#terr writes

[terrm9]

Okay hear me out

I haven't written Ethan and Chiara in years but suddenly I am possesed by this idea that sometime deep into their relationship, Ethan realizes he actually met Chiara's father before he died, he just never realized it? And Chiara absolutely breaks down because so many days and nights she wished for her dad and her Ethan to meet

god I want to write it so bad now

[terrm9]

for your love (lina x tatum)

not sure if this is embarassing or lovely, however I did finish this tiny piece for Lina and Tatum as a part of my Creative Writing class assignment, so I tought I would share it here as well. Not tagging anyone because I am pretty sure nobody is here anymore, but if you are and you enjoy this, thank you! <3

It isn't the sound of running water that catches Tatum's attention as he steps into the apartment. It's the other sounds, blending into the buzz of water falling onto the tiles, almost indistinguishable to other people, were that other person not Tatum.

But Tatum knows. He would recognize it anywhere, anytime.

It cannot be, though. For how long did he wish to hear it? Whole months, months of darkness, months of grief, months of silence.

When he himself cried, because the heaviness sitting on his chest was too much to handle without tears, all he wanted was for her to let out some of that burden out, too.

Lina's sobs.

He doesn't think twice before crossing the living room and walking into the bathroom.

"Lina," Tatum breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper.

She is curled on the floor of the shower enclosure, clothes still on.

"Lina," Tatum repeats and walks in, sits down next to her and the water burns his skin, but he doesn't care, doesn't turn it off, because this is Lina crying, his Lina, and his hand is shaking when he cups her cheek, his throat is tight and all he can do is whisper, for the third time: "Lina."

She doesn't say anything at first, doesn't even look up at him, but Tatum knows she feels his presence, knows by the way Lina leans into his touch. 

"I am here," he whispers and takes a moment to turn the water off, just in time to realize that Lina's sobs are slowly subsiding too. "I am right here."

They stay like that for a long time and Tatum wants to ask so many things, wants to take her as she is, curled up against his chest and carry her somewhere, anywhere, away from this. But he doesn't - instead, he sits there, the wet clothes now cold, stiking to their bodies and it makes him shiver, still he stays as he is, waiting, unmoving. 

"Tatum," Lina croaks out after a long moment and for the first time in weeks, she looks him in the eyes. Searches his face, as if believing she might find something there. Some hope, perhaps. Answers. A future that has been taken aways from them. 

"Is it all my fault?" she asks after a long while and her voice breaks at the end. 

Tatum's heart drops at the words.

He wants to shake her out of those thoughts, wants to scream, no, it was never your fault, none of this is of your doing, Lina. 

Instead, he gets up and stops the water. Grabs the towels, sheds his wet clothes. All his movements steady, almost mechanical. Helps Lina get out of hers and drapes the towel around her shoulders.  She lets him - after weeks, she lets him. Lets him help her, lets him in. 

The room is silent, but not painfully so, not anymore. This is the silence Tatum knows between them, the understanding silence, the one that keeps them close. 

It is only when they are both dry when he takes Lina's face into his hands again and speaks (quietly, gently, a slight tremor to his voice).

"It is not your fault, Lina. It is not my fault, either-"

"Of course it is not your fault," she interrupts. "How could it possibly be?"

There are still silent tears streaming down her face, her cheeks flushed, but after so long, Tatum sees Lina. Sees the woman he loves, not a shell of her. 

"It sounds foolish to blame me, doesn't it? It is just as foolish to blame yourself," he whispers. "There is nobody to blame. But there is still something to love, Lina. Me. Yourself. Life itself"

Lina keeps looking at him, studies his face silently, tenderly and even though she doesn't say anything, he knows she wants him to talk. 

"I know," he gulps, feeling his own tears in the corners of his eyes. "I know how much you are hurting and it pains me to think that you would hate yourself over this."

Silence fills the room once again as she hugs him tightly, nestles her head in the crook of his neck. 

A heavy silence, indeed, but it's their silence. The one he is familiar with, the one he can read. Without speaking, there are words flying around them. 

I am sorry. I need you. I am afraid of needing you so much. I have missed you. I cannot do this without you. I am scared. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

[terrm9]

WIP, uh, Monday

Hello! (I guess? I am not sure what do you say when you are about to post your writing after almost 4 years of not posting it). Not sure if anyone is still here, but I am overwhelmed with inspiration and a sheer need to write. Therefore, I am sharing this little snippet from the fic for Ethan and Chiara that I am currently working on - it's continuation of chapter 11 in book 2, as Chiara is recovering from the maitotoxin attack, still in the hospital.

