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the-pale-goddess · 1 year ago

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Vices & Virtues - Ethan Ramsey x MC

Dr. Ramsey's weaknesses don’t disturb his everyday life often, but when they do, a certain intern happens to always be involved.

Book: Open Heart, Intern Year (between Chapters 5 & 6)

Warnings: language, my rusty writing, a truckload of pining

Rating/Category: Teen+ / fluffy angst

Author’s note: [insert the ‘surprise, bitch’ & 'it's been 84 years' reaction GIFs]

I’m eternally grateful for the very few angels still waiting for new E&T content—this one’s for you 🫶🏻 Hope you’ll find a moment to read my word vomit and enjoy the mess (aka my writing). I appreciate every comment and like more than words can convey!

Edenbrook is indigestible on Mondays. Though Ethan Ramsey doesn’t believe in whatever ‘curse’ the human kind attributed to an absolutely random day, he cannot deny the madness that usually ensues upon the beginning of each week. An inexplicable air of post-weekend malaise does tend to envelop the globe, and Boston is no lucky exception.

“Mondays suck!”

Striding across the hustly-bustly pediatric ward, Doctor Ramsey overhears an agitated boy explicitly expressing his annoyance.

Ethan’s Monday has been a doozy of a day as well, but he’d rather keep his troubles six feet under, preferably in concrete. Nevertheless, a drop of sympathy implores him to stop near the patient’s room and watch the scene unfold at a safe distance.

The child blows a raspberry at the nurse preparing him for a corridor-long wheelchair ride, clearly upset about the surgery he’s being taken to.

A heavy sigh followed by the unmistakable giggle of a certain copper-haired radiologist interrupts Ethan’s first break during today’s demanding shift.

“It’s not Monday, kid. It’s just your life.” Doctor Herbert whispers into Ethan’s ear, a large cup of raspberry tea in her hand. “But at least it’s going to be all rainbows and candy again in three weeks.”

Meanwhile, the situation has escalated quickly: a river of tears streams down the young Monday-hater's cheeks now, his concerned mother shooting pleading looks between her shuddering offspring and the strict nurse trying to efficiently finish the task so she could move on with her hectic schedule.

A pang of dejection pierces Ethan all of a sudden when a long-forgotten fragment of the past he buried flashes through his mind. Before its splinters reopen old wounds, he swiftly pushes the unwanted memory back to the unexplored depths of his psyche.

“I don’t think he’s heard you.”

“Gee, Doctor Ramsey, share some of that cheerful attitude with the rest of us!” Liz nudges his side, almost spilling her hot beverage on his foot. She mouths an apology, but his unimpressed gaze falls elsewhere.

“You wouldn’t even know what to do with it.”

“Thank God your interns still haven’t caught that grumpiness you’re suffering from.”

“No need to worry, it’s not contagious.” He gives a dismissive wave of his hand, partially to announce his departure, then continues the journey to his primary destination: the harmonious sanctuary of his private office.

As soon as the elevator door closes behind Ethan, the confined space becomes his temporary resort. He takes a deep breath, rubbing his sunken, aweary eyes to relieve the tension—an aching remnant of the sleepless night. The exhaustion begins to mess with his senses, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary; permanent fatigue has been his steadfast companion for more than a decade of his career as a doctor.

There’s a crack in that orderly, borderline clinical life of his, as big as a closed fist, and he’s slowly beginning to realize its detrimental consequences.

But none of that matters now.

What matters is that his desperate efforts to bend Naveen’s stubbornness weren’t in vain; there’s still hope—a notion Ethan isn’t exactly on board with, but he puts his trust in science, and beyond any doubt science will point him in the right direction. As long as there’s time, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his mentor, his friend. He’s confident he can do it, he’s capable of diagnosing and curing whichever mysterious illness keeps Naveen captive.

He’s the only one who can do it.

A double shot of deep roasted espresso shall help this cause. Or, at the very least, make his Monday slightly more endurable.

Loud metallic thud followed by a streak of bright fluorescent lighting annunciates the arrival. Empty, windowless corridor welcomes his nostrils with the odious mixture of staleness and antiseptic, typical of the office wing on the sixth floor. He operates on autopilot, mindlessly trudging ahead, marginally consoled by the aura of eerie quietude. Blissfully oblivious to what the so-called Manic Monday has prepared for him next.

All his rational thought and peerless logic evaporate into thin air the second his drowsy gaze zooms in on the old waiting room under renovation currently withheld by the recent budget cuts. Within its hoary walls, a familiar sylphlike figure catches his eye, unwittingly staking her claim to his undivided attention.

Ethan’s dire need of coffee has vanished as well; he’s wide awake now.

Smiling to herself, a sense of pride evident in the alluring dimples carved into her cheeks, Doctor Addams arranges a stack of papers atop a massive couch protected by thin plastic sheet.

Ethan acknowledges that he must ignore the tempest raging inside his chest, but he’s unable to focus on anything else other than the energy she exudes, luring him in like a siren’s song.

This isn’t the first time the infamous Doctor Terminator is utterly powerless in the face of her—the most intriguing mystery he’s tempted to unravel for some godforsaken, unfathomable reason.

Everything he knows about Tiffany Addams has been collateral damage from their close proximity and the isolating nature of their work. Against better judgment, Ethan has stored every single crumb of information thrown at him, like it’s a treasure guarded in the vault of his mind, acquiring new pieces and adding them to this clandestine collection.

With certainty, there’s a new element behind that glass wall, ready to be studied in secret.

As though pulled by a magnet, his feet carry him towards the room while Ethan shuffles through a myriad of excuses plausible enough to start a conversation. A good excuse, however, requires an elaborate background story, supported by a carefully planned follow-up—both of which clearly out of his reach at the moment.

