#edit: oops I forgot his WRINKLES

[intotheelliwoods]

-> -> "Have I always been this annoying?!"

Individual frames :)

#2 arms left #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #leonardo hamato #in a gif making kick apparently #animating in aggie.... #my beloved and beloathed #edit: oops I forgot his WRINKLES #you know what #he deserves a stress and wrinkle free morning <3

[bubmyg]

idcilh (4) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, sickening fluff, ft guk’s glasses

word count: 1,560

summary: “these have been done before but I don’t care I love her” - a series on gcguk in which jeongguk tackles old, cheesy YouTube couple challenges. episode four: boyfriend does makeup challenge or please stop laughing you’re creasing my masterpiece. 

a/n: s/o to the angel that is @gukniverse​ that inspired me to write this one uwu

“I’m not sitting in your lap.”

“It would be easier.”

“No, it would not.”

“...what if I—”

“Do not touch my legs.”

“Baby!” 

“Jeongguk!”

He pouted, ring light reflecting in the wide frame of his glasses and masking a bit of the stars in his irises that normally would render you useless in denying his wagers. It didn’t help that he pressed his cheek into his shoulder, palm on the space between your thighs to lean closer to you. 

After a moment, Jeongguk asked gently, “Can you at least come closer?”

A devastating smile overtook his features when you shifted, leaving enough space to turn completely toward him to fold your legs at the ankle. You sighed, do your worst, and you couldn’t keep up the faux annoyance when he excitedly wiggled a bit on the couch cushion before diving for the array of products you’d laid out on the coffee table. 

You watched Jeongguk fiddle quietly through the products, making offhanded comments here and there for the blinking camera stationed in front of you. You heard him but you didn’t comprehend him, instead convinced that if someone were to see you, they’d mistaken your features for one giant beam of sunshine, overly endeared with the way he was muttering to himself in between camera friendly comments until he finally settled on a container and a brush. 

He blinked, eyes round and lips fished into a little button, demanding, “What? What—” and when you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, he broke into tiny giggles as well, ones that started with his cheeks bunching up underneath his glasses, eyes wrinkling, lips spreading outward last. 

“Nothing,” You grit your teeth to keep your grin in place, “Tell everyone why you’ve got your glasses on.”

Jeongguk flushed a bit into dabbing the tip of your widest brush into the pan of powder, narrowing his eyes underneath his fringe, “Because I need to be able to see for this video. Obviously.”

“Noo,” You sang, drawing out syllables and nudging his leg with your foot, “Because I told you that you look cute—”

He silenced you with one sharp jab of the brush against your cheek. The dust went everywhere, falling into your lips and you spluttered while he continued to laugh. 

“Oops,” Jeongguk shrugged, teeth capturing his bottom lip when you glared at him. Gentle knuckles brushed across your skin, moving to set his pinky underneath your jaw to tilt your face up for careful brushstrokes, a far cry from the first, “Sit still.”

You waited until he was two taps into your powder foundation to murmur, “You’re starting with this?”

“Is this wrong? Is there something—” He looked over his shoulder at the other products he’d shuffled around before settling into set shoulders, “—you know what, no. Silence from the peanut gallery and let the master work.”

You let your eyes roll up when he rolled the soft black brush underneath your right eyelid. “The beauty community is terrified, truly.”

There was an utter gentleness in the way he went about it, cradling the balance of your face on the feathered end of his fingertips, barely brushing the fibers of the brush to the surface of your skin, using the edge of his thumb to make minor touch ups. Moments of concentration had him zoning out, circled eyes inspecting your features with parted lips to complete the three shapes dominating the majority of his face, only an outline to the round shape of his nose. 

Periodically, Jeongguk would make a noise in his throat, varying in tone and volume, only enough to catch your attention before his lips were on the space just off the side of your nose. You sighed each time, letting him have his fun because, again, you were overly fond of your lovesick fool of a boyfriend. That is, until the one time he caught you off guard, hand engulfed on your opposite cheek while his lips caught the corner of your mouth again. And again.

And again…

...until you were laughing enough to shove at his shoulder. 

He’d gotten his initial wish. You’d all but ended up in his lap the closer he shifted to you in between trying to figure out blending eye shadow and contour and the thing he’d heard you refer to as baking. Your leg was thrown over his thigh, latter knee bent and resting against his. If you stretched a bit more and scooted forward, you could trap his waist with the lock of your legs. Neither of you were complaining of the predicament. 

“Stop laughing!” Jeongguk chided, immediately leaning to you after the end of your fingers finished shoving. “You’re creasing it…”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” You rolled your lips over your teeth to suppress some of it, cocking an eyebrow when his crooked index finger rested underneath your chin, “Are you almost done?”

Jeongguk hummed, lifting up on his finger to tilt your face toward him. “Yes…” He let his thumb unfurl from his fist, pad tugging on the forced sanction of your bottom lip in your mouth, “I need these though.”

You let your lips loose, half into asking why when his mouth was on yours, lingering for longer than the previous, fleeting pecks had. He hummed happily into the seam of your lips before pulling away, only enough to nudge his nose against your cheek before returning in your line of sight with a shy smile. 

“Lipstick,” Jeongguk provided to your previously cut short question, raising the small tube of red up. 

The delicacy in which he dabbed the color onto your lips made your heart swim laps in the flutter of butterflies that had gathered in the pit of your stomach, a few breaking loose to lift your most vital organ back to its proper position where it then proceeded to grow in size, spilling over into the spaces between your ribs. He’d finished by the time your fond had, for the time being, ceased to grow in the warmth that harbored the very feeling to the very tips of your toes. 

Thoughtfully, you rolled your lips together, smacking them together a few times before you pursed them comically, like a red tulip blooming through the frost into spring. “Good?”

There was a handheld mirror under your nose before you could blink, Jeongguk’s shifting next to you outlined by his giddy stream of statements, “I think I did a pretty good job. Did I do a good job?”

Truthfully, the blending of the eye shadow was a bit questionable, but he’d managed to draw two mostly decent eyeliner wings. There was way too much highlight, by design of him insisting he wanted you to glow, but he hadn’t grown sloppy in sliding the lipstick to your mouth. It, honestly, wasn’t that bad. 

You told Jeongguk so to a proud smile that burst into his cheeks, jostling his glasses on his nose to which he shoved up with the heel of his palm. Some more formalities, mostly those that marked the end of all his videos, a small and slightly sarcastic shout out to the beauty community, and he was about to let the footage roll out a few seconds before shutting off the camera when you were stopping him with a loud wait! 

“You forgot something,” You nodded solemnly when his gaze whipped down to you still seated in front of him. 

“What—”

There was a minor struggle, mostly one out of surprise when you squished his cheeks in your palms, leaning forward to plant a lipstick stain to the center of his cheek. A noise of protest mewled out of his lips and his cheeks quickly flushed around the mark you’d left, quick to wave off the camera for his editing self later before you were happily clambering astride his lap, planting more kisses to match the first mark while he giggled underneath you yet made no motion to stop you with his fists gripped to the front of your shirt. 

He wiped those first with the makeup wipe he retrieved, only after you took a selfie to have for promotion purposes whenever the video would eventually come out. And a few selfies, just for safekeeping. 

Jeongguk worked at removing the makeup he’d just applied to your skin with a tender patience, parked between your thighs where you sat on the bathroom counter. A gentle tune that he murmured under his breath filled the silence but otherwise, you were content with the happiness of your heart in your ears while his tongue poked between his lips to get a particularly hard speck of black from the crease of your eyelid.  

He only hesitated when he reached your lips, ones that pursed playfully at him to catch his attention. “What’s wrong?” You continued to make soft noises at him, “Don’t want to part with your creation just yet?”

“Something like that.”

Quietly, he let you pinch the frame of his glasses in the center, dragging them off his nose to set them next to your thigh on the counter, instead fitting your hands on either side of his neck to drag fingertips upward into the fluffy hair at his nape. 

Jeongguk dropped the makeup wipe when you locked your legs around his waist, fitting the artificial cherry between the natural strawberry of his. 

#bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #fic: ytber jk #i've missed them :'-)

[buginetye]

Marichat!!!

Fairy Lights and Flower Boxes

Sorry this is so late! Anyway, I need sleep, so here’s something quick ‘cause I don’t know if you mean a doodle or a fic!

P.S. the fic is after Chloé has apologized, become nicer, and actively tried to help take down Hawkmoth and Mayura, even as a civilian.

Edit: I kinda forgot about Kagami so just assume she fell asleep or smth idk. Also fixed my spelling :/

~

“Girls night!” Alya had decreed as soon as she walked into class and saw Marinette’s dead expression.

And that was why, at 8pm, Alya, Kagami, Chloé, Sabrina, and Juleka were in Marinette’s room, engaging in a heated debate over who the better hero was: Chat Noir or Misterbug. The six girls had become quite close since Juleka and Sabrina figured out all of their identities, and accidentally told them all that they knew they were a hero in a group text instead of four individual ones. (It was 3am when they finally cracked it, okay? Everyone makes mistakes when they’re tired!)

“Misterbug is clearly better!” Marinette said, slamming her hands on the table.

“You’re only saying that because he doesn’t make cat puns,” Chloé remarked, met by murmurs of agreement from the other girls.

From Sabrina’s shoulder, Trixx chimed in, “Hey, I like his puns! Chat Noir is definitely better!”

“No way! Not with that stinky, cheese-eating kwami of his!” Tikki said, wrinkling her nose as she munched on a cookie.

“Is it not pointless to debate such things? They are the same person under the mask, after all.” Longg, in a flash, stole Tikki’s cookie and returned to his perch on Alya’s head. He winked at the bug kwami and ate it.

“Hey, Longg, be careful! You know I love you, but that does not mean that I want crumbs in my hair!” Alya said, already trying to get any crumbs out.

