#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson
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Making a Mark
Summary: Despite med school exams, Ethan and Tatum plan on spending time together for their first Valentine's day; but their plans take a different course... literally.
Word Count: ~2450
Warning: 🔞 For Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language; smidge of angst (couples fight!); 🍋 (these are iddy-biddy lemon seeds, but I guess technically this needs a NSFW label); brief mention of an injury
A/N: ❤ Happy Valentine's Day, fandom! ❤ This is one of those fics that started out as one idea, and I just allowed it to unfold as I typed and, well, here it is, and I hope you enjoy it! Some characters and plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. This is not beta'd; please excuse my errors.
A/N 2: I am participating in @choicesflashfics week 20 prompt challenge! I'll be using prompt #3: "Are you flirting or starting a fight?" It will be in bold.
~🖤~
The faint waft of black coffee and leftover Chinese take-out infiltrates the sterile setting of the education building, the tell-tale sign of one thing: mid-quarter exams. With a massive pass/fail immunology exam staring at her the following week, Tatum is taking advantage of every moment to study with several classmates–even though it cuts into her first Valentine’s Day with Ethan.
They both agreed that the holiday wasn’t something they particularly wanted to fuss about with expensive gifts or acts of grandeur–not to mention, they were more concerned with the other person doing well in the upcoming slew of exams; but still, they wanted to spend a little time together.
Ethan and Tatum are in separate classes this quarter, which forces them to work a little harder in finding time to enjoy each other’s company; at least before, studying was an excuse to be together. But, they had a mutual respect and understanding: doing well in school takes priority.
“Okay, Drew… treatment plan for MG. And go–!”
“Jesus, Lauren,” the tall, broad-shouldered blond groans, dragging his hand down his face. “We’ve been at this for almost six hours. It’s Valentine’s. Can we please reconvene tomorrow?”
“Shit,” Tatum glances at her watch, “has it really been six hours?”
“Time flies when you’re having fun, huh, Erikson?” Tobias chuckles, leaning back in his chair.
Tatum flashes a sardonic smile. “I’m not sure I’d describe any time spent with you as ‘fun’, Carrick,” she claps back as he pops his gum loudly in her direction.
"That's only because we haven't been able to spend our time together properly."
Tatum rolls her eyes as she piles her notebooks into her bookbag and pulls out her phone. "Six seconds is hardly proper," she bites, earning her several snickers from the rest of the study group. "I better get going."
“Oooo-oooo!” Lauren singsongs. “Are you and Ethan doing something fun tonight?”
Tatum shrugs, stifling her smile as a soft pink swirls on her cheeks. “Not really, but he is supposed to pick me up."
"Oh!" Drew tugs on his jacket. "Are you going to his place? It's on my way, if you need a ride."
"You don't have to do that," Tatum smiles kindly, appreciating the offer.
"I know I don't have to," he titters. "C'mon. It'd be a waste of gas on his part."
Tatum knits together her eyebrows in consideration. Drew makes a fair point, not to mention she trusts him. "Okay… let me text Ethan so he's not sitting there, waiting for my call."
Ten minutes later, Drew and Tatum were walking the three blocks to where he parked his truck. Even though it was fairly late into the evening, the walkways were illuminated by the street lamps and the bright silver moon.
They were chatting about the previous week's lecture when a pair of headlights blinded them, slowing down to park next to the street curb where they were walking. Being chivalrous, Drew protectively stepped in front of Tatum, shielding his eyes with his hand in an attempt to see the driver behind the wheel. Treading closer, they both instantly make out the figure.
"Oh, hey, Ramsey," Drew waves, relief in his voice. "I was worried there for a moment."
"Me too," Tatum giggles along with her colleague as she approaches the passenger door, waving at her boyfriend. "Hey," she smiles curiously, "what are you do–?"
"Get in."
Tatum halts. Hearing the gruff tone, she turns up an eyebrow as her eyes roam over Ethan's surly expression. "You okay?"
He gives a curt nod, his gaze unable to meet hers.
"Oh… okay," Tatum quietly mumbles, turning to Drew. "Thanks anyway," she offers a crooked grin as he opens the door for her. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"See ya, Erikson," he nods, shutting the door as his hazel eyes flicker over to a brooding Ethan. "Uh… good seeing you, man. Will you be at the next poker night?"
Ethan glares at Drew, his nostrils flaring. "We'll see," he mutters as he begins to pull away.
"Ethan," Shocked irritation seeps from Tatum's whisper. "That was rude."
He remains silent, his attention fixed on the road as his jaw ticks tighter.
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"
Ethan continues to drive in silence, his lips pursing to hold back unspoken words.
"Did… did I do something wrong?" Tatum probes further. "Are you mad at me?"
Ethan glances briefly at her, an indiscernible heat forming in his gaze.
“Are you flirting… or starting a fight?”
When he still doesn't speak, she sighs, slumping back into her seat. She props her elbow on the door before resting her head in her hand to look out the window. "You could at least talk to me."
The silence between the young couple grows painfully haunting as they are left with only the rhythmic rapping of rubber meeting the pavement. Each block they travel, Tatum's face contorts as her anger festers.
They had never fought before– not like this. Ethan and Tatum were fairly reasonable people with clear heads, and while they can irritate each other, they've always been able to be thoughtful, be logical and discuss their problems. What was different now?
"You know what?" There's a sudden sharpness in her tone. "Just take me home, Ethan."
Ethan continues to drive, the car remaining at its current speed with no signs of changing direction.
"Did you hear me?" She raises her voice, staring at a stoic Ethan. "Stop being such an asshole and take me–"
Tatum suddenly screams as the car jerks off the side of the road into a grassy wooded area. Kicked-up dirt billows around them as the brakes screech to a halt.
"Have you lost your goddamn mind, Ethan Ramsey?" Tatum unclicks her seatbelt, reaching for the door handle–that is until a large hand grips snuggly around her wrist, yanking her back into her seat. She instinctively turns her head, glaring at Ethan, wrestling her arm away from him. "What the hell is wrong with–?"
Her words fall silent as Ethan pulls her against his chest, pressing his lips to hers with a searing kiss. He slips his hand behind her neck, deepening their touch, but with her hands on the firm planes of his chest, she pushes him away. Shock and confusion rest in her eyes. "Wh-what was that–?"
Ethan is left breathless from their kiss, a predatory, yet conflicted glint in his smolder. "I don't know what the fuck you've done to me, Tatum Erikson," he growls.
"Me–?"
"I am logical," he interrupts, "I've always been. And level-headed." He pauses, looking out the window as if searching for the right words. "I am not that guy–you know I am not that guy, Tate. I don't dream about futures and marriage and babies and-and meeting your family and taking you to meet mine. I–" he stumbles into silence.
He slowly turns towards her, his crystal gaze instantly meeting hers. A sudden crackle of electricity ignites in the stillness as they stare with hunger baited on their quickened breaths. "Tate," his voice softens, "I don't get unreasonably angry, not over a girl. And I especially don't get jealous." He cups her face tenderly as he continues. "But you… you're not just a girl. You're the–" he stops himself, feeling a sting of warmth growing behind his eyes.
He swallows thickly as he draws closer to her. "The thought of you… being alone with any other man–”
"Ethan," her breathing becomes ragged. "You have nothing to worry about, baby. I–"
"It's not you I worry about, Tate," he sneers. "Guys like that are biding their time to touch… to take… to fuck what doesn't belong to them." A weighted groan clings to Ethan’s exhale, his eyes growing dark, possessive. His thumbs press more firmly into Tatum's cheeks, more protectively as if claiming a prize.
"Tatum," he growls from behind his gritted teeth. "You. Are. Mine. Do you understand?"
A heat coils in Tatum's lower belly at her boyfriend's confession. They had become exclusive before Christmas, but she knew well before that she was falling for him. And this new, overwhelming sensation terrified her; sure, they were committed to one another, but did he feel the same butterflies, the same bundle of nerves, the same vulnerability? Or was she alone?
But just like that: Tatum knew. They weren't just exclusive; they were in love.
With her head in Ethan's hands, she tenderly grabs ahold of his wrists before closing her eyes. She leans her forehead into his, the frustration from moments ago melting away.
Ethan's breath shudders at the feel of her soft skin pressed against his own. Embers of feral heat kindle his growing length as his lips crave another crushing kiss.
This woman… Somehow without notice, without even trying, without even believing things like this were possible, she had become his everything.
His thumbs trace the curves of her cheeks before dragging across her supple bottom lip.
Tatum's eyes flutter open, Ethan's lustful gaze piercing through hers, desire pooling between her legs. She turns her attention to his intimate touch, pressing her mouth to his hand. She plants sweet kisses along his palm before taking his fingertips into her mouth. A glimmer of dow-like innocence permeates her stare, her tongue playfully swirling around his knuckles.
"Tate," his breath hitches, a spark of arousal coursing through his veins. "You… you're teasing a dangerous line… and I'm not sure I can control myself…" His words are dark, ominous, warning.
"Maybe I don't want you to control yourself…" Her words drip like sweet honey, yet ignite like kerosene.
He pushes his large fingers further into her mouth, an abrupt choke rasps as he reaches the back of her throat. A corner of his mouth curls deviously as he watches her eyes glitter with tears. He pumps his hand again, the sound of her gag causing his jeans to tighten further, his eyes swirling into a deep obsidian. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He spreads his fingers apart, allowing her tongue to glide back and forth in between his knuckles.
Tatum hums as he pulls out his fingers, licking her lips as an invitation for more. Keeping her hooded gaze on him, she pushes Ethan back into his seat before lowering his head. She straddles across his lap, his large hands finding her hips before caressing the thick curves of her ass.
"You know what I want?" A Cheshire grin crawls across her face as she roughly combs her fingers through his soft, espresso waves. "I want you to show me what belongs to you."
Ethan's eyes grow curiously large as Tatum grips the hem of her shirt, discarding it quickly before unhooking her bra. "Touch me, Ethan."
His hands slide up her bare back, his fingertips hungrily digging into her skin as he pulls her into a crushing kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck as his tongue swipes to deepen the kiss.
He finally nips at her bottom lip, giving it a tug before tracing kisses down her chin to the delicate lines of her jaw.
Soft moans escape her mouth with tickled giggles as his mouth dips lower across her delicate skin. She grabs his hands, guiding them to her pert breast, his grip suddenly eager and rough. His thumbs tease the ache of her hardened nipples, stars of her own arousal dancing before her eyes in bright glitters of white.
And then bright lights of red.
Then blue.
And then red again.
And suddenly, there's a gentle tap against the window followed by the intruding strobe of a flashlight.
"Alright, kids, take it home."
"Oh, fuck," Ethan mutters as Tatum lets out a stunned scream. He abruptly grabs Tatum to hurry her back into her seat; but with his jerks pulling against her own attempts to hide her nakedness, she tumbles off of his lap, landing on the floorboard with a loud thud.
He sits his seat up while trying to adjust the obvious and painful bulge in his jeans. Wiping his mouth, he rolls down the window. He clears his throat and fixes a charming smile to his swollen red lips.
"Evening, sir."
"License and–" The police officer stops, hearing whimpers coming from the passenger side of the car. He shines a light and notices a crumpled Tatum, her shoe stuck behind the gear shift and trying to crawl into her seat from the floor. "Son, I highly recommend that if you want to–" he dramatically coughs, "continue the rest of your night, you fix that."
"Y–yes, sir. I will–uh… right now?"
"Right now," the cop gives a wry smile. He glares at Ethan as he sucks on a lollipop. "As for you, young man, in the spirit of Valentine's day," he scoffs into a snicker, "I'm letting you off with a warning." He sighs, shoving a small notebook in his pocket. He turns on his heel to leave, but stops to inspect Ethan one more time. "Get a room."
As the officer returns to his car, Ethan breathes a sigh of relief… then he jumps out of the car to race around to the passenger side.
"Tatum! Shit, I'm sorry!" Ethan gently helps her up, positioning her into the seat before taking off his jacket to drape across her bare chest. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," she quietly answers, holding her head in her hand. "I think I'm fine." She moves her arm to pull the jacket over her shoulder when Ethan gasps.
"Oh God," he hisses, "you hit your head!" He gently takes her chin into his hands, turning her neck to get a better view of her face in the light. A large, purple knot was growing along her hairline, several blonde strands now stained a deep rouge. "Shit. We need to get you to the ER–"
Suddenly, Tatum cups her mouth with her fingers, stifling her laughter.
"What could possibly be funny? You might have a concussion–"
Tatum lets out a snort before a bubbly tirade of giggles fills the night air. "I was hoping you'd leave a mark on me tonight… I just… I didn't picture it quite like this."
Ethan rolls his eyes, but is glad she can see the humor of the moment. He snickers under his breath, fastening his girlfriend's seatbelt. "I'll keep that in mind." He shuts the door, hurrying back to his seat. He starts the car, but before driving away, he glances at Tatum with a mischievous smile.
"What?" She questions, dabbing away her tears from laughing so hard. He chuckles, licking his lips. "What? Tell me!"
"Oh, baby," he smugly croons, "trust me; that contusion is nothing compared to the marks I have planned for you later."
~🖤~
Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤
~🖤~
Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed)
PERMA
@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam
ALL OPH
@alyshak92 @annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate
#open heart#choices open heart#choices oph#choices fanfic#choices flashfics#ethan ramsey#dr. ethan ramsey#ethan x f!oc#ethan ramsey x f!oc#tatum erikson#ethan x tatum#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#tathan
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What a STRONG start for May! Check out this amazing playlist! Seriously! Pop it on in the car, while you're working or even when you're doing your Spring cleaning! Great list, and even greater fics to come! HUGE thank you to all of our creators that submitted their songs! Make sure to be looking out for these *NEW* stories!
Can't wait? Well, you're in luck! Some fics have already been released--and you NEED to check them out! Look for the 📖, then click on the link! Don't forget to show your support! Like, comment and/or reblog!
As always, thank you so much for supporting this blog! Whether you actively participate or you signal boost us, we see you, and we love you so, so much! We'll see y'all again soon! 💜
~🎵~
@alj4890
“Sparks” - Coldplay; Mixed Signals, *new* series [OPH, Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Chris), ft. Bryce Lahela and Tobias Carrick]
@aussiegurl1234
📖 “Gone” - NF, Julia Michaels; Black Silk, Chapter 5: Thora; [TRR AU; Liam x f!OC (Alice), Drake x f!OC (Delilah)]
@cariantha
📖 “Hey Stupid, I Love You” - JP Saxe; Power Play [OPH; Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Sawyer Brooks)]
@peonierose
Wildflower, Part 1/? [OPH; Keiki Lahela (*new* f!MC) x Koa Haulani (m!OC)]
- “Sweethoneylove” - Babe Blakes
- “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” - Creedence Clearwater Revival
- “Wildflower” - 5 Seconds of Summer
- “Blurry Eyes” - Michael Patrick Kelley
- “Fallin’ for You” - Colbie Caillat
@tessa-liam
“Ready For Anything” - Landon Austin; Smoke and Mirrors, Chapter 7 [TRR/TRF+; Liam Rys x f!MC (Riley Brooks- Rys)]
“Fall Into Me” - Forest Blakk; Marabelle, Chapter 5 [TRR; Liam Rys x f!OC (Sophie)]
@txemrn
“I Don’t Miss You Anymore” - Loveless; Like Ships in the Night, TBD (OPH; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC [former])
“Take Me with You” - Secondhand Serenade; I Don’t Have Anything to Hide… There’s Just One More Thing… (OPH; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)]
~🎵~
Tags are in the comments! Please let us know if you'd like to be added/removed!
#mood music monday#moodmusicmonday#choices mmm#spotify#choices fanfiction#choices fanfic#choices mood music monday#choices music inspo#music inspo#Spotify
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From the host... This was such a fun event! I can't thank our talented creators enough for making SFP such a success! I thought I was simply hosting an event, but rather, I got to chat and get to know know several of y'all, and in turn, you blessed me! Thank you for sharing your gifts and creativity! Hugs all around! 🖤
Please go check out these fics! Give them a like, reblog and/or a comment! You will really make someone's day brighter!
Also, don't forget to check out the stories from the Home Team!
⚾- Fic created with the help of the Concession Stand
🔞 These stories are intended for mature audiences only. 🔞
The First Kiss ⚾ - @twinkleallnight
Location: Domestic, Fun
The Royal Romance; Drake Walker x Olivia Nevrakis
Paint the Night (Colourblind) - @socalwriterbee
Location: Water
The Nanny Affair; m!Sam Dalton x MC (Marie Castro)
We're Still Friends - @txemrn
Location: Work/School
Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)
Wildflower ⚾ - @peonierose
Location: Domestic
Open Heart; f!MC (Keiki Lahela) x m!OC (Koa Haulani)
Sweet Escape - @socalwriterbee
Location: Work/School
Witness: A Bodyguard Romance; m!Cassian Keane x f!MC/OC (Viviana "Ana" Marin)
Fever - @ofmischiefandmedicine
Location: Water
Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Laura Levchenko)
The Lighthouse ⚾ - @socalwriterbee
Location: Fun, Water
The Royal Romance; Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis
Pearls - @txemrn
Location: Domestic
The Royal Romance; Liam Rys x MC (Riley Brooks-Rys)
Conquest - @the-pale-goddess
Location: Fun
Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Tiffany Addams)
The Long Way Home - @cariantha
Location: Water
Open Heart; Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Sawyer Brooks)
Sleepless in New York, Chapter 10: Darkfall - @karahalloway
Location: Domestic
The Royal Romance; Drake Walker x f!OC (Harper Gale)
Ti Amo Molto ⚾ - @tessa-liam
Location: Fun, Water
The Royal Romance; Liam Rys x MC (Riley Brooks-Rys)
A Wild Ride - @kristinamae093
Location: Fun
The Royal Romance; Liam Rys x MC (Riley Brooks)
~⚾~
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Fics of the Week
Open Heart
Paring: Ethan Ramsey x (MC) Kaycee
Choosing you 🌺 @jerzwriter
Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC)
New York Moment 🌺 @liaromancewriter
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee)
A different fate… 🌺 @jerzwriter
Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)
Worth the wait 🌺 @jerzwriter
Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)
We’re having a baby… 1/2 🌺 @jerzwriter
Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey) Feat: Bryce Lahela
Any day… 🌺 @jerzwriter
Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC)
An early morning 🌺 @storyofmychoices
Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC)
Other character: Malia Lahela (F!OC)
Our Future Doctor 🌺 @storyofmychoices
Paring: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson), with special appearances by Tobias Carrick and Julian Santiago (m!OC)
Heads up 🌺 @txemrn
TRR & TRH
Pairing: MC is widowed, Past Pairings Riley x Nico (Riley x M!OC) , Past Pairing of Liam x Riley
Where do we go from here? 🌺 @bebepac
Series: Part 8 of the Cordonian Arrangement.