Fully aware of the possible disaster awaiting inside, Ethan steps into the room quietly, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed over his chest. A sophisticated scent of sultry vanilla wrapped with notes of luminous lavender pervades the space, handily smothering the musty odor of the old hospital furniture stored here for at least a year.

Heedless of his presence, Tiffany remains locked in her own bubble. She’s seated on the couch, browsing through a large leather bag with a lot of noise.

Long onyx locks neatly tamed in a sleek bun reveal the exquisitely sculpted contour of her features, its sharp edges so far removed from the overpowering warmth hiding in her sparkling emeralds and tenacious kindness dripping from the corners of her full mouth.

That stark contrast surely must be a part of her allure, he reckons. Not that there’s any evidence at his disposal—he’s her boss, for fuck’s sake. But the set of cardinal rules applying to the situation doesn’t stop him from looking, nor does it dilute the poison seeping from that singular contaminated thought…

Loud, treacherous voice snarls inside his mind like a beast at the gates of his sanity.

This isn’t staring, this is a comprehensive risk assessment.

Regardless of the pretext, watching her feels almost perverse, but he’s too transfixed to listen to his voice of reason hopelessly trying to redirect him to the path of impeccable propriety.

He can’t look away. Can’t move either. She'll notice him…Eventually.

Is that all he’s become? A disappointment, a fraud. One of the best diagnosticians of the generation, the esteemed Dr. Ethan Ramsey is consistently failing to do his job. His own mind appalls him—once the most treasured asset, his pride and joy, now compromised, useless, struggling to cut through the veil of his inappropriate longing.

Perhaps instead of triggering a spiral of destruction, he should address a more pressing matter: why is there a splotch of purple paint on her cheek?

Better late than never, his focus switches from Tiffany to the negligible surroundings. On her left, spread across the polythene-covered couch, lie a couple of ridiculously abstract drawings, colorful and confusing, each of them made with the skill and precision equal to a six-year-old if he has to guess.

Suddenly, it all clicks.

Along with his tongue.

The short clack doesn’t make her flinch, though she straightens immediately, a glimmer of surprise shining in her riveting eyes when she looks up at the intruder and deems him worthy of a smile. Her lush, rosy lips curl up generously, greeting him with a beam so dazzling his body heats up like bare skin kissed by the blazing midday sun in the middle of summer.

The older doctor doesn’t return the cordial gesture—he has a reputation to uphold and his bruised dignity to save. He quickly takes refuge in the shadow of his perfect decorum, dexterously covering the unjustifiable act of treason committed by his very own carnality.

Tiffany, however, is undeterred in her mission to melt his callous indifference with the disarming sincerity of her vivacious spirit.

“Before you drop your sarcastic grenades on me: no, I have not found my true calling elsewhere. I have not been slacking up either. These aren’t even mine, so insulting someone else’s artistic skills would be totally inappropriate.” Her hand waves over the drawings.

“I wouldn’t dare to insult a respected artist and credit you with their art.” He retorts flatly, then spills the aforementioned sarcasm like the Lord intended. “Early Pollock must cost a fortune or two. How come such rare artworks ended up in your possession?”

His comment inspires a peal of infectious laughter; the powerful melody of Tiffany’s unadulterated amusement conquers the room, all but obliterating the chronic sternness of Ethan’s face.

He cannot help but bask in the glory of this unexpected outcome: he’s the reason behind the glorious, velvety sound; she’s laughing because of him.

“You made a pretty solid assumption, Doctor Ramsey, but I have to disappoint you: early Pollock had an affair with surrealism and his style was way more compositional than this.” She points at the glittery mess splashed in the center of one of the pieces, not so subtly suppressing another wave of laughter.

Miss Addams and her irreplaceable wit painfully remind him of the golden rule he often pretends doesn’t concern his giant ego: do not speak on the topics your knowledge of is insufficient.

Lustrous vivid-green eyes fixed on him and the urgency he’s facing at the moment leave him no choice but to quickly shake off the embarrassment and adapt his reaction accordingly.

Reluctantly, Ethan clings to brutal honesty. “I’m not an art connoisseur, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Oh, trust me, you would.”

A smudge of amethyst retrieves the diagnostician’s attention for one split second, demanding a seamless change of topic.

“I presume you spent your lunch break on the pediatric ward again, trying to start a new art movement.”

Doctor Addams gasps theatrically and presses her slender fingers to her mouth, lowering her head slightly. “What gave me away?”

Ethan considers revealing the truth through another shot of bluntly delivered sarcasm (something he would have done in any other case), but his body betrays him, subconsciously drawing near Tiffany.

“Apart from the excited chatter on the second floor? Nothing.” He replies, straining to keep his impeccable composure just as she bites into her lower lip tantalizingly in what appears to be keen anticipation.

A few risky steps later she’s at his arm’s length, and he decides to measure that dangerously short distance; akin to an audience member of some ludicrous soap opera, the diagnostician observes his hand move towards the intern’s face in slow motion, as if that bloody limb wasn’t his and the falsely innocent intention swarming inside his incisive, virtuous mind filled him with repulsion.

Except he wants this. He needs to feel her.

Even though the mere ghost of an idea may bring his demise, he cannot break free, imprisoned by the torturous vision of her vanilla-scented skin gliding smoothly against his.

Much to his bewilderment, her breath quickens just as much as his; the evergreen forest in her eyes bursts into flames when their gazes meet, burning his hesitation down.

She wants this too.

Nothing could convince him to refrain from acting on this forbidden desire now, not a single reasonable thought seems to be charged with a cogent argument.

So he lets his thumb brush down her right cheek, down the lick of wet paint smeared across her warm skin, taking most of the dark purple off the silken canvas along the way.

The sky didn’t tear in half, there was no divine retribution exacted upon a sinner like him, no sign of punishment fit for his appalling misdeed.