Mullo squeeked, hiding behind Chloé as Sass chased him. “Hey, leave him alone!” Pollen said, flying between the two kwamis.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Sass said, slithering back to Juleka as Mullo stuck his tongue out at him from the safety of Chloé’s sleeping bag.

There was a tap on the window, and Marinette walked over to open it, telling the kwamis to hide.

“Come on in, Kitty,” she said as she opened the window. The cat squeezed inside the opening that should have been too small for him to fit through, seeing as Marinette had barely opened it, but through the physics of however the fuck cats work, he fit, seemingly with ease.

“Princess,” he said, bowing and kissing her hand as she giggled. He turned, noticing the others, who were all regarding the interaction with suspicion. “Am I missing something, or did you just not invite me?” He pouted while giving her puppy eyes.

“It’s a girls night, dummy,” Marinette said as Alya threw a pillow in his face.

“Well then, can I join?”

“Hmmm...” Chloé trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. She looked around, and the others nodded, knowing her well enough by now to predict exactly what she was going to say. “Only if we can give you a makeover.”

“Anything to spend time with my Princess.” Marinette blushed deeply, which was not lost on the others. “By the way,” he said, shaking flowers out of his hair, “what’s with the flower box?”

“I needed a little garden of inspiration, okay?” she said as the others hid their laughter.

2 hours later, Chat Noir, the hero of Paris, had on bright red lipstick, some black eyeliner, and some black eyeshadow, blended into green at the edges. (The girls had somehow managed to cover his mask in concealer. Don’t ask how.) He had a tiara on his head, and Marinette had shoved a frilly, sparkly pink dress at him to put on over his suit. He had just finished putting on knee-length, silver, extremely high-heeled boots on over the normal boots his suit came with when he heard a crash.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?” he said, trying to turn around but tripping on Alya’s sleeping bag as his heels got twisted in it. “Ow.”

“I’m okay,” Marinette called from her position by the window, tangled up in fairy lights. Sabrina and Juleka giggled, took a picture or two (or three...or ten...) and then went and helped her up, untangling her from the lights. The girls strung them up by the window.

“Hey, can I get a picture for the Ladyblog?”

“But of course! I couldn’t deprive all of Paris from seeing me look this fabulous.” Chat Noir posed over dramatically while Alya took some photos. (The rest of the girls may or may not have photobombed one of them, resulting in a subsequent photo of Chat Noir laughing maniacally as the girls fell on top of each other in a large pile on top of Sabrina’s sleeping bag.)

“Hmm, maybe one with some fairy lights in the background would look nice,” Longg mused, having snuck up into Alya’s hair, hidden from Chat Noir’s eyes.

“That’s a great idea! Hey, Juleka, Chloé — could you hold up some fairy lights for me, please?”

“Hey, watch the claws!” Chat whined after Chloé tripped on Juleka’s foot, tangling up the fairy lights in his claws.

“Oh, here, let me help you,” Marinette said as she sauntered over. “Little Kitty got caught in a mousetrap?”

“Only one set by the best, Princess,” he winked, nodding at where the mouse miraculous had previously hung on her neck while they had fought Kwamibuster.

She blushed lightly as she set to work untangling him, only to be stopped by the lights twisting under someone else’s control, wrapping her and Chat closer together until they were nose-to-nose.

“Hey!”

“Oops,” Sabrina said, fist-bumping Chloé. “How utterly careless of me!”

Marinette tried to back away, but Sabrina tightened the lights even more. She could feel his breath on her face, and his lips brushed hers as he spoke. She turned bright red.

“Well, this seems like...quite the situation we’ve found ourselves in, huh, Princess?”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me, you silly cat.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He closed the gap between them.

The kiss was passionate, and when they pulled away, they were both bright red, and Marinette had gotten some of his concealer on her face and some of his lipstick on her lips. As they gasped for breath, Alya said, “Yes! I got it all on camera!”

“Alya!”

“What, Marinette? Is something wrong?” The journalist had an innocent expression on her face, before the two tangled-up teens started laughing, turning back to face each other.

“So...” His voice trailed off, and he gulped, looking away. “Would you want to, uh...go on a date tomorrow night?”

Her eyes lit up at th prospect. “Of course! I’d love to!”

“I’ll pick you up on your balcony at 6?”

“Sure.”

“Dress casually, okay? And maybe something to hide your identity, like a baggy hoodie.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, Kitty. I am your Mouse-inette, after all, no?”

“Yeah.” He looked her in the eyes. “Yeah, you are.”

He pulled her into another kiss, and after they pulled away this time, Chloé said, “Is this how you two lovebirds are going to act all the time? I’m starting to regret this.”

Everyone laughed.

“What? I was being serious!”

The two rolled their eyes, and were about to kiss again before they were quickly untangled and pulled apart by the girls.

“So...” Alya butt in. “Truth or dare?”

#ladybug #miraculous ladybug #cat noir #chat noir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #ladrien #ladynoir #marichat #miraculous #ml #ml fic #ml fanfic #ml fan fic #ml art #ml fan art #ml fanart #ml au #chloe sugar #alya sugar #sabrina sugar #juleka sugar #adrien sugar #chat noir sugar #cat noir sugar #mouse!chloe #snake!juleka #fox!sabrina #dragon!alya

[shepherd-of-the-stars]

Quest of a Prince Ch. 2

Updating a fic after 2 years? More likely than you think. Also the first chapter has finally been edited and I am embarrassed to say that I made like 20 spelling mistakes. Oops.

Also I forgot to explain in the first chapter but Volkhvy (singular, volkhv) are pagan priests, the spiritual leaders of the Slavic people.

Word count: 5,815

Summary:  Before an heir can take the throne, a quest is bestowed on them from the Goddess of Fate. If they complete it, they will be considered blessed by the gods and rule gloriously. Prince Ivan's quest is to journey into the Frozen Sea to the Forest of Ice. There, he will find a beautiful creature that lives in the deep that will give him a treasure greater than gold. Kingdom AU. Merman!Alfred and Prince!Ivan

Chapter summary: The creature they seek is found. But can he give them what they need? 

Warnings: None

Rating: T 

Also avaliable on ao3 and FFnet

Chapter 2: Beauty

The first thing Ivan felt was heat. It wasn’t warmth like basking in the sun, but heat like a dragon had breathed its fire into his body and scorched him from the inside. His body lurched as he vomited and coughed out the water from his lungs, staining the crystal clear water right below his face. 

His vision was blurry, and his memory just as much. The thoughts in his head flowed like thick mud, but slowly, pieces of his memory returned. He could feel the hardness of wood under his hands and the gentle rocking of his rowboat. Or perhaps that was just his head swaying from dizziness. He remembered the water. He remembered drowning. But something had saved him when he had already accepted his fate. 

Something glinted in the candlelight beside him making him turn his head, but his entire body froze when he locked eyes with the creature staring right back. Those same blue eyes that he saw before he had been dragged into the deep waters were locked on his. He didn’t dare blink, fearing that if he did, his dream would end and the creature would vanish into thin air. 

Without the veil of water altering his view of the creature, Ivan found that it was not as beautiful as he once thought. Its eyes were a dull blue, hair the color of sand, and a face that placed him at an age perhaps a year below Ivan. It seemed to be male and was decorated with jewels in a fashion that, to Ivan, looked like a child who had ransacked their mother’s entire collection and thrown it on themselves. There was no order, no coordination, just accessories worn on his body for no other reason than to just have them on. 

“Beautiful” was the word he had used just moments before to describe this creature, but now, after seeing him in the dim light, the new word that came to his mind was “ordinary.” The only thing beautiful about him was his tail. From the waist down, he had the tail of a fish with scales the color of his eyes lined with gold on the rounded edges. Was this really the creature he was looking for? The Goddess had described them as a creature more beautiful than he could imagine, but as he was looking at the face of the creature in front of him, Ivan felt like this wasn’t the creature he was seeking. 

Regardless of what he thought, this creature was still one of myth. “Merfolk,” they were called. They were shy and fast with the only recorded encounters being sightings of them basking on rocks, or the echoes of their voices traveling across the open ocean. Their voices hold magic and they’re rumored to be so beautiful that just one sighting will poison a human’s mind and lead them to a watery death. Perhaps Ivan was just not one to appreciate beauty. Or maybe he was just too tired to see it. 

“My thanks to you for saving me,” he finally spoke, his voice raspy. The creature responded with a nod so small that Ivan wondered if he had imagined it. Did this creature even understand him? “Are you the creature of the deep?” he asked, praying that the creature had the gift of tongues. Most mythical creatures did. Or at least, they’re said to. Ivan’s never encountered one before. 

He made a face that Ivan recognized as confusion, and in those few seconds, Ivan was left to wonder if that confusion stemmed from not knowing what was said, or from not knowing how to answer. The creature began looking around as if trying to see if Ivan’s question had been directed at someone else. But when he saw no one, he returned his gaze to Ivan and wrinkled his nose in thought. 

“I am a creature… and I live in the deep…” He spoke the words slowly as if he was unsure of himself. His voice was soft and sounded so human-like that if Ivan closed his eyes, he would not have been able to tell the difference between a man and this mythical being. Ivan’s doubt continued to grow, but this was the only intelligent creature, besides his crew, that he had encountered in almost two months, so he had to try. 

He straightened himself and smoothed out his soaked clothes until he was, at least, moderately presentable. “I am Ivan Braginsky, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Rusnia,” he spoke in a proud voice, only a slight tremor from the cold, “I am on a quest to retrieve the greatest treasure of the Frozen Sea, hidden in the Forest of Ice. I am to bring this treasure back to the Goddess, and only then will I be deemed worthy to rule.” When he finished, he stared back at the creature’s face of stone. 

“Why should I give it to you?” 

The answer made Ivan choke. How could this creature be so blunt? Did he not for a second consider it? “Well- Because I am the future king!” 

“In a land I don’t live in.” The creature scuffed and crossed his arms. “I have a king, too. I obey him, not you.”