Pairing: None - mostly Liam and Hakim bonding, mentions of Hakim and Constantine's friendship
Legacies 🌺 @lizzybeth1986
Chapter 1: The Statues
Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks-Rys, OTP ‘LiRi
Cappadocia 🌺 @tessa-liam
Pairing: Liam x MC (Phoebe Summers)
The Start of Forever 🌺 @liaromancewriter
Wake the dead
Pairing: Eli Sipes; Jim, Florence & David Sipes (his family)
A Mother‘s Journal - Part 4 🌺 @jerzwriter
Red Carpet Diaries
Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Alex Spencer (F!OC)
Distraction 🌺 @theartoflovingthomashunt
Edits & Artwork
Olivia Claire Hadley
Yellow 🌺 @storyofmychoices
Characters involved: Cassie Valentine (F!MC), Max Valentine
Reminiscing 🌺 @liaromancewriter
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke
Chilled Sundays 🌺 @potionsprefect
Characters involved: Sadie Oakley and Sienna Trinh
Sadie‘s Sunday Self-Care #28 🌺 @peonyblossom
Characters involved: A Picta edit of Aru and her college friend (Monica)'s photo taken by another friend (Apoorva)
Purple Pals 🌺 @choicesfanaf
#choices april monthly challenge#fics of the week#open heart#trr#wake the dead#red carpet diaries#the royal heir
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Newly Added Fics
Feb 4 - 10, 2023
🎭 Angst | 🦚 Angsty Fluff | 🛸 AU | ☁ Fluff | ♥ NSFW | 📚 Series | 📷 Edit | 📱 TextFic | Ⓜ Mature
BRYCE X F!MC / F!OC
Dance With Me - @storyofmychoices ☁
Bryce and Olivia take an afternoon walk in the park and things take an interesting turn.
ETHAN X F!MC
Bittersweet - @coffeeheartaddict2 🦚💘
it’s Valentines intern year and it is about a month after Miami and things are still fraught between Casey and Ethan. Casey endeavours to cheer up Naveen. Feat. Naveen Banerji, Teresa Martinez
Early Nights - @peonyblossom ☁
When the kids are finally all asleep at the same time, Ethan and Sadie take a moment to relax. Feat. Sienna Trinh x Aurora Emery
James Dean Daydream - @genevievemd ☁
The day Ethan Ramsey realizes he’s in love with a swiftie.
[Music]
La Vie Avec Toi - @liaromancewriter ☁
When it comes to love, these couples know it’s about every moment of every day. Feat. Sienna Trinh x M!OC
Love in all forms - @coffeeheartaddict2 ☁💘
After noting that Alexis has been out of sorts since new years, Casey brings back a Valentine’s Day tradition to show that she is loved, no matter what. Feat. Tobias Carrick
[Domestic; Family]
Snapshot - @peonyblossom ☁
When Ethan decides to photograph what is sure to be a beautiful memory someday, Daisy admires the polaroid camera he uses.
‘Tis the Damn Season - @genevievemd 📚📷
[extended: wip] A look into the final eight months of Ethan and Gen’s first year of marriage.
March Part 1 | Part 2
Valentine Blues - @genevievemd ☁💘
There’s a change in their Valentine’s plans.
ETHAN X M!MC
Untitled Fic - @ladydelilah ☁
Lars is excited to meet Ethan’s family.
ENSEMBLE / THE GANG
Feel Good Inc. - @inlocusmads 🦚💘Ⓜ
Ethan receives some unexpected advice from an unexpected someone on Valentine's Day which causes him to shift his perspective a little. Feat. Ethan Ramsey. TW: Mentions of prescription drug usage
The Unexpected Valentine - @liaromancewriter ☁💘
The interns celebrate their first Valentine’s Day in Boston, and it’s full of surprises. Feat. Ethan Ramsey
LOVE TRIANGLE
Ricochet - @txemrn 📚Ⓜ
[mini: wip] Almost two decades ago, he gave love a chance–and she betrayed him. Now after all of this time, Dr. Ethan Ramsey and Dr. Tatum Erikson realize that their past feelings might not exactly be ancient history–especially now that they are forced to work together. TW: language; suggested child abuse and sexual promiscuity
Part IV: "... This Isn't What I Wanted (or Is It Everything?)" 🎭
TW: dub-con/non-con; strong depiction of medical emergency involving newborn infant and mother
SIENNA X M!OC
Feeling Wicked - @liaromancewriter ☁
Sienna Trinh is tired of everyone thinking she’s a goody-two-shoes and decides to change her image.
La Vie Avec Toi - @liaromancewriter ☁
When it comes to love, these couples know it’s about every moment of every day. Feat. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC
TOBIAS X F!MC
A Mixed-Up Valentine - @jerzwriter ☁💘
They hadn't met yet... but what happened on Casey & Tobias's last Valentine's Day without each other? See how Casey's night went... how Tobias's did... and how they intersected.
_
SUBMIT OPEN HEART FICS & WRITERS HERE
#open heart#choices open heart#open heart choices#open heart fanfics#open heart fanfiction#choices fanfics#choices fanfiction#playchoices#bryce lahela#bryce lahela x mc#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x mc#sienna trinh#sienna trinh x oc#tobias carrick#tobias carrick x mc#oph gang#jackie varma#elijah greene#newly added fics
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AF: an Open Heart Valentine's Fic
AF: an Open Heart Valentine's Fic - @txemrn
Book: Open Heart (Post Series)
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)
Word Count: ~2400
Warning: fairly fluffy; a curse
Rating: teen
Summary: After attending a wedding, Ethan begins to question his own self-expression of the L-word to Tatum-- just in time for Valentine's Day.
#choices fanfic#open heart#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x f!oc#choices fic writers creations#playchoices fanfic#fics of the week#cfwc fics of the week
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Hi there! Was there an item Tatum and Ethan bought for their baby that became special because the other parent chose it. Like, not something they bought because they would need it but because they saw it and wanted them to have/wear. 🥹
Hey, anon! Thank you so much for this super sweet Ask! I hope you don't mind, but I turned it into a story that I hope you enjoy! *hugs*
Book: Open Heart (post-series)
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey)
Word Count: 2000 (+/-)
Summary: As they prepare for baby Ramsey's arrival, Ethan surprises Tatum with a special, heaven-sent gift.
Warning: 🔞 For mature audiences only 🔞 fairly fluffy; a little language; a little pregnancy talk; discussion of Tatum's brother Trevor (Army vet, deceased)
A/N: I am participating in @choicesflashfics prompt challenge for week #22 (22 weeks! You go girl!); I will be using prompt #3: I am at my wits' end with you (it will be in bold). Special thanks to my dear sister in writing crime @sfb123 for helping me with this title. Some of these characters and plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. This was not preread or beta'd; please excuse my errors.
~🖤~
"Tate? I'm back, babe."
Kicking off his loafers, Ethan tosses his keys into a decorative bowl next to the front door of their new townhome. The place is eerily quiet, save for a gentle August breeze rustling through the open windows and a family of bluebirds singing a cheerful melody nearby.
Carrying a brown paper bag, Ethan stops at the base of the stairs, listening intently for his wife. "Tate?" He jogs up a few steps. "Tate? I've got breakfast. Are you up–?"
Suddenly he hears a thunderous crash from inside their master suite downstairs, followed by a distinct shriek for help.
"Shit! Tatum!" Ethan races back down the steps, plowing through their bedroom and into their opulent shared en suite bathroom "Tate?"
A soft string of giggles echo from his wife's walk-in closet, crescendoing into a boisterous laugh with snorts.
"Baby, are you–oh my God!"
Lying on a mound of discarded clothes is Ethan's heavily-pregnant wife, being pinned awkwardly against the wall by her own belly. She pushes against one corner before trying to reach for a nearby built-in shoe rack, but ends up rolling right back into place, her legs stuck up in the air.
"Help!" She squeals into more titters. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna pee on myself!"
Ethan drops the brown sack, rushing over to Tatum's side. He wraps one of her arms around his neck as he squats down, slipping his hand underneath her back. "Ready? Here we go." With one smooth effort, he lifts Tatum to her feet. He cradles her round abdomen while placing a tender kiss to her forehead. "Jesus, Tate… are you alright?"
She nods, dabbing at her wet eyes as she calms down her snickers.
"What happened?" His voice panics. "Are you hurt? Did you fall?"
She rests a hand on his stubbled face, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb. "My little worry-wart," she croons, pulling him in for a fervent kiss. She gently rubs the expanse of her stomach, her hand brushing against his. "I'm fine. Really. We're fine," she smiles endearingly. "I was rearranging my clothes and, well, I guess there were too many garments. The valet rod broke in half."
"Did you hit your belly?"
She shakes her head. "No. I fell on my butt, but luckily I already had all of these clothes on the floor, so it felt like landing on a cloud."
"I think maybe we should go check on the baby. NST. KB. Just to be safe–"
"Look at you, Mr. Smartie-pants," Tatum jokes before fluttering a sweet kiss on his mouth. "Are you an OB, or do you have a hot wife that's an OB?"
Ethan scrunches his face. "Hot?"
"Hey!" Tatum scoffs, slapping his arm playfully.
Ethan steps forward, pushing Tatum against the wall before nipping at the delicate skin of her neck. "Try insanely hot." He drags his lips to the crook of her collar bone. "And sexy," he hums across her shoulder, his tongue stroking small circles.
"You forgot hungry–"
"Mmmm… is she now?"
"Rams…"
"Right, right," he smirks, straightening himself out before reaching for their morning bagels. "You'll just wait until I'm half-asleep or walking out the door for that kind of hunger–"
"You don't seem to mind," she sucks in her lips, taking her breakfast as they both take a seat in her closet. "Did they give you–?"
"Mustard?" He raises a quirked eyebrow. "You know I asked for extra. But the looks I got–"
"Don't care." Tatum takes a big bite into her Asiago bagel and schmear, drenched in mustard. She looks up at Ethan who is intently watching her. "Want some? It really is good–"
"I'll take your word for it," he takes a bite of his lox-stuffed bagel. "So," he chews, "what's the plan–err, what was the plan for today?"
"I need to get rid of stuff, and if that rod breaking isn't a sign, I don't know what is," she giggles, taking another bite. "I've got several pairs of pants that I couldn't even fit into a year ago, and I figure,” she rubs her belly, “I will never see that size again, so why am I holding onto them?" She motions to a back corner. "And I have all of those formal gowns that have only been worn once. Once!" Ethan nods as she continues, "so I need to figure out if I'm going to recycle a look or just get rid of ‘em."
"Sounds like a good plan." They fall into a comfortable silence as they finish their breakfast.
"Also," Tatum wipes her mouth, "I think maybe it's time…" she looks at a pile of black and camo-colored shirts on the floor.
"Trevor's clothes?" Ethan knits together his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"
Tatum nods, taking a deep breath. "He would've been upset with me hoarding them all this time. And–" she sighs, "I'm still going to keep a few items, but I don't need all of them, you know?"
Ethan nods in understanding. "If you're absolutely sure–"
"Yeah," she blinks away the gathering pools in her eyes, turning to smile at her husband. "I'm sure. I guess I was scared I would somehow lose part of him or my memory of him, but…" she shakes her head, Ethan instantly taking her hand in his. "That sounds stupid, right?" She chuckles as tears slope down her cheeks.
Ethan shakes his head, squeezing her fingers endearingly. “Not in the least bit.”
Tatum looks up, wiping away her tears before looking at the mound of t-shirts and sweats. "He would've been such a good uncle."
"He is a good uncle, Tate." Ethan's eyes meet Tatum's. "His life will forever be an example to our child of what it means to love unconditionally, what it means to be a hero."
"Damnit, Ethan," Tatum chuckles as streams pour down her face as she silently nods.
He crawls over to his wife, slinking his arm around her shoulders before pulling her close. Placing tender kisses in her waves, he looks at Trevor's old shirts. "We don't have to get rid of them, Tate. Let's just box them up and put them in storage."
"No, no," she wipes her nose on a napkin, "I'll be fine. They need to go." She tenderly pats his thigh, clearing her throat. "Ready to tackle this?"
Ethan kisses her forehead. "Let's do this."
------
[3 Weeks Later…]
"Tate?" Ethan's bellow echoes through the house. "I thought you were going to help me with this."
"In a minute."
The Ramseys received a special delivery earlier in the day from their good friends, the Santiagos: a custom-designed, convertible wooden crib. It wasn't completely dismantled, but it still needed to be put together in the nursery. The expectant parents made plans to assemble it that evening, but Tatum was taking her time in the kitchen.
Ethan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he finally trudges down the stairs.
"Tate. I swear to God, if you're eating mus–" his jaw drops as he watches his wife squirt mustard on a strawberry. "Tatum Ramsey!"
"What?" She innocently looks to her husband, wiping the smear of mustard off the corners of her mouth.
"The mustard… I… I am at my wits' end with you!"
"What?" She puts a dollop on an apple slice. "It's not like I'm making you eat it–"
Ethan scoffs, "But I have to watch you eat it. On everything."
"At least I'm not eating dirt or laundry detergent or chalk."
Ethan turns up his nose. "Women and their hormones–"
"Uh, mister. Is this the part where I get to be that woman? The woman who makes it abundantly clear that you actually had a huge part–and I do mean huge–" Tatum braces her back with her hand as she turns and points to her nearly-full-term blossomed belly. "-- part in all of this?"
Ethan chuckles, his lips curling as he saunters closer to his wife. "I think that officially makes me a dad: getting blamed for shit for simply, well, being the dad." He softly pecks at her lips... then turns up his nose. “You even taste like mustard.”
“And you think your morning breath is better?” She teasingly reaches to pinch his nipple, but he swats her away. His eyes widen as a mischievous, toothy grin crawls across his face.
“My morning breath doesn’t taste like pungent bitter sauce, meant for a hotdog.” He reaches for her side to tickle, but she playful bats his hand away. However without warning, his other hand swoops in, his fingers wiggling against her other side, digging into her skin.
Tatum lets out a squeal as she kicks and swings her arms. “Ethan Jonah! You are such a–” She grips at his chest again, but before she can twist, he grabs her wrist, lifting it above her head.
“Such a what, huh?” He playfully taunts.
“You are such a rat!” Tatum struggles, finally pulling away from his grip. “You play dirty!” She rubs her wrist; but suddenly, she reaches up and pinches his nipple before twisting it.
“Ow!” Ethan flinches. He grabs his chest, gently massaging the dull sting. “And you think I play dirty?”
Giggling, Tatum scurries up the stairs.
“Tatum Lenae, this means war!” He chuckles as he chases behind her, taking two steps at a time to reach the second level of their home. He looks around the landing before padding lightly down the hallway. “Tatum,” he singsongs, “come out, come out wherever you are.” He hears a small gasp coming from the nursery, a knowing grin growing on his face. He takes a deep breath, stifling his laughter. Abruptly, he pushes open the double doors. “Gotcha!”
But Ethan’s face suddenly falls.
Tatum twirls around, her big blue eyes drenched in tears. “Did… did you do this?” Her voice falls hoarse with emotion as she holds out her arms.
Ethan tucks a hand into the pocket of his jeans as he bashfully combs his fingers through his wavy locks. “Yeah.” He steps forward, his voice timid and gravelly as he gazes into her hands. “I… I did. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind.”
In deep rich earth-ones of olive green, espresso browns and mirky blacks, Tatum flounces out a soft, jersey-knit baby blanket, covered in familiar, worn-out phrases: ‘Army’; ‘Peace through Strength’; ‘Hooah’.
‘Lt. Trevor McCord Erikson’.
His shirts. They were all there.
“Rams,” she chokes out in a whisper as her fingers trace across the stitching and the reinforced letters, “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Is it okay–?”
“Baby,” she hugs it tightly to her chest, “it’s absolutely perfect.”
Ethan lovingly takes his wife into his arms as she presses her face into his neck. He nuzzles his nose into her hair, tracing mindless figures on her back, allowing her to take in the moment.
He knew this gesture would stir up deep emotions for his wife. One of the hardest challenges of Tatum’s life was continuing on without the one person who believed in her, who loved her, who rescued her. Sure, she had Ethan now, and she couldn’t have dreamt in a million years to have someone so perfectly matched by her side; but no one could replace Trevor.
As she finally catches her breath and settles down, Ethan helps hold up the blanket for her to slowly inspect each detail. “You said,” he whispers, “that he would be mad if he knew you were hoarding these in your closet; but I think he’s more upset that he can’t be here to watch you become a mother, to hold his niece or nephew, to watch them grow. This way… he can”
Tatum lifts her chin, capturing Ethan’s mouth in a tender kiss. “Thank you,” she sniffles, “thank you so much, baby.” She presses the soft fabric to her face as tender memories of her brother warm her heart. “Is it… alright if I use it? Until the baby comes?”
The corner of Ethan’s lips curls as he nods his head. “Of course... Just don’t get any mustard on it.”
~🖤~
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@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam
ALL OPH
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~🖤~
Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤
#open heart#open heart fanfic#open heart fanfiction#you asked#you probably wanted a simple answer#and you got a fic lol#ethan ramsey#dr. ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x f!oc#ethan x f!oc#ethan x tatum#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#tathan
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Like Ships in the Night
Prologue: We Finally Got It All Right
Welcome to my new anthology series Like Ships in the Night! I am so fortunate to have some amazing readers that enjoy this sweet pairing, and have expressed interest in seeing how fate tried bringing them back together during their 15 years apart. And you know what? I want to see that, too! So... here it is, and I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I enjoyed dreaming about it and creating it! Each story can be read as a one-shot (unless noted), and--I'm so excited about this part--you are going to see some of canon woven into this. And in true Emily-fashion, it's not going to follow a specific time-line, but you will be able to follow along.
For those of you who are new to Tatum Erikson: this is the infamous "Hopkins Girl"... and in my AU, she and Ethan find their way back to each other.
🔞This collection of stories is intended for mature audiences only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 years of age or older. TW for chapters will be included with each part. 🔞
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey)
Series Music Inspo: "Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney
Chapter Music Inspo: "I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles
Chapter Summary: On the night of their wedding, Tatum begins to reflect about her relationship with Ethan... and about all of the missed opportunities that they had with one another.
Word Count: ~3400
Warnings: NSFW/smut 🍋; language
A/N: Some of these characters/plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Huge thank you to my girl @charlotteg234 for helping me choreograph my smut, and to my girl @ao719 for looking over said smut! lol Love you both! Not truly beta'd; please excuse my errors.
~🖤~
Would you call me crazy if I told you I believe in cheesy romance stories? You know the type: the kind where the rich CEO’s car breaks down in a small town, where he meets the shy, yet beautiful local pastry chef with a failing bakery? He inevitably screws things up, but he proves his love by performing a grand gesture–in this case, buying out her bakery to give it back to her. Or how about the age-old story where a woman meets a stranger in a bar, spends a hot night of passion with him, only to find out in the morning that he is her new boss? Or he’s the son of her boss? Or he’s the crown prince of some made-up country in the Mediterranean?
Now, before you roll your eyes at me, I know what you’re thinking. Stuff like that doesn’t actually happen in real life. Men don’t go out of their way to make fools of themselves for love. Love has its limits, and the sensation of being ‘swept off your feet’ is nothing more than a trigger of chemicals in your body, supported by the greeting card companies and flower shops. And let me tell you: I totally agree with you.
Until it happened to me.
When I was twenty-three, I fell in love with the most intelligent, fearless, most handsome man I had ever met in my life. He was strong, yet sensitive; he was quiet, but hilarious. He was such a colossal pain in my ass. And I absolutely loved him for it. For over three years, our relationship was thrilling, breath-taking, all-consuming and wild. It was the kind of love that inspires love songs and poetry, a love that makes you believe in soulmates and wishing on stars and happily ever afters. We had no idea what the hell we were doing, which made it so incredibly perfect. He was so incredibly perfect.
Then, I single-handedly fucked it up. Everything that was good in my life, I threw it all away in a single moment. And that incredibly perfect man… I broke him. And the worst part? I changed him. Because of me, he learned to be cold and hard; he learned to be closed off, to protect himself from getting hurt ever again. He lost that spontaneous bright light in his eyes. And love? He stopped believing in it.