“Nothing. At. All.”

Nothing but the silky smoothness of her face, rapid rise and fall of her shapely chest, and fiery heat searing through his veins…

Inevitably, the unbearable tension crackling between them dissipates in a flash when Tiffany snorts at the sight of his acrylic-stained thumb, a soundless ‘fuck’ escapes her mouth as she sprints to find a prompt solution for the paintmergency, stripping him of time to ponder on what the living hell just happened.

He takes advantage of the moment, immediately scolding himself, forcing his thoughts to flee from the crime scene concocted by his newly depraved brain.

“Must be your enviable instinct of an outstanding diagnostician then.” Cheeky as ever, she casts a playful eye over Ethan while rummaging through the drawers, summoning him to focus on her.

Within a long minute, she scuttles back to him, stretched arm offering one of the two pieces of paper towel sprayed with hand sanitizer. They use it to rub the paint off their skin. As soon as they’re done, Ethan quips back. Sort of.

“The balance between mockery and flattery is a bit too delicate to be used in a professional environment, don’t you agree, Addams?”

Unintimidated by the tricky question, Tiffany lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. “It all depends on the intelligence of the person you’re speaking with. You’re ultrawealthy in that department, so I assumed you wouldn’t mind some harmless friendly banter.”

“We’re not friends.” The speed with which he retaliates might have just sealed his fate. Deep down, he doesn’t quite believe those words himself, but there are rules to be followed unconditionally, rules that cannot be broken under any circumstances.

Dark, noble brows accentuating the breadth of her radiance crease together in sheer bewilderment. He can almost hear the scoff she’s choking back when she sees right through the cone-shaped hole in the thick wall separating them.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“We’re getting there.” She nods vigorously, openly mocking his well-meaning mendacity with lips pursed into a thin line and narrowed eyes surveying him diligently.

„An attending befriending his intern? I can’t see that happening.”

A winning grin lights Tiffany’s features up. „It’s already happening, whether you like it or not.”

The more she pushes forward, infuriatingly so, the more he resists, fortifying his helpless defense.

„Would you be kind enough to explain why on Earth would I let it happen?”

“It’s beyond your control.” She shakes her head. „There’s nothing you can do now.”

He frowns at her, takes her fierce expression in, feigning utter disinterest in the mesmerizing spatter of freckles adorning her glowy skin.

Is the intensity of his glare too revealing? Can there be a flash of ardent curiosity swimming in his eyes and acting up against him?

„You’re awfully confident about all the wrong things, Rookie.”

She mimics the military salute, right hand raised sharply, touching her forehead, fingers and thumb extended and joined, palm facing down. „The colossal pain in your ass reporting for duty, sir.”

This display of her goofiness, derived from the smidgeon of irreverence he’s found himself covertly fond of, successfully penetrates his ruptured facade.

At last, Doctor Terminator’s perpetually grim face blooms with an ear-to-ear smile, so wide and genuine that Tiffany blinks once, twice, most probably questioning whether the exceptionally unusual scene in front of her is real.

The way she gapes at his mouth almost drills a hole in him—she’s that awestruck, like a pious believer who stumbled upon irrefutable evidence confirming the foundation of her faith.

“You should smile more. You…” Her plush lips part when she trails off, then sucks in a breath, as if to stop the profanation of their professional relationship jumping on the tip of her tongue from slipping out recklessly.

She wants this too.

“It suits you.”

Ethan’s cheeks erupt with disgraceful heat, resembling an awkward teenager attracting his crush’s attention for the very first time—the feeling almost as mortifying and inexcusable as the unprecedented lack of any snarky response.

As if the worst was yet to come, Tiffany keeps on staring at him with such exhilarating wonder and sureness he doesn’t quite know how to proceed with such abundance of emotion meddling with his stoic approach.

She wants this too.

For a fleeting moment, the abyss of his solitude shrinks significantly, purple paint filling the crack on the illusory contentment with the life he’s chosen, just as her piercing gaze invites him further into the impossible fantasy.

Then, a jolt of sobering guilt runs along his spine in a rude awakening, at the same time when Tiffany realizes the gravity of her daring statement and its perilous implications.

“I, erm…”

“Uhm, my…”

Ethan smashes the uncharacteristic uneasiness descending on them, a benign half-smile and barely perceptible nod encourage her to continue. “Go on.”

Her gaze flickers towards the hall, a tinge of crimson reddening freckled porcelain. “My break is almost over. I should head back to the ER.”

Hell must have frozen over: his fearless protégée, strong-willed and sharp-tongued at all times, befuddles him with this uncommonly demure armor plate she has put on. The most challenging obstacles and cases fail to break her down, stress and pressure never threaten her admirable strength, and yet there she is—bleeding from her own sword.

This supremely fascinating token of hidden vulnerability sheds new light on the beguiling collection of contradictions making her whole.

He examines the younger doctor pacing around the room as she gathers her belongings up, stuffing her capacious bag with them. Half-way, she spins to address him directly and points at her cheek.

“Am I…Still…?”

“No, you’re alright. The paint is gone.”

“Splendid.”

As she goes forward, assembling her patients’ drawings into a neat pile, and—rather intentionally—ignoring Ethan, he readjusts his tie and dives headfirst into the pool of her discomfort.

“Addams?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to dedicate such a vast portion of your free time to helping others.”

She freezes, visibly offended, but still intent on avoiding his gaze. “I know. I want to.”

“What I meant...Is that you need to add yourself to the equation, Tiffany.”

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” She scoffs, the barely noticeable defensive undertone reverberating in her firm answer not entirely convincing for the diagnostics virtuoso.

His evaluation is disrupted by the abominably loud beeping of Tiffany’s pager. Their eyes finally clash for a brief shootout with no winner before she shuts the damn thing up.