"I wish I could take some of that away. Some of the pain, some of those memories," Ethan whispers into the silence.

"Don't. You have been through enough yourself. I know the fear running through your veins when you think about your close ones dying," she still does not look at him, her eyes distant.

Ethan wishes she would look at him. More than a year of knowing her, of working, of existing near Chiara and he always finds himself wishing she would look at him, always relishing in the quiver of his stomach as he loses himself in the green of her irises.

It turns out, he always loses himself in her, because she is still not looking at him and he is lost, lost in the warmth of her palm in his, lost in her scent, lost in-

"Back in that room," she speaks again, her voice raspy, "when I believed I wouldn't make it, I thought how incomparably easier is to die than to learn how to continue living in the world where the people you love are not anymore."

if anyone is still here, please do reach out! I would love to know how you guys are doing ❤️

[terrm9]

love of mine (ethan x chiara)

Micro story for prompt word 'crave', which I am sure I did not use in this fic. It's a silly little thing, I just wanted to try if I am even able to create for the OH universe again. Contains h*rny Ethan in love, Chiara being Chiara and some making out. Definitely not NSFW but maybe don't read it if you are not comfortable with kissing. I am not tagging anyone because it's truly just a tiny something, but still - thank you to everyone who engages!

"And you find that statement to be true?" Chiara asks, her voice light, with a giggly edge to it, even.

It's been a good day. Normal. Mundane. Somehow good still.

"And I," Ethan responds hovering over her, his voice breathy and quiet, his lips touching Chiara's neck lightly.

"Do find," a kiss on her collarbone this time, Ethan's hands at the either side of her head and it takes just the slightest turn for her to get a close look on his forearms. On the veins there.

"That statement," Ethan continues, moving his lips higher, biting her earlobe softly. His words are mere whispers in her ears, breath hot and tickling. "To be true."

He's overheard Bryce's statement in the hospital's hall today - as did handful of new interns.

Dr. Ray, hospital's brightest and most stunning resident.

"All of it? The whole statement?" Chiara pushes, knowing very well Ethan couldn't have heard it whole. He passed them in a hurry, not even acknowledging the group of younger doctors with a nod.

"The very whole," Ethan answers in a husky voice and she knows he is not truly paying attention to their conversation, not with his teeth now grazing the bare skin of her shoulder, his fingers slowly pulling the strap of her tank top down.

It's a tie with me, of course, Bryce added quickly after complimenting Chiara, his smile as wide and chraming as always. As you have undoubtedly noticed.

Though there is nobody nearly as humble as Dr. Lahela among the doctors, Chiara responded. Bryce's smile just got wider.

Ethan couldn't have heard any of it.

"Well, Bryce will be happy to hear that," she grins, her own fingers playing with the subtle curls at the nape of Ethan's neck.

"Why," Ethan growls, although he does not look up at her, "are we bringing Lahela into this."

Chiara could let it be. She could keep quiet, she could kiss him, softly at first and hungry just a second after; could let the teasing go and enjoy Ethan's attention fully.

She could.

She tells him. Tells him about how he's just agreed with Bryce's self-praise, tells him through the giggles, now fully formed and loud.

"Must you?" Ethan groans, his forehead falling on her naked shoulder and Chiara is almost sure he is fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You know I do," she laughs softly, though her voice has lost some of its teasing now, the sound of it purely joyous and bright.

He knows. He wouldn't have it any other way.

[terrm9]

also here with an l&t request because how could i not- maybe tender for those two? love you ❤️

thank you so much Mal!!! You allowing me to create more for L&T means more to me than I can tell. I love you SO MUCH <333

also again I am sorry I cannot really focus on anything these days but I needed to do something because I was going crazy a little but so this is probably super messy but yay! it's something

the title of this fic is inspired by this song, I recommend it to everyone it's a very beautiful song <3

wrapped in piano strings (l & t)

Lina has received many gala invitations over the years. Being the president's only daughter has always meant doing things she wouldn't normally even consider doing.

She always refused to attend the events. Galas and balls and all kinds of charity events - she'd turn down every single one of them, stubbornly refusing to dress up and schmooze with the nation's biggest dickheads just to improve her mother's image.

After officially leaving Vancross and starting her completely-free-of-politics life, she wouldn't even open the invitations anymore.

