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sabraeal · 3 years

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Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 2: Death Upright: Change, Ending, Release Reversed: Refusal to Change, Unfulfillment, Stagnation

A seam strains along a well-worn shoulder, so stretched he can actually hear it creak over the din of the canteen. That clinches is: that asshole’s got to be picking out too-small fatigues from the GI bin.

There’s no other way for him to look like that, biceps testing the tensile strength of cotton every time he takes a sip of his coffee. Sure, this guy’s jacked the way all the active rangers are, ready to heave 750 tons of metal onto their backs at a moment’s notice, but he’s not Mitsuhide. It makes sense when he pops buttons off his coverall, or stretches out one of their dingy cotton tees. But that’s not this asshole.

He’s lean, the kind that telegraphs that taking an elbow from him might be career limiting. There’s no reason the general issue tee should cling to his back like it’s painted on, his coverall hanging off his hips like he’s got an occupation other than freeloading. Shirayuki leans over, fingertips brushing over his sleeve with a laugh--

“Just punch him already,” Kiki drawls, “get it out of your system.”

Zen blinks, suddenly aware there’s still some Taco Tuesday left in his mouth. “What?”

“Kiki.” Dark bruises circle the skin beneath Mitsuhide’s eyes, underscoring the weary strain in his voices. “We shouldn’t be encouraging that sort of behavior.”

“Why not?” Her elbows dig into formica as she leans over her plate, shoveling rice into her mouth. At her father’s table, Kiki knows the use of every spoon, the name of every fork, but this deep in the dome, Ranger Seiran’s never met a meal she can’t inhale in five minutes flat. “I did it.”

Air hisses right through his perfect teeth, the only sign he’s annoyed besides the tense bar of his shoulders. “And you’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”

Kiki hums around the lip of her mug. “You mean like you did with Lugis?”

Mitsuhide doesn’t have skin like his, the sort that flares up like flash paper at the barest hint of sun or taunting. But still his neck flushes red as a burn, so bright Zen’s half tempted to slap it, just so he knows what it’s like.

“T-that was an accident,” he insists, even as his mouth settles into a satisfied smile. “Even the inquiry said so.”

It’s a struggle to keep his own from curling at the edges. “Only because Lugis didn’t want to press charges.”

“Only because he didn’t want it getting out that a girl ran circles around him on the mat,” Kiki corrects, each word a scalpel’s slice, excising those particulars from that shitshow with surgical precision. They can talk about this; Lugis’s challenge and the way Kiki swept him; that he was hardly on his feet when Mitsuhide somehow mislaid his fist and found it in his face, but everything else, the whys of it--

Those are all off the record. Forever. Or at least they would be, if Lugis wasn’t crawling through the dome like a stoat that’s caught whiff of an egg.

But that’s not what this is about. “And you want me to do that with that asshole?” Zen mutters. “Since it made Mitsuhide such good friends with Lugis, after all.”

“Obi isn’t Hisame,” Kiki informs him with the kind of steel in her tone that suggests she won’t be taking critique on that particular assessment. “All your issues with him are external.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps, teeth gritting down.

It’s a mistake, a rookie one at that: never ask a Seiran a question you don’t want the answer to. “He’s got Shirayuki’s attention and you don’t.”

Mitsuhide clears his throat, shoulders set like Zen better plan to shelter in place. This particular storm isn’t about to hit its usual conversational breakwall. “Attention you’d have, if you hadn’t skipped out on your session.”

Zen grips the table to take that hit. But it’s not nearly the last; the stare Kiki turns to him is wide-eyed, half-betrayed. “You didn’t say anything about that.”

“It’s none of your business.” Even as the words fly from him, he knows it’s not fair, that he’s spitting nails into the wind so that they’ll hurt someone else instead of him. It doesn’t stop him, it never does, but a guilty knot settles in his gut. “The sessions are voluntary. They always have been. I don’t need--”

“Someone to keep your head on straight?” Every syllable snaps like ice, her eyes twice as cold. “That was the whole point, wasn’t it? So if something happens to us, you’d have--”

He can’t listen to this, not another word. “That was never the plan! I would never plan for you guys...”

Not coming back. For Redwood Dancer to be left a ruin on the sea floor, their bodies strapped in, hermetically sealed until the ocean wore the jaeger down to parts.

“Nothing is happening to you guys,” he grits out. “Shirayuki was always an addition, not a-- a replacement, because you’ll never--”

“No one can promise that.” Mitsuhide’s never one to throw a first punch, but oh, does he know how to end a fight. All the breath’s knocked clean out of him, and there’s Dancer’s right hand, shoveling down another bite of rice like it’s nothing. “Every time we go out there it’s a flip of a coin. It doesn’t matter how good we are, one day there’s going to be a kaiju that kicks us clean off our feet.”

He shakes his head, wishing the words would fall right out of them. “No. That’s not--”

“Zen.” He’s never heard a siren’s call, but it can’t be as inexorable as Mitsuhide saying his name in that tone, both firm and pitying and mournful all at once. “You know better than anyone. Rangers don’t grow old.”

There’s no thought when he levers himself up from the table, just up with away chasing its heels. He just can’t be here listening to this, not now, not after they just barely crawled home from another kaiju clawing its way across Korea’s shoreline. Not when he knows he should be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with them-- that he would be if they stopped trying to saddle him with every rookie that rolled out of the simulator and finally put him with the only person that could fill that brace beside him.

“Zen!”

It’s easy to ignore Mitsuhide’s shout over the dinner rush; it’s just part of the noise, a buzz at the edge of his senses. Something to goad him, to push him out of there before either of them think to follow after. Their pity’s the last thing he needs, the last thing he wants. After all, it’s not him that won’t climb in the Conn-Pod, but his--

“Boss!”

Zen blinks, the empty corridor resolving around him. He’d let his feet carry him, their only imperative away-- and now he’s all turned around, every bulkhead the same. He’s heard about this happening to rangers when they lived in the dome too long; chasing the Minotaur, a ranger called it, three drinks down at the local hangar. And no fine little princess to give you string to find your way out.

Except he did have one of those. A person to help him through the labyrinth, even if she couldn’t show him the way. He’d been avoiding her.

That seems stupid now. It’s not like she’s on that asshole’s--

“Hey! Hey, boss.”

Speak of the devil. Zen turns, and there he is, too-tight t-shirt and all: his own personal problem. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” He holds out his hands, as if that’s proof enough to clear him of ulterior motives. “I just...saw you head out and it looked like...”

Zen’s shoulders square, body braced like they’re back on the mat. “Looked like what?”

Obi’s breath rushes out of him. “It looked like you shouldn’t be alone.”

It’s not until he lifts his hand that he realizes it’s trembling, barely able to push his bangs back where he needs them. “Yeah? And you thought-- what? I’d want to see you?” Even to his own ears, his laugh is bitter, wrong, like it came from someone else’s mouth. “You, the guy who won’t get out of my way?”

Something ripples across this asshole’s face, too fast for him to catch more than its wake. “You think I’m the stick stuck in the mud here?” When those strange cat’s eyes stare at him, it’s out of placid waters, but that grin on his face-- it doesn’t reach them. “Rock, meet hard place.”

Zen’s hands clench, so hard his knuckles creak. “You think this is a joke? You’re trying to shove your ass in a seat that isn’t for you, and you--”

“You think I want to be out there?” He lets out a bark somewhere between pitying and derisive, arms folding over his chest. Zen takes special care not to check how stressed his seams are. “I did my time, Your Highness. I got out. I got told no one would ever look for me again.”