Oh the arrogance! It made Ivan want to strangle him. His patience had already been drawn thin from endless days of searching, and now this creature wanted to be difficult and bratty? “Seeing that this sea is part of my kingdom, I demand that-” He stopped short when the creature grabbed on to the edge of the boat and leaned forward as if preparing to leap. On his face was an expression of disapproval, a face that said “if I don’t like your words, I don’t have to tolerate them. I’ll just go and you can do nothing to stop me.” 

So with a deep breath, Ivan swallowed down his words and smiled with gritted teeth. He took a moment to recollect himself and, hopefully, restart their conversation. This quest was not meant to be easy. It was a test of his being, and it seemed that right now, it was his patience that was being tested. 

“What is your name?” he finally asked. “I have given you mine. It would only be fair for you to give me yours, yes?” 

There was a long moment of silence as Ivan waited for the creature’s answer. He seemed to be thinking about what Ivan had said while also considering the fact that just moments ago, Ivan demanded that he give up the sea’s greatest treasure. His bottom lip jutted out in thought in a way that Ivan thought was childish. Then at last, he gave an answer. 

“Alfred,” he said, his grip on the edge of the boat relaxing just the slightest. “You may call me Alfred.” With how long he had taken to answer, Ivan questioned if the name he was given was his real name, or if he had chosen one that was human enough for Ivan to pronounce. 

“Alfred,” Ivan repeated. “Well, Alfred. As the Prince of Rusnia, I humbly request that you offer me your greatest treasure. In return, I give you my word that I will grant you anything you-”

“I want to be the king of your kingdom,” he interrupted with a smirk. 

“Anything,” Ivan continued, “within reason.”

“I believe my request is very reasonable.” 

Ivan watched as Alfred leaned on the other side of the boat as if he were lounging on pillows in bed. Surely this couldn’t be the creature the Goddess spoke of? How could a figure of such importance be so... haughty?

“My kingdom is very wealthy,” he went on, trying to go back to what he had been saying before Alfred had cut in, “if it is a chest full of jewelry or gold you desire, I will be able to provide.”

“I don’t need them.” Taking his eyes off Ivan, he gestured to the jewels decorating his slender body. “I collect these from the vessels that die here. I have plenty. They mean nothing to me. Just trinkets for my entertainment.” 

“Then why did you take my rings and my crown?” 

“I took your rings because I was bored and there’s nothing to entertain me ‘cept the fishes.” He propped his head under his hand and looked at Ivan with a bored expression. “As for your crown, I didn’t take it. It simply fell off when you were in the water.” Reaching behind himself, he grabbed the silver circlet and inspected it in his clawed nails. 

“Here.” He tossed it to Ivan so carelessly that the prince almost dropped it back into the water trying to catch it. “Have it back. It’s not pretty enough so I don’t want it.” 

“It is not meant to be pretty,” he said with a huff as he placed the crown back onto his head with numb fingers, “This crown is to signify my status as the Crown Prince.” 

“So you’re telling me that if I were to wear it, I would become the crown prince?” The glint in his eyes made Ivan put his hands on top of his head to keep Alfred from possibly snatching his crown.

“No! That is not how it works. There is a ceremony, there are vows and speeches, and you need to be born of royal blood for any of that to happen.” 

The last part had made Alfred snicker as he covered his mouth with his webbed hands. “Royal blood. Royal blood does not exist! Unless the blood you bleed is made of liquid gold, or can heal the sick with it, your blood is the same as any other human’s blood. In the end, you all meet the same mortal fate. Saying you have royal blood is just to make you feel better about yourself and put yourself above others. ‘Royal blood’ is just a title for those who end up on top. And when you lose that title, you’re nothing but a commoner. Do not talk to me about royal blood. You are not my king.” 

The mood had shifted. Alfred’s eyes glared down at the waters and his prideful voice lowered almost to a whisper as he neared the end of his speech. Something flashed in his eyes that looked almost like pain, but it had come and gone so quickly, Ivan thought he had been fooled by the flickering candlelight. 

The prince knew Alfred was right in everything he said. Ivan had done nothing to deserve his title as prince, and if he were given the choice to give it up, he would take it. But the truth of the matter was that he would never be given that choice. It was his fate to be king, and by the Gods he was going to use his title right. 

He waited until he was sure Alfred was done before he continued to speak, this time lowering his voice to be level with him. The prince spoke to him, not as a royal, but as a human. “I know I am not your king, but this quest means everything to me. If you would allow it, I would like to request an audience with your king since you will not reason with me.” 

Alfred finally turned his head away from the water and looked Ivan up and down with disdain. “That won’t happen. He is busy.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because I know!” He had cut Ivan off before he had the chance to finish his question and returned his gaze to the waters. 

Ivan remained calm the entire time. He recalled his teachings, telling him that ruling using emotion is no way to rule. Emotions cloud judgement. Good judgement can only be made when the heart is calm and the mind is clear. 

“Alfred, you are my only hope.” Ivan held his hands out to Alfred, palms facing the ceiling of the cave in a gesture of respect. “If I do not complete this quest, I cannot rightfully become king. I need to become king to fix my father’s mistakes. He was a terrible and unjust king and I hope to repair the damage he has done. But it is not something I can do without your aid. 

“Please,” his hands still trembled from the cold. If he did not return to his ship and change out of his wet clothes soon, this conversation with Alfred would be his last. “As prince and future king, I am begging you.” 

For the first time since their conversation had begun, Alfred looked at Ivan with a face that wasn’t scornful or taunting. He looked at Ivan as if he had finally registered the importance of Ivan’s quest, and perhaps considered giving him what he needed to complete it. But that look only lasted a few moments. Once Alfred’s eyes landed on Ivan’s shaking hands, his face turned to one of concern. 

“I believe there are more important things for you to worry about right now.” And before Ivan could stop him, Alfred gave himself a push and slipped back into the dark water. Gone. 

It was like his entire world had crashed down, crushing him under the weight. Without his hope, he felt like he had been struck with a battle ram and thrust back into cruel reality. Alfred had denied him, and there was nothing that he could do. 

He tried and failed to close his hands into fists, joints aching from the bitter cold, so he slowly pulled them under his cloak in an attempt to return their functionality. His whole body shook as it tried to provide the heat he needed to survive, and with his hands so stiff they couldn’t close, he had no hope of grabbing on to the oars. 

“My Goddess,” he closed his eyes, “if you are merciful, I pray that you will allow me to pass this trial.” His voice was barely above a whisper, the heat of his breath making clouds slip from his lips. 

Then, as if his prayers were answered, his boat lurched backwards, moving towards the way he came. Words of gratitude were sent up to the heavens, but the soft sound of splashing interrupted his peace. 

Leaning his body to the side, he looked to the bow of the boat and realized that his vessel was not being moved by Her will. It was being pushed by something of this world. A head of yellow popped out of the water and smiled at him as Ivan stared in confusion. 

“Alfred? But… why?” 

Alfred rolled his eyes with a snort. “A dead king can’t rule a kingdom. I’m going to return to your ship so you don’t die. It would also give me time to think about my wish.” 

“So you will consider my offer?” 

“How about you worry over yourself first, Prince Ivan? Now sit still.” 

Warmth and hope blossomed in Ivan’s chest, sending a chill through his body strong enough to make him jolt. But for Alfred, and for his kingdom, he did as the merman instructed. He sat still and allowed Alfred to push him all the way back to the ship, weaving through the caverns like he knew every path better than he knew his own name. 

Then it hit him: Alfred knew all along. He wasn’t sure for how long, but Alfred knew that Ivan and his crew were here and had only now decided to show his face. How long had he been watching them? If Ivan had never fallen into the water, would he have stayed hidden forever? Ivan had opened his mouth to confront him about it, but when he saw the determined look on Alfred’s face, he pressed his lips together and held his words inside. 

Alfred revealing himself to Ivan was something he saw as a blessing. Alfred saving him when he could have let him drown was another. Alfred spoke his language, was considering his request, and was helping Ivan back to his ship when his hands couldn’t move. Those too were seen as blessings. For a brief moment, Ivan wondered that with so many blessings, when would his luck eventually run out? 

But he shook his head softly to dismiss the thought. All of it was fate. Every step had already been planned out and all he had to do was move forward. Or in this case, he had to move backwards. With his back turned towards their path, it was up to Alfred to bring them back to the ship. He trusted Alfred not to push him into a cave with no exits, or over the side of a waterfall. He trusted him enough to let his eyes slip close, the quiet splash of the water against his boat sounding like a lullaby to his freezing mind.

"Hey!" Giving a firm shove, Alfred made the boat lurch with such force that Ivan had almost fallen over face first. "Don't sleep." With a hard glare, he pushed the rowboat a little faster. Worry wrinkled his brow and his haste to get back to the ship made him bump and scrape against the cavern walls. Ivan had found it to be somewhat endearing. It almost seemed like Alfred cared about his wellbeing. But Ivan reasoned with himself that the merman was only keeping him alive to be able to fulfil his wish. 

Soon enough, the sounds of chatting and clanging metal reached their ears. The stone walls around them grew taller until light from the sun burst through. Disregarding his aching, burning muscles, Ivan forced his body to sit up straight and proud with only the slightest look of pain and fatigue gracing his face. One by one, his crew turned to them, but only when they saw the creature pushing the boat did they come running forward to the edge of the water. 

"Your Highness, is that the creature?"

"Did you find it, Your Highness?"

"Where is the treasure?" 

The ones who had rushed forward ignored Ivan to be the first to lay their eyes on the creature that had eluded them for almost two months. But a few of the humans pushed the others out of the way to get to the prince. "Your Highness, you're drenched! What happened? You're turning blue! Will you move?" The second question was directed at the men who cared more about Alfred than they cared about their prince. With them crowding around him, they couldn't help him back to the ship. 