“Well then. See you later, Doctor Ramsey.” She blurts out hastily without giving him a second glance and turns round to rush out of the room, but stops in her tracks near the door.

Something sparks inside that brilliant mind of hers, reigniting her boldness. Dense curtain of long lashes flutters at him over her shoulder, inky-black and luxurious akin to the finest lace, the signature magnetic smile dancing on her lips again—this time infused with genuine concern. She inspects his countenance for a still moment, inch by inch, crease by crease, until her head falls to the side like she has just uncovered his biggest secret.

“Consider locking the door in your office and getting some rest.”

“Giving me advice isn’t included in your job description.” He sneers, the unnecessarily harsh huff of his disapproval concealing the alien sentiment spilling inside his chest.

Somehow it’s still not enough to antagonize her.

Her eyes bore into his audaciously; the gentleness gleaming from elusive emerald green, reminiscent of safety, offers shelter he despairingly seeks, but cannot take. “But it’s nice to have someone watching out for you, isn’t it?”

Somehow they might have more in common than one would think.

Careful not to expose the motley collection of feelings stirring his blood, Ethan draws in a long breath and slips his hands into the pockets of pristine white coat, perfecting his posture, with tense body standing even taller, as though to appear completely unaffected by her undeniable appeal, more unrelenting.

He’s been looked at countless times, yes, but this must be the first instance where he feels truly seen.

It is indeed nice.

The attending doesn’t say a word, for he would have to agree with the intern. She smirks triumphantly, accepting the tacit disbelief etched on his face as conclusive proof of her diagnosis.

Instead of claiming victory through verbal manifestation of her sass, Doctor Addams attacks him using a different weapon: a provocative wink. “Just think about it.”

With a graceful twirl indicating goodbye, his Rookie struts out, leaving a dizzying mist of her divine scent behind.

Wasting no time, Ethan scoots to the exact place where she stood prior to this moment, soaking up the delicious cloud of fragrance, unable to resist sniffing the air like some sort of disgustingly pathetic creep.

Thankfully, there are no witnesses to this particularly revolting descent into madness.

No witnesses to the beginning of his fall.

Mind over heart has never sounded more delusional than now, that his hard-won empire of spotless reason stands on the verge of crumbling. But he’s not giving up–he can’t give up. There’s too much at stake.

Beyond dispute, Ethan Ramsey is not an easy man to defeat. The King of Quiet Desperation wears his broken crown with arrogance, each burnished gem representing his sins, though the ultimate one hasn’t brought him down yet.

Having put the mask of nonchalance back on, Doctor Ramsey turns off the lights and stomps into the empty corridor—his hand still carrying the heavenly softness of Tiffany’s skin like a fingerprint, like a sin, shaky fingers curling at the very thought of the contact—then begins a seemingly casual stroll to his office.

He doesn’t have many vices—she is all of them.

_____

A/N2: Hope you enjoyed this bad boy ❤️ Sorry (not sorry) if it's too long and repetitive...I literally can't shut up when it comes to these two fsksjdkfjs Plus it felt really good to find my writing mojo after such a long time!

PS. If there are any typos and/or mistakes...No, there aren't lol I'm fighting COVID at the moment, so my brain's a little foggy. I had this fic sitting in my drafts and decided to just go with the flow while I'm feverish and can't see any faults sjfskfkjf I'll get back to everyone waiting for a reply when I'm more coherent. Stay safe, lovelies!

#miss rona is not letting me breathe or sleep or rest so i decided to find my most recent taglist #yes i'm still keeping the deactivated urls because my love never stops and i miss seeing you on my dash #taglist rb

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years ago

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7 from Winter Situations Prompt for Ethan and Becca please♡ thank you!

Secret Santa

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) Rating: Teen+ Summary: The gang does secret santa this year. Ethan almost has a breakdown over who he gets. Tropes: text/prose; christmas; the gang, ethan x f!mc

#7. Secret Santa gift exchange

a/n: From the Winter Situations Prompt List. Terr you requested this a year ago! I am so sorry I’ve finally found a modicum inspiration now. Also sorry it’s garbage 💔

Three Weeks Til Christmas.

“I cannot believe you conned me into this,” Ethan laments for the hundredth time since he agreed to participate in the cohort’s gift exchange last night in bed.

“Yes, you can.” Becca’s snidely looks up at him as they cross the threshold into the residents lounge.

Her friends are all there, with the addition of Bryce’s younger sister Keiki (it would be a strange sight if Keiki if the group didn’t all agree adding the teen into the pool was in her best interest. no kid deserves to get nothing on Christmas), waiting for the name picking to start. Bryce is at the center shaking a sugar holder he do doubt emptied to accommodate name-picking.

“Ready?” Bryce asks, a manicured brow raised and a jolly smile coaxing the group in.

Becca steps up to the pot first, adding the caveat: “If Ethan and I pull each other we’re drawing again.”

Bryce rolls his eyes and Becca can feel Jackie doing the same from behind them. “Yeah yeah yeah.”

Everyone pulled a name - the roomies, Rafael, Keiki, Ethan and Bryce. Bryce gives the most sinister of smirks.

Once Ethan and Becca are in his luxury sedan, the key in the ignition and engine ready, Becca wastes no time in asking,

“Who’d you get?”

“Isn’t it against the rules to tell?” Ethan chides, attention on the road and safely backing out of the parking space.

“It’s not me so....”

Ethan can’t help but shake his head at her audacity. She wouldn’t be his if she wasn’t keen on bending the rules.

She huffs and pouts, “You’re getting coal for Christmas.”

A smirk graces his lips, “So are you.”

Becca doesn’t think anything of it as she turns away from him, watching them pass the city by.

Five Days Til Christmas.

Four Days Til Christmas.