“Then why are you here?” Zen spits. “No one wants you.”

“You don’t know how true I wish that was.” A hand pulls at his shoulder, long fingers digging in around the blade. “But your brother dragged me down the coast because I’m not done. I’ll never be done, because I can’t sit on the sidelines and watch Snotju or Head Banger or whatever cosmic asshole crawls out of the rift wreck another wall.”

His hand lifts, scrubbing through the bristle of his hair, just a shade too shaggy to be regulation. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it, Master? I’m the one who doesn’t want to be here, but I’m the one who’s got the balls to get back in that jaeger. And you--” a cold gaze rakes over him-- “you’re content to sit there and watch the world burn just because I’m not--”

“Shut up.” He’s trembling, every muscle straining against his self-control. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing--”

“I’ve been in your head,” that asshole reminds him. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You don’t.” He can’t. “You don’t fucking know a thing about me.”

He cocks a hip, grin loaded like a bullet. “The prove it.”

Kiki’s right: in the instant where his knuckles hit that cut-glass cheekbone, Zen feels great.

Shirayuki’s office has always put him at ease; he stepped in here the first time before she’d even properly covered the walls, the tension seeping right out of him into the push carpet under his boots. There’s just something about how she fills a space-- something that has nothing to do with furniture or wall hangings or motivational posters-- that makes his brain put out whatever chemical that means safe. He’d never understood why the other rangers avoided her, not when they could have forty minutes in the room equivalent of a warm hug.

But it’s different this time.

“Izana made you call me here.” He’s ramrod straight on her worn couch, hands clenched in his lap. Or rather, right over the throw pillow he moved to sit. “Didn’t he?”

“The Marshal’s personal feelings have nothing to do with this.” Her words snap like a window on a sill, closing on that topic with a sense of finality he expected from the top brass, not their therapist. “The PPDC’s code of conduct is quite clear on the procedure to be followed after a non-sanctioned physical altercation between personnel.”

There’s a loose thread right by the fringe; he’d noticed it months ago, but never dared to tug it. Every time he’d felt the urge, he’d think of dominoes and load-bearing pillars, of the whole edge unraveling in his hands right as she looked at him.

Today, he pulls. It comes right off with a snap. “And that’s the only reason you brought me in?“

Shirayuki turns to him, one incredulous brow raised. “You were the one who cancelled our last session--” her mouth twitches as she twists the knife-- “last minute.”

Well, he deserves that one. Sure, he’s had his reasons, but Shirayuki-- well, she deserved more than one step up from ghosting. If the thought of having to look anyone in the eye after all that hadn’t made his stomach turn for three days, maybe he would have come to that conclusion before Kiki ripped him a new one over it.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, aware with every word that it’s not enough, that there’s not enough apologies to patch up the trust he broke. “I wasn’t...ready to talk.”

He expects the clap back; yeah I got the message, or but you were ready to take a swing? But he should have known: that’s not how Shirayuki works. She’s a professional, whether that’s what he wants from her or not.

Instead he face softens, right back into his friend. “I know. What happened in the drift can be...intense.” She hesitates, teeth sinking into the plush bow of her lip. “I just wish that you had felt comfortable conveying that to me. As my patient, you’re supposed to be able to control--”

“I don’t want to be your patient.”

Her mouth closes with a grunt, hand pressed to her stomach as if he hit her. “O-oh,” she murmurs, breathless. “I hadn’t realized that you, ah, wanted to terminate our sessions--”

“No!” God, it would be nice to be able to say this all smooth like he’s sure that jacked asshole can, leaning against a wall with his hand right by her head, sexual tension rocking the Richter scale. “I just meant--” his teeth try to grind down his thoughts into something palatable-- “Shirayuki, I don’t want to just be your patient.”

He could fall into her eyes they’re so wide, rounded ‘o’s that match her mouth’s geometry. “Ah, Zen, that’s...”

“I don’t mean because I-I like you.” Even though he does, but there’s rules for that. The kind the PPDC will look the other way on, but not Shirayuki. She’s not from under the dome; she still worries about what people might think outside of it. “I just...wish you were on my side.”

“I am on your side.” Her shoulders pull straight against the back of her chair, her soft look hardening into resolve. “Which is different from telling you want you want to hear.”

He jerks back, cheeks stinging like he’d been slapped. “I didn’t say I wanted that,” he mumbles, hands clenching over his lap. “But I don’t need you to tell me to do whatever it is Izana wants me to either.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The notebooks in her lap closes with a snap, and with trembling fingers, she sets aside her shield. “Izana wants you back in a jeager for the legacy. For the unbroken line of Wisterias standing between humanity and the rift. But I...”

Her eyes lift to his, and they’re no longer the lush, leafy green of a forest, but the hard glint of emerald. “If you get back in that cockpit, you need to do it for yourself.”

It’s an effort not to say, I don’t see the difference.

“I saw you when the siren went off.”

Zen scrubs a hand over his face; he remembers. Their eyes had met over that seething mass of fear and competence, and-- and he’d been so sure that if he saw her, something more than that glimpse of red in the corner of his vision, he’d forget every inch of his resolve and go to her. That he’d just take her in his arms and tell her all the thoughts roiling in the sea of his mind, but--

But he hadn’t. He’s taken one look at her and, without even a pang of guilt, left her there. A real hero.

“Zen.” She says his name so firmly, so seriously, that his head jerks up, gaze tangling with hers. “You don’t want to be on the sidelines. You don’t want to be the general hiding being his troops. You want to be out there, Rex Tyrannis shoulder-to-shoulder with Redwood Dancer. And you could be.”

It’s his breath that’s rasping, the death rattle of the man he’s let himself be these past few years. “How?”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in her when she says. “You have to choose to move forward.”

And cozy up in the cockpit with that asshole. He thinks about that grin, cocked with a confidence he’s never been in the neighborhood of having, and...

It’s so familiar that his double vision makes his head pound. “I can’t work with that-- Obi. I won’t.”

“I know that...” Her lips press together, bursting apart with a pop. “I know there’s no limit to the amount of people a ranger could potentially drift with, but there’s something...special when you find the right one. That there’s something right about it than can’t ever be replaced.”

He stares, head galloping in his chest. She shouldn’t know that-- there’s no way she could. Most rookies out of the academy just drift successfully once, and that’s it-- that’s their partner, for better or worse, like marrying the first kid you kiss. There’s exceptions-- emergencies, injury, irreconcilable differences-- but even though this job has a high turnover...rangers rarely die alone. There’s not enough people for a paper.

“Yeah, I’ve...heard that too.” Probably from the same mouth she did, though it seems Mitsuhide’s polished the speech since he last gave it. To him, at least.

“I understand that you have a vision of who you want beside you in the pod,” Shirayuki presses, voice growing tighter, more tense with every word. “But Atri’s gone.”

Every drop of blood in him turns to ice. “Atri?”

Her breath hisses out through her teeth, relief slumping her shoulders. “I know no one can be him, but--”

“You think this is about Atri?” A giggle bubbles up from him, bitter on his tongue. “I’ve been sitting here for weeks-- no, months! And you think all this, the whole reason I won’t climb in a jaeger with just anyone off the street is because of Atri?”

Every corner of her face lost. “Isn’t it?”