Their disregard for Ivan's safety had angered Alfred so much that he slipped back under the water and lifted the rowboat right out of it, holding it above his head. Ivan gasped and held on to the sides for dear life as he watched his crew jump back several feet from the water's edge. But instead of tossing him like everyone had expected, Alfred had set the boat down gently on the ledge, pushing it towards the ones who wanted to help. 

"He fell into the water. It was an accident," Alfred lied. The crew fell silent hearing him speak and no one dared to even move. "What are you all? Stone? Your prince is dying and you lot just stand around and gawk!" His fist slammed down on the rock, forming small cracks and making the crew leap back another step. 

Two men, who looked lankier and less brutish than the others, glanced at one another before rushing forward to grab their prince. They looked at Alfred with a hint of fear in their eyes, so Alfred moved further into the water to show that he wouldn't attack. Alfred watched with worry as they helped Ivan out of the boat. Ivan’s legs almost gave out under him when he stepped off, but the servants served as his crutches. 

Alfred's eyes followed them, stalked them, watched as they helped Ivan up the ramp onto the ship. Even when they had gone inside Ivan's cabin, Alfred circled around the hull of the ship to see if there was a way he could see inside. He was like a fly outside a glass window, fingers touching the hard wood of the ship as if the hull would magically open up and let him in. But it never did, leaving Alfred to swim around and around, his head occasionally poking above the water to see what was going on.

He was well aware the crew was watching him, but he didn’t seem to care. All he cared about was Ivan’s safety. It’s been ages since he had spoken to anyone, and Ivan was just too much fun to lose. 

It felt like hours had passed since Ivan was ushered inside, but had only been mere minutes. Then at last, one of the servants who had helped Ivan onto the ship came down the ramp and locked eyes with Alfred. The merman swam closer to hear the news, his arms resting on the rocky ledge. He waited as the fidgety servant took steps forward and back, clearly still scared of Alfred. Even when he stepped forward, he was still tugging on his short, blond hair.

“Are you,” the servant paused to clear his throat, “are you the one called Alfred? I-I mean, ha, you are the only Merfolk here. Who else would be called Alfred. Prince Ivan had-”

“How is he?” 

The servant squeaked and began fiddling with his clothes like he had done with his hair. “Um. Prince Ivan is well. All thanks to you. He has changed into warmer clothes and is regaining the heat in his body. He told me to come out and give you his thanks.” 

“And to make sure I haven’t left?” 

“I-...” He glanced over at the ship as if asking Ivan for the answer. “Y-... yes…” 

“Assure him that I will not leave just yet. I believe I have figured out what it is I want, so he won’t be getting rid of me that easily.” With a smirk, Alfred lifted himself up and sat down on the ledge with his tail partially in the water. “But do tell him to hurry. I am impatient.” 

The look Alfred gave the servant made him nod vigorously before sprinting back to the ship so quickly he had almost tripped over his own shoes. Alfred laughed under his breath at the clumsiness. It had been so long since he had company and he had forgotten how fun it was to mess with people. Speaking of, it seemed the rest of the crew had built up the courage to come a little closer. Alfred watched them as the eight men whispered between themselves, then one man gave a huff and pushed them aside. 

From the way he looked, Alfred assumed this man was a class above the others. His blond hair was neater, his clothes were not torn, and his chest puffed like a walrus as he came forward to Alfred. Not that any of those things held his attention for long. His eyes would not stop staring at the man’s eyebrows. They were well kept, but they were so thick and dark that Alfred had trouble looking away. 

“Oi. You can understand us, right?” he asked as he squatted down an arm’s length away from Alfred. 

The merman didn’t respond immediately. His gaze moved from the man in front of him to the ones crowded around in the back, then back to the man with the odd eyebrows. 

“No,” he lied, then looked away from him, “I don’t have a clue what you’re saying.” He had to keep himself from smiling as he swayed his tail left and right, making small ripples in the water. 

At his answer, the man chuckled and shook his head in an unbelieving way. “Creature’s got humor, lads!” he called back to his crew, “Raivis had called you ‘Alfred,’ right? Is that your name?” 

“Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn't.” He flicked his tail with a bored look on his face, the motion making the sunlight glint against his shimmering scales and the jewelry decorating it. From the side of his eye, he saw the man waddle closer before sitting next to Alfred with his legs folded.

“Charming. I like that. Name’s Arthur, but the others call me Captain.” He held out his hand for Alfred to shake, but when Alfred had only given the hand a glance, he retracted it and put it back on his lap. “So, Alfred, how have you come to acquire those? If my eyes don't fool me, I can confidently say that the chaplet you wear on your head is the one named Tears of Fire which belonged to Lord Adrian’s daughter. Do you know what happened to her?” 

Alfred didn’t like the look on his face. It made him feel like he was walking into a trap. “Why should I know your human friends?” Reaching up, he took the piece off his head and admired it for just a second. It was beautiful, but simple, and just like its name, the tear-shaped rubies that hung down from the main loop made it look like he was crying fiery tears. 

“She was lost at sea,” Arthur told him, “Lady Hanna was an offering to our previous king from a land across the waters. She was meant to be his concubine, but she never made it to our kingdom. That chaplet was given to her as a wedding gift.” 

Arthur had barely finished his story when Alfred had tossed the piece at him. “Seems like she would rather die than be under him.” Arthur’s expression when Alfred said that proved Ivan’s words from before to be true. Even without saying a word, Alfred could tell that Arthur had thought the same. The previous king truly was a horrible man. 

“You’re lucky none of us were loyal to that cockstain, otherwise, magical being or not, you would have been beheaded.” 

“Shame to the old king,” one of the men in the back muttered, then spit on the ground. A few men followed behind him, all muttering various insults and laughing as they grew more and more vulgar. But Alfred didn’t laugh, he looked disappointed. 

“I didn’t know humans were so disrespectful towards their king, dead or alive.” 

“Not all our kings, lad. Just this one. The whole kingdom is lucky he was a deadbeat father. ‘Cause of that, our prince is nothing like ‘im.” He bowed his head to the ship making Alfred wonder if Ivan had come out. But when he looked and saw no one, he turned back to Arthur. “Wouldn’t be here risking his life if he was. The lad has so much to prove, not just to the people, but to himself, most of all.” 

Everyone was silent after that: some out of respect, some out of pity, and some who weren’t brave enough to say what they thought in their heart. 

(-w-)

As the sun fell, the men began to return to the ship to resume their duties. But for hours, they had crowded around Alfred and flooded his ears with tales, some true and some legend. They let him experience a land he could never reach and opened his eyes to their world. Some tales had made him bend over in laughter, and some made him clutch his heart in admiration. 

They were a good group of men, he realized. Even though they were boorish and coarse, they were friendly and offered good company. But now, Alfred sat alone with his back against a boulder while the men were inside the ship having supper. Ivan’s servant, Raivis, had told them that Ivan was well and resting, so Alfred had no reason to hope that he would come out to speak to him any time soon. 

He had almost dozed off as he basked in the warmth of the bonfire beside him when the sound of footsteps brought him out of his sleepy state. To his surprise, Ivan and three of his servants were making their way down the ramp towards him. One was helping Ivan walk with a basket on her arm, and the other two each carried a crate. 

Now that he wasn’t drenched in icy water, he looked neater than what Alfred had observed before. His heavy, fur cloak kept most of his outfit hidden, but when Ivan moved his arms, it gave Alfred a glimpse of the plain but finely crafted clothes he wore underneath. While his crown and his clothes made him look royal, to Alfred, he just didn’t seem like a prince. He seemed like a normal person. 

“You are still here,” Ivan stated when he was close enough for Alfred to hear. 

Alfred’s face broke into a smile as he stretched lazily and groaned. “As if I’d dare leave, Your Highness. What have you got there?” 

“Our dinner.” 

Alfred’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Our dinner?” 

Ivan nodded and sat down next to Alfred as the crates were opened up and food was set out. Alfred had expected it to be served only to the two of them, but enough plates were set out for five. Once the crates were emptied, they were flipped over and used as makeshift tables. 

“Shouldn't a prince like you be eating alone in his warm, comfortable cabin?” Alfred said it in a tone that was almost like he was mocking him. But Ivan didn’t take offense, he simply chuckled and shook his head. 

“I prefer not to eat alone. Without company, the food turns bitter.” Ivan’s smile was soft and genuine, making warmth grow in Alfred’s chest. 

More and more, Ivan’s image as a prince began to fade, but Alfred couldn't bring himself to say that it was a bad thing. Ivan wasn’t the type of prince to put himself above the others. Even now, he sat on the cold ground with Alfred and the servants as if they were the same class. He shared his food with them, laughed at their stories, and told some of his own. 

Some time later, more of his crew came and crowded around them. All were eager to hear how Ivan had found Alfred, waiting for a glorious tale. But Ivan didn’t change the story; he told the entire truth. He told them how he was a fool thinking he could catch Alfred with his bare hands, and how Alfred had toyed with him like he was an idiot. Never in his life did Alfred expect a prince to label himself as a fool or an idiot, and here Ivan was labeling himself as both. 

Ivan had turned to Alfred and told him, “I was fortunate that he decided to save me. If not, then…” His eyes seemed lost in thought, but his stiff smile stayed on his face. 

To break the silence, the crew offered words of gratitude to Alfred for saving their prince. Some had pat him on the shoulder, and some bowed to him in a show of respect. To Alfred, it was just bizarre. He had once thought that Ivan wasn’t ready to be king because he wasn’t authoritative enough. But now, he saw that even though Ivan didn’t seem to hold the usual qualities of a strong king, he had a crew that respected him because of his actions, not his status. 

Over the days, he spent almost every second of his time with Ivan and his people. He learned many of their names, tried all their food, and heard so many of their stories. Alfred didn’t want the days to end. After so many years alone in the dark caves, he wanted them to stay forever and keep him company. But it was a dream he would eventually need to wake from. 