But, I’ll let you in on a little secret: the story of Ethan Ramsey and Tatum Erikson doesn’t stop there. It should’ve. My God, it should’ve, but fate had a different ending for us.
“Tate?”
His voice. It still rings like a melody to me, especially with my name dancing on his lips. Well, that and judging from his mumble, his keys must be in his mouth. His hands are full with a late dinner, and no doubt, Jenner is making it nearly impossible for him to sneak through the door with his excitement.
I give the navy velvet sky one more glance as I turn to walk back inside from our balcony. Pulling the curtains shut, I watch Ethan set the table before lighting a few tapered candles between our plates. He then promptly unpacks the brown paper bags of our greasy, late-night fast food dinner.
Recinching the white satin belt of my short, lace-trimmed robe startles him into a double-take. “There you are,” he beams brightly at me; he offers a guilty smile as he claps his hands. “Nothing was open at 1:30 in the morning except…” he sighs, “the golden arches.”
Raising a playful eyebrow, I saunter closer to him, closing the gap between us. As I wrap my arms around his thick, swole musculature, his taut, strong arms envelop my own body. He pulls me closer, pressing me lovingly into the flat planes of his chest.
“Mmmm…" I nuzzle into him, "it’s perfect. My husband did good,” I steal a fry.
He smirks before kissing my forehead. He looks at his watch. “It’s been–” he clicks his tongue, “--nine hours? I really hope I haven’t messed this marriage-thing up too badly just yet. Although, I’m not so sure that feeding my wife McDonald’s on her wedding night is being a good husband.”
"I think you're doing a damn good job on keeping her satiated, Mr. Ramsey," I giggle under my breath.
The man truly is a god. His glorious tongue and nimble fingers permeated secret parts of me during our quaint wedding reception earlier, making us swiftly take our exit during the main course. Even now after spending four breathless hours making love, I look up into those possessive crystal eyes, and my arousal instantly awakens. God, I need him.
Ethan tilts his head lower towards me, his breath warm on the shell of my ear. “Every touch from you, Mrs. Ramsey, leaves my begging… for … more," he nips at my earlobe, punctuating his words. The sudden sting ignites a fury of goosebumps across my skin.
And suddenly, I can't let go of him. Feeling the heat of his body against my own intoxicates me like a fine vintage wine. This man, this honorable and selfless man: he is my beloved, my husband, my forever. My soul literally craves just to be in his presence; my being thirsts to be held steadfast in the oasis of his heart. I want to dive deep and succumb to his currents; the height of his love I will never, ever be able to fathom.
And to think: he chose me. Again.
The silky fabric of my robe slips off my shoulder. Ethan's large hand brushes across my exposed freckled skin, admiring my decollete as if he was experiencing it for the first time. His breath shutters against my chest, his desire hardening against my belly. His mouth presses to my exposed skin as he marks me as his own. The pull from his pout is heavenly; he burrows his face into my neck, his arms hugging me tightly.
I tenderly rake my fingers through his espresso waves, massaging the back of his neck.
"My wife…" he silently breathes against me like a fervent prayer. His hands find the loose knot of my belt, pulling the tie undone with his thumb. The material flounces open, his fingers roaming across my bare curves.
His lips find mine, a slow fire kindling between them. His tongue flirts inside my mouth, swirling languidly around the tip of mine.
My knees buckle with the abrupt throbbing between my legs, but his arms brace me. We both warmly snicker before I peer up at the gorgeous, chiseled lines of his face. His dark stare is so attentive, so captivated with me; I can feel my heart pirouette in my chest.
I want him–God, I fucking need him in the most feral of ways. Now. I am his lamb, his sacrifice. I need him to strip me, ravage me, break me, consume me.
"I thought you were hungry," he growls, tracing my jaw with the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes flutter against my skin; even my toes curl to the command of their gentle tickle.
My breath quickens, the rise and fall of my chest pressing into his firm body. "I thought you were," my voice softly rattles, painfully aware of his tightly constricted appetite in his sweatpants.
He rolls his tongue across his bottom lip as he tucks a finger under the material resting on my other shoulder. With a careful flick, the satin glides down my arm, drifting into a delicate cascade until it ripples on the floor around my ankles.
"I am," he cups my cheek, painting his thumb across my own pout. He then drags his knuckles down my exposed body: down my chin and neck, between my breasts and around my navel. He takes a knee, his mouth replacing his hand. He trails sweet kisses down my abdomen before tenderly caressing my sex. I hum as he gazes back up at me, his eyes dark with want. "I am very–" I gasp as he pushes his fingers into my core, "--very hungry." Pulling back out, he lifts his hand to his mouth. He moans in pleasure, his tongue eagerly lapping up my sweet desire.
As he sensually sucks on the tips of his fingers, I greedily steal his hand, bringing it back to my own lips. With a mischievous grin on my face, I kiss his palm before dragging it down to my pert breast. I guide his hand into massaging me slowly, his secure grip finding and teasing my nipples. Losing myself in the vast wilderness of his longing stare, he renders me speechless; the anticipation leaves me breathless. God, just put your mouth on me already...
I drag my teeth across my lips, watching my new husband shiver, unraveling on his knees. Combing my nails behind his ear, he shifts his gaze back to me, and I whisper.
“Take me.”
Hastily finding the bottom curve of my ass, he takes hold of me, pulling me closer to himself. His hands wander smoothly up my thighs, discovering my wet slit. He tenderly traces my folds, and a sudden ache for more courses through my legs
His finger grazes over my plumping clit, once… then twice before he circles around again… and then back the other direction. My foot coyly turns inward as my knee curls to shield my throbbing apex from his welcoming intrusion.
“Uh-uh,” he scolds me. He slips my leg out from under me, instantly finding its way over his broad shoulder. I brace myself on the back of a chair as he strums my swollen button.
My knees quiver with reckless electricity; my body trembles with raw nerves. My lower belly warms with excitement, euphoria building deep within me. I begin to rub against his hand.
“Ethan,” I gasp, “please baby–”
He stops. As he flicks his eyes to me with that irresistible smirk, he must’ve seen the look of betrayal written all over my face.
“Ethan?”
But before I can get my words out, he scoops me up bridal-style, hurrying me into our bedroom. He throws me like a ragdoll onto the plush bed before ripping off his undershirt. I sit up on my knees, my fingers reaching for his waistband. As I lunge closer to take what I want, he grabs my wrists. He crawls on top of me pinning me down, my hands helplessly over my head.
He kisses into my whimpers, his teeth nipping at my swollen lips. “Such an eager girl,” he snickers, biting my lip again until he gently licks into my mouth.
Ethan traces his tongue down my body, circling around my nipple before pulling it into his mouth. Fuck, it hurts so good. One of my hands has traveled to the back of his head, encouraging his rapacious mouth into my sensitive skin. But, he possessively steals my hand from his neck, restraining it useless above my head.
“Stay,” the corner of his mouth turns up as he pants, “you stay right here until you finish for me." He playfully tugs on my other nipple with his teeth before stealing another glimpse of me. "And you will finish on me.”
His demanding claim on me as well as his overpowering strength sends a chilling ache through my body. My need for him grows fervent, restless, completely starved. I am his hostage, and only he holds the key to my release, to my pleasure. He is my undoing.
He slips down my body, spreading my legs apart for him. I quake as he spreads apart my lips, and all at once, his tongue drinks me deeply. My back arches against the mattress, as he swirls around my most sensitive area.
My breath becomes ragged as my hips thrust off of the bed. Hoarse mewls escape my mouth as my head thrashes back and forth across the pillow.
Without warning, he glides two thick fingers into my channel, stealing the very breath from my lungs. Finding the perfect spot inside, he strokes deeply, smoothly, my toes curling with the change of sensation.
I am overwhelmed; each stroke builds on the last, the intensity obliterating my mind. Is this pleasure? Is this pain? I can’t–I can’t take anymore.
That is until Ethan takes his other hand, firmly pressing it down on my lower belly. The electricity of my desire erupts into a million stars, dancing in my own galaxy.
And then he slides in another finger.
My mouth drops open into earth-shattering silence as I pump my hips uncontrollably into his hand. My body trembles, hurdling me towards an orgasm. It’s terrifying, and thrilling, and absolutely emotional. I can barely breathe anymore, my inhales catching in my chest as my body cries out.
But suddenly, as my climax overcomes me, throwing me off the edge to complete ruin, Ethan stops. He grips my ass and swiftly, flips us both over. Finding myself on my knees, my husband’s head is between my thighs, his lips a breath away from my wet pussy.
"Ride me, baby."
He pulls my hips down, the sudden jerk causing me to grab the wooden headboard. His stubble tickles my sensitive skin as my nerves reignite with pleasure. My body melts into him, his mouth instantly finding my deep ache. He blows gently across my throbbing clit before wrapping his mouth around it, giving it a nip with his teeth.
"Ethan!"
A stun of electricity courses through my veins. A deep burn contracts in my belly as groans of ecstasy escape my throat; my eyes prick with tears of euphoric joy as he strokes me through another orgasm. My whimpers fill our room as I uncontrollably pulse and constrict around his tongue and fingers. My thighs quiver as I grind my quaking pussy across his hungry mouth.
My knuckles blanch to white as I grip the headboard; glistening with sweat, my body grows limp, begging for rest, begging for oxygen, begging to collapse from my husband’s predatory gleaning of my body… now his body.
But, he holds me fast and close, his hands gripping firmly to the swells of my ass as he continues to feast on my ravaged center. He tenderly nuzzles me open, his tongue consuming every last drop of my pleasure.
He crawls out from under me, quickly climbing onto his knees to kneel behind my body. His arms snake around my abdomen as he pulls me back into his lap. And I collapse against his chest, my hands finding the tops of his before tangling our fingers together.
Relishing his touch, Ethan presses his lips into my jaw, along my neck, coming to rest on my shoulder. He tightens his hold on me as his mouth finds the shell of my ear, my body lax against his.
And then I giggle. His soft whispers of the most lovely, the most hidden of secrets saved just for us drip like honey from his lips, his sweet words seducing me in the most intimate of ways.
Turning my head to meet his gaze, our lips brush against one another as we finally relax into each other's arms, laying down against the swirl of sheets and stacks of pillows. Finding a comfortable silence, I can feel his pulse bounding in time with mine as we share the air around us. He mindlessly traces shapes with the tips of his fingers across my hips. His ankles intertwine with mine, and somehow, something so mundane feels so possessive, so intimate. I could drown in this moment, knowing my last breath was him claiming me as his own.
"How?" I sigh, not realizing the actual word escaped from my mind.
"Hrmm?" He rasps, readjusting his hold on my body against his.
I titter in embarrassment. "This. I just can't believe… we're here…"
He nuzzles his nose against my neck. "Just you and me." He takes my hands, gently interlocking our fingers together as he brings it up to his mouth for a kiss.
A thought crosses my mind. And I sit up, leaning myself against the plethora of pillows against the headboard. Grabbing a sheet to cover myself, I look down at my husband, a pensive grin quirking on my mouth. "Do you–" I sigh, shaking my head. "Nevermind."
Ethan sits himself up next to me, playfully knocking his shoulder into me. "Do I what?"
"It's silly."
He smirks. "Like that's ever stopped you?"
I swat his arm before wrapping my hand around his bicep, laying my head against his shoulder. "Do you believe... in fate?"
He rolls his head towards me, giving me that look, like I just asked him the most idiotic question on the planet.
"What?" I teasingly pout.
He raises his eyebrows. "Do you really want to know my answer?"
No. I chuckle to myself; I know better. I have always appreciated Ethan's ability to remain level-headed. He's a realist, a believer in physical matter. Everything can or will be explained by science. For the most part, I agree with him. Afterall, I am a scientist, too.
And maybe he's right; the rekindling of our relationship was a complete coincidence. But still… after all of the missed meetings and stolen glances from afar… after all of these years, why now?
He presses a lingering kiss to my forehead. "Tell me. What do you think?"
"Whether or not you believe in fate?"
"No," he rolls his eyes, grinning wide. His deep chuckle reverberates through his body, warming mine. He pulls me gently into his chest. "Tell me, baby," he softly croons. "Tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what's got you thinking about–" he waves his hand in the air as if he's presenting a magical word on a rainbow. "--destiny."
"Not when you say it like that," I pinch his belly.
"Okay, okay!" He flinches, snickering before cradling me closer. "I'm sorry. I'll be serious." I give Ethan a questioning glare until he holds up three fingers. "Doctor's honor."
I giggle as I mindlessly begin to play with his fingers in silence. I finally sigh because I officially sound like a lunatic, and surely, this beautiful man is about to go get our marriage annulled. "I don't know," I breathe him in deeply, my fingertips grazing through the hair on his chest. "I feel like… now looking back on us, we had so many missed opportunities… divine interventions… I don't know," I snicker at myself because I don't just sound insane; I am insane.
That is until Ethan takes my hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "I'm listening."
"What if we were always meant to find each other? Like… God, I don't know." I turn around to face him leaned against the wall of pillows. "Imagine we're heading to work on the T, but we keep missing the stop… and yet, we still end up where we're supposed to go, even if we have to catch another line or hail a cab."
Ethan gives me a skeptical look. "Okay, so… you believe you and I had missed opportunities to be together–"
"I don't know if I believe it… but somehow calling those missed connections, those times that we almost crossed paths again…" I bite my bottom lip, shaking my head. "Rams, how could they just be coincidences?"
Ethan couldn't take his eyes off me; I could tell he was perplexed with what I was insinuating by the way he chewed the inside of his mouth. We fell into a quietness, my question left unanswered.
I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Maybe I was being hyper-emotional with it being our wedding day and all the talk of love everlasting.
After spending a few moments studying my face, Ethan tenderly takes my foot, pushing back the sheet to expose it completely. He lays it on the firm planes of his abdomen as he begins to gently knead his thumbs and knuckles into my arches.
"Coincidences, hrm?" He exhales heavily. "Or fate?" He shakes his head with uncertainty as he strokes each one of my toes. "Tell me a coincidence. One of our coincidences."
Feeling myself melt into his touch, I look down at my wedding band, twirling it around my finger. Taking a deep breath, I lick my lips and begin.
"Do you remember the time…?"
~🖤~
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@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam
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~🖤~
Thank you so much for your support! Every like , comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤
#open heart fanfic#open heart fanfiction#choices open heart#like ships in the night#ethan ramsey#dr. ethan ramsey#tatum erikson#ethan ramsey x f!oc#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#ethan x tatum#tathan#N*FW
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Maybe Someday...
Pairing: Ethan Ramey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey)
Word Count: ~3075
Warning: Mature audiences only; adult themes, angst; TW: heavy discussion of pregnancy, infant loss and depiction of PTSD; a few curse words, verbal fight/tension
AN: Happy Mother's Day to all the brave women out there who are mothers, who have stepped up to be mothers, who want to be mothers, who have lost mothers, and who have children being held for them in heaven. You are amazing, courageous and strong.
A/N 2: Some characters and plot belong to our friends at Pixelberry. This was not beta'd; please excuse my errors. Also, there is a more personal AN after the fic! 🖤
~🖤~
"Alright, Mama," Tatum whispers in a direct, warm tone, "just one last big push, and your sweet baby will be here."
Feeling the gradual pressure building in her body, the exhausted mother takes a big breath, bearing all of her energy into delivering her first born child. Suddenly, she gasps for air, both in relief and out of pure joy as her baby enters the world. She tumbles back into her husband’s lap, his endearing arms embracing her with unbridled admiration. After nine laborious months of hoping, planning and praying, they're officially a mom and dad.
"Hey, there, precious!" Tatum squeals, "happy birthday!" She swiftly dries and stimulates the newborn, suctioning out the tiny gurgles and replacing them with the tiny cry of new life. "Dad, wanna tell everyone if we have a boy or a girl?"
Giving a tender kiss to his wife's forehead, the elated young man dabs tears from his face before looking at the baby in the physician's arms. "It… she's a girl!" Roars of celebration from the delivery nurses fill the room as the new parents sob secretly to one another, embracing their now family of three.
Not wasting any time, the physician lays the little girl on her mom's chest as she finishes the delivery, ensuring mom and baby remain safe. After cleaning up the patient and the room, Tatum saddles up next to the bed, taking a moment to dote on the new family.
"Thank you so much, Dr. Erikson," the young woman glances up at Tatum, gently stroking her baby's back. "I could not have done this without you."
"Girl, I am so proud of you! Look at what you did." Tatum tenderly caresses the infant's chunky arms before allowing the baby to grip her finger. "What a beautiful way to bring in your first Mother's Day!"
"Oh my gosh, that's right," the patient giggles, patting her baby on the bottom. "A Mother's Day to remember!"
Tatum smiles brightly as she squeezes the new mom's hand. "Enjoy the rest of your special day! You've earned it!"
Grabbing her phones and pagers, the blonde obstetrician quickly makes her way to the door.
"Dr. Erikson?" The new father calls out, "would you mind if we got a picture with you and our baby girl?"
"Sweetie," his wife gently scolds, "don't you think she wants to go and enjoy Mother's Day, too?"
"It's fine," Tatum grins, holding out her arms to take the infant. "I can never get enough baby snuggles… as long as you're okay with it."
Eagerly nodding and powering on the camera, they gently pass over their daughter.
Cradling the partially-swaddled newborn in her hands, Tatum brings the petite infant closer to her face to coo and singsong about her cuteness. Entranced with the innocent movements, time seems to cautiously slow down, the room becoming a blur. A breath hitches thickly in the OB's throat as she gently traces the dainty features, the familiar gesture causing her mouth to run dry. The chubby fingers. The rosy nose. Long lashes sprawled heavenly across her cherub cheeks. It was like a dream, a beautiful moment in time, flooding memories of hope… and crushed dreams.
"Dr. Erikson?"
Tatum's eyes flutter. "I'm sorry, um what did you–?"
"We want one with your face!" The patient giggles, holding the camera up.
“Oh, of course,” Tatum paints on a smile.
"Ready? Smile!"
As the flash of the camera begins to fade, Tatum gently boops the infant's button nose. "Well," she hands the baby back to the mother, "I better not take up any more of your family time."
"You probably need to get home to your own kids," the new mom suggests.
"How many kids do you have, Dr. Erikson–?"
"--I bet you're such a good mom!"
Tatum glances at the hopeful mother's stare, filled with so much love and anticipation for the physician's answer. "None, um, I mean, no," Tatum clears her throat, a chill almost penetrating her stormy blue gaze. "I'm not a mother."
"Oh," a tinge a sadness hits the new mom's voice. "But, I bet delivering so many babies… and coaching so many women… probably makes you feel like a mother."
"Something like that," Tatum grins, giving the patient a wink. "But what's most important here and now is that you are now a mom." She gives the woman a pat on the hand. "Have the nurses call me if you need anything. Congrats again, you guys."
Tatum hastily exits the room. Shutting the door behind her, she exhales heavily. Today is barely halfway done, and it has already proven emotional taxing on the chief of OB, especially after delivering her sixth baby. Which meant her sixth 'Happy Mother's Day!' Which meant her sixth clarification that she doesn't have children.
And no. She doesn't want to talk about it.
Still, Tatum takes joy in the holiday by watching other women become mothers, watching them relish in the precious moment of enduring the miraculous test of the human body and spirit, watching them bond with the actual fruit of their labor. The journey was not created for all, but if she can help it, she wants to help women enjoy the transition who desire motherhood.
Experiencing such a monumental moment is the reason she even got started in this business. Maybe this is her way of coping; maybe this is her way of healing. Maybe this is her way to ensure that every new mother savors that moment they first hold their newborn in their arms.