“No, I...” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like it might stem the pounding of his heart behind his brow. This whole time he’d been so careful, trying to be understood for once, to let someone see him instead of his mistakes--

But he should have known; as long as his brother is obsessed with sending him an endless parade of nobodies which he sits behind a desk, it’ll only be his hang ups hung out for everyone to rifle through.

“I should go,” he finally manages, levering himself to his feet. The room spins, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, but he can’t stay here, not when she thinks-- when she’s always thought--

“Zen,” she murmurs, voice muffled by distance. “Are you all right?”

--That he’s pathetic. “Yeah.” He stumbles to the door, swinging it open. “I just need to--”

And of course, standing right there is that asshole, hand half-raised to knock.

“Boss,” he breathes, clearly stunned. “I, uh, didn’t think you’d be...”

The awkwardness in the office is palpable, so thick that he might as well be moving through molasses. Before this guy showed up, he’d though he had half a chance; he was practically the only one outside of K-Science that would even look at her, and his sessions always felt like more, but now--

Well, it’s no wonder he didn’t stand half a chance next to him, if she thought he was waiting for Atri.

“Don’t worry about it.” Zen pushes back him, shoulder clipping his. Or at least near enough to claim the feat. “I’d hate to keep you two from your--” date-- “dinner plans.”

Shirayuki’s breath gasps from her. “Zen, wait, we’re not--”

“It’s fine,” he lies, every muscle tense where he stands, fighting the urge to look back. “A couple of things are clearer now.”

It’s not just her. They all think he’s waiting for him, that one day he might stroll back in here like nothing happened, and Zen--

“Please.” Shirayuki’s voice trembles, and even if he’s not looking, he knows she’s at the door, vibrating in its frame. “Let’s just finish the session.”

-- and Zen’s been giving them nothing else to work with. All these years, looking like a kid stood up on prom night.

“No, I just remembered there’s something I’ve got to do.” He forces a smile on his face, giving her a bare hint of it as he peeks over his shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

It kills him how much hope lights in her eyes. “Next week?”

“That our appointment, isn’t it?” he says, light tone limping. “Unless I see you around the dome before then.”

“Right,” she breathes, cheeks flushed at both corners of her smile. Obi’s watching her, concern writ large in his eyes, and well-- maybe he’s not as much of an asshole as Zen wanted to believe. “Until then.”

He gets halfway down the hall, before Obi calls out, “Hey, boss...”

It’s clear when he looks back that Obi hadn’t meant to speak, but now that he has, he clear his throat, giving himself a visible shake.

“You could come with us,” he says, hesitant. “If you wanted.”

It’s an olive branch, one he doesn’t deserve. One he should take, if he wants all this to heal over without a scar. But he’s not ready for that, not yet.

“No.” He shakes head. “I wasn’t joking about having something I got to do. Go enjoy yourselves.”

This is a terrible idea.

He knows it the entire time he’s walking, the anxiety cresting the second he sees the plate on the door, engraved and letters painted black: IZANA WISTERIA. MARSHAL.

“Well,” Izana hums from his desk. “Are you going pace outside my office all day, or are you planning to come in?”

Zen lets out a rush of breath and pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“You win,” he says, all in a rush. “I’ll do it. I’ll give him another chance.”

“I think at this point, he’s giving you another chance,” Izana tells him, barely glancing up from his pile of papers. “But...I’ll arrange it.”

He nearly says, I figured you’d have it all arranged already, but bites it back. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. And Zen.” His brother looks up, capping his pen calmly before he folds his hands over the desk. “It’s not me who wins. It’s humanity.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, meeting that steely gaze. “But I’m not doing it for them.”

For once, his brother doesn’t have anything to say.

It’s Obi who’s locked in first this time.

His cheeky smile is already waiting when Zen steps on deck, body gripped by Rex Tyrannis’s hydraulics when he throws him a wink. “Second time’s the charm, right Your Highness?”

“Third time,” Zen mutters, keying in his code. “It’s third time’s the charm.”

“Right, but you were top of your class.” A guy like Obi shouldn’t be so comfortable when he’s got twenty tons pinning him in place, not when he’s got a face just asking to be hit. “So we can shave one of those off, right?”

“Depends.” His mouth twitches. “Where did you rank?”

Obi’s grin grows stiff enough to float. “I think you’d say I’m a natural talent.”

“That bad huh?”

A laugh saws out of him, raw in the loud silence of the pod. “You have no idea.”

“I think I could take a guess.” The hydraulics hug Zen tight; even lifting to his arm to the panel is a chore. “Ready?”

“For you?” Obi’s mouth stretches into a leer. For once, he feels like he’s in on the joke. “Any time.”

Don’t chase the rabbit. It’s Obi’s voice that says it; not the way he had before, serious and concerned, a scolding and a reminder. No, this one is a laugh restrained, sing-song. One pill makes you big and one makes you small.

There’s a faint riff of guitar, and Zen’s about to tell him to can it, that putting trash in the drift just clogged up the flow, but--

But between one breath-- one blink and the next, he’s lost in the tide, rolling through his memories rudderless. When a hand grips his shoulder and--

“I’m ready.” Zen’s always too honest, too eager but he’s young here, younger than he ever remembers being wearing the badge. “To pick up the legacy. To be what father meant us to be.”

The memory runs true, his younger self still chatting away with Shidnote, unaware that his whole world’s about to be cut off at the knees. But he’s not watching that now, he’s watching the way shadows crawl across his brother’s face, a storm front that appears and vanishes in the moments no one looks.

“About that.” Izana settles his hand on the desk, but the drumming is no longer bored but...nervous. An asynchronous beat that runs at the speed of his thoughts. “I meant to tell you. I’m being promoted.”

“Promoted” The word still kicks his legs out from under him, still knocks the wind out of his lungs as efficiently as any punch to the gut. “But I thought we would--”

“They want me in a command capacity now that Mother’s taking over Anchorage.” Izana won’t look at him. The man who has built his career on being able to stare down Orochi in Sagami Bay can’t bear to look him in the eye. “I’m being taken off active duty.”

“But--” He looks between them. “But--”

“But--”

The memory stutters. It’s him, he’s the one who’s pushing away. He’d always thought he couldn’t give this to someone, to some guy right off the street, someone who might pity him, but it’s-- it’s him. He can’t look at this. He can’t face failure another time.

And he doesn’t know how to stop.

Hey. Obi’s voice is too close, but he’s just an outline in the drift, blues and grays fuzzing between misfiring synapses. Hey, we don’t have to watch this.

They do. They have to, if he’s going to get through this.

Right. There’s no way for Obi to sigh here, where there’s no air, but he does, long and loud. It sounds...different. Almost...feminine. I have worse. Want to see me wet the bed when I was--?

The words fuzz before they can continue. Go ahead, Obi says, sounding like himself. Take as much time as you need. It’s not like we have clocks here.

Zen can’t nod here, not without a body, but he breathes, one solid in and out--

“It’s supposed to be us.” Even with the distance of time, every word is carves straight from his flesh, laid out on a platter for his brother to see. “We’re supposed to carry on the legacy.”

“Shidnote will continue on in his current capacity,” Izana explains, bored, as if he didn’t even speak. “He’s served me well. I’m sure you’ll both be sufficiently compatible.”

“But--” Zen grits his teeth. “It’s supposed to be us. Why are you giving me an excuse--?

He blinks. He never said that. He’d been thinking it the whole way to his bunk, but in the moment it had only been a yes sir. I understand, sir.