Until today.

Today, the little kids from the orphanage - her kids - are performing. Those tiny bodies with huge eyes on their faces, singing and dancing just like they were taught (and also freestyling their way through the performance a little bit too often).

Lina came to support those children today.

With Tatum by her side, she must admit it's not the worst evening of her life.

She decided to wear a red dress, with a thigh slit that balanced on an edge of being inappropriate - and it was when she saw the heat in Tatum's eyes as he looked at her for the first time, that she knew she'd made a good choice.

(The heat that soon moved into his cheeks, because even after all these years - after years of devouring every inch of Lina's skin - Tatum deemed his sinful thoughts about his best friend improper.)

And now, Lina finds herself watching him. Observing him as he watches the performance, his face blank, almost stern (as it always is), yet she notices his foot tapping lightly against the wooden floor with the music.

Tatum is completely wrapped in the sound of piano, even his thumb that traces circles on the soft skin of her wrist moving in synchrony with the tones.

Lina is comletely wrapped in him.

In the way his tanned skin glows even under the artifical light. In the curve of his full lips. In the contrast between the white fabric of his turtleneck and his dark stubble. In the arch of his eyebrow and in the sharpness of his cheekbones.

She is wrapped in the love she carries for him, in all parts of herself - the obvious and the deepest ones, both.

Tatum turns his head to her, an eyebrow arching in a silent question.

Lina smiles slightly. Tatum smiles back at her, just as tenderly (if not more).

The room, the performance, people sitting at their table with them - it all fades. All loses its significance at the moments like this.

All turns into a white nose when they are wrapped in each other.

***

Fun story about Tatum's outfit - I am one (1) weak sucker for men in turtlenecks. Intially, he was supposed to wear dark gray turtleneck but THEN I found Devon's photo in a white one and my mind was set on that lol

Taglist❤

@canigetanawwjunk | @mercury84choices | @udishaman | @starrystarrytrouble | @forallthatitsworth | @sophxwithers | @maurine07 | @iemcpbchoices | @jamespotterthefirst | @anntoldst0ries | @custaroonie | @withbeautyandrage | @tsrookie | @k2624 | @choicesaddict5 | @mvalentine | @casey-v | @the-pale-goddess | @gardeningourmet | @uneravine | @quixoticdreamer16 | @utterlyinevitable | @itsjustamesshonestly | @dorisz | @toadfrog26 | @monsoonblooms12 | @fireycookie

[terrm9]

🥰🏆💎💡🎤 from the fanfic writer ask game (bc I’m greedy ❤️)

Thank you so much for this, love❤

🥰 fave fic you’ve written?

okay this is super hard and I am going to name more than one because i cannot possibly choose lol sorry:D

for E&C it’s definitely all she wished to be was his (he called her a midnight sun)

for L&T, it’s the whole ‘you give it to me anyway’ mini series, especially the first and last part. those fics are something i am genuinely proud of and probably the only fics of mine that i acutally come back to reread sometimes lol:D

🏆fic youre most proud of?

i kinda answered that already, it’s definitely you give it to me anyway and bring me to my knees. but i am proud of all my L&T writing because I know that there are not that many people interested in them (and by not that many I mean like four:DDD) and I write each and every of their fics solely for myself. and I believe it shows

💎 fave trope to write?

answered here! <3

💡what inspires your fic ideas?

in some cases, it’s my own life experience. good and bad things that had happened to me. things i’ve done and regret them - making my characters regret them helps me deal with my own shit lmao:D and of course then the other inspiration are scenarios that i am most likely never going to experience so i at least indulge myself fictionally:D and there are also fics that are just for fun and my stupid sense of humor is the only inspiration i need:D

🎤fave line in a fic you wrote?

I shared one of my faves here some time ago, so today I am going to take my chance and share not a line but a piece of fic that I really, really love

She is –

Everything.

All he ever longed for and never allowed himself to believe in.

Everything.

- the first ray of light creeping through the darkness the North Pole suffers through for those 179 days of polar night.

Not the blinding kind of light. Not the one he needs to cover his eyes from, not the one he needsto adjust to.

His life has been a polar night, the dark not dark enough to swallow him (to end him) rather the creeping dusk that makes his chest tighten, makes the lump in the throat bigger and bigger until it can be felt behind his ears and it suffocates him (not enough to end him, no), makes him choke-

-until the first ray of a midnight sun breaks through and there are 186 days of light and nothing but light, warm and welcoming and wondrous.