Maybe this keeps her memory alive, a beautifully tragic memory, full of so much love. And so much unspeakable pain.
Even after all of these years.
"Dr. Erikson! You have a delivery."
Tatum slips off her scrub cap as she moseys towards the cheery voice of the unit secretary; but, even before she reaches the desk, her eyes capture the sight of an elaborate arrangement of white lilies and roses. She breathes in the subtle floral notes, her fingertips admiring the soft petals of the flowers. A large satin bow, accented with burlap adorns the large vase.
"These came for you, ma'am."
"Me?" Tatum's eyebrows furrow as she notices the handwriting on the envelope to the card. Her husband. And she's instantly confused. While flowers are lovely, Ethan knows better than to send them to his wife. And surely he knows better than to send them today.
A small crowd of nurses and techs gather around as she opens the card.
"Are you about to tell us we're all about to be aunties?" One of the nurses jokes, the other staffers giggling and gasping with hope.
"Definitely not," Tatum titters, forcing a kind smile. "We just got married, you turkeys."
"So?" More laughter erupts as the rest of the unit joins. "We're ready!"
Tatum playfully scowls, lifting open the card to read.
To the strongest mother I've ever known, to the strongest person I've ever met. Today I celebrate you and your courage. Happy Mother's Day. -Rams
A subtle sting pulls at her vision, her heartbeat now thundering in her ears. She feels her cheeks flush with heat; from embarrassment? From love? From anger?
No, he meant well.
But, damnit, he knows better.
Tatum swallows thickly, painting a brave, chipper expression on her face. "He, uh… Dr. Ramsey wanted to brighten up the unit for mother's day. And–" she thinks off the top of her head, "--to celebrate the day, lunch is on him!"
The labor and delivery team collectively 'aww' and clap in excitement from the generous gesture. "Well, if you aren't going to give us a baby just yet, I guess we'll settle with food," a nurse jokes as the women snicker amongst themselves, heading back to work.
Tatum speedily retreats to the physician's lounge, making phone calls to her favorite deli and putting in an emergency order with a hefty tip of appreciation.
Finally having a moment alone in the locker room, Tatum decides to freshen up from her busy morning. As she empties her pockets, Ethan's card pops out, coasting onto the tiled floor. Slowly retrieving, she anxiously opens it back up.
And she reads it again.
And again.
Her fingertips drag across the ink, each line and stroke like a sharp blade to her heart.
She closes her eyes, concentrating on her shallow, furious breathing. It’s fine, Tatum; it’s fine. Breathe, two, three. Exhale, two, three. Breathe, two…
Suddenly a pair of gray eyes appear in the darkness. His gray eyes. Then, his voice.
“What’s wrong with her? Tate! Tate?!”
A pair of hands appear, gripping tightly to her tender abdomen. Another set join in, rubbing vigorously on her chest, causing Tatum to gasp and wretch on her own air.
“This is too much blood–”
“Call a rapid team–”
“Will someone page trauma–?”
One by one, more hands appear, but what once looked like her saving grace deteriorates into her hell as arms and hands tangle around her, strangling her, choking her.
“Cross and match four units–”
“Grab the methergine and hemabate–”
“We can’t let her die, too!”
“No,” Tatum exhales, her own fingertips tearing at the collar of her shirt, her nails clawing at her neck and chest. Her tears pour like heated rivers down her flushed cheeks. “Please… stop…”
“Dr. Erikson?”
Tatum’s eyes snap open, frantically looking around the locker room. Her attention turns towards the petite, concerned voice of the secretary, waiting by the door.
“I--I tried knocking, but--”
Tatum nods, forcing a big smile on her face. “It's fine," she swallows in relief, "that's fine.”
----------
Tatum slinks into the apartment after 9PM, instantly being greeted by the wet nose of Jenner.
"Hey, buddy," she lovingly croons, taking his face in her hands for sweet scratches and kisses. Giving him one last pat, she quietly kicks off her shoes before heading to her bedroom through the kitchen, hoping to avoid her husband.
As she turns to head straight into the en suite, she crashes into a broad chest, arms open wide to receive her.
"Hey," Ethan hugs her tightly, pressing his lips along her hairline. "How was your day?"
"Fine."
"Yeah? I… tried texting you–"
"I was busy." Tatum slips out of his arms as she heads to the bathroom.
"Are you hungry?"
"No." She shuts the door; but the force behind her nudge is stronger than intended, causing it to rattle bitterly against the frame.
Ethan stares at the closed-off entrance to the room, uncertainty flooding his features. He takes a deep breath, running a hand down his face. Irritation snarls on his mouth as his hands flex.
Then, he barges in.
"Ethan!" Tatum shrieks, quickly grabbing a towel to cover her naked body. She hugs it around her backside as she faces away from him. "Do you mind?"
He scoffs into a sardonic snicker. He recognizes she's upset, but he's not about to let this spin out of control. "Since when do you hide yourself from me?"
"Since right now," she hisses.
"Then look at me," he growls, "and tell me to leave."
Tatum blows away a frustrated breath. Adjusting the towel around her torso, she finally turns to face Ethan. She opens her mouth to speak, but her words fail her as her eyes lock with the devastating compassion in his gaze. She fixes a stern lip, but she can feel her own defenses crumble as his expression softens.
Ethan begins to saunter towards her, careful as not to challenge her, but with assurance and protection. Close enough to reach, he grips tenderly around her shoulders before enveloping her wholly into his tight embrace, tucking her trembling body into his own.
Feeling the swift rush of being swept from her own feet, Tatum finally lowers her facade, melting into sobs.
Letting her fall apart in his arms, Ethan combs his fingers into her blonde tangles before fisting her waves, drawing her into his neck. His other hand relaxes, allowing his wife to stand on her own again–but he refuses to let go. Absent-mindedly, he traces figure-eights across her back and down the slopes of her sides, feeling her ribs shutter from each cry.
"I knew today would be rough… but I'm guessing that I made things worse," he whispers, a deep gravel in his timbre. "I wasn't trying to make you upset, baby."
"I know," Tatum's words are barely audible as she twists Ethan's T-shirt into her grip. "I… I just don't want to talk about it–"
"Maybe we should talk about it."
"Rams… I…" Tatum lets go, gently shoving herself away to stare at her husband. "No."
He sighs, raising an eyebrow. "Tate, I–" he shrugs his shoulders, "all I did was send you flowers–"
"--on Mother's Day!" She snaps, pounding the side of her hand into her palm. "How could you–? I mean, why–?" she fumbles anxiously with her words before hanging her head into her hands. "It's bad enough I'm cursed with the memories–"
"--then let me be haunted with you, Tate." He gently cups her cheeks, pleading silently for her to look at him. "Facing what you did… you were–you are… so… incredibly brave–"
Tatum shakes her head, breaking out of his hold. "Don't."
She begins to storm towards her closet, but Ethan grabs her elbow, pulling her back. "Do not walk away from me, Tatum Ramsey," he steams through his nose. "I get that I may have fucked up today, but–" he lets out a humorless chuckle, shrugging, "baby, I didn't know, okay? I–I just… I love you so much. I didn't want this for you today. I didn't want you to be sad." He sucks in his bottom lip before exhaling. "It's your first Mother's Day where… you don't have to be alone with this." He tenderly takes her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. "You're not alone. Not anymore."
Tatum stares at their joined hands, her wedding band softly clanging against his. She sucks in her lips before glancing back at her husband. "I'm sorry, Rams," she breathes.
Within an instant, Tatum is safe and sound where she's supposed to be: in Ethan's arms, his lips lost in her waves as he whispers words of reassurance.
Tatum tips her head up, her husband’s stare greeting hers. "I still don't think I'm ready to talk it… about her. About what happened."
"Okay," Ethan casually concedes, his fingers lost in her tresses. "That's fine."
"I… don't know if I will ever be ready," her voice cracks.
Ethan hooks her chin, lifting Tatum's gaze back to his own. "Maybe. Not today. But… maybe someday."
----------
Four Years Later…
"... if you are just now joining us for today's show, we are discussing maternal mortality rates in relation to postpartum hemorrhage…"
"Are you seriously listening to that?" Tatum hands Ethan his dinner as she crawls onto the couch next to him with her own meal. "You were there for the recording–"
"I know," he dices up his salmon. "But they're interviewing a long-time hero of mine." Tatum chews quietly, her stormy blue pools locked with admiration on her husband as he nonchalantly winks at her. "Rumor has it… she's got the hots for me."
Tatum snickers, shaking her head as she drapes her ankles across his thighs.
"... I am here with Dr. Tatum Erikson-Ramsey, an OBGYN analyst for the New England Journal of Medicine and a correspondent with the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. She is also the head physician and lead research analyst and developer for what is now being hailed by the World Health Organization as the 'gold standard' of defense from PPH. Of course, I'm talking about intravenous tranexamic acid." The cheerful host jokingly takes a big breath before continuing. "Thank you again for being with us, Dr. Erikson."
"Thank you for having me."
"Now, postpartum hemorrhage is clearly something you are passionate about. Pardon my pun, but what birthed this passion? No doubt you see this in the maternity ward a lot, but was there an event? Maybe a person that inspired you to dive into this research?"
"Actually," Tatum endearingly chuckles, "yes. There… is someone. A young women I met after medical school, way before I even considered OB. She found herself pregnant in a loveless, abusive relationship, and to make matters worse–" she falls silent, whispers of heavy breaths being taken. "Her baby was not compatible with life."
"God," the host gasps.
"It was… an awful situation," Tatum licks her lips. "After delivery, she lost over half her body's blood volume, losing consciousness a few times, but… she fought. She fought hard… just so she could hold her daughter before she… while she was still here."
The interviewer takes a moment. "Wow, Dr. Erikson. I… I can see why such a tragedy like that, witnessing something like that influenced your entire career. Are you… still in touch with her?"
"I am," Tatum's voice brightens. "Everyday."
"No doubt she is very proud of you."
"She is. She's… incredibly proud."
Tatum quietly looks back to her husband, a knowing sparkle in his eye with unshed tears. "You know? I'm fairly proud of her, too."
Ethan slowly leans in to kiss his wife when a sudden static from a baby monitor interrupts them, followed by a few muffled mewls until finally pained wails echo throughout their living area. Ethan puts down his bowl, but Tatum presses her hand to his shoulder.
"I got it." She grins, quickly giving him a kiss–then another–before scurrying up to check on their five-month-old son.
"Cord?" She singsongs, padding into the darkened room.
As soon as the blond-headed baby sees his mom, he begins to frantically pump his legs in the air. His crystal gaze tracks her movements, sticking his tongue out in joy. "Why are you crying, beansprout?" She chuckles as she brings him protectively into her arms. "I bet… you're hungry, huh? Is my big boy hungry?"
She peppers kisses across his soft head as she prepares to nurse him. Slinking back into her favorite rocking chair, she latches her son to feed as she traces his precious features.
"You have a dimple right here," she coos softly, stroking softly over the mark. And she titters to herself. "Just like your mama." Tatum takes his free hand, curling his fingers around her thumb before kissing his tiny fingertips. "Your older sister…" her breath hitches, a teardrop sloping down her nose as she begins to chuckle. "She had the same dimple."
~🖤~
Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤
~🖤~
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~🖤~
AN 3: I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to put a more personal note with this fic. As a lot of you know, I have the absolute honor and privilege of helping women become moms. When I first went back to school, I never thought I would fall in love with women's health. But even more of a surprise to me, I found a deep passion in my heart for bereavement.
I first heard the term "miscarriage" when I was 5 years old, and I remember even back then, it was such a forbidden topic; NO ONE talked about it. So, in silence, I learned that the word equated to shame and embarrassment.
Twenty years later, I took care of my first patient. And she had a miscarriage in her history. My next patient? Same. Third? She had two. I would learn from one of my mentors that ONE IN FOUR women will experience a miscarriage or loss of an infant (and it's estimated that the number is higher!). And I started wonder: if this is happening so frequently, why aren't we talking about it?
I understand this is fanfiction, and this story (along with a lot of my other angsty fics) is written for "entertainment" purposes. And of course, I want you to enjoy them! But I just wanted share with you, my beloved readers, that these subjects I write about are very near and dear to my heart. I hope you can see the underlying message of bringing awareness to motherhood tragedies and trauma in the maternity ward. I hope that the fictional voice of Tatum Erikson gives the real voice of women who continue to grieve silently. And if you are the one in four, please know that you are seen, and I am so, so very sorry for your loss.
#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#ethan ramsey x f!oc#ethan x tatum#tathan#tw: pregnancy#tw: infant loss#choices oph
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Reverse Uno…
Because I need it 😁
HC This…
Why is Ethan making this face?
LOL! Oh, my sweet friend... you've got it! Enjoy this little drabble! 🖤
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson-Ramsey); Rafael Aveiro x Sienna Trinh-Aveiro
Word Count: 915 (+/-)
Summary: Ethan prepares for a sexy, romantic night with his wife... but unfortunately, he didn't understand the assignment.
Warning: 🔞 For Mature Audiences Only 🔞 language; sexual themes and innuendos
A/N: I am participating in @choicesflashfics week #23 prompt challenge. I will be using prompt #2: "Ignoring the problem will not make it go away." (It will be in bold). Some of these characters and plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. Also, this is not beta'd; please pardon my errors.
~🖤~
With the shake of his wrist, Ethan glances at his watch. 6:18 PM. Lighting the last candle in the bedroom, he unbuttons his shirt before slipping into a pair of heather-gray joggers. Tatum would be home any minute, and he wanted to be fully prepared in taking advantage of their night off together.
He looks at her message again.
‘Last patient delivered yesterday. Coming home early. I hope you’re ready for tonight 😘’
A crooked smile grows across his face, his sweatpants growing snug at the thought of the intimate evening he was about to share with his wife.
God, it had been way too long. Tatum had been away most of the week. Monday and Tuesday, she was in Maryland in her annual regulatory meetings with the FDA. Wednesday, she was part of a symposium at Johns Hopkins that was televised to other universities. When she finally made it back Thursday morning, she went straight to work, spending the evening on-call. But luckily, she took this weekend off to spend some much-needed time with her husband and pups.
He hears her keys jingling down the corridor just outside their front door. Ethan quickly shuts off the lights, the illumination from the candles creating the perfect ambiance. He grabs the fresh plate of sushi from the refrigerator before grabbing a long-stem rose he bought on a whim that he knows will make her laugh.
The door begins to open, and Ethan adjusts his pants in excitement. If he knows his wife–and he does– he was about to spring free in less than five minutes.
He leans against the bar, licking his lips with anticipation.
“Ethan?”
God, she’s going to be screaming that name later. He grows harder in anticipation, his pulse racing through his veins as butterflies dance in his belly. Come to daddy, good girl…
“Is Mr. Ethan here?”
Wait a minute. Suddenly, there’s another voice. A little voice. A familiar, little voice.
“He’s supposed to be, Gabi-bug,” Tatum whispers before turning to call out his name again. “Ethan?”
Then there is another voice, a deep baritone. “Why is it so dark in here?”
“Rafie!” Another woman’s timbre softly scolds him.
Without warning, the lights flicker on, catching Ethan off guard. “Rams?” Tatum stumbles in with her bags over her shoulders, awkwardly tittering as she looks around the room. “What are you–oh!” She notices his exposed, sculpted chest with a rose in his hands. “Awww, baby, look at –ohhhh!” She glances down, instantly recognizing her favorite pair of lounge pants…along with the large reason why they are her favorite pair of lounge pants. And she stifles a toothy grin.
“Mr. Ethan! Mr. Ethan””
“Shit!” Ethan quickly grabs a dish towel, holding it in front of his hips. “Hi, sweetheart.”
Four-year-old Gabriela Trinh-Aveiro bounds into the room–and then freezes the moment she sees Ethan, and her eyes grow large. “Daddy? Mommy? Mr. Ethan said a bad word. And he’s nakie!”
The young couple stumble into the room, assured that they didn’t hear their oldest daughter right. Rafael quickly averts his eyes. “Oh, my apologies Chief Ramsey.”
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Ramsey,” Sienna remorsefully smiles, taking her daughter by the hand; but as she steers her daughter away, the pediatrician accidentally glances back at Ethan. “Ohhh!” She blushes, stopping mid-step. “We, um… are both… uh, very, very–”
“Meu amor!”
“Right! Um…” she titters, her eyes glued to Ethan’s body. “We’ll just… um, how about we’ll just come out here–I mean… wait! I—”
Tatum holds up her hand to stop Sienna before placing it around her petite shoulders. “It’s alright. Just–” she turns back to Ethan, her cheeks swirling to red. “Give us a minute.”
Ensuring that the coast is clear, Tatum turns back to her husband. “What are you doing?” She whisper screams, slapping the back of her fingers against her husband’s arm.
“I… I was getting ready for tonight! Like you said in your message–"
“For Frozen on ice, Ethan! Remember?” Tatum drags her hands down her face. “We bought Gabi the Elsa costume for her birthday along with the tickets?”
“Shit, that’s tonight?”
“No,” she sasses sardonically, “the Aveiros and I thought it would be hilarious to pull your leg.”
Ethan quirks an irritated eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest.
Tatum sighs, stepping closer and giving him a peck on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.. But we really did have plans. Just go throw on a pair of jeans and a nice shirt and–”
“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he gestures to his groin.
Tatum covers her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter. “Doesn’t it just go away if you ignore it?”
“Christ,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “ignoring the problem will not make it go away, Tatum.”
She snorts. “Well, I can’t exactly do anything right now about the problem.” She leans in, pressing her lips to his mouth. “I promise it will get a lot of attention later. But for now? Um–”
“I’m jumping in a cold shower–”
“Mr. Ethan?” Gabriela stumbles back into the room, rocking back and forth in her blue, sparkly dress.
Ethan hides behind a counter, forcing a smile on his face. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Gabriela clears her throat, knocking on the wooden cabinets and begins to sing. “Do you want to build a snowman?” She giggles into her cupped hands.
~🖤~
“Gabi-bug,” he sighs, “you have no idea.”
“Ethan!” Tatum chides, rolling her eyes. “Just… let it go.”
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~🖤~
Thank you so much for your support! Every like , comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤
#open heart fanfic#choices fanfic#choices flashfics#prompt challenge#open heart#ethan ramsey#dr. ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x f!oc#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#ethan x tatum#tathan#rafael aveiro#sienna trinh#rafael aveiro x sienna trinh
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I feel like Tatum would have the best comeback for asshole partners asking for 'the husband stitch'
Oh, anon... the evil laugh I just did when I read this! You know she probably has a book of comebacks. This might not be her absolute best, but I hope this one will give you a smile. Thank you so, so much for the inspiration! 💜
Summary: Tatum is called into Ethan's office to discuss her colorful interaction with a patient's husband.
Word count: ~1120
Warning: Mature audience; language; medical discussion
A/N: Some characters and plot points belong to our friends at Pixelberry; this is not beta'd, so please excuse my errors.
~🖤~
A deafening silence plagues Ethan’s glass-enclosed office. Anxiously tapping his fingers on his wooden desk, the chief of medicine glares first at his watch before staring at the door. Growing impatient for his next meeting, he rests his elbow on his chair, his fingertips massaging his closed eyes.
Where is she?
The door angrily swings open, the abrupt clatter demanding Ethan's attention. In waddles one of his providers, donned in fuchsia scrubs and a pink and yellow Power Rangers scrub cap. She storms up to Ethan's desk, placing her hands on her hips.
"You wanted to see me?" She huffs.