Then why--

“It’s an excuse.” The shine’s all worn off Atri’s grin, baring the raw edge beneath. “That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

Scrap litters the floor at his feet; he’s never known what jaeger-grade parts sold for on the black market, but he knows it’s not pocket money. This is a small fortune if someone knew where to sell it.

Which clearly Atri does.

“You’re going to blame me?” Zen’s laugh limps with bitterness. “I catch you with stolen goods, and it’s my--?”

“It’s not stolen, it’s salvage,” Atri snaps, snatching a length of steel from his hands. “It’s not like they’re using it.”

A lie-- there’s not a shred of steel or wire that’s wasted in the dome. Jaegars come with a price tag that only governments can pay, and any corner that can be safely cut on maintenance is considered savings passed onto tax payers. There’s no way he can’t know it, not after six months, but--

He doesn’t care. He never did.

“This is why you agreed to be my copilot.” Every word aches as he births them from his lips, a truth that cuts even as he speaks it. “You didn’t care about protecting your friends. You just wanted access to parts.”

Atri shrugs, the barest twitch of his shoulders. “I never said I gave a single fuck about all that hero shit. You just assumed I did, because you do.”

“But the drift...” His breath wheezes, the way it did when he was a kid, before his dad paid for all that to be fixed. “How did you...?”

“I just thought about the stuff you cared about. Friends. Kaiju. Me.” Atri’s grin turns smug. “Some of us don’t wear our heart on our sleeves, Wisteria.”

Wow. Obi’s outline fuzzes as he circles behind Atri, a single brow raised. He’s a real fucknut, huh?

His memories are jumbles, him-now and him-then all tumbled together until his first instinct is to jump to Atri’s defense. He may not be an academy-trained ranger, someone who has a lifetime worth of experience in a simulator, but put him in Rex Tyrannis and he’ll--

Steal the toilet cover? Obi offers, mouth canting into that insufferable grin. The one that always reminded him of--

Ah.

Obi darts a glance to where Atri stands frozen beside him. Jeeze, you really know how to hit a guy where he lives. You think I look like this asshole?

Just the grin, really. He’s almost a head taller, broader in the shoulders, and Asian besides. Better looking too--

Obi’s smile stretches into a leer. You don’t say, bossman?

Maybe Atri’s right. He’s got to get better about what he thinks about in the drift. Especially with someone this insufferable around.

If anything, Obi’s more amused. So it’s this guy though, he’s whole hold up you have with me? It’s not--

Against his will, Atri springs to life, mouth curled into his nastiest sneer when he says “I don’t know why you’re acting so betrayed. After all, you only wanted me to get back at the Marshal, and I played my part, didn’t I? I’m sure he’d jump in the pod if that meant he could be rid of me.”

“That’s not--” true, he should say. He can’t though, not when he’s not this-Zen, when he’s just looking out from his eyes, straight into Obi’s.

“Yeah.” There’s no spit to swallow in the drift, but he does anyway, a force of habit. “It is.”

The memory fuzzes away from him, and it’s just them now, two men braced in the Conn-pod, staring at each other through their visors.

“Right hemisphere, calibrated.” Zen blinks, watching as his hand opens and closes, the robotic voice’s dulcet tones washing over him.

“I never wanted this, you know,” he murmurs, “not if it wasn’t with my brother. That’s how it was supposed to be, me and him versus the kaiju.”

“Left hemisphere, calibrated.” His arms seem to move on his own, and it’s strange how he can’t keep the smile off his face this time. It feels good, moving like this again.

“No,” he breathes. “It was supposed to be me and him versus the world.”

“Ready to activate the jeager.“

Obi’s arms lift, a fighting stance to mirror his. It’s easy, so easy. Easier than he ever thought it could be. “What changed?”

He’d shrug, if the hydraulics would let him, but this isn’t Redwood Dancer. “Seemed like a shitty reason not to save the world.”

“Calibration complete.”

Obi grins, teeth shining bright under the lights of his visor. “Doc tell you that?”

Zen laughs. “Pretty much.”

“She’s got a gift,” Obi agrees, hands moving in sync with his. “And it’s making you feel like an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Looks like you jokers are getting along,” Kiki deadpans through their helmets. “How do you feel about taking Rex out for a drag?”

“After being cramped under this dome for months, Princess?” Obi drawls, tossing him a conspiratorial wink. “It’d be my pleasure.”

“Just give us a sec!” It’s been a long time since Zen’s talked much with the crew in CIC, but he recognizes that voice-- Yuzuri, one of Shirayuki’s friends. The peppy one with the cute accessories. The one that told him she’d give him cement shoes if he made her cry. “Let’s see if we can get you off your leash.”

He’d always liked her. Hopefully the feeling’s mutual, since she’s right next to the plug.

“Hey, boss.”

Zen blinks, glancing across the cockpit. “Yeah?”

“I know Atri was supposed to be a big fuck you to His Majesty, but...” He hesitates, thoughtful. “You drifted with the Big Guy for a while after that. Why?”

“Ah--”

It’s impossible not to think of it, the siren rising in the air, the men running past them, voices drowned out by the drone.

“I’ll do it,” he says, glaring up at the man across from him. “At least you know you’re just a seat warmer.”

“Zen--”

He blinks, the memory stuttering beneath him. That’s not what Mitsuhide called him then, that wasn’t until after--

“Zen.”

That’s not inside the memory, that’s inside his helmet. “Mitsuhide?”

“You’re out of alignment.”

He shakes his head, uncomprehending. “What do you--?”

“You’re out of alignment.” He repeats, each words strained. “You both chased the rabbit, and...Obi went straight down the rabbit hole.”

It doesn’t make any sense. “But I--”

“You have to go get him,” Mitsuhide says, dire. “He’s pointing the plasma cannon at Mission Control.”

#obiyukiweek21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #never did i think i'd cause so much controversy about who would end up in Rex Tyrannis #but i'm glad that this chapter was already going to cover it #and oh my what's that?#are we getting Obi backstory next chapter?#>:3c

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the-clari-net · 3 years

Text

A Mother’s Intuition

AO3

Maddie Fenton prides herself on being a woman of science. A woman full of reasoning and logic who has spent her entire career working on showing her credibility by proving that ghosts exist; not only that, but to show the dangers that they hold to the living. After so many years of being mocked and belittled she finally got her big break with that ghost portal. Once ghosts started coming into Amity Park, she knew she had something tangible that would shake the foundations of the scientific community that have been perceived as Law. Everyone would know that there exists a space that these laws don’t apply (in more ways than one). She and Jack would finally get their brilliance recognized, and her children could finally look at their parents with pride knowing that they’re the first to discover and pioneer this new branch of science never before studied by mankind.

With that being said, Maddie was the one who always brought a more realistic approach to the ideas Jack came up with. They made a good team like that, covering each other’s blind spots to the best of their abilities. Maddie was seen as the rational one, less emotionally swayed compared to her jovial and at times overly enthusiastic husband. That’s not a bad thing really, since it keeps Maddie grounded in not becoming too absorbed in observing at a microscopic level and he forces her to step back and relook at her project with new eyes with a wider perspective. This is all to say that Maddie is an observant person. Her profession relies on her ability to analyze and being able to report and reflect on those observations.

All this needs to be mentioned because Maddie has been feeling strange lately. Well, perhaps lately isn’t the right word. This is a feeling that has existed within her for awhile, it’s just become impossible to ignore the longer it stays. This is a blind spot that has grown too large to push aside.