Ethan comes home to find Rebecca sitting on the floor of his living room wrapping gifts in nothing but an oversized tee.

“Need me to wrap your grab bag?” she greets in lieu of anything formal.

He doesn’t respond - just puts down his bag, slips his coat off and shoes. Small movements without any of the gusto he usually exhibits when she’s on the other side of that apartment door.

Becca looks up from what she’s doing finally. She sees Ethan standing behind the sofa, not daring to come any closer. The way he looks is utterly guilty.

Another sneaky, knowing smile graces her lips.

“Don’t,” he holds up his palm in surrender to stop whatever snide comment she was about to make. “I’m at an impasse. Can’t I give money? All your friends need money.”

“That’s not the point,” she chides. Becca wraps up the final touches on her gift, knowing whatever he says next will require her full attention. So she asks, “Who do you have?”

He looks so shameful.

“Is it Bryce?”

“Worse.”

Her brows furrow. “I have Jackie. Who’s worse than those two?”

Ethan pulls out the piece of ripped paper pressed in his wallet, places it on the glass table next to her. Becca unfolds it.

“Oh,” she tries and fails to suppress her laughter.

“See?” he says, terribly forlorn.

Her smirk is back as she shrugs, “Could be worse.”

“$25 cannot cover it.”

“You have to be creative! Lucky for you you have Amazon Prime.”

“I do?”

The look she shoots him is downright triumphant.

Christmas Gift Exchange.

The group of friends are all sat in the living room of the roommates apartment. Food and presents wrapped with various levels of skilled precision are piled at the center of the cramped space.

Sienna hands each gift out and the recipient must guess who bought them.

Jackie is first up. Without a single care she rips open the snowflake designed wrapping paper. What she finds elicits a deep, hearty and nearly manacle laughter.

“Becca,” Jackie decides without a second of thought needed and a shit-eating grin adorning her features.

“How’d you know?” Becca squeals in delight.

Jackie holds up her spoils - a mini set of flavored vodka and a bullet vibrator. She shakes the bullet and the two girls laugh, knowing they’re the only ones brave enough to give such an audacious and suggestive gift.

Sienna gets a new set of baking trays from Rafael.

Bryce gets a top up of hair product from Jackie.

Elijah, a bootleg Lego infinity gauntlet from Keiki.

Aurora, a new cardigan from Sienna with her favorite blondie swirl brownies.

Becca gets slippers and a onesie from Elijah.

Ethan gets a.... t-shirt?

“Thank you?” he says instead of guessing who thought this would suit him. He’s too confused and slightly too embarrassed to lift the fabric out of the plastic bag it came in.

“Take it out,” Keiki instructs, rather impatiently.

Ethan Ramsey does what he’s told. Carefully opens the plastic and pulls out the item.

It’s a gym towel. A white terry cloth gym towel with navy blue writing - Ethan has to hold back a groan as he reads the script. It’s monogrammed ‘YB Ripped Ramsey’. There’s only one person on the planet this could be from.

“You love it,” Bryce infers.

Ethan grumbles back something along the lines of a thank you.

“One left...” Sienna hands the last finely wrapped green package to Keiki.

The box is larger than the others. Keiki opens it with trepidation, already knowing who this is from. Instead, neatly packed is a Christmas succulent, rainbow fairy lights and an adult coloring book. She tries to stay impassive but everyone can see her amber eyes light up.

She looks from Ethan to Becca sitting on the arm of his chair. “Thank you. I love it.”

Ethan’s shoulders relax, glad to not have ruined Christmas.

And somehow he thinks Keiki will never truly like him, but at least this is her accepting him in their lives.

________________

a/n: i really just wanted to write ethan freaking out over getting a teenage girl for secret santa but this ended up happening instead :/

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

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45 from the I Love You prompt for Tatum X Valentina please❤

#45. “Whenever I’m with you I am real”

Book: Foreign Affairs Pairing: Tatum Mendoza x f!MC (Valentina Ferrer) Word count: 700

Valentina stares at the seared scallops on her plate, unsure if she wants to laugh bitterly or finally break down and cry. It's pathetic, though unsurprising, that being home for Rutherland's independence day festivities has her in such an emotional upheaval. Even a simple meal threatens to rip at the seams of her carefully constructed facade. In the end, she throws her napkin onto the plate with more force than necessary and strides toward the exit.

Tatum is at her side at once, easily keeping up with her furious pace. Startled staffers throw uneasy glances their way, but no one dares stop her.

It isn’t until they reach the garden they used to play in as kids, their only refuge in the estate, that Tatum reaches out to stop her. His warm, strong fingers clasp gently around her wrist, turning her insides into a buzzing swarm.

“You'd think that if Mom wanted to control everything I do, even my meals, she'd remember I hate scallops.” Valentina runs out of steam with each word until her shoulders drop in defeat. “Or that she'd bother to join me for her meticulously planned dinner.”

Tatum says nothing, his rich, soulful brown eyes studying every inch of her face.

“What do you need?” he asks quietly.

Valentina pauses, her gaze lingering a moment too long on his.

“Aunt Sonia's,” she says at last.

“A Soni’s Special?” The smile that breaks through his severe expression makes him look younger, like the boy Valentina remembers. “We haven’t done that in years.”

By the time they sit in their favorite, tattered booth at the tiny diner twenty minutes later, it is almost nightfall. The neon sign announcing "Aunt Sonia's Diner" flickers in the dusk, illuminating Tatum's quiet, amused expression as Valentina creates their favorite meals from their orders. All the meatloaf from her plate is transferred to his. All the mashed potatoes and Mac and Cheese from his plate ends up on hers, creating the most delectable mound of carbohydrates she has ever seen.

“A Soni's Special,” she announces with a flourish, scooping up a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

“I can't believe you still eat like a toddler,” Tatum comments with a chuckle.