Ethan motions to a chair behind her, inviting her to sit down. Raising an eyebrow, she looks at her watch. Letting out an irritating scoff, she flops into the seat and crosses her arms, her eyes locked on the crystal gaze of her boss.
"Dr. Erikson, I–"
"'Dr. Erikson'? Really, Ethan Jonah?" Tatum growls at her husband.
"Dr. Erikson," he enunciates louder, his eyebrows furrowing. "I assume you know why you're here."
Tatum lours. "Oh, please enlighten me, Dr. Ramsey."
"I got a call about a Mr. Flanagan being upset with his wife’s care–"
Tatum blows a raspberry with her lips, rolling her eyes in disbelief.
Ethan takes a moment, staring at his defiant wife before continuing. "Apparently you–" he picks up a notepad with a handwritten list, "--went against the patient’s wishes and you made an inappropriate comment about the husband's–"
Tatum interrupts with a sardonic chuckle. "'Against the patient’s wishes'? Are you fucking kidding me?"
Ethan closes his eyes, exhaling heavily. Hormones, it's just hormones. He sits back in his chair, crossing a leg over his knee before folding his hands together. "Okay… how about you tell me what happened?"
"Gladly," she smirks, her face turning crimson with rage. She stands up, readjusting her snug scrub top before pacing. "That man is an asshole." Ethan stifles his smile, but gestures for her to keep going. "I had mentioned in the clinic that this baby was measuring large for gestational age. I believed–and I was fucking right–her pelvimetry could handle a vaginal delivery, which is exactly what she wanted–and she got. But I told her that I would strongly recommend pain management in the form of an epidural."
Ethan casually shrugs his shoulders. "Okay. So?"
"Well, Mr. Macho's–" Tatum deepens her voice, rolling her shoulders forward to pretend like she has big muscles, "--mother and grandmothers and aunts never needed an epidural, and they were--" Tatum air quotes, "--'weaker than his wife, so that's not an option'."
Ethan bows his head, holding a finger over his mouth to hide his grin. Oh, that poor fucker…
"So, guess who came in 6 cm dilated, crying for an epidural?" Tatum stares at Ethan, giving a told-ya-so grin, nodding sarcastically. "Yeah," she slaps her palm on the desk in anger. "This asshole finally agrees to let her have pain medicine in her IV."
"Well, what did Mrs. Flanagan want?"
"Oh," Tatum flings her arms in the air, "whatever her douche-y husband wanted." Tatum grows quiet, watching the everyday hospital scramble through Ethan’s office window. "So, of course, the IV pain medicine barely gets her to relax because her labor is progressing rapidly, and it's time to push." She sighs dramatically.
"Out of control?"
"Reagan from The Exorcist had more control," she shakes her head as Ethan purses his lips, trying his best not to laugh. "I did everything in my power to support her perineum; I tried my best to get her to gain control of herself and just," she exhales quickly, her body deflating. "Luckily, she didn't blow out her bottom; that kid was almost 10 pounds with a 15-and-a-half inch head. And virtually no molding."
"Damn."
"Pssh, yeah," she walks back towards the desk. "But still, it wouldn't have been so bad if that dick hadn't prevented her from getting an epidural." Tatum gingerly lowers herself back into the chair, calming herself down as she cradles her head in her hand.
"Speaking of dicks," Ethan starts, standing from his desk and sauntering to his personal coffee machine. "Mr. Flanagan said you made a comment about his?"
Tatum tosses her head back, roaring with evil laughter. "So, get this," she wiggles herself forward to sit up straight. "While I'm repairing his poor wife's fileted vagina, that asshole dared to ask me to put in a husband stitch." Tatum rolls her eyes, her voice becoming sardonically whiney. "Oh, you're so funny and original, you fucking asswipe!"
Ethan mixes in some hazelnut creamer in with the cup of coffee as he glances back to his frustrated wife. "A what? 'Husband stitch'?"
"You know," she raises an eyebrow, "to supposedly tighten things up." She growls to herself, shaking her head in disgust.
Ethan nods, remembering the uncouth term. "So, he asks for it, to which you said?"
"I explained to him that his wife's vagina is a perfect and normal postpartum size."
"Tate?"
"And," Tatum guiltily grins, "I simply observed the crotch area of his pants."
"And?"
"And I may have mentioned that... he would need way more than a stitch to accommodate for his small size."
"Tatum Ramsey!" Ethan busts out laughing as she innocently shrugs. He saunters to stand in front of her, leaning up against his desk. "Jesus fucking Christ, woman," he mutters.
"I'm not sorry," she states matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I know you aren't," Ethan chuckles, raising his eyebrows.
"So, what now?" She stands up, placing her hands on her hips. "Am I in trouble? Getting written up? What?"
"Nope, none of that." Tatum gives a curious look to her husband. He stands up, inching closer to her. "I just wanted to hear the story from you," he chuckles, smiling broadly. He slinks an arm endearingly around her shoulders. "Here," he hands her the coffee, "you need this."
She sighs, frowning, "But I've already had my one cup for the day this morning–"
Ethan tenderly places his large hand on her blossoming belly before rubbing it tenderly. "I think this little one is going to be just fine if you have an extra cup today."
"Rams, I–"
"Plus, I'd really like for my child to be born to a mother not locked behind bars." Ethan smirks. "Drink the damn coffee. Doctor's orders."
"You're lucky you're cute," Tatum attempts to scowl, but a thankful grin creeps across her face. She takes a sip of the piping hot cup of Joe and lets out a euphoric moan. "Oh my God, how do women go without a drop of this for nine months?"
Ethan chuckles, pressing his lips to her temple. "Probably the same ones with partners that request a husband stitch."
~🖤~
Tags (new tag list as of 9/26; please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed):
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#husband stitch#can you say malpractice#open heart#choices oph#open heart fanfic#open heart fanfiction#choices oph fanfic#ethan ramsey#dr. ethan ramsey#tatum erikson#dr. tatum erikson#ethan x tatum#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#ethan ramsey x f!oc#ethan ramsey x oc#tathan
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Ricochet
Part IV: "... This Isn't What I Wanted (or Is It Everything?)"
Need to Catch up?
A New Boss (a prequel of sorts)
Part I: “Like Moths to the Flame”
Part II: “So Far Away, but Still So Near”
Part IIIa: “And I Know It Gets Dark…”
Part IIIb: "...But I Know the Way."
Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x F!OC (Tatum Erikson); Tobias Carrick x F!OC (Tatum)
Series Music Inspo: Ricochet by Starset (more of an acoustic fan? Check it here.)
Chapter Music Inspo: "Shapeshifting" by Taylor Acorn
Series Summary: Almost two decades ago, he gave love a chance–and she betrayed him. Now after all of this time, Dr. Ethan Ramsey and Dr. Tatum Erikson realize that their past feelings might not exactly be ancient history–especially now that they are forced to work together.
Chapter Summary: Tatum has called for assistance from the main OR, but will they be any help when several emergencies emerge at the same time? Tatum takes courage and finds her voice when she remembers an awful experience; she meets a new, young surgical resident
Warning: 🔞mature audiences only 🔞 TW: dub-con/non-con 🍋; strong depiction of a medical procedure; strong depiction of a medical emergency involving newborn infant and mother; language (including a slur against woman); angst; discussion of infidelity
Word Count: 4300 (+/-)
A/N: Characters and some plot belong to Pixelberry! Not beta'd, so please excuse my errors. Fair warning: this is not my strongest chapter (I mean, it took my FOREVER to actually finish it and post), but I hope you enjoy the journey regardless.
A/N 2: It really has been forever and day, so here's a recap: *clear throat* Previously in Ricochet... Unable to sleep after his encounter with Casey at Raf and Sienna's wedding, Ethan's heads in to the hospital despite it being his day off; after a challenging talk with Tobias about unspoken intentions with Tatum, the chief heads over to the L&D ORs, where he finds a terrified Tatum in the midst of a rare, very lethal surgery, and her hesitation doesn't go unnoticed by the staff in the observation deck as they ridicule the new chief of OB, Tobias being the ringleader of the hate; Ethan sternly bans them from witnessing the once-in-a-lifetime surgery before turning to encourage Tatum in the most Ethan-way possible: with just a look...
~🖤~
Remaining in her sterile surgical gear, Tatum carefully takes a seat on a metal stool, saving her back for the arduous surgery staring at her on the operating table. She anxiously chews on her lip, her eyes darting across her patient's open abdomen before fixating on her fresh set of steel tools.
The procedure she knows like the back of her hand: clamp, cut, control bleeding. But, with the placenta growing outside of the uterus and into other organs, into the delicate vasculature of the pelvis, it's like going into this surgery blindfolded.
The uterus has to come out–and the patient is well aware of this and prepared. But, this isn't like any other hysterectomy. Will it cost the patient her ovaries? Her bowels and bladder? Her life?
Tatum urgently stands back up, staring at the clock on the wall. It had been over twenty minutes, and her STAT page was yet to be answered by surgery. Too slow for L&D standards; way too slow for her own standards. And at this rate, the patient’s spinal anesthesia is going to dissipate before they even start.
Damnit… think, Tatum, think…
She could always page Ramsey.
No.
Tatum refuses to resort to that. Well, not that calling on him for assistance would be the worst thing in the world.
She had a brief moment of weakness–more like a moment of uncertainty, actually–when she discovered her patient’s unknown lethal condition, and Ethan clearly recognized the fear etched on her face from the gallery; truth be told, the accreta scared him, too.
However, Tatum is a highly skilled physician; her reputation for excellence precedes her. If she needs help, she will ask for it–and she has.
She's embarrassed that she even needed Ethan's reassurance earlier, even if it was just for that moment, that simple nod of 'I believe in you.' Sure, it was supportive, and it gave her that extra push she needed to power forward.
But that look, that damn crystal gaze…
Damnit, why did she have to freeze? It was only for an instant, a very brief second. Tatum Erikson doesn't need a vote of confidence. Not from anyone, not even from the famous Dr. Ethan Ramsey. She is independently strong, independently capable.
But now, Tatum feels as if she's accidentally exposed a secret side to herself, like her own Achilles' heel; it's quite possible now he knows he still has an effect on her.
Worse, now she knows he still has an effect on her.
She turns to Wanda the charge nurse, who shrugs her shoulders to the physician's unspoken question.
Tatum takes a deep cleansing breath, trying her best to stay calm. "Can someone please tell me where the hell is my backup ?"
"Right here, Doctor…"
Hearing the monotoned boredom of an unfamiliar male voice, Tatum spins around to find two gentlemen moseying into her operating room, drying off their hands with blue sterile towels. The tension raking her nerves is instantly relieved, seeing her help arrive.
The older of the men continues. "I'm Dr. Aaron Tanaka, chief of surgery," he nods his head towards the taller gentleman. "And this is one of my fourth-years–"
"Sup?" The young surgical resident smoothly winks at Tatum, popping gum under his mask.
Oh great, a kindergartner… Tatum rolls her eyes as the healthcare team assists the men into their protective gowns. As the physicians roll their gloves over the cuffs of their sleeves, Tatum escorts them over to her patient, catching them up to speed on what has happened so far. Together, Dr. Tanaka and Dr. Erikson develop several plans of how to overcome the patient's lethal risk of hemorrhaging.
"Whoa…" the younger surgeon exclaims, "I have never seen anything like that–"
Tatum clears her throat, glaring at the amateur physician.
"Should I start charging admission?" The patient jokes on the other side of the blue drape, causing the room to snicker loudly.
Tatum leans toward the young doctor, her tone low and syrupy. And quite sarcastic. “Try not to say everything that pops into that feeble little brain of yours–” He pops his chewing gum, winking with a finger gun. Fucking residents…
As the room quiets down, the patient softly whistles to get her surgeon's attention. "Dr. Erikson?" Tatum tucks in her hands, carefully wiggling her body closer to the head of the table to hear the patient clearer.
"Yes ma'am? You ready?"
The patient lowers her voice. "He's not, eh, doing the surgery, is he?" referring to the surgical resident who was shocked by the scene.
The blonde guffaws. "No, ma'am," she glances back to the young doctor who is now talking cooly with her staff, the nurses dow-eyed and eagerly laughing at everything he says. But suddenly, he fixes his flirty, soft copper eyes on Tatum. His intense gaze fools her into inadvertently staring too long as she begins to take note of his tall, trim physique. He begins to smolder, causing her to turn her attention back to her patient. "H–He's here for… my entertainment."
“Is he hot? He sounds hot.” Tatum gives a dramatic wink while her patient shoots a knowing look in return, clicking her tongue and giggling.
“Erikson?” The anesthesthetist breaks her from her reverie, confirming the case status. “We’re ready.”
"Perfect.” Tatum takes her place on a metal step stool, matching her height with her assists. She’s above average height for a woman at five-foot-nine-inches, but still, the men tower over her. She looks around the room with a commanding stance. “Are we set then?"
"Ready when you are, Doc," Dr. Tanaka affirms, others nodding in agreement.
Tatum cracks her neck, taking a big deep breath. "Okay, then," she exhales, surveying her staff, "now who's ready to have a birthday party?"
After a few shared chuckles, the patient was safely intubated and given the proper amount of anesthesia. Seeing that she was safely asleep under the appropriate gasses, Dr. Erikson quickly proceeds with her cesarean surgery, and in record time, she delivers a beautiful six-pound, thirteen-ounce baby girl.
The OB takes the tiny infant in her arms, making cooing noises to welcome the tiny one into the world as she suctions out the mouth and nose with a green bulb syringe.
But as the birthday cheers begin to quiet down around the room, the situation abruptly becomes dire: the baby is limp, her skin becoming dusky gray at the cut of her cord. Tatum continues to stimulate the baby to breathe with no avail.
"C'mon, baby girl," Tatum's words become gruffly matter-of-fact. She wrestles with her legs, flicking her feet vigorously with her fingers, but her tiny frame lays flaccid in the physician's hands like a limp fish.
Lifeless.
No cry.
"Nurse?" Tatum urgently calls out, quickly handing off the stunned baby to the waiting NICU staff. "Keep me updated–" she orders as the team hooks the baby up to specialized monitors, performing the necessary interventions to resuscitate.
Tatum briefly closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before she focuses on the surgery. Opening her eyes, she nods assuredly to Tanaka before continuing. “Pickups.” The surgical tech hands the obstetrician a pair of tissue forceps and a cauterizing tool to continue with her surgery. "I need an update, ladies," Tatum shouts. Her tone is assertive and controlled, commanding and clear. Inwardly she is panicked, but she remains calm, a testament to her leadership skills and her quick thinking.
"We're just past a minute of life. Pulse is 52. Starting compressions… draw up epi… let's get an umbilical line…"
Fuck. Tatum's nerves tangle as she listens to the baby's team of professionals administer medications and physical maneuvers to make her spontaneously breathe on her own. Still, the OB continues steadily and carefully with her surgery, glancing over at the baby every few seconds.
C'mon, baby girl. Cmon. Mama needs you–
Suddenly, a trill of alarms begin to blare rapidly, stealing everyone's attention. Before realizing what had happened, warm, crimson fluid spatters across the surgical field, saturating Tatum's arms, gloves and gown; her mask and shield are covered with blood.
"Erikson!" Shouts the anesthetist, "BP 67/23… heart rate now in the 150s…"
"That vessel on the lateral portion of the accreta blew. She's bleeding out, Erikson–" Tanaka quickly suctions the field of the pooling blood. "She's getting shocky… and fast. How should we proceed?"
Fuck. Tatum grabs a stack of lap pads and tosses them to the young resident. "We need to find the source of this bleeding." He nods and instantly begins soaking up the copious amounts of fluid with the large, thick pieces of gauze as Tatum explores the body cavity with Tanaka.
"BPs dropping," anesthesia hollers.
"Give me a second–"
"Erikson! She doesn't have a second–"
"Bolus her and mass transfuse four units–" Feeling their stares, Tatum looks up at her concerned anesthesia team. "Now!" She growls, her eyebrows furrowing as she returns to the carnage. "Then cross and match four more units… and buy me a goddamn second!"
Taking a deep breath, Tatum flickers her attention to her assistants, both of them giving her an approving nod.
"Damnit! Dr. Erikson! I can't get this intubation on the baby. We need you–"
"Dr. Erikson! Vitals not improving–"
“Dr. Erikson–!”
“Dr. Erikson–!”
Tatum glances around the room, her paralyzing fear slowing down time. All she can hear is the thunder of her own heart racing, the rasp of her breathing echoing in her head. She sees the concerned faces; she hears the whispers of doubt and concern from her colleagues
She’s losing them. The possibility of losing either of them never crossed her mind, but both? A mother and child? This wasn’t the plan; this was never part of the fucking plan.
The sting of tears pricks at Tatum’s reddening eyes.
What do I do?... what have I done?
------
The torrential downpour hushes to a dull tapping of raindrops as hollow roars of thunder rumble in the distance; but, the storm was just beginning for Tatum as she lays frozen in her bed, her sanctuary that she shared only with the love of her life.
And now, his best friend.
The room suddenly feels so different, so strange and unknown. It seems so ordinary, no longer special. The warmth of home has melted away, leaving a peculiar chill of unfamiliarity.
There's a handsome smell, a spicy musk that hangs in the air. But, it’s not Ethan.
There’s a pair of distressed jeans tossed carelessly on the carpet, but the body heat that lingers isn’t from him either.
There’s a set of arms possessively wrapped around her naked body. The skin feels … different. The hair? Different. The actual grip and weight on top of her: it’s different.
It’s not Ethan.
What have I done? Tatum’s eyes pain with the threat of tears, her chest beginning to rise and fall in search of fresh air, in search of clarity. But with each gasp of a new breath, she quietly whimpers in agony for the ache in her heart.
She had broken the most precious thing she owned. That she will ever own.
"You awake?" Tobias croons in her ear as his large hand massages the soft, flat planes of her belly. He tenderly works his way down, his fingers intimately petting her sore, swollen lips between her thighs.
She winces, her toes curling as her body grows rigid from his unwanted touch. She consciously holds her breath, hoping he won't notice her terrified nerves.
"What’s wrong, baby girl?" he whispers, pressing his full lips against her neck, biting at the sensitive area. “Are you needing more already?”
Tatum can feel his heavy erection against her hip, his intentions painfully aware. He slowly rocks himself against her body as if to charm her like a serpent, hypnotizing her to give him exactly what he wants. Another rendezvous; another fuck; another sin.
Desperate for a gentle hand, she foolishly lost herself in Tobias’s caress earlier that evening. She was vulnerable, inebriated, and lonely. In her altered mind, even for just a small moment, being in his arms made sense–well, being in someone's arms made sense. She needed Ethan. She was broken and hurt, and she despairingly needed her boyfriend’s love and comfort.
But, Tobias was there. His words, the look on his face, the heat in his touch: it was exactly what she needed to sooth her wounds. For the moment.
And now, he wants to claim her once more.
Shit, can a woman deny a man if she’s already given in once? Does he have a claim over her, a right, an expectation? The conversation played out in her head: 'You said, ‘yes’ earlier, you tease. You whore…'
Oh God, would he turn on her? Shame her publicly? Worse, would he tell Ethan before she could… that is if she decided to actually tell her boyfriend–no, she had to, right? But if Tobias told Ethan before her, would he be honest about what happened? Or would she become another victim of slut-shaming? 'She couldn't be faithful; what else is she lying about?'
It was one time; it was one mistake. Does that unravel three years of trust? Three years of commitment? Three years of love?
Tatum already knew the answer, and the taste of bile grazes the back of her throat.
She needed to stop this from happening again. But how can she while still protecting herself?