Dread is one way to describe this feeling. Anxiety is another. At its worst peak, paranoia might be more applicable.

Right now Maddie is sitting at her dinner table with her family. It’s a Sunday night, she had ordered pizza earlier in the evening because the radioactive hot dogs are holding yesterday’s leftovers hostage. It’s a normal evening for the Fentons all things considered.

Except for the slightly shaky hands, which is strange for a woman who has skilled precision with a scalpel. Except for the pounding in Maddie’s chest, her pulse has been quickening the longer they’re having dinner, and she’s starting to hear that same pulse pounding behind her ears. Except for the slight chill that never leaves her despite sitting next to her husband who runs so warm he might as well be a personal heater.

There’s the tightening of her chest that leaves her struggling to breathe properly. It feels as if at any moment she may have to start gasping for breath like her sister Alicia used to as a kid before she got an inhaler to treat her asthma.

Ultimately, these are all the signs Maddie feels when she’s scared. It’s been a while since she’s felt true fear that wasn’t outweighed by adrenaline and excitement. She usually can hold her own against any human and she’s smart to never fight a ghost at close range. She can’t remember the last time she had felt helpless enough to fear like this.

As a woman who is a master at martial arts, she’s had a lot of past experience in her training going up against powerful opponents. There were certain opponents (especially in her early years of training) that made her feel like she was prey, that if she lost her focus for a moment, she would be pulverized. This is the same feeling only a thousand times worse.

Maddie has been trying to deny the connections she’s been weaving since the first prick of nervousness first reached her. She was a woman of science, she needed evidence to support her conclusion; correlation does not equal causation. However, her martial arts background has told her to trust your instincts; it’s a survival trait warning of a potential danger. The conflict of these two perspectives have been arguing in her head about the odd common thread with these spikes of anxiety.

These feelings only seem to appear whenever Danny was around.

It was such a silly observation at first, more of an offhand thought. But as time went on, and her nerves were worsening, the thought stayed with her in the back of her mind.

Maddie’s mind tries to be rational about the ordeal, trying to convince herself that these feelings of anxiety could be due to stress, or some effect of the ghost portal. The fact that something primal is screaming at her that her son –the boy who currently has a piece of pepperoni stuck to the side of his lip and is pouting at Jazz—is a threat to her livelihood is what worries her.

Could he be possessed by a ghost? No, that’s ridiculous; his eyes are blue, he can’t be possessed. They look a little brighter than normal. That’s the kitchen lighting, Danny is NOT involved in this.

It feels like it has to be ghost related. This feeling of dread is common with several of the ghosts that have appeared in Amity Park before. She’s noticed that the more powerful ones are more likely to cause this instinctual feeling compared to the little ghost blobs who only cause a shiver to your spine once physical contact is made.

“—right Mom?”, Maddie jumps a bit and looks up to realize that Jazz was looking directly at her. She notices that the pizza box is empty, and the table’s been cleared, except for her own plate. Was she out of it for that long?

“Sorry honey, I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat the question?”. She tried to offer a smile, but she could tell looked more like a grimace. Jack was looking at her worriedly, but he knew better than to push her to talk in front of the kids. Jazz looked back with a soft smile, but her brows were furrowed.

Maddie didn’t look in Danny’s direction.

“I was just saying I should have the leftover slice of pizza for tomorrow instead of Danny because I have seniority rights, right?”

Maddie blinked at Jazz for a moment before recollecting herself and standing up from her seat and moving to the sink to wash the dishes, forcefully ignoring the back of her mind screaming at her to run as far away as she can from here and never look back.

“Now you two, there’s no need to fight like that. Why don’t I just give you both some lunch money for tomorrow and we’ll call it even?” She smiled at Jazz, subtly angling herself so her back wasn’t facing towards Danny and kept him in her peripheral vision.

She doesn’t want to think of why she did that.

Later that night, Maddie couldn’t sleep. She managed to convince Jack that she was feeling better after dinner, and now she’s wide awake trying to remember why that fear felt so familiar. She recognized the unease that only comes from being in close contact with a ghost. It’s the same feeling that lingered in her system after having a ghost possess her; there’s a specific rolling in her stomach that comes from it. The feelings she got during dinner tonight felt like a specific ghost, something about it felt familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

When she finally went to sleep, she was restless with dreams of sharp bright blue eyes, looming shadows that suffocated her, and sweet awkward smiles that slowly turned into menacing and haunting grins.

The rest of the week had been a pretty regular one. Jack and Maddie had spent most of the week building some new weapons that could help capture Phantom once and for all. Because of this, they had been eating in their lab. If Maddie felt relief at using her work as a shield to avoid family dinner, that’s her secret to keep.

The week had been quiet with no battles or major ghost sightings until a massive ghost battle broke out between Phantom and another one of the reoccurring ghosts on Friday. Skulker was the name of the ghost if what she had overheard from her sonar dish on the family RV was correct. It was all the way across town. Jack was behind the wheel, and Maddie was checking over the new prototype they had been working on all week that would hopefully weaken a ghost’s powers. They were hoping that Phantom could be their first test subject.

As they were about halfway to the battle, Maddie suddenly got a prickly feeling in her neck. She was well acquainted with that feeling when nearing ghosts, so she dismissed it as usual. But it got worse the closer they reached their destination. Her body slowly began to tense up, more, her breaths were becoming shallower, and her mouth had suddenly run very dry.

No… it can’t be…

There they were in front of Skulker and Phantom and all Maddie could do was tense up in terror and barely stop herself from letting out a whimper. This feels too familiar, he feels like…

Phantom suddenly crashes on top of their windshield, he groans and begins to lift himself off the hood of the RV when for a brief moment, his eyes meet Maddie’s. He sends a sheepish smile and begins to fly up towards Skulker, immediately striking him down with an ectoblast.

Meanwhile, Maddie feels all the blood drain from her face and she feels her eyes begin to fill up with tears. Jack is yelling about that darn ghost damaging his RV, but she can barely focus. She recognized the feeling now. The interaction between the two of them didn’t even last a minute, yet it is staying with her all the same.

The smile Phantom gave reminded her of a black-haired boy who would get caught staying up late looking at his telescope. A boy who would give her that same smile whenever he was confronted about skipping class and missing his assignments. She sees that smile every day in her own home.

It looked so odd, having that smile come from a boy with bright white hair, and eyes that glowed toxic green. The smile was sharper, with incisors that were just short of becoming fangs. But it was still recognizable.

She can no longer deny it, Phantom and Danny are connected. Danny even leaves her with the same sense of terror and fear that only a ghost as powerful as Phantom could do. It feels more potent with Phantom; looking him in the eye for that moment almost made her scream bloody murder.

Jack was never as attuned to the emotional effects that ghosts brought on due to his natural bravery and confidence (she has a theory about his family bloodline having adopted some traits that could block out these senses of fear which leads them to being better ghost hunters). However, even Jack had once mentioned that he felt unnerved by Phantom, which says a lot about the power that child ghost must hold. But to think that powerful monster is somehow connected to her son was a situation she never would have considered. Was he possessed?

When did it happen? Was it around the time that Maddie first began feeling unnerved?

How didn’t you notice? The back of her mind whispered to her. You’re his mother, aren’t you?

The weight of her realization begins to set it. The burden of fearing her son with no tangible reason for doing so. Her own neglect and obliviousness about missing this massive part of her son’s life fills her with guilt. Suddenly the weapon in her hand, ready to be used against Phantom (Danny?) makes her nauseous.