“Damned creature,” he heard one night after everyone had retired. The voice had come from up on the deck where he couldn’t see. Alfred didn’t recognize the gruff, male voice so it must have been one of the men that stayed away from Alfred and busied themselves with chores. “Who the hell does he think he is?” 

“He’s just a freak,” came another hushed voice, “His father must have bedded a fish when all women rejected him.” The two men snickered then one of them shushed the other. 

“Quiet, or the prince will hear us.” 

“Damn him too. He’s found the bloody creature and still won’t take the godforsaken treasure from his hands so we can leave this frozen hell and go back home!” 

The words had hurt, but those men were right. Alfred was selfish for keeping them here, and even though they seemed happy to keep him company, he was keeping them from returning home to their families and their lives. 

Morning came and Ivan came to visit him as the sun rose, just as he had every morning since Alfred was found. He brought breakfast with him to share together, but today he was alone. 

“Good morning, Alfred,” he greeted, his voice soft as it always was, “Did you rest well?” 

Alfred only grunted in response, his head resting on his arms as his body from the chest down was still in the water. Thoughts raced around his head as he watched Ivan set out the food. It was dried meat, roasted fish, and sliced cheese. The same meal everyday.  

“You heard it as well, then?” 

Alfred’s eyes flickered up to Ivan. “Heard what?” 

“What they said last night on the deck.” Ivan’s voice sounded tired, but a smile still graced his face as he looked out at the sea. 

“Am I that easy to read?”

Like Alfred had done before, Ivan gave him a grunt in response. “They were rude, but their words hold truth. Our supplies are dwindling. If we ration what we have, perhaps we can stay for two more weeks. After that, we have no choice but to return home.” Those words brought sorrow to his face. 

From his expression, Alfred knew what Ivan had meant to say. 

I have to go home without the treasure. I failed the quest.

“You know, Ivan,” he paused, waiting until the prince turned to look at him, “you’ve already granted my wish.” 

“I have?” A flash of hope crossed his eyes, then the realization that he had forgotten to ask what it was in the first place. “What was your wish?” 

Alfred unbuckled a belt from his hip, something he’s never worn until today. On the belt was a sword, the sheath black as night and decorated with gold designs. He held the sheath of the sword tightly in his hands and looked down at it until the memories pained him so much that he had to look away. 

“This sword belonged to my father, King of Svetloyar.” He watched as Ivan’s eyes grew wide. 

“You’re a prince?”

#rusame #rusame fanfiction #hws america #hws russia #quest of a prince #hws rusame #i know the crew did a 180 with their treatment of ivan #but in their defense if my sister came half dead with a dragon carrying her i would pet the dragon first you kno #you can drink respect my prince juice everyday but how many times in your life do you get to see a mythical being??? #i would have hopped my ass into the boat to get a closer look #also i posted this a while ago on ao3 and ffnet but ive been too lazy to upload it here because of formatting stuff

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 46

I’m on a roll!  Yet another chapter beta’d by @parisconstantine (in which I learned about French terms of affection), and I’m already 1600 words into chapter 47.  I’m not sure if the next chapter will be a long one or if I’ll end up splitting it into two parts. Time will tell on that front.

Oh! Oh!  Sam and Simon both get last names in this chapter!

This covers the first six hours of the Food Festival, so minor mentions of food.  I can’t think of any other warnings beyond that, but if you find something please shoot me a message so I can update it.  I’m learning every day about things that trigger people, so sometimes I miss things that aren’t glaringly obvious.  However, I’m always willing to learn.  At the end of the day, this is very slice-of-life, after all.

Edit:  I am reposting this, for 2 reasons.  Most importantly, I included some characters in this chapter who I need to attribute to their rightful creators.  So, Thank you @charlylimph-blog for Ivan Thorson and Coffee Williams.  You are an incredible writer, and I didn’t want these two to languish in obscurity after all the hard work you put into submitting them for the last contest.

The second reason is just because I posted it too early and wanted to put it out there for the people who look for my chapters on Tuesdays.  I love you all!

“Okay, everyone for Alpha Shift, sound off.”

“Tyche Reid, Admin Observation, is online.” I could hear the smirk in my sister’s voice.

“Antoine Costa, Support Personnel, online.”

“Sophia, do I really have to do this?” a familiar voice wheedled.

“Yes. I need to know who is my eyes and ears on the ground.”

“Ugh. Zach Khan, Support Personnel, online.”

“Derek Okafor, Civilian Observation, online.”

“Sam Richardson, Civilian Ob-observation, o-o-online.” I couldn’t help grinning that Sam agreed to help out.  Usually, he kept out of any operations on the ship, but he was the original tester for Antoine’s project, so he had just assumed he would be part of today’s actions.

“Maverick Okima, Support Personnel, online.”

“Alistair Worthington, Resource Adjunct, online,” my assistant dutifully called off in a bored tone. Only I could see the sardonic look he shot me.

“Sophia Reid, Resource Command, online,” I breathed in relief.  “Thank you, everyone. You have two objectives today: first, a general assessment of the low-stim session so that we know what we did right and what we can improve on in the future; second, getting feedback on how Mr. Costa’s dampening and proximity updates to the translation chips are working, again with a goal for future enhancements.  Tyche Reid has graciously volunteered to be our control on the chip project, so she will be providing only a baseline evaluation of the low-stim session and the quiet rooms.”  In reality, my sister wasn’t volunteering so much as refusing to get the upgrade until I agreed to do the same.

“Soph, if you are going to keep being so formal, we may as well shut this down now,” my sister huffed. “Mr. Costa my foot.”

“I’m trying to be professional,” I grumbled back. “This is an official Council operation, to be saved for posterity.”

“Do you truly believe that Xiomara will tolerate being referred to as ‘Miss’ or ‘Councillor Kalloe’ for six hours, Sophia?” Antoine asked smoothly.

Fighting back a chuckle, I refused to concede his point. “That’s Simon’s problem, not mine. She and I are on shift in the festival at the same time, so Simon will be running the show from here.”

“And you have deluded yourself to believe that Mr. Rodriguez will continue to address everyone formally?” Alistair scoffed. Et tu, Brute? I had argued with him for weeks to call me Sophia.

“If you start calling me Mr. Okafor, I’m going silent until this is over, Sophia,” Derek threatened.

I threw my hands up defensively, even if most people couldn’t see me. “Fine! I get it, I get it. I’ll chill out with the names, but I am going on record that it was under duress and threat of operative failure.” I shook my head and took a deep breath. “Okay, so, back to the point.  Tyche, your job is providing an assessment of the low-stim Festival session, as it appears to someone without the implant upgrades.  Derek and Sam, your jobs are to evaluate the session with the upgrades.  I need all three of you to report back two specific things: what worked better than your past experiences, and what still sucked.  Maverick, Zach, and Antoine: you are there both in your capacities as support personnel in case something goes horribly wrong, and to make sure I hear about anything they don’t realize shouldn’t be happening.  Everyone clear on your jobs?”

I got six affirmative answers before continuing. “Okay, other than that – have fun!  Try new foods, let me know what to try when it’s my turn, just enjoy yourselves as much as possible!”  With that, I left the group channel open and watched the map of the festival.  The three teams were entering from different points to ensure that, between the six of them, everything could be evaluated. In theory, everything should go off without a hitch.  The vendors were already briefed to be prepared for attendees during this session to provide a list of flavor and texture aversions, and Miys was already stationed in security alcoves to ensure that the vendors were complying and attendees weren’t abusing it.

It was only fifteen minutes before we got our first update.

“Team Try New Foods, reporting early success,” Zach Khan’s voice broke in. “Kosher food stall was an overall hit, the Jainist stall admitted they had nothing that Derek could like except papadums, and Derek tried both falafel and chicken tikka masala.  Jury’s out on the masala, but he likes falafel.”

“I really thought falafel would be too squishy,” I admitted.

“Apparently not,” Zach chuckled. “He said it’s like a meatball, but no meat.”

“I mean, yeah,” I agreed, still dazed. “That’s cool, though.  And the Jainist vendor didn’t give him a hard time about the list?”

“Nope,” he popped the last letter, something he tended to do when he was really excited. “Just smiled, read it, and apologized that everything he had was either spicy, sour, or squishy.”

“How did the Kosher and Halal vendors react to the list?”

“Thoughtfully,” Derek interjected. “The Kosher vendor clarified if I like onions, and the Halal vendor just wanted to know if I meant pepper-spicy or herb-spicy.”

Awesome. “Good job, guys. And congrats, Derek, on the new foods.  Keep it up and let me know.”

Thirty minutes later, not everything was sunshine and rainbows, though. Sam and Maverick had so far reported three vendors whose stalls were too pungent to approach, and Alistair was already in contact with and arguing about the need to keep the dishes covered during the low-stim session. “I understand that the smell is what draws people in, usually, ma’am, but you agreed to keep all smells to a minimum for the first six hours. That includes keeping the atmospheric scrubbers engaged and keeping the dishes sealed.” When the woman on the other end started to argue, he swiftly cut her off. “When you signed up to be open during this session, you were given a list of the restrictions, and you signed off on it. Low Stimulus, and that includes stimulating the nose. You can either seal the food, as you agreed, or we can have your stall closed down for the remainder of the Festival, per the agreement you signed.” With that, he disconnected sighed before turning to me. “So rude,” he informed me with a shake of his head.

“Which stall was that?” I asked, wrinkling my nose in dread.

“Fortunately, just the seafood stall,” he explained. “Along with the Cajun and Jamaican stalls.  So, pungent, but no one has reported nausea as of yet.  Miys is already in the area, trying to dissipate the odor.”

“As long as it isn’t the Japanese stall,” I gulped. They had insisted on serving natto, but explained that it would be sealed in individual portions throughout the festival, and only opened by the person eating it.  While I couldn’t exactly argue, I didn’t have to be happy about it.