This was a grave mistake…
Tobias gently rolls her over, kissing hungrily against her pout. His tongue swipes across her plump lips, his large hand roaming down the outside of her thigh. But then he stops, sensing her awkwardness. “You okay?” His voice is haunting, dark, his gray eyes piercing her vacant stare.
No. “Uh-huh,” she lies with a nod. The corners of her mouth begin to curl as his hand grips behind her knee, hitching her leg around his waist. Goosebumps ignite across her skin in betrayal as he pushes himself against her throbbing clit.
Stop, her brain screams.
“Relax, Tate,” he growls before reclaiming her lips, nipping and bruising them. "Let me make you feel good."
Tell him to stop.
“Is this okay?”
No. She reluctantly shakes her head 'yes' in agreement.
He aligns his girth with her entrance, fisting the sheets next to her head as he hovers above her docile form.
Say something! Do anything! she screams to herself, but she is paralyzed by fear. It's more than just the fear of the consequences of what's happening. Tatum is terrified of herself.
Then again, maybe she believes she deserves this. It wasn't going to be pleasurable for her, rather an act of attrition. Maybe that's why her body allowed his advances. Maybe she needed to feel the discomfort as a form of punishment for what she had done against Ethan. Maybe this was a last ditch effort to settle the score, to make things even.
Feeling Tobias's weight begin to push into her, she turns her head to her phone laying on the bedside table, praying for Ethan to call her, text her, anything to interrupt this.
But nothing comes through.
And suddenly, she sobs out a painful moan.
------
“Dr. Erikson—!”
Say something… Do anything…
Tatum subtly shakes her head, the horrid memory fleeing her thoughts. The frantic voices of the NICU team pull her attention to the struggling infant.
“Please, doc, we need this intubation. We don’t have time to wait for our back-up–”
Tatum watches the mother’s abdomen pool with blood before turning a pleading stare to her colleague. “Tanaka–?”
“I’m on it.” He elbows his wide-eyed resident, “Suction.”
Say something… Do anything…
Seeing the men take over, Tatum instantly rips off her dirty gown and gloves and positions herself at the head of the baby’s bed.
“Would you like for us to call our back-up?” The neonatal practitioner urgently interrupts.
Tatum remains silent, seemingly ignoring her. She slides a metal apparatus into the infant’s mouth before guiding a clear plastic tube inside the throat and past the vocal cords. Attaching an ambu bag to the special tube to assist with the baby’s breathing, she watches the tiny chest rise and fall in coordination with the squeezing of the ventilation. Tatum steals a stethoscope from a nearby nurse’s neck and listens closely to the lungs.
“Breath sounds…” she moves the flat, round bell to the other side of the tiny torso, “equal and bilateral.” Tatum smirks as on-lookers silently praise her with sighs of relief. “Now,” she continues, “get this kid some epi. Oh! And ma’am?” She turns to the practitioner while handing the stethoscope back to the nurse. “I don’t need back-up.”
Slipping back into her sterile apparel, Tatum rejoins Tanaka and his resident, but quickly notices that he still hasn’t been able to find the source of the bleeding. She looks to anesthesia, “Where are we on our blood?”
“The first unit is pouring into her, but–”
“--she’s bleeding it back out–shit!” Tatum stares at the flood of viscous crimson.
“How would you like to proceed?” Dr. Tanaka questions. “Maybe order some more blood?”
Tatum thinks in silence, racking her brain for a solution.
“Should we call someone? Maybe someone who knows?” Anesthesia sardonically suggests, earning him a hateful side-eye.
“Maybe you should just plug the hole up with your finger,” the resident chuckles, his attending suddenly glaring in disapproval. Tatum glances at him, her eyes squinting into a glower as her eyebrows furrow.
These idiots–
But then she stops. She slowly cocks her head with curiosity as she suddenly considers his words.
Actually…
"My apologies, Dr. Erikson,” Tanaka interjects. “Perhaps we should–"
“--plug the hole up,” Tatum interrupts the seasoned surgeon, echoing the resident's poor joke, only this time, there is a certainty in her voice. "I’m going in." She instantly sticks her gloved hand into the open abdominal cavity, gently feeling her way around the thick, warm fluid.
“Dr. Erikson,” Dr. Tanaka chides, “this… is… highly unusual–”
“Just keep suctioning,” she orders, her hands tenderly brushing against the fragile uterus and the delicate vessels.
Tanaka scoffs, giving a knowing look to a worried anesthesia provider. The tall, young resident looks to his mentor, unsure of what to do… or if there was anything to do. He nervously looks back to Dr. Erikson, but suddenly his jaw falls open.
Her eyes are closed.
"Erikson–?" the anesthesiologist attempts to get her attention.
"Give me a sec," she carefully feels her way through the body.
His voice grows frantic. "Her vitals are–"
"Got it!" She instantly peers up at her staff with relief before turning to her tech. Her hand remains deep inside the patient, her arm twisted at an odd angle. "Get me a 3-O vicryl suture on an SH. Now please."
Tatum works quickly in silence as she temporarily fixes the weak, broken vessel. It wasn't a long-term answer, but this would buy them time to thoroughly clear the area of the accreta while cauterizing the necessary vessels before they performed the hysterectomy.
"Okay, so–" She flashes an innocent gaze to anesthesia, batting her eyelashes. "What were you saying about those vitals, doctor?" She's grateful she's wearing a mask to hide her smirk, but she knows her eyes are giving her away.
"Stabilizing, ma'am, uh. Doctor."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Dr. Tanaka suctions to clear the field–and it stays that way.
"How did you know that would work?" The resident questions, his warm gaze fixating on the blonde OB.
Tatum stops, thoughts racing through her mind as she considers her words. She then subtly shakes her head, returning to the operation. "I didn't… but sometimes even when you don't know what the answer is, you just have to do something. It’s way better than nothing."
------
Impressive. That's the word men use when a lady doctor kicks ass. The anesthesia team along with Dr. Tanaka couldn't stop talking about Tatum's heroic move of plugging up the ruptured vessel with her finger–and doing so only by her sense of touch, completely blind. If she were a man, they would've given her a cigar; but to be described as impressive? She knows her battles; she'll take it.
As they transfer the patient to recovery, Tatum takes a moment to herself to bask in the relief of saving a life. Of saving two. She slips back into the sink area to be alone in silence.
Taking in a deep cleansing breath, she allows her nerves to relax for the first time in several hours. She tightly clenches her watering eyes shut, taking pleasure in the subtle sting of warmth after being in the frigid sterile air.
She grips firmly to the edge of the sink as she wiggles and contorts her body, feeling the sudden release of tension as her joints crack and pop.
She's grateful; she knows the success of the surgery was not by her doing alone. She would never be foolish enough to be that cocky, to truly think that something like this was completely in her control. There's only so much in her power, so much that science and her skills can fix. But when lives are left to chance, she’s grateful that the gamble fell into her favor.
"Am I interrupting anything?"
Instantly recognizing the familiar lax vocal timbre, Tatum looks up from the large steel sinks to find the tall, surgical resident, leaning against the doorway outside the operating room. She smiles appreciatively at him as he takes off his blue mask.
He's young– maybe in his late twenties–and handsome with a natural caramel glow to his skin. The lines of his face are cut sharp, chiseled into perfect angles. He’s slender, but well-toned; his green scrub top pulls snug around the musculature of his biceps. Although his hibiscus-laden scrub cap covers his head, his sun-kissed brunette tresses are pulled back into a tiny ponytail. Most of the hairs, however, have already worked their way out of the elastic, resting on the nape of his neck.
"No," Tatum shakes her head, "not at all."
He steps into the room, casually sliding his hands into his pockets. “Can I just say… that was incredible.”
Tatum stifles a bright smile, feigning nonchalance as she picks at her nails. "I mean–" She glances back up at him, but seeing the glint of excitement reciprocated, she instantly forgets whatever smart-ass comment she was about to make and squeals. “God, that was fucking cool, wasn’t it?”
"The fucking coolest! One of the most interesting cases I've seen in a while," he sucks in his bottom lip, his dimpled grin plastered wide across his face. "You just…” he snickers under his breath, “wow, I don't see myself forgetting this anytime soon."
Their playfulness quickly vanishes as Tatum catches a hint of something in his tone. Is he flirting? Becoming hyper-aware of his proximity, an err of awkwardness falls between them. Feeling heat bloom on her cheeks, Tatum quickly attempts to rectify the situation by clearing her throat, rolling back her shoulders to straighten out her back. “By the way, thank you," she starts, "for your help in there with the, uh… with the, um–" Unable to find the right words, she begins holding up her pointer finger, spinning it around in the air. "Um… You know? The whole fingering thing–I mean–"
He chuckles, coyly looking down at the ground before meeting her gaze again, flashing his pearly whites. "Dr. Erikson, are you accusing me of 'fingering' in your OR?"
Tatum's eyes widen. She purses her lips together to stifle her laughter. Oh, so you're a bad kindergartner… "That… that's not what I meant, uh… doctor… um–"
"Bryce," he holds out his hand to take hers. "Bryce Lahela."
Speechless, Tatum mindlessly places her hand in his palm. She clears her throat again as she shakes his hand sternly in a poor attempt of being professional. "Nice to officially meet you--" she states matter-of-factly, "--Bryce. I'm–"
"--going to Donahue's," he interrupts.
"What?"
He snickers. "You're going to Donahue's for a drink."
"Oh, am I now?"
"You are," he takes a step closer, the front of his Crocs kissing the toes of her tennis shoes. "With me. Those are the rules."
"Rules?"
"Mhmm," he hums as he lifts up her hand. Tatum didn't realize that he was still holding on even after their professional handshake. He points to the small tattoo on her wrist that she normally covers with her watch. "See this right here?"
"My tattoo?" She giggles sardonically to herself, curious as to what line he's about to feed her.
"You're a Virgo," he flashes a smirk, "which means we need to satisfy that impulsive side of yours by grabbing drinks together. In celebration of your badassery today, of course."
"Oh, of course," Tatum jests, pulling her hand away from him. "Too bad I'm not a Virgo," she turns to walk away, but stops herself, glancing back to him. "Also… you suck at astrology," she giggles before walking away from the sink area.
Bryce chuckles under his breath before jogging to catch up with her. "What’s with the Virgo ink then?"
Tatum rolls her eyes, glancing briefly at the collection of connected stars. "Long story–"
"--which… you can tell me… over drinks at Donahue's!" They both fall into laughter as Tatum comes to a stop in the hallway.
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Hey, I wasn't lying about the rules. We have to celebrate."
Tatum looks up and down the empty corridor before crossing her arms, considering his proposition. God, is this what she is resorting to these days? Last night, Tobias and tonight, a resident? Who really is this guy anyway?
Tatum wasn't sure if he was messy or complicated; but he was gorgeous, and he was available. Maybe. And he wasn't Ethan Ramsey.
"One drink. As colleagues. That's it."
~🖤~
Tags (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed):
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@alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam
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------
Thank you so much for your support! Every like, comment and reblog means the world to me! 🖤
#open heart#choices open heart#choices oph#ethan ramsey#dr. ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x f!oc#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#ethan x tatum#tathan#tobias carrick#dr. tobias carrick#bryce lahela#dr. bryce lahela#aaron tanaka#dr. aaron tanaka#choices fanfic#ricochet#open heart ricochet#tw dubcon#tw dubious consent#tw noncon#tw
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Summary: After Tatum throws a New Year's Eve party, Ethan finds a way to make the night memorable.
Word Count: ~2600
Warning/Rating: teen; mild language; fairly fluffy; *TW* there is a semi-angsty plot to this story that may be upsetting to more sensitive readers, but as the writer, I'd like to let the story unfold how I've written it; if you are more sensitive and aren't sure about this (and there is nothing wrong with that!) expand this post, and quickly scroll to the bottom. After the tags, you will see in red "Trigger Warnings". Hopefully this will give you guidance on whether or not to read. I don't say this to be "shocking"; this plot has been written about many, many times before; but I just want to give readers an opportunity to choose.
A/N: Some of these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry; special thanks to @sfb123 for helping me steer through some kinks! You rock!
~🖤~
Surveying the large, living quarters of the townhouse, a contented sigh escapes her lips. Silence. The last of their party guests left almost an hour ago, and now only the wreckage of the new year celebration remains. Metallic confetti litters the floor along with noise makers and top hats. Empty glasses line the bar and sink area of the kitchen as black and gold balloons dance with the subtle draft of the room.
Entertaining people and playing the 'hostess with the mostest' has always been Tatum's niche. She finds it therapeutic to create a welcoming, home-like atmosphere where starving hearts and bellies do not exist–something she dreamed about as a little girl.
This year was different though.
Tatum holds her balance against the sink as she slips off her kitten heels and into her house-shoes, her slender feet relishing in the relief of the padding. She slowly raises back up, minding the curve to her sore back as she begins to pour out half-empty glasses of warm champagne and sparkling juice.
A sudden glint of metal flashes in the darkness of the hallway, catching her attention. And she smiles, her eyes admiring every step he takes, drawing closer to her. Ethan.
With his jacket already shrugged off, he unclips his bow tie and suspenders, tossing them on the chaise lounge. His thinning salt-and-pepper curls are tousled handsomely out of place. Tatum instantly feels his eyes on her as he relaxes a shoulder against the doorframe.
"Did you check on the babes?" Tatum gently fills the top dishwasher rack.
"Mhmm," he hums, a playful grin crawling across his face.
"Are they all four still asleep?"
"Finally," Ethan smirks, playfully rolling his eyes. "Jonah… he just–"
Tatum stops drying her crystal cake stand, turning towards her husband at the mention of their eight-year-old grandson. Though he was the oldest, he was the most sensitive of the bunch. And it had been an extremely hard year of change for him. "Do you think… um, maybe I should go in and–"
Ethan tisks his tongue, subtly shaking his head. "He's asleep now."
"But maybe he just needs a few more cuddles, or–"
"Tate, don't worry," Ethan steps forward. Placing his hands on her shoulders. "Just let him rest. He knows we're here."
Tatum grows quiet, biting her lip as she turns her worried expression back down the dark hallway. She clasps her hands together, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I guess I just wanted another excuse to hold my grandbabies a little longer tonight–"
"Baby," Ethan croons, stepping closer. "No tears, remember?"
"I know, I know," she lifts up her glasses, dabbing at her eyes. "They're just… getting so big," she titters through her tears. "I need time to slow down."
Tatum clears her throat as she suddenly catches her reflection in the microwave. Her hair is still elegantly pulled back into a classic bun; the diamond embellishments of her hairpins bring out the brilliant silver strands, crowning her once-platinum locks.
She gently pulls at the thinning skin around her eyes… and then her neck as she notices her lipstick settling into the deep grooves around her lips.
"Still enchanting," Ethan watches her intently. "Y'know? I think you are possibly more stunning than that first day of orientation." He wraps his arms around her shoulders. "Tanned skin… long blonde hair pushed back by those sunglasses…Those low-rise jeans showing off your–oh, what's the thing called?"
She chuckles. "My tramp stamp? I can't believe you remember all of that."
Ethan nuzzles into her neck before peeking back up to meet her gaze in the reflective appliance door. "How could I forget? It was one of the happiest days of my life."
Tatum closes her eyes, pressing her cheek against her husband's stubbled face. The sting of tears threaten to fall as she savors his warm touch. This man…
Lost in the moment, Tatum drops her dish towel on the ground. "Oh," she laughs at herself, pulling out of his arms. She plunges her hands back into sink with dirty dishes. "I guess I better get back to work, maybe even take a few trash bags out. I really need to-'" she suddenly stops, feeling Ethan's crystal eyes glisten with adoration. "What?" She chuckles, furrowing her brow.
A rosy swirl grows on Ethan’s cheeks as he shakes his head.
"Tell me," her voice softens.
He lets out a sharp exhale. And then offers a crooked grin, slowly extending his arm to his bride. "Come here."
Tatum cocks her head suspiciously, biting her bottom lip. She hesitantly pads closer to him, the hem of her dress pooling around her slippers. She cautiously places her petite hand into his large palm.
He grips tightly to her delicate fingers before pulling her into his embrace, their gazes remain fixed to one another. "Dance with me."
Tatum fumbles into a titter, covering her mouth. "You? Want to dance?"
He chuckles before guiding her arms behind his neck. He then quickly lays his own strong hands on her lower back. "Just dance with me."
"But… there’s no music–"
Ethan clears his throat. "Should auld acquaintance be forgot…" They both fall into snickers, pressing their foreheads together as Ethan struggles with finding the right notes. "Let's try something else. Alexa," he calls out over his shoulder, "play our song." As the first chord of the familiar piano intro softly builds, Ethan subtly sways to the beat.
Tatum grips endearingly around Ethan's neck, matching his movements. Listening to him quietly hum along to Forest Blakk, she takes refuge in her husband’s arms.
"... paint a map back to the start, leaving footprints to remind us: where you go, I go. And if you fall, I'll fall…"
Ethan plants sweet kisses along her hairline as she nuzzles into his shoulder, moving her arms to hug his waist snuggly. Feeling his warmth surrounding her body, smelling his woodsy scent: she's home.
The ambient lighting of the room casts a gentle glow across the open space, refracting against picture frames mounted to the wall. Still swaying against her husband's body, Tatum slightly opens an eye to take in the collage of their life.
She settles in on a picture from their wedding day. It was a candid shot taken by a friend that showcased an unflattering double-chin of the bride, her nose scrunched up as she laughed at a secret joke her groom had whispered in her ear. With wild, tousled waves and a pink lipstick smudge on his cheek, Ethan wore a bright smile, bearing all of his teeth that people still talk about to this day.
It was a perfectly imperfect picture to sum up the perfectly imperfect union of a perfectly imperfect couple that was always meant to be. But even after thirty-six years of marriage, it still wasn't enough time together.
"Tatum?" Ethan whispers, her name saturated with sadness.
She quickly peers up at her husband, noticing the tears collecting in his eyes. She cups his face in her hands, her gaze growing concerned.
"I… I'm so sorry," he chokes out, bowing his head while his jaw begins to quake.
"Rams–?"
"I… I made a mistake, Tate. A… huge one." He takes hold of her hands as he considers his words. "Tatum Ramsey… you're the love of my life…" a tear gently rolls across the weathered planes of his face, their stares locked on one another. "And… I failed to tell you that. Every day—"
"Baby–" her eyes begin to burn with her own emotions as she reaches up to brush away the wetness from his face.
"I should've told you, Tate," he swallows the lump in his throat, "I should've told you every damn day… that I love you."
"Ethan," she breathes, pulling him closer to rest her cheek to his. "It doesn't matter if you told me or not. I always, always felt it. Everyday. Sometimes in the most… unconventional of ways," she titters, a jovial grin breaking out onto his face. "But I always knew."
Ethan presses his lips gently to Tatum's mouth before whisking her back into rhythm with the music floating around them.
Laying her head back on Ethan’s chest, a cold chill suddenly travels down Tatum's spine. Something's not right; something… is missing. She nuzzles into his body further, but still something is wrong. She can hear her pulse in her ears, and she can feel the rise and fall of her own chest…
But as far as her husband?
Silence.
She abruptly pulls back from him, gripping tightly to his shirt. Her breathing grows heavy as she untucks the white cotton fabric from his slacks, frantically unfastening each button.
Finally pulling the material back, Tatum's air is stolen from her lungs as her body grows limp.
An array of watercolor blues, violets and haunting grays splash across his broad chest. With trembling fingers, she presses her hand to the large, flesh-colored surgical scar climbing up the middle of his chest.
And suddenly the room fades to black as the memory from three months ago floods before her eyes.