She feels her body beginning to shut down and go into autopilot. Maddie dazedly notices that she and her husband are parked in the middle of a street, in easy range to get blasted or crushed, or incinerated or possessed by these ghosts. She is in no condition to fight.

She feels a little hysterical thinking about her own safety when her son (or some possessed version of him) is out there fighting a ghost after literally crashing into an RV with military grade protection.

“Jack, we should go home”, Maddie hoarsely interrupts her husband’s tangent.

He looks like he was about to protest until he saw his wife’s bloodshot eyes, holding back tears and white as a sheet. Without further prompting, he turned the car around and as soon as the stiffening fear had melted away from Maddie’s shoulders did she finally allow the tears to fall.

#Danny Phantom #maddie fenton #phic #idk man #have fun with ghost vibes

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the-unconquered-queen · 3 years

Text

Petty thing to be annoyed about, but It's like PB knows that that "for the first time in your career, your scalpel hand shakes" is the most powerful thing they've written in this series and decided to reuse it to try to take some of its thunder. The first time was because he was so affected by MC’s life being in danger and today it was just... because? They couldn’t have made it be due to literally any other reason other than unsteady hands? And let us have that one (1) thing?

#it's a good thing I've never pretended to not be petty because I am Annoyed #ik it didn't say they shook but rather slipped but that's still unsteadiness #playchoices #open heart #choices oh #bryce lahela

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the-pale-goddess · 4 years

Text

Blind - Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tiffany Addams)

The annual Edenbrook gala is all about extraordinary food, free booze, serving looks...and jealousy in every possible form. Who will crash and who will burn this night?

Warnings: NSFW (+18) Nothing too explicit this time! But obviously, suggestive adult themes are all over the story. Plus there’s alcohol, a lot of swearing and all that jealous angst we like.

Rating/Category: Mature / AU

Author’s note: This fic takes place not long after the AU Miami conference in the Miami Heat series where E&T went all the way. I hope you’ll like the twist! It’s also kinda long - sorry about that.

Taglist (let me know if you want in or out)

@caseyvalentineramsey @interobanginyourmom @newcolonies @ernest-harrington @openheart12 @perriewinklenerdie @mvalentine @ethandaddyramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @lion-ess24 @choices-love-affair @justanotherrookie @rookieoh @rookie-ramsey @queencarb @schnitzelbutterfingers @doilooklikeiknow

_____

„Ramsey, would it hurt you to crack a little smile? We're at a freaking gala.” Dr. Tanaka's teasing voice was just as annoying as his remark, but it failed to provoke any kind of emotion in Ethan. He shot the other attending a condescending glare from above his glass of scotch.

„I see no correlation.” Tanaka laughed at the blunt response, shaking his head in disbelief.

„Is open bar not reason enough to get a little festive?” He leaned against the bar, his hand pointing at the impressive wall of liquor in front of them.

„I can afford my own alcohol, Tanaka, and I'd rather drink it, quite literally, anywhere else.”

„If you hate it so much why are you even here?” That was in fact an excellent question. Why was he still there? Ethan rubbed his brow and took a look around before responding. The spacious ballroom was already packed. All these familiar faces passing through in their best gowns, getting advantage of the night off at a luxurious hotel.

„As tedious and pointless as this schmoozing is, it's still a work duty. Everyone has to do their part.” He downed his drink and called the bartender to do a refill. In that very moment three young nurses approached the bar, standing right behind Dr. Ramsey, all of them oblivious to each other's presence. „I've been actually meaning to ask you about my lung cancer patient. Have you managed to read the file I left you today?”

„Yes. Dr. Mirani consulted with me before the recent development occured. I've allowed myself to...” Tanaka's voice dropped to a background noise when someone said her name. Ethan's attention immediately shifted to the lively chatter behind his back.

„...Have you seen Addams? Who does she think she is? A Grammy winner? This isn't the red carpet, sweetie.” All of them giggled. Ethan felt a tingle of irritation while trying to focus on his own conversation. But he just couldn't stop listening...

„Totally! That dress is scandalous.” The other nurse added. „Three mojitos, please!”

„Come on, girls. She's smoking hot with or without makep, in scrubs or in a way too revealing dress. I'd kill to have a body like Addams. You're just jealous because Scalpel Jockey is all over her, not you.” Ethan almost choked on his drink. Did he hear that right?

„I suppose she cleans up real well, yeah. But Brycey could've done so much better, is all I'm saying.” It was the first nurse talking again, her voice full of envy. Ethan's face turned red, eyes wandered to the glass he gripped with white knuckles, not paying any attention to Tanaka and his surgical rant.

„How long have they been a thing?” The question made Ethan's blood boil. Are they really a thing?

„I didn't even know they were a thing.” The first nurse theorized. „That chick's always running after Ramsey.”

„Susan, shhhhhhhh...” The second nurse whispered and the conversation suddenly died. None of the nurses realized it was already too late for shushing. As soon as they received their drinks they were gone, leaving the messy gossip buzzing around Ethan's head.

„What do you think, Ramsey?” He finally looked up at Tanaka. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fucking fuckety fuck. What were they even bouncing around? He scratched his chin trying not to look too distracted.

„I...I just remembered. There is a matter that needs to be taken care of.” He gulped the scotch down and left the glass at the bar. „I'll stop by your office the first thing in the morning to discuss the case. Enjoy the rest of your night, Dr. Tanaka.”

Ethan whisked through the crowd looking for air. Meanwhile, his mind had a race of its own. Tiffany's seeing Lahela. So what? It's none of his business. He made that clear after the Miami incident. They both agreed it was irresponsible, unethical and can never happen again. She's his intern. The best one there was. He won't jeopardize her career development over a stupid crush. It was a crush, right? Just a simple chemical reaction, pure physical attraction....She's a brilliant and ravishing young woman – everyone would fall for her. No wonder that real-life Ken doll took his chance. Whatever. She's only his intern, he shouldn't care about her personal life. So why was she still on his mind? And why hadn't he seen her yet?

Luckily, the balcony wasn't as crowded as the ballroom. Ethan walked up the railing and sighed deeply, knowing no one in the close proximity was beside him. The chilly breeze of the night proved to be a great companion as he didn't need another dull small talk with any of his coworkers or the company leeches. He just needed a moment of peace to clear his mind, that's all. But then he heard a familiar laughter, the sound that owned his soul. Hesitantly, he turned around and his jaw dropped.

The dress was scandalous, indeed. Its milky white satin material accentuated all her curves in an obscene way. But that wasn't even the most outrageous part – the slit was the worst. The thigh-high, treacherous side slit that put her long leg on display. When Tiffany turned her back another surprise awaited – the exposed skin of her back was glowing at him. Her every move was torture and he was being punished, but he wouldn't look away. Her black hair was styled in perfect Hollywood waves that cascaded down her bare shoulders. And finally – the cherry on the cake, her full lips painted red, seeking undivided attention. She was absolutely breathtaking.

And she caught him staring. Their gaze met for the first time this evening. She didn't smile, but he could swear there was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. She looked him up and down, trailing over his expensive tailor-made tux, fresh haircut and a flushed face, and then she had the audacity to bite her bottom lip, the movement slow and subtle, followed by a tantalizing flick of the tongue. Suddenly, he felt an uncomfortable motion in his pants. For fuck's sake, Tiffany.