I heard from Tyche right at one hour into the event.

“Soph,” my sister practically shouted at me. “Do you want to explain to me why one of the Quiet Rooms looks like you robbed my quarters?”

Oops.  Forgot about that. “Tyche, they’re designed to be relaxing, quiet, and provide low stimulation.  I can’t help it that your quarters are practically a smooshy cave.” Three, two, one…

“A hammock!?” she demanded. “Why don’t I have a hammock?”

“Make up your mind, Tych. Are you offended that the room looks like your quarters, or jealous that it’s better equipped?”

“Both. Definitely both,” she asserted. “Ooo, you included the sound scrubbers we had installed in your quarters, didn’t you?”

“I knew it!” I almost shrieked. “I knew it sounded muffled in my quarters since I got back!  That was completely uncalled for, you brat.  You know I’m hard of hearing!”

“You also have an implant in your brain that directly translates language into your auditory cortex, so it’s not like you couldn’t hear us,” she pointed out. “And all your alerts and alarms were already calibrated for you to see them as well as hear them. What I don’t understand is why you never had Miys fix your hearing.”

“Are you kidding?” I scoffed. “Loud noises are bad enough as it is.  I can’t imagine how it would be if I could hear them better.”

“Aaannnnnnd that’s why we put the scrubbers in your quarters,” she finished. Well, walked right into that one, I admitted to myself. “This room is nice, by the way, once I got over the shock. Quiet, relaxing on the eyes and ears. How buff are the atmo scrubbers? It’s like my nose just quit working, but I can still breathe.”

“Really buff,” I clarified. “I’m not sure how many food and personal odors are going to be at the main event, so I erred on the side of overkill.”

“Do all the quiet rooms look like this?” Antoine asked, his tone full of curiosity.

“They do not,” I grinned. “Antoine, you’re going to love this, I think.  There are five different themed quiet rooms, and two of each for a total of ten. You two are in one of the Dark Rooms.  The Green themed rooms are furnished with plants and small fountains.  Medium theme looks more like my quarters, with lighter grays and some purples thrown in. Cool theme is mostly blues, with diffuse light to give an underwater or polar night kind of feeling.  Finally, the Light themed room is whites and pale yellows, with indirect light to create a feeling like a sunny day.”

A hum of approval. “I think that makes the most sense,” he agreed. “Not everyone finds the same things soothing, but I think you created enough variety to cover everyone.”

“So, how is the event going for you guys?”

Tyche sighed. “It’s going okay, but I’m not entirely certain that’s not because of who I am.  I haven’t seen any flashing lights, no loud music is playing, so that’s good.  The vendors have been very deferential, which I didn’t think to expect, honestly.”

“I don’t think that’s because of you,” I hummed. “Derek is having a similar experience, honestly.  Sam has reported some vendors with fragrant stalls, but that’s been addressed.  Alistair, anything else?”

Without glancing up from his data screen, he shook his head. “Other than the incident with the smells, nothing negative reporting yet. Derek and Zachary have dutifully sent in additional reports regarding the reactions of each vendor to the food preference lists, so far the balance is in the positive. Samuel and Maverick are reporting similar responses.”

“And the upgrades?” Antoine asked hesitantly.

“So far, nothing major…” Alistair trailed off.  “Support personnel are reporting receiving proximity alerts from non-clients, and I’ve received several queries regarding if that is normal?”

“It’s expected,” Antoine sighed. “We are working on an algorithm that would reduce the alert volume for support personnel who are on duty and in the presence of their respective clients, but it wasn’t ready in time for this event.  But, yes, it is normal and to be expected.”

“Understood. Request approval to release a mass communication to all registered support personnel?”

“Approved,” Antoine and I answered immediately.  I continued. “Alistair, do we have any reports regarding the effectiveness of the dampeners?”

“Yes and no,” he stated. “General reports indicate conditions that are difficult to separate from the intended atmosphere of the event.”

“Tyche, are you still on Level Fourteen?”

“Yeah, why?”

“If we send you the reports from any participants in that area, do you have time to corroborate?”

“I mean, I do, but I thought I was supposed to be participating?”

“Sorry,” I winced in contrition. “You’re right. I just… got ahead of myself. Yeah, it can wait until after your shift at the event.  Just make sure you’re recording your observations so you can do an accurate comparison later, okay?”

“We’re both recording full video, Soph,” she assured me, a rustling noise in the background. “I’m about to head back out into it, but I promise to keep my eyes peeled.  I’ll keep shooting reports to you as I make my way through the vendors, okay?”

“Sounds good,” I exhaled, leaning back in my seat as she disconnected.  Watching the map for a few more minutes, I saw all three teams circulating through the event.  Sometimes a team would stop at a Quiet Room for several minutes before continuing.  Small reports were trickling in, some from the three teams, some from vendors, and others from support people who were simply attending the event in a professional capacity.  However, no further urgent matters were reported aside from Derek and Sam finding a handful of new foods each.

Finally, we were approaching the end of the low-stim session.

“Alpha Shift teams, relief teams for Beta Shift are on their way,” I notified them once we were fifteen minutes out from the end. “Beta Shift teams, please report when you are online.”

“Amelie Marechal, Crowd Control, reporting online and heading to rendezvous with Derek and Zach,” a cheerful voice chirped not two minutes later. I managed to smother a chuckle as Alistair scowled at me, remembering our conversation the day before.

“Coffee Williams, Crowd Control, reporting online and arriving to relieve Costa and Reid” came the next, this time a smooth baritone.  I hadn’t spent much time around the man, but Antoine assured me that he was perfect for diffusing difficult situations.

“Ivan Thorson, Crowd Control, online,” followed quickly after.  “Heading to meet with Amelie and relieve Tyche and Antoine.”

The next two Beta Shift members left me speechless. “Conor MacMaoilir, Crowd Control, online and relieving Maverick and Sam.”

“Grey Hodenson, Crowd Control Command, online. I’m with Conor and we are relieving Okima and Richardson.”

Alistair managed to sneak in a couple surprises of his own, apparently.  When I glared at him, he merely smirked at me before tipping a non-existent hat towards me.  I barely caught Mr. William’s teammate checking in before I managed to recover. “Sophia Reid, Alpha Shift Resource Command, reporting for hand off to Crowd Control Command. Grey, confirm handoff?”

“Handoff complete, Sophia,” came the familiar, neutral voice. Finally, they cracked and I could hear a smile in their next words. “Please take care to get some rest between now and Delta shift.  We expect that shift to be crowded, and you will be Resource Observation. Also, I would like to request that you do not allow Xiomara to kill Simon?”

“Hey, that’s a tall order!” I objected, only half-joking. “I’ll try, no promises. And I promise to get some rest.  First, I need Alpha shift teams to come debrief in my office, then I’ll take a rest interval for Gamma.  Deal?”

“Mr. MacMaoilir and I agree that is sufficient.”

“Maverick, make sure she gets some sleep, or I’ll let Tyche give you what for,” Conor interjected. I didn’t even try to suppress the groan that followed.

Introducing the two of them had turned out to be a terrible idea on my part.

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#the miys #science fiction #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #original fiction #tw: food #cw: food #apocalypse #aliens

[mock-star-aq]

Supermonster Dinner Party: a Dragula fic.

Happy Holidays y'all! This is my fic for the @rpdrficexchange for Wolfie, aka Wolfie @thepastpresentandfutureofdrag !! I hope you like this darling! (For some reason I can't tag you in this?)

This is a weird cannon divergent style where they are their drag personas but dragula and drag race still happened, (if that makes sense) so make of that what you will.

Edit: Thanks to @hellobiqtchlasagna for helping me come up with the surprise at the end. I forgot to credit them in my rush to get my fic up and I feel bad😅

"Do you know anything about him?" Vander asked, pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven and sliding them onto a cooling rack. Biqtch was leaning against the wall, nursing a mixed drink.

"Just that he's Boulet approved, same as you." Biqtch drawled. " Swan actually told me to be nice, as if I would be mean to anyone who wasn't mean first, or a Republican." 

"You can be a bit crass at first. Drac told me to be mindful of not coming across too snooty, but she's one to speak." 

"Oop, I'm snitching! I'm going to tell her you said that!" 

"Oh, she knows, she makes fun of herself. And she would just brush it off. I can tease her a little since I know her relatively well." 

"Yeah that's fair, Lord knows they talk shit about us all the time in private."

"I'm pretty sure it's mostly good things, but yeah, they absolutely poke at our screwups with each other. " 

"Because they want the best from us, cause we're super monsters and all that." Biqtch pushed herself up from the wall, crossing over and rinsing out her cup to use again later. 

"And also because we have to work together from now on, so we have to be at least cordial to each other." Vander said, pulling out her phone to check the time. "He should be here anytime now. I told him 6, and it's 5:55." 

Just as Vander stopped speaking, the doorbell rang. 

"Speak of the devil, that should be him." Vander motioned for Biqtch to follow her as she went to the door, smoothing out some wrinkles from Biqtch's shirt before opening the door wide. 

"Hi, nice to finally meet you! Landon, right?" 

"Yup, Landon Cider. Nice to meet you too." He affirmed, holding a hot bag. Vander waved him inside and relieved him of his dish, allowing him to hang his coat up as Biqtch closed the door. 

"Nice to finally meet you, I'm Biqtch Pudding, and that's Vander Von Odd. You're hot as shit." Biqtch introduced herself, leaning against the wall as Landon took off his outerwear. The most prominent thing about him was how chiseled he was, even his face. The Boulets weren't ones to choose supermonsters based on conventional standards of beauty, but Landon was certainly very attractive. 

"Ah yes, you two are infamous. The first two supermonsters!" Landon smiled, slightly blushing at Biqtch's remark.

"I hope our fearsome reputation precedes us." Biqtch flexed, her arm about half the size of Landon's. 