It was too much. It was all too much…
------
Three Months Earlier…
"Rams, do you mind?" Tatum turns her back to her husband, motioning for him to fasten the zipper of her elegantly-beaded gown. "I can't reach."
Giving her a crooked smile, he stops fidgeting with his bowtie, and easily cinches the dress closed. He kisses the back of her neck before slipping a hand down her full hips. "This is beautiful."
"Do you like it?" She dramatically poses like a Hollywood starlet, batting her fake eyelashes.
"No," Ethan twirls her around, his mouth meeting hers. "I love it."
"Well, good," Tatum giggles, walking back into her closet to grab her clutch. "The recipient of the Lasker award needs hot arm candy." As she steps back out of the en suite, she notices Ethan balling up his fist before relaxing it, his eyebrows furrowing. "You okay?"
"Hrmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine,” he winces, stretching out his fingers again. “I think I pushed a little too hard moving Dad yesterday."
"Are you sure? We don't have to go–"
"Tate–"
"It's been a stressful week," her voice softens as she fixes the gray waves on the back of his head. "The coordinators know about your dad and the stroke and… moving him into hospice." Her eyes begin to glisten, "they–" she clears her throat, "they know about our son being deployed back to the Middle East. Maybe we should–"
"Tate, I'm fine," he grins. "Just overworked muscles."
"Overworked, period," she grumbles.
Even though Ethan retired last year, he was still dedicating more time than ever to his first love: medicine. Research, conferences, special speaking engagements and even a new book deal have robbed him of much of his freetime.
He kisses her pursed lips. "After Christmas."
She sighs, unable to hide a growing grin. "After Christmas," she repeats.
"We'll finally have time off. We’ll bring in the new year–just the two of us… and… we'll talk about cutting back. I promise."
---
The evening was like a dream; the Lasker commissioners and event coordinators developed quite an opulent experience in an honor of Ethan's achievements. They even surprised him with a few keynote speakers from his past, including colleagues from Johns Hopkins and the diagnostics team.
After the ceremony, Ethan and Tatum were separated, mingling with world-class physicians and scientists. Tatum was deep into a conversation with two midwives from Denmark when she felt a pair of piercing blue eyes admiring her from afar. Looking up, she was instantly entranced. Smiling at her husband, she watches him push up his bifocals as he sucked in his bottom lip, teasing her with a wink.
Tatum looked away, but only for a moment to chase the heat away from her cheeks. Gaining composure, she looked back to where Ethan was standing.
But he wasn't there.
If only she had been paying closer attention, Tatum would've noticed the ashen-tone to his skin…
If only she had been paying closer attention, she would've noticed the beads of sweat pouring from his brow…
If only she had been paying closer attention, she would've noticed his body was saying, 'goodbye'...
After nineteen minutes in tireless attempts to revive him, his heartbeat returned. But the surgery…
It was too much. It was all too much…
------
Present Day...
The sudden clanking of hard metal hits the wooden floor, jarring Tatum from her thoughts. She quickly glances around the room, noticing instantly she's once again alone.
The sound grows closer, rolling across the ground like a marble until it gently crashes against her slipper. Looking down at the golden trinket, she subtly shakes her head in disbelief as she cautiously lowers herself onto her knees.
Ethan's wedding ring.
She holds the precious jewelry to her chest as she glances back to their wedding picture, large tears coursing down her cheeks. "I miss you too," she whispers into the darkness as she succumbs to her sniffles.
"Gigi?"
Tatum startles, turning to see her oldest grandson watching her from the hallway. "Jonah," she brightens, wiping away the wetness in her eyes. "What are you doing up, baby?"
He rubs his eyes. "Couldn't sleep."
Noticing his sad splotchy eyes, Tatum holds her arms up as he crashes safely into her embrace. "Are you missing your daddy?" Snuggled into her shoulder, the young boy nods his head quietly. Tatum gently rubs his back. "I miss him too."
Jonah sits up on his grandma's lap, his eyes trained to the gold band hiding between her fingers. "But, Papa told me Dad's busy being a hero."
"That's right, baby. Your dad–" Tatum pauses, registering what her grandson just said. "Papa?" Tatum clears her throat, "--you talk to… Papa?"
"Uh-huh," he nonchalantly answers. "Well, sometimes."
Tears begin to collect in Tatum's eyes, but she tries her best to keep calm. She begins to comb her fingers through his blond locks. "What do you talk about?" Jonah giggles, shrugging his shoulders. "What?" Tatum titters as her grandson laughs harder. She begins to playfully tickle him, poking at his tummy. "Are you just telling stories?"
"No," he squeals into more snickers.
"Is it a secret?"
"No," he singsongs, becoming more bashful. "It's just… I know it's silly, but… sometimes I tell him about school, and baseball… and Mom… and Josiah, Isaac and Embry… and–and my science projects–"
"Hey," Tatum gently grabs his chin, making him look into her eyes. "None of that is silly. And I know he loves hearing about those things," her jaw begins to tremble. "And I know he loves hearing from you... he loves you so much."
Jonah smiles proudly as his eyes shine from unshed tears. He hugs his grandmother's neck, feeling the warmth and comfort of her hold. "He loves you too, Gigi."
Tatum's eyes squeeze tight as a sob bubbles out. Gathering herself, she takes her grandson's cheeks in her hands. "Did…Papa tell you that?"
He nods guiltily. "Gigi, did I make you sad? Mommy said not to bring up Papa because it'll make you sad. I--I didn't mean to--"
"No, baby," she whispers as she begins to cry harder, hugging him tighter. "I'm... so, so happy. You always make me so, so happy. " She tenderly presses a kiss against his temple. "And you know? You can always talk to me about Papa. It actually makes me happy talking about him."
"Really?" He gives a curious look to his grandmother. "Why?"
Tatum takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She glances back to her wedding photo, squeezing tightly to Ethan's wedding ring between her fingers. "I guess talking about him makes me... not feel so lonely, like... he's still here with us."
"Because he is still with us, Gigi."
"That's right, baby," Tatum whispers softly, pushing back her tears as she pulls her grandson in for a hug. "When did you get so smart?" They both titter as he sits up on her lap, shrugging his shoulders. "Tell you what: I know it's late, so you can't tell your mom. But how about we camp out here, drink some hot chocolate and watch one of Papa's favorite movies?"
"Really?"
Tatum boops his nose. "Really."
~🖤~
Tags (list updated 9/22; if you'd like to be added/ removed, please message me!)
@alj4890 @ao719 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam
@alyshak92 @annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate
TRIGGER WARNINGS: major character death; brief medical discussion; discussion of grieving and the afterlife
#open heart#choices open heart#open heart fanfic#open heart fanfiction#choices fanfiction#choices fanfic#choices oph#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x f!oc#ethan x tatum#tathan#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#new year's ever
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ethan’s reaction to tatum getting up in the middle of the night to get water or something & then coming back & giving him a lil smooch on his forehead thinking he’s asleep? what about if it was the other way around? im in a fluffy sappy mood lol 💖
Mal! 💜 I adore you and your kindness and that sweet fluffy sappiness of yours! Thank you so much for all of the Asks that you have been sending out! They have been so much fun. Sending you major hugs... and a drabble that NO ONE asked for, that did NOT follow the directions (what else is new?). 😘
Word Count: ~1000
Summary: With baby Ramsey not sleeping through the night, Ethan and Tatum make a pact of who gets up with the little one.
Rating/Warning: teen; language; innuendos
AN: Huge thank you to my sweet, creative friend @sfb123 who helped me brainstorm banter! What is with us and Monday mornings? lol Love you! Our lovely broody doctor belongs to our friends at Pixelberry. Also, I haven't revealed Baby Ramsey's gender just yet, so if you see a random "he" or "she", don't get too excited. And last but not least: now that they're married, when they're being silly, Ethan and Tatum call each Mr. and Mrs. rather than "doctor".
~💜~
"Goodnight, my little vampire," Tatum whispers, a smirk hidden in her exhausted eyes. Ensuring that the mobile above the crib is set on a timer, she tiptoes out of the darkened nursery. Leaning her back against the closed door, she exhales a sigh of relief before returning to her bed.
Ethan and Tatum were lucky to have a baby that started sleeping through the night at ten weeks of age. However, a little regression happened this past week when their almost five-month old started cutting their first few teeth. The couple agreed there was no point in both of them getting up to soothe their little one; so they made a pact that whoever woke up first would tend to the baby. It was a great idea. In theory.
Tatum found herself alone, waking up every few hours for the past six days. She was extremely fatigued, and her nipples were sore from the cluster-feeding. Ethan, however, was sleeping like a baby–better than their actual baby. How the hell was he resting through their child's high pitched shrills for comfort?
As Tatum sneaks back into their master bedroom, she stares at her sleeping husband, his eyes peacefully closed, snuggly tucked under the covers.
And her eyebrows begin to furrow as her lips twist. Is he really asleep? Like, is he actually sleeping through all of this commotion?
Bullshit.
She carefully crawls between the sheets before leaning over to look at her quiet husband.
We'll just see about that...
"Are you awake?" Tatum barely whispers. He doesn't flinch, continuing to slumber. She sweetly presses her lips to his cheek before laying her head on his shoulder, cuddling against his still body. She runs her fingers across the musculature of his bare chest before undoing the drawstring of his pajama pants. But still, he remains motionless.
Oh, you are faking, you fake-ass faker…
Tatum scowls. She feels her pulse begin to race as she becomes more and more irritated by the minute. It was time to hit him where it hurt.
Let's see how well you sleep to this…
"Oh, baby," she mewls, "I don't know how we're gonna do this... with two babies in diapers in just a few short months."
"The fuck?"
Tatum feels the mattress dip next to her. She looks up to find a very stunned Ethan, anxiously pulling at his hair.
"Oh! Sweetheart," she feigns sincerity, sitting up in bed, "did I wake you up?"
"Tatum," he grabs her face tenderly, fear crashing into his eyes. "Are… are you really?"
Tatum shrugs before putting her fists on her hips. "Are you really fake sleeping so you don't have to get up with the baby?"
"Unbelievable," Ethan grunts, throwing himself back onto his pillow, turning his back to his wife.
"You know what? You're right, Ethan Ramsey," she snarls. "You are unbelievable." She roughly fluffs her pillow before throwing it down on the bed. Beyond angry, she begins to sniffle, turning her back to her husband.
Hearing her whimpers, Ethan glances over his shoulder to see her body tremble with each sob. He lets out a deep exhale before turning around to face Tatum. He clears his throat. "So… maybe I have been taking advantage of you, trying to get more sleep…"
Tatum turns around, the corner of her mouth turning up as she listens to her husband's attempt to apologize.
"But Tate," he scoffs, "what am i supposed to do?" He taps his chest, "You've got what the goods–"
"That's what the bottles are for, Rams–"
Suddenly they are silenced by the familiar scream of their tiny human, shrieking in the darkness. Ethan sighs, massaging his temple. "This doesn't last forever," he mumbles.
"This doesn't last forever," Tatum kindly grins, taking his hand and kissing the back of it. "Just hit the button with the picture of a bottle on it." Her words begin to slur as she relaxes, closing her eyes.
After a good twenty minutes, baby Ramsey finally settled down which finally settled down Tatum's mommy heart. Hearing Ethan's heavy steps coming back to the bedroom, she quickly shuts her eyes and pretends to be asleep.
Ethan crawls into bed and stares at his wife. And he snickers to himself. He brushes his lips across her forehead before whispering into her ear.
"I know you're awake."
Tatum remains still as Ethan raises an eyebrow, his eyes not leaving her still, peaceful body.
"You know how I know you're awake?"
Tatum remains silent, her eyes resting shut.
"Because you're not sawing logs." He notices a slight purse to her lips, trying to stifle her laughter. All of a sudden, Ethan lets out a giant snore, tickling his wife's sides.
She squeals, wildly kicking. She finally jolts up, grabbing her pillow and begins to playfully swat at her husband. "I… don't…. snore, you… asshole!"
Laughing uncontrollably, Ethan grabs a pillow to defend himself. "Now who's faking sleep."
Tatum stops, trying her best to look mad, but she can't help, but giggle.
"Do I know you? Or do I know you?" Ethan snickers as he fluffs up his side of the bed to go back to sleep. "You can't pull a fast one on me. I know when you're faking."
They both finally quiet down into comfortable silence as they readjust their bodies in bed, becoming more relaxed–that is until Tatum opens her mouth.
"You don't know when I fake an orgasm."
"Tatum Ramsey!" Ethan roars, "are you fucking kidding me right now?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "Wouldn't you like to know..."
Tatum suddenly yelps as Ethan grips his large hands around her hips, jerking her body underneath his. "Wrong answer, Mrs. Ramsey," he nuzzles his thick lips into her neck, eliciting soft giggles and moans from his wife.
She cradles his head in his arms, firmly tugging at his dark waves as her voice turns breathy, flirty. "What are you going to do about it, Mr. Ramsey?"
He lifts her leg around his own waist before giving her ass a swift spank. "I dare you to fake it this time."
~💜~
Tags (this is my new list as of 9/26; if you wish to be added/removed, let me know!):
PERMA
@21-wishes @alj4890 @angelasscribbles @ao719 @charlotteg234 @harleybeaumont @issabees @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @tessa-liam
ALL OPH
@alyshak92 @annfg8 @cariantha @lsvdw-blog @mvalentine @ofmischiefandmedicine @rookiemartin @starrystarrytrouble @youlookappropriate
#open heart drabble#choices open heart#open heart#choices oph#ethan ramsey#dr. ethan ramsey#ethan x tatum#ethan ramsey x tatum erikson#tathan#baby ramsey
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Is there a trait Baby Ramsey share with their parents, that makes people say “yeap, that’s you right there”?
Hey, Anon! This was such a cute Ask. Thank you so much for sending it my direction! I'm sure my answer is very similar to what others have shared, but ever since I pictured this baby, he/she has this trait (and you might be able to guess it just from knowing his/her parents. Here's a small little fic. I hope you enjoy! 💜
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!OC (Tatum Erikson)
Synopsis: While celebrating his/her first birthday, a few colleagues make note that Baby Ramsey looks and acts just like Tatum. Well, for the most part.
Word Count: ~1180
Warning/Rating: mature; language; brief mention of possible sexual misconduct
A/N: Some of these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry; Julian Santiago is an ENT that went to med school with Ethan and Tobias; Bryce is married to Erin Winters (a beautiful OC of @kat-tia801); also, if you are new, I have not released the name or gender of baby Ramsey on purpose--I want it to be revealed in his or her own story. Also, this is not preread! Please forgive my errors!
~🖤~
"Dr. Santiago!"
The tall, broad-shouldered man turns towards the lax voice, chirping his name. And he smiles.
"Ah, Bryce Lahela," he chuckles, giving the young surgeon a firm handshake. "Good to see you, and please, just Julian." The men raise their cups of punch in salutations before they survey the brightly decorated room. “Where’s your wife?”
“Probably with your wife,” Bryce suggests as he continues to nod hello to other people in the room. As if on a cue, a group of women squeal exuberantly from across the room. Bryce winces before offering a crooked smile at the sudden, ear-piercing screams. “Oh yeah–”
“Yep," Julian jovially gives an approving nod, "there they are.” He takes a sip of his drink, but is accidentally bumped into by another party-goer. "God,” he scoots out of their way, “can you believe this place?"
Bryce raises his eyebrows, observing the overly crowded room of joyful smiles. "Who's watching the patients?" He snickers. "I swear at least half of Edenbrook is here."
"No doubt," Julian grins. "The guest list was clearly Tate's doing. If it were up to Ethan, there probably wouldn't even be a party. Hell, he doesn't even tolerate this many people." They fall into knowing titters, taking another pull of their drinks. Suddenly, another man sneaks up between them, slapping their backs, causing each man to nearly spill their beverages.
"Fuck,” Julian mutters, instantly recognizing the obnoxious intruder. "They really did invite everyone– more like anyone..."
Bryce hides his curling lips. "Hi, Dr. Carrick–"
Tobias throws his arms around his colleagues' necks, pulling them conspiratorially close. "Please tell me there are booze at this thing."
"Dude, it’s 11:30 AM… on a Sunday… at a one-year-old's birthday party," Bryce enunciates as he raises an eyebrow.
"Clearly you've never been in the same room as two women you've slept with–"
“Pssh, because you’re the only man in the world that has game? Please,” Julian rolls his eyes.
Tobias clears his throat. “To clarify: two women… Same night." He shifts his guilty gray eyes to both men. "Last night.”
“Ha!" Julian snorts, "Oh yeah, there he is. There’s our angel Tobias,” Julian snickers, shaking his head. "You're fucked, bruh–"
"--in more ways than one," Bryce interjects, causing him and Julian to fall into belly laughs.
“Ha ha, laugh it up, fuckers–”
"It sounds like some of our favorite uncles are having a good time," Tatum giggles, twirling around with three chilled bottles of beer in her hand with a chunky blond twelve-month-old on her hip. She hands the three men a beverage as she switches the baby to her other side. “Tobe–” she lowers her voice, “--we don’t say words like that here,” she snickers, the other men laughing along with her.
"Hey, sweetheart," Julian places a friendly peck on Tatum's forehead. "Shit, I can't believe Ramsey 2.0 is already a year old," Julian gently cups his hand around the baby's soft head.
Tatum playfully stares deadpan at her good friend. "You're telling me," she turns to look at her first born who is holding out their hand to an expressive Bryce.
“Time for another one,” Bryce sing-songs.
“And turn out like you and Erin? Three for the price of two pregnancies?” She covers her child’s ears again as she whispers, “Hell. No.”
"My God, Tate," Bryce starts, all three men clearly thinking the same thing as they admire the toddler. "This little one is like your mini-me. Same eyes, hair, nose," Bryce kindly smiles as tiny fingers grip tightly around his finger. Tatum beams with joy as she takes in the moment.
“This is Ethan’s baby, right?” Tobias jokes as Tatum slaps his shoulder.
“Asshole,” Tatum sardonically grimaces. Tobias’s face grows serious as he quietly holds up a finger to his lips and points to the baby, causing the group of doctors to fall into quiet laughter. “Anyway, we really appreciate you guys coming,” she kindly grins. “And seriously, help yourselves to anything.” As the men give chaste kisses to Tatum’s cheek, they each wave goodbye to the little one who eagerly returns the sentiments by blowing slobbery kisses.
“Such a social butterfly,” Bryce mentions.
“Just like Tate,” Julian appreciatively nods his head before taking a sip of his beer. “Thank fuck, can you imagine a baby like Ramsey?” He shudders. Tobias titters, clinking the neck of his beer with his old colleague before taking a swig.
“Ethan’s not that bad,” Bryce defends.
Tobias nearly chokes on his beer as Julian wipes away his smile. “Look, Lahela. You know… Tatum’ed Ethan. We?” He motions his hand in between his body and Tobias. “We know the prick that is Ethan Ramsey–”
“Hey, I dealt with his wrath when I was an intern–”
“No, no. He was worse before he ever met Tatum.”
“Ah hell, really?” Bryce takes a sip of his beer. “He was that much worse?”
“Shit, this one time–”
“If I can have everyone’s attention please!” Tatum calls out in a booming, cheerful voice. The three men along with the other guests turn towards her to listen. She takes a moment to graciously and tearfully thank everyone for celebrating the special day with them, baby Ramsey cheesing in her arms the entire time.
“I think someone is ready for some cake,” she chuckles. “Rams?”