She glares at him in mock offense.

“I'll have you know that carb loading is a very adult thing to do.”

“When you want a heart attack early in life it is.”

Valentina flings a balled up paper towel his way, which he easily evades.

“Shut up.”

“Good luck being hungry again in an hour.”

“Just eat your meatloaf, Grandpa.”

The old nickname, inspired by his old-fashioned choice of food, has Tatum fully laughing now, his handsome face alight and jovial. Valentina steals a long, indulging glance, basking in the deep sound of his mirth. He looks vastly different than the stern, unmoving bodyguard she sees everyday. Yet, she realizes, heart twisting slightly, he is the same Tatum she always knew.

Her Tatum.

He catches her staring so she adverts her eyes to her plate. Even then, she can feel the heat of his gaze burning into her skin, thrilling her. Maybe he's seeing the girl she used to be with him all those years ago.

“I missed this,” he admits quietly. “I missed the real you.”

She looks at him then, stunned at his candor. In the silence, the words hang in the charged air between them, heavy like a pendulum. His eyes, darker and bolder than she's seen them in recent days remain fixed on her, pinning her into place.

“Whenever I'm with you I am real.”

Tatum takes in her whispered confession like a breath of air.

Then, all too soon, the muscles of his throat and jaw flex as his face reflects nothing but pure agony. Instinct kicks in and all Valentina wants to do is to kiss this silent suffering away.

The loaded, sizzling moment is broken when he finally looks away.

Mercifully, the familiar notes of Elvis Presley's “Heartbreak Hotel” begin to play from the battered jukebox in the corner. This brings back a quiver to his lips and Valentina jumps at the opportunity.

“Hey, remember when I made you sing this during karaoke?”

“We swore never to talk about that, Ferrer.”

“Where I get so lonely, baby,” she sings in her best Elvis impression.

“Shut—”

“Well, I get so lonely.”

“—Up.”

“You can buy my silence with a chocolate cake milkshake.”

The smile he gives her makes her heart ache.

“Wouldn't be a Soni's Special without it.”

***

50 Ways to Say “I Love You” prompts | Prompts Masterlist

A/N: Man, I always make Valentina sing lol.

Thank you @terrm9 for the prompt!

Also, excuse all the flood of these drabbles that are about to be published (I feel annoying lol). And if you read them, thank you!

Perma Tags (All Works/Edits)

@openheart12, @takeharryandgo , @aestheticartsx, @rookie-ramsey , @utterlyinevitable, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @paulfwesley, @nikki-2406, @mvalentine, @casey-v, @blossomanarchy, @rookieoh, @lucy-268, @maurine07, @bellcat2010 , @iemcpbchoices , @potionsprefect , @heauxplesslydevoted , @writinghereandthere , @schnitzelbutterfingers , @gryffindordaughterofathena , @lovingramsey , @dr-ramseys-rookie , @udishaman , @forallthatitsworth , @canigetanawwjunk, @thegreentwin , @blainehellyes , @parkerattano , @lady-calypso , @nazarihoe , @rookiemarsswiftie , @queencarb , @fayeswiftie , @trappedinfanfiction , @alina-yol-ramsey , @chasingrobbie , @ashiiknees , @professorkingslay , @whimsicallywayward15 , @mysticalgalaxysstuff , @red-rookie , @bluebellot , @ramseysrookiex , @i-bloody-love-drake-walker , @interobanginyourmom , @mercury84choices , @drariellevalentine , @caroldxnvxrs, @gardeningoumet , @enmchoices, @ethanrcmsey Except Bryce x MC: @openheartthot , @casey-v , @binny1985 , @tsrookie, @perriewinklenerdie , @drakewalkerfantasy , @choicesfanaf (except Bryce x MC/ Blaine x MC)

Foreign Affairs- Tatum x f!MC

@helloblueeyedcat ,

#Foreign Affairs #Tatum Mendoza #Tatum x MC #Tatum x f!MC #playchoices #my writing #request #terrm9

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gryffindordaughterofathena · 3 years ago

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Dri please if you are not tired of doing them haha, could I please ask for a picrew too?❤📸

Hiii Terr! How are you?

You get a flower crown and an angel halo for being the best! Also are your eyes brown??? I have a feeling they are brown

#terr❤#terrm9 #picrew ask #ask

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genevievemd · 4 years ago

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🌐🌼☠

🌐 Languages you can speak and/or are learning. Which are you fluent in Sadly, only English

☠ Something that angers you People who interrupt me or talk over me.

🌼 Fave flower Peonies

Get to know me, send me a symbol.

#ask games #about me #terrm9 #asked and answered

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writer-ish · 3 years ago

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Terr, sweet Terr… there are no words.

This reblog!!! Your beautiful and thoughtful words!!! The sheer length and work you put into it!! I don’t know how I can ever properly express my gratitude.

Please know that I read this entire thing with a huge smile on my face and tears in my eyes. And then I read it AGAIN two more times like I was hooked up to a dopamine machine and I could just keep pressing a button that kept the happy feels coming.

We truly do not deserve you. The time you put into reblogs like this, the unbelievable thoughtfulness and effort it takes to do something so sweet for another person… please know I will cherish your words always and will continue to come back to them every time I need another hit of that happy juice.

Thank you my friend… so, so much. ❤️❤️❤️

in the lambent light

pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 2.4K words | rating: T (language) summary: On the rooftop of the Warehouse, Grace and Mason have an honest conversation about sexuality, small towns, and love (sort of), with the revelry and light of Unit Bravo’s first Wayhaven Pride in the background.

For Week 1, Day 1 of @wayhavensummer: First Pride + #wsfchallenge “belonging”.