"Landon, does this need to be warmed up at all?" Vander asked, holding up a casserole dish from the hot bag, interrupting before Biqtch could embarrass herself more. 

"Maybe? I pulled it out of the oven before I left, so it should still be warm." He crossed over and took off the top, holding his hand over what appeared to be a lasagna. "Oh it's fine. It probably needs to cool down a little actually. Biqtch, I know you're a vegetarian, so this is just cheese." 

"Yasss thanks doll!" Biqtch cheered. "What do you want to drink?" Biqtch led Landon over to Vander's drink cart as Vander pulled together the last little bits of the meal and set the table. She put the basket of rolls down as Landon and Biqtch came back, and Landon immediately put his drink down to help Vander put the last few things on the table. 

"Thanks babe." Vander said as they all sat down at the table and started serving food. It was quiet for the first few minutes while they ate, but then Vander started asking Landon questions, since the main point of the dinner was to get to know him. 

"So tell us about yourself Landon, where are you from, what do you do outside of doing performing .."

"Are you single?" Biqtch interjected. And Landon chuckled before responding. 

"Well, I'm from Long Beach, and I have a Hispanic background. I am happily married, sorry Biqtch." He apologized, and Biqtch pretended to be upset, pouting and snapping her fingers before sitting up and shoving his shoulder, indicating that she was joking. 

"We fucked like the all of the drag race winners do when they win but neither one of us liked it, so she was hoping to get a second chance." Vander explained, and Landon spit out his drink. 

"And you know that HOW?!" He spluttered as Biqtch clapped him on his back. 

"Sasha told me. She doesn't love the tradition, but I have a feeling she'll change her tune if Shea wins an allstar season." 

"So they haven't fucked?" 

"Oh no, they have. And they'll take any excuse to fuck. They're just rarely in the same place at the same time anymore. Trust me, Sasha's an open book once you get to know her well enough. So are most of the other RuGirls. Several of the other winners have offered to include us in the tradition, but unfortunately that probably ends with you. At least the sex part, most of them would probably be willing to makeout with you or cuddle with you." 

"Fine by me!" Landon declared, wiping his brow. And they all started laughing. 

"Yeah, we all saw you make out with Evah!" Vander teased, and Biqtch hooted appreciatively. 

"Neither of you can talk!" Landon retorted, and they all started laughing harder. "Biqtch is a dick pig and Vander handled a pup during her final floor show. Hypocrites, both of you!" He wheezed out, clutching his stomach with one hand while pointing with the other. 

"Look at the pot calling the kettle black!" Biqtch screeched. 

The rest of the night dissolved into hysterics, scream laughing at each other so loud it was a wonder they didn't get a noise complaint. The food was barely touched and cold, but no one cared. 

"I was inside so I couldn't see, but you could just hear her screaming! FUCK THE BIG PICTURE CLINT!!!" 

"That's better than Loris's temper tantrum. "NoT tOnIgHt!" 

"Well we didn't have any fun catchphrases like y'all did!"

"Bitch the fuck you mean? Everything that came out of Disasterina's mouth was fucking iconic! "Attention human males? She's murdering my pussy?" You just gotta think!" 

"Ooh ooh! I know! "You're just a trigger happy alcoholic that's what I said bitch you gotta pop a xanax every 10 fucking minutes!" That's the closest thing  Dragula has to the sugar daddy speech so far!"  

"Ok, you both are right. What can I say? I just a dummy ass thick Biqtch." She joked, standing up slightly to twerk slightly to the amusement of Vander and Landon, who laughed even harder.

The doorbell rang, interrupting their laughter. Vander got up to answer it, and came back carrying a white box, slightly damp from the snow. 

"What is that?" Biqtch asked as she and Landon got up and walked over to the counter where Vander sat it down. 

"No idea, but it's addressed to me and it's from a really nice bakery." Vander replied, cutting the string tied around the box off with a pair of scissors and opening the box. All of their jaws dropped as the lid fell back and revealed what was inside. Biqtch came to her senses first, hunching over laughing and clutching the counter. Vander covered her mouth and started wheezing as Landon chuckled and pinching his forehead as if he couldn't believe his eyes. 

"That is not what I think it is." 

"It is." Vander and Biqtch said in unison. Biqtch pulled out her phone and took a picture, still laughing. 

"I'm sending this to her right now. It's so lifelike, and I should know, I stared at her mug for weeks!" Vander laughed, kneeling to get a better look. 

"Did she send it?" Landon asked, taking out his own phone to take a picture. Vander plucked up an envelope that was beside the cake and opened it, laughing harder when she read it. 

" It's from the Boulets." She wheezed. 

" Happy Holidays uglies. Hope you don't mind if Meatball crashes your supermonster dinner party. We truly are proud of you all. XOXO. Dracmorda and Swanthula."

"Swan wrote that." Biqtch said, looking over Vander's shoulder. "Drac has chicken scratch." 

"Ooh! I'm snitching!" Vander mocked, and Biqtch doubled over again while Landon laughed in a confused way. 

"So who wants to do the honors of cutting Meatball's head and seeing what flavor her brain is?" 

"Landon should do it, welcome to the family bro. " Biqtch said. Vander nodded and handed Landon a knife, which he took. 

"Alright, cheers Meatball." Landon said as he sunk the knife into the cake shaped like her head and cut away a piece. 

"It looks like Red Velvet." Vander said as she held out a plate for Landon to put the cake piece on. 

"That's clever as fuck!" Biqtch smiled, watching as Landon cut the next piece. 

"Now I know how the Boulets feel, this is a powerful feeling, slicing someone up." 

"Oh he's definitely one of us!" Biqtch cheered, high fiving Vander. Biqtch high fived Landon as Vander's phone went off and she unlocked it. 

"Swan's glad to hear we got it and Meatball sent a bunch of grave emojis." 

"That tracks." Biqtch said as Vander put her phone away and went to grab wine glasses and a bottle, uncorking it and handing them all a glass of red wine.

"A toast." She said as she held up her glass. "To the Boulets, to Dragula, to good food and good times, and to the supermonsters, past, reigning, and future. Cheers." 

"Cheers!" Biqtch and Landon echoed. And they all drank. 

"Now let's go eat our cold food and our Meatball head cake." Vander directed. "This is a dinner party after all." 

"A holiday dinner party! Where's the mistletoe?" Biqtch joked.

"I am not kissing you again! Once was enough!" 

"Spoil sport. Landon will make out with me, won't you Landon?" 

"Umm, we'll talk. " 

"That wasn't a no!" 

Landon rolled his eyes and laughed at Biqtch's perseverance and Vander's apologetic face. This family was strange and weird and unconventional, but he loved it and wouldn't have it any other way.

#the boulet brothers dragula #thepastpresentandfutureofdrag #fic exchange #vander von odd #biqtch puddin #landon cider #my fic #m #mock star #dragula fanfiction #dragula fanfic

[omgjasminesimone]

New Year’s Resolution

Bryce Lahela x MC (Casey)

Words: 2488

Author’s Note: Repost. I’m having tag issues so I tried to edit them but ended up deleting all the text instead. Oops. My first Open Heart story! I like Open Heart almost as much as I like Ride or Die. All the characters are so well written. Hope you guys like it!

“Dr. Valentine.” Bryce greets, taking a seat across from her at the empty lunch table where Casey is flipping through a medical textbook. He has two coffees from the hospital café in his hands.

“Dr. Lahela.” Casey returns, smiling at him briefly before returning her gaze to her textbook.

“What are you looking for?” Bryce asks, passing her one of the cups.

She takes it, looking at it skeptically. “Is this-“ She begins before Bryce interrupts.

“No cream, no milk, four Splendas even though that artificial sweetener is going to give you cancer.”

“Those studies were inconclusive.” Casey insists, taking a sip of the drink. “I didn’t know you knew my coffee order.”

Bryce smiles and winks flirtatiously. “I know exactly what you like.” His smile grows as she blushes involuntarily at the insinuation.

“To answer your question,” she changes the subject, “I’m trying to diagnose my patient. He’s presenting with signs of a brain tumor, but I already ran a MRI and I didn’t find anything. There must be something in here…” She trails off as she flips through more pages.

“That sounds important. And I have a surgery so I should get out of your hair. But first, I wanted to ask you something.”

Casey continues to read, looking like she might be on to something. “What?”

“Will you accompany me to the Edenbrook New Year’s Eve celebration? It’s in a swanky hotel and there’s an open bar.”

She pauses in her reading to look at him. “Aren’t we working? I thought all the attendings were going which puts all us lowly residents on duty.”

Bryce’s smile widens even more. “All the lowly residents besides us. I won us tickets and the day off thanks to being such an incredible athlete.” He boasts.

“So you beat the chief in that basketball tournament.” Casey translates. “You know, most people would have let the chief win.”

Bryce scoffs. “I always play to win.” He looks at her knowingly and she tries not to be the first one to break eye contact.

“Dr. Valentine.” Dr. Ramsey is suddenly standing beside their table. Ever since Miami, it’s been Dr. Valentine instead of Rookie. As if the nickname is too intimate. “Let’s go.” He says shortly, turning on his heel and walking away without checking to see if she’s following.

Casey downs the rest of her coffee quickly and stands, clutching her textbook to her chest. “Yes. I’d love to go.” She says to Bryce with a smile before rushing off after Dr Ramsey.

Bryce’s ever present smile melts away as she walks away after Dr. Ramsey. Ever since she went to Miami with the attending almost 3 months ago, something has been different. She’s distant. They still hook up occasionally, but it’s much harder to get her to agree to go out with him on anything resembling a real date. He’s sure it has something to do with Dr. Ramsey. He’s seen the way the two of them look at each other when they don’t think anyone is looking. He feels the jealousy bubbling up in his gut, but he squashes it down. He’s not a jealous guy. He’s never been that guy.

