to the edge to see the roads and the few cars driving down them, speeding wistfully into the darkness.

“it’s not crappy,” defended elena. she loved that room of hers. practically, it was home. she spent more time there than anywhere else. kit hated that.

“nothing beats the outside.” he extended his arms, gesturing at what the world outside a pokey hospital had to offer. “the fresh air. the stars.” kit inhaled deeply, soaking in the chilly breeze before coughing, throat and mouth torrid.

elena shifted her gaze from the twinkling canvas to him, lips forming the fondest of smiles. “you never liked the hospital.”

“why would i?” kit let his arms fall, swinging them by his side. “it’s shit.”

“saved your life, though.”

“and took away many others.”

shaking her head in defeat, elena knew there was no reasoning with kit. he was too stubborn. an argument wasn’t worth it.

“thank you bringing me here. it’s beautiful.” elena craned her neck, admiring the natural wonders of the universe before being enclosed away again.

kit nodded, admiration clear in his crystal eyes. “anything for you.”

—

kit tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, mindlessly waiting for the rings to cease and a familiar voice to pick up. the only voice kit wanted to hear after a gruelling day of exam reviews. he spun a basketball in his hand, pacing the empty space in front of his bed to pass the time. he was growing progressively restless, hating to stand idle with nothing to do but breathe and exist. he was tired of that mundane lifestyle.

“hey, kit-kat,” echoed elena’s groggy voice.

“hey, were you sleeping? i’m sorry i woke you.” looking at the time on his digital alarm clock, kit mentally shot himself for calling right after her chemotherapy treatment. he should have been more aware of how fatigued elena would be. “i can call back if-“

elena’s heartwarming giggles stopped him, as well as paused his pulse for the most fleeting of moments. time stood still and kit could almost see her, despite the roads between them. he envisioned her lying in her bed, facing the sun that poured through her window (she never liked having her curtains shut). the golden yellow rays dancing across her peaceful face; freckles intricate and hazel eyes shining.

“no, i’m good,” she said but yawned at the end. “so, how was your official last day of school before exams?”

“hated it,” kit sang, tossing the basketball up into the air, then caught it for a repeat. “but once i finish my exam tomorrow, i’ll come visit!”

the first year of high school took a toll on kit’s routine vsitations. club activities prevented him from seeing elena on the usual day—friday, so he went whenever available. the dates were scattered and dwindled into monthly subscriptions. kit hated it. he was going to korea soon and despite planning for elena to come along, the universe had other things in mind for her. ill-fated things.

“i’ll ask for extra jello for you,” elena added, knowing how much kit loved the snack since their lunch-dates in the past.

kit snorted, dropping his weight and bouncing on his mattress, discarding the basketball to properly hold his phone with a secure grip. “i have something in mind for my audition. i want you to hear it before anyone else.”

“ooo!” elena squealed, energy returning to her voice. she’s grown to sound so calm but it was obvious it wasn’t intentional. she was tired. “i can’t wait for this VIP showing of your audition. i feel so lucky!”

“you are lucky,” kit confirmed, foolishly smiling from ear to ear as he thought, i’m luckier. he never told elena how he felt but he had an inkling she knew and returned them. for now, that was enough for him. he could wait for her. she had more important matters to prioritize: getting better, beating cancer. not a walk in the park but kit was there and would always be there for her, supporting her, cheering her on. the day she would be cancer free would be the happiest day of his life, greatly surpassing the day he found out he was miraculously healed.

the time caught his peripheral and kit knew his mum would be calling him down to dinner soon—too soon. “hey, elena, i gotta go-“

“tell your mum, dad and henry i said hi, okay?” 

there was never dread in elena’s voice. only kindness and understanding. she matured wonderfully. well beyond her years.

“i will. i’ll see you tomorrow. goodnight,” kit said quietly, hope wedged between each word, glueing the sentence together.

when all were fast asleep, dreaming lucidly of endless possibilities, kit received a text. the notification fell on deaf ears for kit was lost in the slumber. he saw elena and approached her but she only receded, waving sorrowfully.

kit woke up. tears stained his face. then he checked his phone. 

thank you, kit.

he learned later that morning elena passed away. she went in her sleep. peacefully. without turbulence. no pain. no struggle. she went easily. almost willingly too.

years later, kit continued to ache. some days were agonizing; he heard her laughter in the backstage dressing rooms of music programs, in the audience at a variety appearance, during daytime strolls, in conversations he heard when passed, in his mind when he laid awake in the middle of the night; everywhere except… the club, the bar, anywhere extreme: the top of a building, the edge of a bridge, in conversations with strangers. in those instances, those mere lapses in time, kit forgot, burying the pain under disguises of temporary adrenaline and joy.

but when he did reminisce, the pain and loss was fresh, as if elena left him yesterday and not seven years ago. whoever said time heals all wounds was a liar. a fraud. time had done nothing to his wounds. they festered. they still bled. 

kit bled. 

every day. 

for the love who left him.