She finds him on the roof of the warehouse, of course, kicking his feet idly as they dangle over the edge, a thin wisp of smoke coming up steadily from his cigarette.

When he sees her, he puts it out and links his fingers together, eyes following her as she comes to sit beside him.

They’re high up – too high; if she looks down she feels a bit dizzy – and he grunts, his eyes narrowing as she dangles her legs, too. She looks at her colourful socks - one purple, one pink - as she tries not to think about how steep the drop would be if she lost her balance or even just shuffled forward a bit.

She wonders if maybe he’ll put his hand out to hold her steady, or force her to sit back.

(He does neither.)

Keep reading

#wow #like just wow #I am truly speechless #terrm9 #we simply do not deserve you #twc #twc fics #mason x detective

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openheartforeverinmyheart · 2 years ago

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Writers Appreciation

@choicesfandomappreciation

Warning: if you're a writer you WILL get a severe case of imposter syndrome from the sheer talent these writers exhibit so elegantly. Truly I cannot stress on how I'm speechless everytime I read one of their works, their genius is out of this world. The way they express a vast range of emotions so eloquently, the details that sets their writing apart, the dedication that is apparent in everything they put out, their marvellous storytelling skills, their astonishing ideas, they are without a shadow of doubt worthy of every compliment that exists in every language, far more than I could ever dream of capturing in words.

I've found solace in their worlds, when times are tough, I'd turn to their MCs and OCs, who never fail to make me feel better and push me to be more resilient in the face of adversities. Whether it's angst, fluff, smut, or any other trope, they always always deliver masterpieces.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for existing in this fandom ❤️. Even if we don't interact (and I'm the absolute worst at reblogging but in my defense uni is killing me right now) just know that I appreciate you so much for all the incredible work you do.

(I'm sure that I'll miss some talented people so please forgive me.)

@jerzwriter @jamespotterthefirst @mvalentine @mysticalgalaxysstuff @takeharryandgo @ofmischiefandmedicine @liaromancewriter @cariantha @peonierose @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @a-crepusculo @potionsprefect @the-pale-goddess @lucy-268 @storyofmychoices @inlocusmads @quixoticdreamer16 @bex-la-get @parisa-kh @gryffindordaughterofathena @takemyopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @writinghereandthere @danijimenezv @terrm9 @lsvdw-blog @peonyblossom @openheartfanfiction @heauxplesslydevoted @alwaysmychoices @trappedinfanfiction @perriewinklenerdie @writer-ish @crazy-loca-blog @mydemonsdrivealimo @josiesopenheart @dr-colossal-pita @planet-alicorn @headoverheelsforramsey @utterlyinevitable @queenbirbs @choicesfanaf @starryeyedrookie @aworldoffandoms

#ChoicesSpreadKindness

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choicesfandomappreciation · 3 years ago

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I still read @lem-20 @ao719 and @terrm9 OH and FA fics whenever I need a little comfort in my life. Thank you for blessing us with your talent 🥰❤️

@lem-20 @ao719 @terrm9

#lem 20 #ao719 #terrm9 #cfa #anon

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the-pale-goddess · 2 years ago

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UPDATED taglist (hope I didn't miss anyone)

+ @openheartfanfics & @choicesficwriterscreations tagging for new fluffy Ethan Ramsey x F!MC nonsense

Your MC leaves one of these in Ethan’s office— how does he react?

Sis!!! This is me, replying to your amazing ask late, as per usual—I sincerely apologize! Love you and miss you so freaking much ❤️❤️❤️

Initially, my response was supposed to be just a tiny dialogue snippet, but the idea decided to live its own life kdbkdbdkdb I hope you’ll enjoy this silly little ficlet!

Doctor Ramsey and Doctor Addams, the epitome of professionalism, are finishing another day with a peculiar case that requires working overtime.

Rating: Teen +

Warnings: if you're an innocent soul, you won't get some of the references, I guess? kdjksjgk

Category: Fluff

As daylight inevitably fades into the night, allowing darkness to settle in, the regular bustle at Edenbrook Hospital doesn’t lose its intensity.

Dr. Ramsey rushes down the busy corridor on the ground floor, scrolling through his tablet on the way to meet the last patient.

Out of nowhere, an obstacle rises in front of him—an irresistible obstacle with mesmerizing eyes and a sharp mind as dangerous as her distracting mouth.

„Doctor Ramsey.” The warmth in her voice, so soft and inviting that his professionalism may fail him any second now, makes his heart pound faster. „Have you found the file I left in your office this morning? A patient requested for your…Invaluable input.”

Tiffany’s eager smile and the mischievous glint sparkling in the depths of her emerald eyes capture his undivided attention for a brief moment before the ridiculous card she sneakily hid in the files waiting on his desk springs up his thoughts.

Ethan sighs heavily, a signature frown and raised brows emphasizing the sheer lack of amusement on his side. „The Aspirin addict, I presume?”

„The Aspirin? Is that all you picked up?” She lets out a disappointed scoff, all but offended by his weak diagnosis. „Poor thing has severe Vitamin D deficiency. You of all people shouldn’t neglect it.”

Ethan squints, analyzing her every word and the goofy card she surprised him with, his piercing gaze fixed on her face as though searching for a game-changing clue. The gears in his head quickly work around the ambiguity so obvious and obscene his overworked brain almost missed it.

A shadow of an arrogant smirk flickers in the corners of his mouth, immediately inspiring Tiffany’s triumphant grin to engulf her radiant face.

„I’ll take on the case. Are you available in an hour?”

„Yes, my shift is almost over.”

However innocent their conversation may sound to a random passer-by, the unmistakable tension rising between the diagnosticians is tangible. Luckily for them, no one around seems to be even remotely concerned with this seemingly normal interaction between two colleagues.