He runs a hand through his hair irritably, shaking his head to clear it. At least she agreed to this New Year’s Eve date. And like he told her, he plays to win. He’s not just going to just let Dr. Ramsey steal her away. Bryce has never been the guy who doesn’t fight for what he wants.

…

..

.

Bryce holds the full flutes of champagne over his head as he navigates through the increasingly rowdy crowd, the music of the live big brass band blaring. It was very obvious that these attendings rarely let loose. They were certainly making up for lost time. He does a double take when he sees Dr. Delarosa and Dr. Mirani engaged in a very drunken make out session in the middle of the dance floor. Bryce simply shakes his head and continues on his way back to his stunning date. Casey is standing at a small table and scrolling through her phone. She looks amazing in the embroidered blue dress she’s wearing, complete with a cape. He was actually speechless when he picked her up, and she really seemed to enjoy rendering the always gregarious Dr. Bryce Lahela without words.

He places the alcohol on the table, placing a hand on the small of her back to let her know he has returned. She turns to look at him, and he places a quick kiss to her lips. She smiles when he pulls away, but then her eyes catch something over his shoulder and the smile drops. He subtly checks what she’s looking at and is dismayed to see Dr. Ramsey looking at them from a table in the corner. He’s leaning on the table, drinking what looks like scotch, and looking at Casey with something akin to heartbreak. He quickly looks away when he sees he’s been spotted, trying to look nonchalant.

Bryce returns his gaze to Casey. She’s biting her bottom lip worriedly and looking upset. Bryce sighs. This isn’t how he wants to end the evening. So far, it’s been quite enjoyable. They’ve danced, they ate, they’ve been taking full advantage of the open bar. Bryce picks up their champagne and gestures to the hotel balcony, where there’s a beautiful view of the Boston skyline and the harbor.  

“Want to get some air?” He asks.

Casey nods, seemingly glad to have a reason to leave Dr. Ramsey’s proximity.

The pair step out into the slightly chilly Boston air. Because it Is a little cold, they have the balcony all to themselves. Bryce places their drinks down on the wide stone balcony railing, shrugging out of his tux jacket and placing it on Casey.

“I was fine.” She insists, but she slips her arms into the jacket, feeling much warmer.

He gives her that trademark Bryce Lahela grin. “Can’t be responsible for Edenbrook’s number one internal medicine resident getting sick and missing work. Jackie would love it, but I don’t want you falling down the ranking.” He teases.

Casey sighs, sipping her champagne and looking out at the harbor. “I should drop out of that stupid competition.” She mutters.

“You shouldn’t. Don’t hide your greatness Dr. Valentine.”  Bryce insists, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

She leans back into his embrace. “Is it worth it if I lose all my friends?”

“I’m your friend. I’m not going anywhere.” Bryce insists.

“Is that what we are? Friends?” Casey questions softly.

Casey can feel Bryce gulp nervously since she’s in his arms. One of his arms leaves her to reach for his drink, downing it quickly. “Are we having the DTR talk?” Bryce asks.

“DTR?” Casey questions.

“Define the relationship.” Bryce clarifies.

“Why do you insist on speaking teenager to me?” Casey asks, wrinkling her nose distastefully at the acronym.

Bryce laughs. “Come on, we’re not that old. The attendings aren’t hip with the kids, but us residents know what’s Gucci.”

Casey finishes her drink, placing the glass back down on the railing. “Nevermind. We don’t need to define anything. I think I’m breaking up with you.” Casey says, deadpan.

“Hey!” Bryce complains, turning her around so they’re facing each other. He pulls her flush against him. “Even if my youthful spirit bothers you, I know there are other things about me you really like.” His hands trail down her back, stopping to rest on her perky backside and squeezing flirtatiously.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, leaning against him and swaying to the music that they can still faintly hear from inside. “There are certain things I like about you. Like how you bring me coffee.” She jokes.

Bryce laughs, kissing her forehead. “I’ve missed this.” Bryce admits, burying a hand in her dark curly hair.

She pulls back slightly to look in his eyes. “What?”

Bryce thinks about telling her that he’s missed her, that she’s been distant since her trip to Miami with Dr. Ramsey. But he really doesn’t even want to bring Dr. Ramsey up. He wants it to be just the two of them, no one else on her mind. He shakes his head. “Nothing.” He finally says.    

She looks like she’s going to insist he tell her, but then the New Year’s Eve countdown starts from inside.

“10!” The crowd yells.

“You can tell me.” Casey promises.

9…

“I know, I feel like I can tell you anything.” Bryce admits.

8…

Casey places a hand on Bryce’s tan cheek.

7…

“Really? I feel like you still have your walls up.” Casey admits.

6…

“You don’t go for the mysterious type?” Bryce jokes, trying to lighten the serious turn their conversation has taken.

5…

“I’d like to really get to know you Bryce. If you’d let me.”

4…

Bryce stares into her caramel eyes, as if he’s trying to discern if she really means it.

3…

His hand presses into the small of her back, pulling her flush against him once more.

2…

Bryce places a kiss right below her ear.

1…

“I love you Casey.”

…

..

.

“Bryce, hey!” Sienna waves at him from the hospital parking lot, locking her car door and walking over to his car. “Happy New Year! I know I’m a little late since it’s January 4th and all, but I just got back from visiting my parents, so forgive me.”

Bryce flashes Sienna a charming smile and gently sits on the hood of his car. “Happy New Year Sienna. Feeling refreshed?” He asks.

“It was so nice to not be stressed out constantly! I almost forgot what that feels like. Best way to start the New Year. How was your New Year’s Eve? My roommates told me you and Casey went on a super fancy date.” Sienna says cheerfully, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Bryce sighs. “I told Casey I love her.” Bryce admits.

Sienna smiles. “That’s great! So you guys are finally official? Everyone saw that one coming. Don’t be too mushy at work. Now that I broke up with my boyfriend I might get jealous if you guys are constantly telling each other how much you love one another and sneaking off to supply closets.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Bryce mutters, looking down at the asphalt.

Sienna frowns. “What do you mean?”

“She didn’t say it back.” Bryce reveals.  

Sienna looks surprised. “Well, what did she do?” She questions.

“Distracted me with kisses. And then we went back to my place. I’d been drinking so I didn’t even realize she didn’t say it back until the next morning. And she bounced while I was sleeping which can’t be a great sign.” It all spills out of Bryce like word vomit, even though he hates being vulnerable. He’s not even particularly close to Sienna, but he has to tell someone.

“I don’t know what to do. Usually, women just throw themselves at me and I don’t have to make any effort. I’ve never said I love you first. Never put myself out there like that, and now…” He stops himself from saying anymore, worried about revealing too much. He’s quickly rebuilding his walls, closing himself off again.

“Maybe she’s just confused, I mean there’s the whole Dr. Ramsey thing…” Sienna trails off, realizing she might have said too much when she sees jealousy and anger flash in Bryce’s eyes.

“Fucking Dr. Ramsey”. Bryce mutters venomously.

…

..

.

Casey searches through the bins in the supply room for the suture kits Sienna asked for. She doesn’t turn around when she hears the door open. “Sienna? Are you sure they’re in here?” She asks, pushing the bin back onto the shelf after searching thoroughly.

“They’re not here.” Bryce admits, and Casey jumps at the unexpected voice. She’s been avoiding Bryce lately. Ever since New Year’s Eve. She doesn’t feel like she’s ready to face him, but Sienna obviously must have felt differently. She tries to fight back her feelings of betrayal, reminding herself Sienna is Bryce’s friend too.

Casey takes a deep breath before turning and facing Bryce. “Hi.” She says sheepishly.

“Hey.” He returns. “We need to talk.” He adds.

“About?” She feigns ignorance.

He rolls his eyes. “Casey, I told you I loved you, and then you snuck out of my bed in the middle of the night.”

“Sorry.” Casey apologizes.

“For what? Not saying it back? Or sneaking out?” He asks.

“Why did you say it?” Casey asks softly.

“What? You don’t think I meant it?” He sounds very offended at that notion.

“We’d both been drinking.” Casey reminds him.

“I wasn’t drunk Casey.” Bryce insists.

She’s avoiding eye contact with him, looking like she’s planning her escape from the room.

“Do you want me to take it back?” He asks, exasperated.

She finally looks at him. “No, not if you meant it.” She admits.

Bryce feels some relief at that, stepping closer to her. “I did mean it.”  

Casey looks conflicted. “I wanted to say it back.” She admits.

“Casey-“ He starts.

“But there’s someone else.” She admits, watching his reaction warily.

“Dr. Ramsey.” His tone is flat, not revealing the intense hatred he feels for the attending at the moment.

She nods. “We kissed. In Miami. He stopped it before it went any further, and nothing has happened since, but I just feel like it’s not really over.” She confesses.

There’s silence for several moments. “Why are you chasing something you can never really have?” Bryce asks.

“What do you mean?” Casey questions.

“An attending? Your boss? It would ruin your reputation. You’re too great of a doctor to let this ruin your career. You guys could never actually be together. You’re purposely going after someone unattainable, someone inappropriate, someone you can’t have. And I’m right here. Not an attending. Not your boss. Someone you can have. Someone that loves you, Casey.”

Tears well up in her eyes at the truth in his words. She has a habit of self-sabotaging. Is that what she’s doing? Pining after Dr. Ramsey just to avoid starting something real with Bryce? Avoiding a potential break-up by never starting anything serious in the first place?

He steps directly in front of her, taking her face in his hands and wiping away the tears falling down her cheeks. “Casey, this is me opening up. Telling you everything. Taking my walls down. It’s my New Year’s Resolution. ” He kisses her softly, and is relieved when she kisses him back.

He pulls away, resting his forehead against her’s. “Can we have a do-over?” He asks.

She smiles and nods.

“Casey Valentine, I love you.” He confesses, again.

“Bryce Lahela, I love you too.” Casey admits.

…

..

.

#open heart #bryce lahela x mc #bryce lahela #choices fanfiction #choices #playchoices