The horror took a different form when a wave of his inappropriate thoughts was interrupted by a large hand that slipped on Tiffany's lower back. Ethan took a deep breath, trying to control the anger building up inside of him.

Lahela looked much like the dreamy prom king from a teen movie, with his golden bronze skin and perfect white teeth. His blonde hair, usually side swept and tousled, today made a rare slicked back appearance. He was whispering something to Tiffany's ear, but her gaze was still fixed on Ethan. What was she thinking about? And then she turned to Bryce, giggling like his very own prom queen, waving at the rest of their friends standing nearby. Except she was not some clueless chick, she was his intern. His Rookie.

Another minute of observing this bizzare spectacle would make Ethan think he's a masochist. He desperately needed a drink, but the gang was standing in the way of the outside bar. Without thinking, he took one of the champagne glasses distributed by a waitress, chugged it quickly, then took another and rushed inside.

~ A malicious rumour ~

„Please, welcome my dear friend – Don Julio!” Jackie got back to the gang's table with a tray full of tequila shots, receiving a perplexed look from Sienna. „What, you didn't believe in me? I can be very persuasive.” She moved her chest to the sides, making her tits jiggle, while distributing the shots.

„I genuinely hoped the bartender would tell you off and qualify as too drunk for another round.” Sienna rolled her eyes and glanced at Landry as if she was waiting for him to back her up, but he was lost deep in his thought. „We'll be doomed tomorrow.”

„Si, please, turning free booze down is like throwing real money into trash.” Elijah gently smacked her elbow.

„Who said anything about turning it down?” She laughed, holding her shot close.

„That's my girl!” Jackie whistled and clinked her glass with Sienna's. „Let's drink like we've won the lottery tonight!”

„Earth to Landry!” Sienna pointed at him with her shot. „Are you drinking with us?”

„Yeah, yeah, sorry...” He smiled briefly and took his glass up. „To Edenbrook!”

„Hell yeah to Edenbrook! Thanks for making us fucking plastered.” Elijah marked the toast and they all downed their shots.

„This is...” Sienna blinked and a single tear fell down her cheek.

„Nasty?” Elijah winced with disgust while Jackie grinned. „Delicious fucking meal?” The group burst out laughing and then proceeded with drinking.

„Where's Tiffany? I haven't seen her around for a while.” Sienna wondered.

„She's probably getting busy with Meathead in one of these lavish bathrooms.” Jackie's response resulted in Sienna's squeak. „Kidding, he got stuck in the friendzone. Who cares.”

„But he's also missing, isn't he?” Elijah looked at Jackie quizzically, challenging her for another take at the theory.

„Turn around, Walmart Sherlock.” They all turned their heads just to see Bryce walking in their direction with other surgical interns. Elijah folded his arms in defeat, while Jackie continued, trying to hold back a chuckle. „She said something about an important phonecall before disappearing.”

„What if something...happened to her?” Sienna's face was etched with worry.

„Well. I'm too drunk to get up...So.” Jackie pointed at the stairs on the other side of the room. „The last time I saw her she was walking down there.”

„I'll go check it out. Call me if you find her before I do.”

The hotel was huge. After running down what felt like a hundred stairs, Landry reached a long corridor. He wandered slowly, trying not to make any noise just in case. At the end of the hall he found another stairs. He walked down, and down, and down...Until he heard some grumbling and stopped in his tracks. He wasn't sure where was it coming from and what the sound was. Cautiously, he continued his journey, his steps as silent as possible. When he finally saw the floor his eyes went wide and he almost screamed at the sight. With the last bit of his sane mind, he took a step back, still having a good look but not in a way his presence would be compromised, and watched the scene unfold.

It was unmistakably Tiffany. Even though her red lipstick was smeared, perfect hair ruined, disheveled along with her satin dress, it was definitely his friend. Her body pulled against a man he was about to recognize...

Ethan Freaking Ramsey.

The blood drained from Landry's face. He was appalled to the core, clenching his fists until the knuckles got white. But he couldn't move. He just kept on lurking.

Ethan was kissing her neck with such force, the marks of this shameless encounter will surely bruise her skin. But she didn't seem to mind. Her mouth let out muffled moans as her hands greedily explored his body. Her leg was hiking up Ethan's waist and his possessive hand gripped her exposed thigh, sliding his fingers up and down, grabbing her skin, smacking her ass and squeezing it.

„You're mine, Rookie.” He whispered into her ear. Tiffany moaned loudly, clearly forgetting they were in a public space.

„I'm all yours.” She purred. Ethan smirked and moved his lips to meet hers. Their kiss was passionate and urgent, as their tongues fought for dominance. Their bodies were grinding against each other in an unsteady rhythm...

He's seen enough. He tried to back away. There was no reason to continue watching two people in a loving act...But it was not loving, was it? She corrupted him. She seduced him. That tricky little bitch! She wanted to win the competition but she couldn't outshine the others, so she had to come up with a plan of her own. Was Ramsey really that stupid and blind after all?

Landry's whole world crushed down and a wash of despair fell on him while trying to think of a solution. He was determined to make Tiffany pay for her deviousness. For a single minute a defiant thought crossed his mind – maybe it's a little unfair to interpret the nature of their relationship without knowing the slightest hint of their story? But it was too late, he was already blinded by his jealousy. He found himself in a position to judge, and that advantage was vindictive enough. He shook his last decent thought off and doubled back to the party.

~ A blinding revelation ~

Inside wasn't safe either. Everyone watched The Ethan Ramsey follow his nose straight to the bar. Some of the big fish already made their steps towards him, dying to talk to him. Just one more reason to get out of this horrifying event...Before he managed to place an order, a strong vanilla scent filled the air around him. The savor deeply evocative to him, despite his effort to deny its importance. The muscles in his jaw clenched. He didn't even have to look. He didn't want to look.

„Dr. Ramsey, what a surprise. I didn't think I'd find you here.” Tiffany leaned her back against the bar, a glass of champagne in her hand, her eyes scanned the ballroom carefully before they landed on Ethan. He ran the risk of looking back at her. She was even more stunning up close. His eyes quickly avoided hers, finding a neutral spot at the height of her ear.

„Where else would I be, Addams?” His brow arched.

„Literally anywhere else. This isn't a typical Ramsey environment.” Tiffany laughed softly. Ethan's gaze fell back at her face, studying it as if looking for an answer to a question he wouldn't even dare to ask himself. She noticed the cryptic staring and her cheeks flushed with a tint of red. „What did I do now?”

Ethan was silent for a moment, considering his options. The image of Bryce's hand claiming his intern repeatedly slapped him in the face, leaving him no choice but to surrender to this blind rage.

„So you're Lahela's pain in the ass tonight.” He alleged, his speech stilted and mocking.

„Didn't hear him complaining.” She shrugged, dodging a bullet and pointing her own gun at him, scratching him in defence.

„There is no conclusive evidence to prove that, Rookie. You're standing here annoying me, not him.” The intensity of their stare was hardly appropriate for the place they were in. But they were too absorbed in their interaction to register that.

„What if that was my plan all along?” Tiffany's finger brushed his hand as if by accident when she began to walk away. His eyes followed her every move, focusing on how her hips swayed, lingering on her curves. And then, in the middle of the ballroom, she stopped and looked at Ethan over her shoulder. He swallowed loud, knowing damn well what was about to happen next. She bit her bottom lip, smiled teasingly and continued her walk. For fuck’s sake.