Hovering on the brink of a minor workplace indecency, Ethan closes the distance between them and lowers his head, whispering into Tiffany’s ear. For a mere second, he can feel the glorious shiver running the length of her whole body and the sensation only stokes the fire he's desperate to keep at bay

„Meet me in my office then. We’ll discuss it further.”

She nods in response, paralyzed, her fluttering lashes hinting at her intent not to cross the line in public.

Ethan’s infamous poker face reappears in a flash; he nods back at Tiffany and continues his journey down the hall before his predictable body betrays him.

An incredibly detailed treatment plan for this very special patient fills him with barely concealable excitement, blooming his cheeks with siren red...The kind of overtime Doctor Addams and Doctor Ramsey will be doing later this evening shall certainly go off the record.

#this fic is 100% pointless (i wrote it in like 30 min lol)#but i'm tagging you guys anyway becayse it's been too long #and i wanted you to know that i haven't abandoned my children #i have something more decent and scrumptious in the works #ily bye

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utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

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Could you please write a headcanon about Ethan wanting to propose and being so nervous about it he decides to go for an advice from Naveen and/or Alan? Thank you!♡

Ethan Needs Advice Before Proposing

Ethan Ramsey never considered or even entertained the idea of settling down into normal conventions.

His upbringing scarred him in more ways than one. Making him believe he was unworthy of love, and seeing the fall of his parents marriage made him shy away even more.

It was a self preservation mechanism.

Ethan would never let himself fall in love. He would never put himself in a position to give a partner everything only to be burned down the line.

That was his outlook on life until MC happened.

Ethan did have relationships before but they were arrangements of convenience.

And there was nothing convenient about MC.

Their entire relationship was full of ups and downs and to Ethan’s utter shock, MC chose him every single time.

That kind of unconditional love that MC could give out so freely was unfathomable to Ethan.

Until the incident. When he almost lost the love of his life.

From that moment on Ethan devoted himself to MC and to trying to push aside all his accumulated fears.

2 years and 3 months later, Ethan was planning on proposing.

He made arrangements for a fool-proof evening weeks in advance. He liaised with a bespoke jeweler months before. And now, as the weeks turned into days and days turned into 72 hours, the ring was burning a hole in his pocket and his fears were eating him alive.

He was more distant at the hospital over the last few days. Anyone could see he was more jaded and on edge; though most chalked it up to MC being away for the week with Sienna.

The tiny doctor offering to take MC away for a few days of TLC and pampering before the important day. That gave him peace of mind. At least Ethan didn’t have to put on a brave face 24/7. MC surely would have caught on and figured his plan out.

Naveen pulled his protégé aside in the office. “What’s going on with you? MC hasn’t been gone that long,” Naveen teased. “The sooner MC is home, the sooner things will get back to normal,” Ethan grumbled. “Ethan...”

Naveen wasn’t sure what’s made his friend so moody, and rose a questioning brow.

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped into the chair with a sigh.

“I’m going to propose on Saturday.” “Ethan, my boy, that’s wonderful!” Naveen’s radiant smile could light up the hospital in a blackout.

Ethan made some incoherent grumbles.

“Use your words,” the old diagnostician scolded. Ethan inaudibly muttered his greatest fear, “What if she says no?”

Naveen stared at his mentee as if he was the stupidest man on the face of this earth; “What makes you think that?”

Ethan just looked at him, dumbfounded.

He didn’t have a solid reason, just the swirling bits of doubt plaguing him.

Every time he’s disappointed MC, every time he pushed them away, every fight they’ve ever had, every worry about his own woes getting in their way...

“That woman adores you. Has for years. You were the only one too thick to realize it.”

Those words were supposed to make Ethan feel better. They were meant to admonish all this doubts and remind him of the great love he found. Alas, it only added to his worries.

“Son, you’re practically married anyway. All you have to do is give her that ring.” “And if she hates it?” “You go pick out a new one together. This is just another adventure for the two of you. I couldn’t be more proud of you. I’m glad you’ve found time to have a family.”

The old friends spoke some more and Ethan felt slightly better.

But there were just some things clawing at him that couldn’t be pushed aside.

So Ethan called his dad and drove to Providence.

Alan knew his son was planning on proposing, just didn’t know when or how. Hell, all he knew was vaguely what the ring looks like. His son was a private person and Alan respected that.

Ethan’s impromptu visit told him something was awry.

The two men sat in the living room facing one another.

Alan had to all but pull the words out of Ethan, for his son to tell him what’s on his mind.

After moments, Ethan relayed most of his worries and his conversation with Naveen.

Alan sat with a ghost of a smirk. He felt for his son, and he remember how nervous he felt when he proposed to Louise 44 years ago.

“MC’s the best thing to ever happen to you. She’ll say yes.” “How can you be so sure?” “Has she ever let you down?” “No, she exceeds every single one of my expectations every time.”

The two Ramsey men talked more about MC and how they and Ethan compliment one another almost divinely. Like they were made for one another.

Soulmates.

Another concept Ethan couldn’t understand.

“What if...” Ethan couldn’t even finish that sentence. His head hung low and he kept his gaze on the old blue rug. “If it ends like your mother and me?” Alan finished the thought for him. Ethan’s words were just a whisper, “I couldn’t survive it.” “You could. You’re strong.” Alan moved to sit next to him and put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “But that’ll never happen. After all you two have been through. All this marriage will be is a piece of paper. You two have been connected in that way since longer than I can remember. Marriage isn’t a fixer or a new circle of life, it’s a commitment.”

Alan continued talking sense into his son. Assuring him that he and MC were worth taking the risk on.

Deep down neither could say for certain how their love story would end, but there was hope. There was so much hope and happiness and unconditional love that they’d make it.

All Ethan has to do is ask.

#terrm9 #asked #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #choices open heart #open heart hc #open heart headcanons #hc

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