As if on cue, Ethan walks out with a small, single tier cake with a candle that matches the larger cake next to the snacks on the refreshment table. Tatum gently tucks her little one into the decorated high chair while Ethan lights the wick. The little one’s blue eyes grow wide at the flame, eliciting a few awes and giggles from the gathered crowd.
“Are we ready?” Tatum smiles as Ethan snakes an arm around her waist. “On the count of the three, we’ll all start singing ‘Happy Birthday’.” Her watery eyes find her husband’s icy blues as he gives her a reassuring squeeze. She takes a deep breath as she looks back to her one-year-old baby. “One, two… three!”
All at once, everyone starts proudly singing ‘Happy Birthday’.
Except for Julian and Tobias.
Both men have their hands over their mouths, stifling their obnoxious laughs. Bryce continues to sing, but glares at his colleagues.
“I can’t,” Tobias finishes his beer, walking away into the kitchen as Julian dabs the tears from his watering eyes.
“What is so funny?” Bryce whispers, grateful that the singing is much louder than their snickers.
“Look," Julian chuckles, "look at that kid right now.”
Bryce cranes his neck between party guests, finally catching a good view of Baby Ramsey. And his face falls while the corners of his mouth turn up.
Damn, if looks could kill…
There, slumped in a high chair, was the angriest-looking baby anyone had ever seen, complete with deep furrowed brows, a frown, and a deep glare.
“Holy geeze, that kid is mean-muggin’ everyone–and during ‘Happy Birthday’!” Bryce chokes out before falling into quiet titters.
Julian finally is able to control himself as he finishes his beer. “Oh yeah, there he is. There’s our Ethan.”
~🖤~
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Summary: After a heated conversation with friends about the Ramsey’s decision not to have children, Tatum begins to wonder if their plan is truly what her new husband wants. A quiet moment with Sienna's daughter solidifies everything.
Word Count ~3215
Warning: 🔞 Mature Audiences Only🔞 language; lots of baby/family planning talk, very brief mention of medical complications that effect fertility; bullying/shaming
A/N: I was sent a sweet "Ask" last week, where I had to choose 1 out of 4 pics, and use it as a prompt (Ask and pic shown under the cut). @messrprongss thank you so, so much for including me with this! It was such a tough choices with the pics, but this was such a FUN idea, and I loved pulling this together. Hopefully this fic will be somewhat entraining! Thanks again! *hugs* 💜
A/N 2: Some of the characters belong to Pixelberry; Tatum is my OC (as well as Dr. and Mrs. Bryant, and baby Gabriela), and Erin belongs to my sweet writing buddy @kat-tia801 (you should totally check out her fics about Bryce x Erin; surgery has never looked this good). This fic was not beta'd or pre-read, so please forgive my mistakes!
~🖤~
The clang and clatter of silver utensils against the ornate china fade into a single muted buzz in her ears. The conversation and the jubilant laughter seem to warp into slow-motion, the reverberation of the voices almost haunting, like something out of a horror movie. Dr. Tatum Erikson, the new Mrs. Ramsey, covers her mouth with the cloth napkin, concealing her attempts to rebreathe her own air to slow down the heaving of her chest.
Fluttering her eyes closed, a warm, calloused hand gently caresses her inner thigh under the table. Ethan. The handsome gravel of her husband’s whisper along with the waft of his subtle woodsy cologne suddenly breaks through to her anxious heart, and she can feel her headspace returning back to the dinner party at the Aveiros.
“Are you okay?” Ethan asks quietly, his nose grazing against his wife’s earlobe. “That got intense there–”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tatum answers softly, still covering her mouth. “I just don’t understand why people think they’re going to change our minds,” she sighs before her voice becomes slightly louder, more irritated. “And then to throw my profession in my face–”
“Shhh,” Ethan sweetly sooths, pressing his lips into her hairline. “I know, I know.”
Tatum pauses with a blank expression, staring aimlessly at a saucer in front of her. “I think… I’m going to need a minute–”
“Tate, do you need me–?”
She subtly shakes her head, her eyes fixed on their hostess. “Excuse me?” Tatum speaks up to grab Sienna's attention, causing the chatter of the other guests to die down. She places her napkin on the table before standing up, forcing a kind smile. “Where’s the bathroom?”
Like every newly married couple with no children, Ethan and Tatum have been subjected to the incessant asking of the same damning question: When are you going to have kids? They give their cordial laughs and diplomatic answers, but when it comes to their friends and colleagues at the hospital, their usual answers of ‘It’s not the right time’ and ‘We’re enjoying married life’ don’t satisfy the curiosity.
And now at a dinner party, they are surrounded by several couples: the Aveiros with their little girl and a boy on the way, the Lahelas with their baby girl, and then finally Ethan’s good friend and Edenbrook’s head of cardiology, Dr. Victor Bryant and his wife Abigail with their two young children. As the dinner course came to an end, the campaign for baby Ramsey began.
Rafael was being a gracious host, pouring cups of coffee and refilling glasses of wine while his bride Sienna cleared the table for dessert. When he offered coffee to Tatum, his wife interrupted.
“Rafie,” she grabbed his attention while lowering her voice to a whisper that everyone could still hear. “I don’t think Tatum is drinking caffeine this evening,” she winks twice, “can you grab her some more water?”
“Oh, no, no, that’s not necessary, you two, thank you,” Tatum knits her eyebrows together, “and …why am I not drinking caff–?”
“Tatum,” the young pediatrician singsonged, “I noticed you’re also not drinking wine with us. Is there any reason why you’re only drinking water tonight?”
The obstetrician glanced around the room, noticing the barrage of glowing, hopeful smiles. She gave an amiable chuckle before taking a deep breath. “Well,” she started, “besides being on-call, the empty calories and the inevitable headache in the morning? None that I can think of,” Tatum stole a bite of the creamy homemade cheesecake, knowing exactly where this conversation was going.
“Well, surely you guys are trying now,” Sienna said enthusiastically while rubbing her swollen belly.
Her husband Rafael gently elbowed her, finding her comment almost too intimate. “You’ll have to excuse her. Once you two have kids,” he wrapped an arm around his wife’s petite shoulders, “you’ll understand her eagerness for everyone to experience the joy of parenthood.”
Already feeling his wife’s tension, Ethan tenderly placed his hand on Tatum’s lower back, tracing small circles with his thumb.
“You two do want kids, right?” Bryce questioned, which earned him a glare from his wife, Tatum’s good friend Erin. “What?” he lowered his voice, “all I’m saying is that it would be a waste if they didn’t. Two hot, published docs? Shoot, I want to meet that kid.”
Tatum gave a look towards her husband, an expression complete with widened eyes and pursed lips. Ethan embraced her tightly, pulling her back against his shoulder. Unlike her, he’s always humored when people make it their personal crusade to make him and his wife reconsider having children. Not only is it not their decision, but it’s absolutely insane that anyone would dare to argue with two educated physicians, one of which is a professional pregnancy surveillancer and baby-deliverer.
“Okay, okay,” Erin speaks up, holding up her hands to silence the questions. “There’s nothing wrong with a couple choosing not to have children,” she winks at her friend, Tatum mouthing the words ‘thank you’ in return. “Hell, I never even wanted kids–”
“But then you met Bryce,” Sienna interrupted dreamily.
“No,” the surgeon snickers, “then my birth control failed.” The entire table erupted with laughter while a blushing Bryce pressed his lips to Erin's temple.
Once the room quieted down from the titters, and it seemed as though the subject of discussion might actually change, Abigail Bryant, professional stay-at-home mom and owner of the vlog All Because Two People Fell in Love, decided to offer her own two cents. “But, Tatum dear, don’t you feel like you’re missing out on something magical in life?” She pressed her hand to her chest. “My life feels complete now that we have our little angels.”
“And I’m so happy that it took having children for you to find some meaning in her life,” Tatum blurted out, Ethan instantly pinching her elbow. Tatum glanced at her husband who gave a subtle shake of his head before returning her gaze to Abigail. “I–I’m sorry. I…” she sighed, “I just feel very complete right now,” Tatum looked back at her husband, lacing her fingers with his as they gave each other a knowing grin. “I have Ethan. I have my job, my research–”
“You just don’t understand yet,” she chuckled condescendingly. “Just you wait. You think your life is complete now–”
“No,” Tatum took a deep breath, trying to unclench her gnashed teeth, “I’m happy. We’re happy. This… this is our life.”
“But don’t you think being childless will affect your practice?” She turned to face the rest of the table. “I mean, I would think that an obstetrician should have some kind of experience before they start lecturing the rest of the population.”
“Abby,” her husband Victor glowered at her, taking a sip of his dark roast.
“Oh,” Abigail put a defensive hand up, “I didn’t mean that in a bad way–”
Tatum takes a deep breath, letting the air escape slowly. She placed her palms flat on the table, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. “Abigail, are you familiar with… PCOS?”
“Pardon me?”
“Or Endometriosis? Maybe even hypothyroidism?”
“Um, no, I–I don’t recognize any of–”
“How foolish would you feel right now if I told you I have an incompetent cervix, and have already had four miscarriages? Or that I have uterine fibroids? Or that I had a life-saving hysterectomy when I was diagnosed with stage 4 cervical cancer?”
“Tatum, I–”
“Or PTSD from a traumatic birthing experience? Or I am trans?” Feeling her body shake, Tatum closed her eyes, relaxing her fists that she unknowingly had formed. “My point is women… couples… they have their reasons for not wanting children. And those reasons?” She shakes her head, “they don’t owe them to you.” Tatum presses a hand to her chest as she continues. “And don’t get me wrong. I am so happy for you and Victor for having such a beautiful life with such beautiful children… But, why can’t you be happy for Ethan and I for having a beautiful life with a beautiful marriage without kids?”
After a long, uncomfortable silence, the conversation eventually moved back to pleasant chatter, smiles and laughs for everyone.
Everyone, except Tatum.
Normally, she doesn’t allow comments about her life choices bother her, especially ones concerning her decision not to reproduce. But why were Abigail’s words stinging so badly? Why was she suddenly nervous? Why was she suddenly second-guessing her accomplishments? Her life?
After splashing her face with water, Tatum dabs the droplets off with a fresh hand towel. She thoughtlessly folds it up, laying it perfectly on the counter as she takes a moment to stare at her reflection. She gives a big toothy smile, checking for food in her teeth before tousling her wavy-styled hair with her delicate fingers.
And she freezes. Chewing on her mouth, a hand slowly grazes over her lower abdomen. Was she missing out on something in life? Does Ethan feel that way? Oh, God… The couple had agreed easily that having children was not in their future, but… could it be that maybe Ethan feels like he’s missing something? Was she speaking for him? Dictating his life?
Suddenly the bathroom walls seem to be closing in on her, but even the echo of laughter from the table make her realize she isn’t ready to return.
Tatum slowly saunters down the wall, opening the door to the Aveiro’s newly renovated study: the new nursery.
And it’s absolutely perfect. Sienna always had exquisite taste in decorating. With a tiny night light guiding her steps, Tatum rests her hands on the sides of the empty crib, her fingers gliding over the smooth texture of the wood grain. The gentle neutral colors of the bedding is whimsy, simple, but comforting, soothing. I wonder what I would pick out…
She steps around the baby bed, taking in the black and white mobile, ideal for baby brain development. This is something Ethan would insist on having, she snickers to herself.
The corner of her mouth curls up at the sight of stuffed giraffes sharing the room with her; they’re turned towards the crib as if anticipating the arrival of the new bundle of joy.
Tatum looks across the room at the matching changing table, diapers and wipes neatly within reach and ready. On the wall were framed, finger-painted pictures, created by the Aveiro’s very young daughter for the new infant, giving the room that touch that every baby should feel: you are home; you are loved; you are welcomed.
“There you are.”
Tatum abruptly turns towards the handsome voice strutting closer to her.
“I thought maybe you opened a window and scaled down the wall,” Ethan smirks.
“Would you blame me?” Tatum’s eyes glisten as she matches his gaze.
“Hey,” His eyebrows knit with worry before warmly enveloping her body with his arms. “Sh-sh-sh, what’s this about–?”
“Be honest with me, Rams,” she interjects with a strained whisper, “do you want children?”
Ethan slowly lets his arms relax, staring intently at his wife. He finally rubs his chin. “I feel… like this a trick question.”
“Just answer the question,” she grabs his hand, lacing her hand with his. “Do you?”
He shakes his head. “No,” his voice becomes louder, “no. That’s not for us–”
“For us,” she repeats, “I’m talking about you. What… what if the equation didn’t involve me, would you? Want kids?”
“Tate, stop. I’m not going to entertain ‘what if’ questions.”
“But–”
“Stop,” he lets go of her hand, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her back into a hug. “Don’t let the words of someone,” his face contorts into comical disgust, “like Abigail Bryant screw with your head.”
“I know, I know,” Tatum nods her head against his shoulder. “Comments like that usually never get to me… but then I realized tonight… is it possible I’m the only thing keeping you from a child? Is my love for my work keeping my husband away from his heart’s desire?”
“You are my heart’s desire, Tatum Ramsey,” Ethan whispers, looking down at her as a dimple appears amongst his stubble. “If, and I’m only saying ‘if’,” he rests a finger under her chin, turning her attention to him, “if I wanted a child, I’d want one with you.”
“Really?”
“But… then you wouldn’t be you, and like I said, if I even wanted children, I would want them with you." He presses his lips against Tatum’s forehead. "But me? What do I really, really want? I want this, Tate. I want us… what we've created. You and me. Because our life…" he sighs pleasurably into a snicker, "it's just so damn good."
Tatum softly hums at his words. She slides her arms around his neck, her lips parting for his kiss. As he hungrily leans in, the door suddenly swings completely open, causing them to jump from each other.
“Sienna!” Tatum shouts in surprise.
“Oh! I’m so sorry you two,” she smiles apologetically carrying fourteen-month-old Gabriela. “I was coming in here to… oh, well, nevermind,” she chuckles. “Tate, do you mind holding her while I–” she throws a thumb over her shoulder towards the bathroom, “you know.”
“Of course,” she nods knowingly, forming an expressive face as she takes the baby.
“How’s my Gabi-bug?” The little one’s dark brown eyes curiously take in the womaan now holding her before surveying the room, clearly looking for her mother. Noticing the tall older man in the room, the baby coyly begins to grin before burying her face into Tatum’s neck. “Awww,” she chuckles, “are you being shy?”
“It’s like a miniature Sienna,” Ethan says in a hushed tone. Gabriela peeks back out with a large smile at the sound of his deep voice only to turn back around when she sees she has his attention.
“It’s not like a miniature Sienna; it is a miniature Sienna,” Tatum snickers as her voice becomes higher, cartoon-like. “Isn’t that right, precious one?” Tatum tickles her, eliciting adorable laughs and coos with a scrunched up face. The baby instantly looks back to see if Ethan is still watching; when she meets his steely stare, she giggles and plants her face back into Tatum’s neck. “Are you flirting with Mr. Ethan?”
Ethan raises an eyebrow at his wife, but is met with her sweet pleading expression. He steps forward, cautiously stroking the baby's tiny, chubby hand with his finger. Gabriela turns towards Ethan and instantly becomes mesmerized as he starts talking to her.
“Hey, Gabi,” he starts, “uh, that’s a pretty bow in your hair.” Without warning, the little girl reaches for Ethan, practically jumping out of Tatum’s arms. “Whoa there, little Aveiro,” Ethan catches her as if someone just tossed him a floppy fish. He instantly looks to his wife.
Tatum crosses her arms. “Don’t act for one second that you don’t know how to cuddle. Cuddle that baby. She likes you.”
Ethan slowly brings the girl to his chest as she instantly relaxes on his shoulder. After a few quiet moments, he lays a hand on her back, comforting her tenderly. He begins to softly rock his feet back and forth and she grips tightly onto his shirt.
“Is she going to sleep or something?” He quietly whispers. Tatum shrugs, trying to hide her smile at the sight. “Are you sure now that you don’t want to have a baby?”
“Oh… my… God!” Sienna walks back into the room, “Dr. Ramsey: Baby Whisperer!”
Ethan turns his body to face Sienna. “I–I don’t know what I did.”
“I do,” Sienna cups her daughter’s head, stroking her soft, thick hair. “You just volunteered to be the babysitter for the Aveiro clan,” she titters, winking back at Tatum. But then, her face falls as she looks back to her little girl. “Uh-oh–”
“Uh-oh?” Ethan repeats with concern, looking back and forth between the women. “What–what’s ‘uh-oh’?”
“Oh!” Tatum covers her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Someone’s a little red-faced–”
“And very relaxed,” Sienna jokes.
“What does that mean—?”
And suddenly, Ethan knew exactly what was uh-oh.
Uh-oh was warm and wet and sliding down his arm. He freezes, swallowing thickly as his eyes pinch close in irritation.
“Oh gosh, Dr. Ramsey,” Sienna quickly grabs Gabriela, trying not to laugh at the situation. “I-I’m so, so sorry. I had a feeling she was going to need a change soon.” She turns to her daughter, talking in a high-pitched voice. “Say, ‘Uh-oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Ethan’.”
Ethan doesn’t budge, his eyelids still shut. His jaw becomes more rigid as a swirl of crimson climbs up his neck.
“You know?" Sienna starts, watching Ethan's reaction, "we better go, and leave you two alone."
Tatum nods, winking in agreement. Once the mom and baby were gone, Tatum escorts her husband to the bathroom down the hallway.
“Jesus Christ,” Tatum busts out laughing, earning her a scowl from her husband. “It’s nice to see that you have that effect on other people besides your interns.”
“Tatum…” he growls, staring at his arm and soiled shirt. “Not the time.”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” she dismisses, “it’s just baby shit. It’s way better than adult shit–”
“It’s still shit, Tate!” He holds out his arm, watching the blowout drip from his fingertips. “I’m fucking covered in human excrement!”
“Yeah… not to mention you smell pretty awful.”
“Tatum!”
“Okay, okay,” she chuckles. She unbuttons his shirt, wiping his arm down with the cotton material. “Ha!” she snorts, “Gabi is shitless, and you’re shirtless.”
Ethan glares at her.
“Damn, okay,” she playfully smirks. She pivots around and turns on the shower, adjusting the temperature before Ethan leans into the water. She grabs a bottle of body wash from a hanging caddy, and squeezes it on his arm, Ethan vigorously lathering up.
“By the way,” he starts, “yes.”
A curious expression crawls across Tatum’s face. “What?”
“My answer… is one-hundred-fucking-percent yes. I am sure I do not want to have…” he turns up his nose, “spawn.” Tatum falls into a tizzy of laughter at his remarks. “Why the fuck would anyone choose to clean up shit for a living?”
“Oh, okay, Doctor Ramsey,” she sasses.
“That’s different,” he continues to grumble, sudsing up his arm again. “No kids… None… Absolutely not.”
Still laughing uncontrollably, Tatum starts to clean up the bathroom, throwing away Ethan’s shirt. And that’s when she feels it: a warm, pressured stream of water on her ass. “Ethan Jonah!” She squeals. Feeling the water soak down to her panties, she twists her body to assess the spot on her linen dress; but suddenly, she feels the cascade of droplets pouring down her chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Ethan bites his lip mischievously, holding the shower head like his own personal water gun.
“You’re making a mess, you asshole!” She grabs a towel, dabbing at her wet body. “Sienna is going to be so pissed–”
“Sienna clearly has bigger messes to take care of than us.”
Tatum looks around the bathroom, noticing the various puddles of water on the counter and floor. “Oh, Rams…” she sighs into a chuckle, holding her cheek, “who needs kids when I have you?”
~🖤~
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