Chiara Ray is his very personal midnight sun.

I know it’s long, sorry!! but i cannot just pick one of these lines because they are only cool when together:D i like what i did here and sometimes i wonder where did this terr go lmao:D

Dom, I love you so much! Thank you again❤❤❤❤

[terrm9]

💎 & 🍄 for the fanfic writer ask game, my dearest Terr ❤️

thank you so much, my dearest! <333

🍄 how do you get yourself in the mood to write?

most of the time, I listen to music and that’s it. My whole desire to write for OH fadom came from listening to Already Gone by Sleeping At Last on repeat haha:D some songs speak to me on such level that I need to sit down and write a fic that I will always have associated with the said song

💎 fav trope to write?

I am going to say hurt/comfort and/with a non-sexual intimacy. I love one character hurting and the other one providing a comfort no one else can provide. I especially love creating an atomsphere that is very tender and intimate and I can portray how the characters just get each other on this deep level. So the combo of hurt and comfort with this atmosphere is something I truly enjoy writing about

Love you forever!!! <3

[terrm9]

31 for E&C ✨ have a great day <3

Thank you so much, darling❤❤❤

I took this as a chance to write the little ficlet about the Ethan & Matilda & Bryce idea I had some time ago. So basically this is more Ethan & Bryce bromance than anything else - I hope you do not mind❤

This is very stupid domestic fluff, featuring daddy!Ethan and uncle!Bryce please do not expect any quality😂

(stupid ficlet asks for stupid title)

she asked for French braids, all he can offer are French toasts

"Dad, please," Matilda begs. "I need those braids. I promised Dorothy."

A long exhale leaves Ethan's mouth - they have been through the same dialogue for the last ten minutes.

"Til, I would really love to make them for you and you know that. But you also know I do not know how to do so."

"But mom promised it would be no problem."

Ethan swears he can see tears in the corners of his four-year-old.

"Yes," he nods patiently. "Because your mom was supposed to take you to school today. But we needed to switch last minute."

Ethan feels awful. All his daughter wanted were two French braids. Probably the only thing he is not capable of giving her, no matter how hard he tries.

(And yes, he did try very hard, may the sweat on his forehead be his evidence.)

Just as he starts considering driving to the hospital and barging straight into Chiara's office with Matilda, the text from his wife saves him.

He exhales again, this time with relief and smiles down at his daughter, her (his) big blue eyes curious and expectant. As disappointed as she would be without the braids, Matilda has remained patient for the whole time, knowing perfectly well that her father is trying his best.

"Mommy just texted me that she'd sent someone over here to do your hair. I am sure Sienna will be here soon."

~

Twelve minutes later the doorbell rings and the vision of salvation makes Ethan so relieved he opens the door without checking the camera.

It's only when Matilda's cheerful "Uncle Bryce!" echoes from the corridor that the relief is replaced by utter surprise.

"Lahela?" Ethan asks when the young surgeon steps into the room, Matilda in his arms.

"Ramsey," Bryce grins in return and puts Matilda gently down on a bar stool. "I've heard you are in a desperate need of a hairdresser."

Without waiting for further instructions, Bryce starts threading Matilda's wild, curly hair, his long fingers working expertly and with surprising tenderness.

"You know how to do... that?" Ethan asks, still not quite understanding the situation.

"Ah, it's a breeze! I used to braid Keiki's hair all the time when she was a kid. My parents were absolutely useless," he chuckles, though the sound lacks the lightness it ought to carry.

"Not that you are useless!" he adds quickly, looking up from Matilda's head to Ethan. "It's just that... you know."

He trails off, eyes growing distant, even though he does hold Ethan's gaze.

Ethan nods. He knows.

He has known Bryce for almost ten years. He has come to know him, truly. Beyond the facade of the ever-joyful surgeon.

There are more things connecting the two men than just Chiara and Matilda.

Bryce nods, too. He knows that Ethan understands.

Ethan clears his throat and excuses himself to the kitchen, offering Bryce some coffee.

He steps back into the dining room just in time to see Matilda hugging Bryce's waist, her hair done in two flawless French braids.

"Thank you, Bryce," Ethan says quietly as he hands him the coffee.

Not just for the braids, he wants to add. He doesn't have to - Bryce's soft smile, genuine and small as he responds, you are welcome, tells him he knows.

***

I am sorry for this😂 I actually have more serious breeze for E&C here ♡