Ethan cursed himself for being such a fool and followed her at a safe distance. She was heading downstairs, like she knew exactly where she was going. Except she didn't. It was an exciting, alcohol-driven improvisation.

A trail of vanilla scent she left behind intoxicated him to the point he failed to notice how far from the party they wandered. Judging by the long corridor they passed through, they possibly entered the hotel wing. They were finally alone. Just the two of them and a meaningful silence punctuated by the violent sound of her heels. They reached a luxorious lounge when Tiffany decided to end the journey. She leaned against a white table, sipping her drink with eyes glued to Ethan.

„Why did you follow me?”

„Why would you want to come here? Wherever we are.” They smiled at each other in agreement – they truly deserved each other. The cheeky grin on Ethan's face quickly disappeared, as he moved next to Tiffany, playing with his glass of champagne.

„I'm simply trying to avoid a very public catastrophe.” The young doctor admitted. She hopped on the table and crossed her legs, letting the material of her dress slip to the side, completely exposing her leg.

„Are you seeing Scalpel Jockey?” The waspishness of his own voice sickened him as much as the fact, that the decision to spit the question out was motivated solely by self-interest.

„Why do you care?” She looked at him staggered.

„I don't.” He responded immediately. His words, as sharp as a knife, cut her deep and she turned away. The look of sadness on her face made him bite his tongue...Only just a second too late.

„Tiffany...” His hand reached her shoulder, but she threw it off. She remained silent for a long moment, her chest moving furiously, face hidden behind her locks. The catastrophe was on its way. When she finally regained her composure, her head angled at Ethan revealing an indignant glare.

„I'm so done with your hot and cold bullshit. You have no right to treat me like this...You rejected me. You made it painfully clear that you're only interested in Doctor Addams.”

„I know, but...”

„You know?” She got up and scoffed at him, taking a step in his direction. „You know, yet you continue this immature act. You're all jealous and possessive, but when it comes to owning it you deny everything.”

„Tiffany, your whole career is at stake here. Why am I the only one thinking about it?” He said through gritted teeth.

„Man the fuck up instead of altering the subject.” She leaned closer, unaware of the consequences, until their faces were merely inches apart.

„What's that supposed to mean?” He knew exactly what she meant. In fact, he knew way too well. Playing dumb, are we?

„Tell me now, Ethan. Right in the eye.” Her voice was filled with pain and frustration as she pointed her finger at her teary eyes. „Tell me you don't care about me.”

„What...” He blinked, utterly disconcerted.

„Tell me I can date and fuck whoever I want.” She's seen him mad before. This was something different. An entire new level of rage crossed his face. He was breathing fire.

„That's enough, Addams.” He pursed his lips and shook his head with eyes closed, as if he was trying to teleport to another dimension just to calm himself down.

„Using my surname won't...”

„Do you really think it's easy for me?” He hissed, interrupting her. „It's not like I've walked into the waiting room the day we met and decided to fall in love with an intern. Nothing of this was my intention.”

Ethan's words made her stand straight. Her face softened, lips slightly parted. They waited in silence for a minute, trying to deal with the surprising turn of events. Ethan felt the need to even his breath, when a blinding revelation downed at him.

„I have feelings for you, Tiffany.” She moved closer, standing between his legs, her hand flicked through his thick hair.

„Yes, you said something about falling in love.”

„Stop it. I know what I said.” He leaned into her touch and put an arm around her waist, a playful smile playing on his lips. She pulled his head closer, letting his chin fall between her breasts.

„I'm not seeing Bryce. I just had to see you green with envy.” Tiffany confessed, caressing his cheek with the back of her hand.

„And that worked extremely well, didn't it?” Ethan arched his brow, his hand traced her curves up and down on the side.

„It did. I think I got what I wanted.” Their eyes were still locked, his baby blues finding safety in the green of her emeralds.

„You might want to revaluate that.”

„Wha...” He didn't let her finish. With a brisk movement he stood up, catching her in his strong arms, and kissed her hungrily.

Tiffany melted into him, staining his lips Russian Red with every kiss. Her arms immediately twined around him as he blindly moved her forward until her back was pinned against the wall. The kiss deepened, making them both dizzy with its intensity. They gasped into each other's mouth while their tongues danced together.

„I see your point now, Doctor.” She mumbled when they finally parted for air. The lipstick printed on Ethan's lips made her chuckle. „How come you look so good in red?”

„I can assure you, it's not as good as your smudged look.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, inhaling her delicious scent.

„Shut up and kiss me.”

She didn't have to tell him twice. He crashed into her again with renewed passion, his hands tugging at the satin of her dress. Never breaking the kiss, she slightly spread her legs and he instantly felt the movement, pressing his body even closer against hers. The rock hard bulge begged for her attention by rubbing on her inner thigh, and she willingly complied. Her hand slipped into his pants and stroked his length teasingly through the fabric of his underwear. He moaned into her lips and gripped her ass, as they continued kissing.

„You're making me crazy, Tiffany. And that dress...” He trailed off, trying to find a proper word that matched with his unholy thoughts.

„You'd like to tear it off, wouldn't you?” The lustful glance followed by a tightened grip was answer enough and it made her grin from ear to ear. „Not so fast.”

She quickly unzipped Ethan's pants, and before he realized, she was on her knees, her slim fingers tracing the waistband of his underwear.

„Tiffany...” He was slack-jawed, unable to move. His mind went off for a split of second. Luckily, he managed to come to his senses before she pulled his pants down. He reached for her shoulders and gently brought her back into his arms.

„Ethan, let me. I want to taste you.” She whispered, cleary disappointed he spoiled the fun. Ethan stared at her in awe, trying to shake off the image of his cock in her mouth.

„No...Not here.” His hand held her jaw and tilted it slightly up. „Someone might walk in on us any minute.”

Then he began kissing her neck with such force, the marks of this shameless encounter will surely bruise her skin. But she didn't mind, she was delirious. Her mouth let out muffled moans as her hands greedily explored his body. The high slit came in handy when her leg was hiking up Ethan's waist and his possessive hand gripped her exposed thigh, sliding his fingers up and down, grabbing her skin, smacking her ass and squeezing it.

„You're mine, Rookie.” He whispered into her ear and sucked the skin behind it. Tiffany moaned loudly, forgetting they were in a public space.

„I'm all yours.” She purred. Ethan smirked, pleased at the response, and moved his lips to meet hers. Their kiss was passionate and urgent, as their tongues fought for dominance. Their bodies were grinding against each other in an unsteady rhythm, desperate to feel skin on skin. „Let's move somewhere private.”

„We need to clean this mess up first.” Ethan took a tissue out of his pocket in order to get rid of the lipstick smudges all over his face.

„It's pointless. I sucked on your lip pretty hard, you’re staying red.”

„Give me the lipstick then.” She burst with laughter and Ethan soon followed.

They did their best attempt at tidying themselves up with the minimal equipment Tiffany carried in her tiny purse. They really did. Was it enough? Probably not. Did they care? Surprisingly, not in the slightest.

„Ethan?” Tiffany took his hand in hers right before they decided they looked decent enough to head back to the ballroom. He laced their fingers together when their gaze met.

„I have feelings for you too.” She coughed up nervously. A very rare beaming smile lit up Ethan's face. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

„I know.”

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #open heart #ethan ramsey x mc #my fanfic writing #ethan freaking ramsey #doctor whipped #tiffany addams

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