#❛ ✧ ┊ ⊰ muse : baz ⊱ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bookish-bogwitch · 5 months ago

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Thank you @roomwithanopenfire, @rimeswithpurple, @blackberrysummerblog, @nausikaaa, @larkral,

@hushed-chorus, @alexalexinii, @monbons, @whatevertheweather, @run-for-chamo-miles,

@artsyunderstudy, @mooncello, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @forabeatofadrum, and @aristocratic-otter for the tags over the past few weeks. I've had a crazy month (90% in crazy a good way) and too frazzled to come up with my own WIP posts, but have enjoyed reading yours and being included.

Here are six ten moody little sentence from Chapter 11 of Basil Pitch's Diary. (In case you missed it, I posted Ch. 10, September, a few weeks ago, then fled the country.) Baz is hanging in in Niall and Dev's room:

The last time I was here with Niall, he’d told me to hold out for more than ear scritches and the occasional carrot. Now we sat on his bed with a chessboard between us. “Baz,” Niall said quietly. “What are you doing?” “Beating you.” I moved my queen to menace his remaining bishop. “With Snow, I mean.” Niall did that thing where the rook and king hop around, which shouldn’t be allowed, and I realized he’d won. Again. Somewhere, in a parallel universe, there is a me who grew up with someone to play against, demolishing a Niall who never went to math camp.

Below the cut: musing, a posting plan, and more tags.

Musing: I've actually written a ton since the last chapter even though I've been AWOL, but for a while no matter what I wrote, Baz felt out of character. I'd write a scene, like it, and then think "but why is he doing this?" Then I'd rewrite with Baz behaving completely differently, and that also felt OOC.

I worried that I'd somehow doomed myself with inconsistent characterization, but then I figured it out: Baz at this point is deeply inconsistent. He presents himself to the world one way, he tells the reader / himself that he's something else, and deep down he's a secret third thing. And sometimes his masks slip.

To some extent this is every unreliable narrator. But boyo has REALLY tangled himself up at this point. Something's gotta give. Until it does--which it will, soon--I have to be very clear in my mind, even if Baz isn't, about which Baz is driving the Baz at any given moment.

A lot of you can do that sort of thing intuitively. I can't. So I've been building this out (showing you just the headers b/c spoilers):

This might stultify some (most?) of you. For me, though, it's freeing. When my brain isn't trying to keep track of everything, my imagination can unfurl.

"'Everything'?" you ask. "This isn't that plotty a fic." It's not, but it's already 2.5x longer than anything else I've written, which means developing skills I haven't needed before. Anyway, my BPD chart and I are having fun. We're very happy together.

Posting Plan

I pushed myself to get Ch. 10 up before leaving home for three weeks, because Ch. 9 had ended on such a wretched note. While I was happy to have gotten it up, I didn't love the self-imposed time crunch (though betas @cutestkilla, @facewithoutheart, and @thewholelemon were fuckin' heroes). Feeling rushed had me stressing and second-guessing choices that were probably fine.

My plan now is to pause updates until I have at least a very rough first draft of the final chapter, then post it all at regular intervals. I know a longish pause means some folks who'd been reading along will wait until it's complete, if they return at all. To those folks--sorry, and I get it, and thank you for reading in the first place, and I love you.

Tags and shy waves to @brendughh @beastmonstertitan @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @carryonmylovelies @creepyspice

@comesitintheclover @cows4247 @confused-bi-queer @artsyunderstudy@chen-chen-chen-again-chen

@chronicallyhomoerotic @drowninginships @dragoneggos @excalisbury @emeryhall

@erzbethluna @ebbpettier @fight-surrender @fatalfangirl @gay-at-ikea

@fiend-for-culture @forabeatofadrum @foolofabookwyrm-activated @arthurkko @j-nipper-95

@gekkoinapeartree @goblindad-emoshit @henreyettah @hertragedyconnoisseur @hushed-chorus

@icarus-n-flames @ineffable-grimm-pitch @ic3-que3n @ionlydrinkhotwater @iamamythologicalcreature

@ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @shrekgogurt @im-gettingby @youarenevertooold

@monbons @mooncello @raenestee @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @messofthejess

#six sentence sunday #my writing #basil pitch's diary #stem nerd niall #let baz be dumb 2024 #writing thoughts

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whatevertheweather · 3 months ago

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Hellooooo on this somewhat dreary Sunday. I have been almost completely incapable of writing lately, but this day is more than half over and I'd like to manage at least one (1) thing, so I'm going to throw together a few snippets from the backburner projects that I don't usually share things from. I have a notion that switching it up this way will...realign my brain. Or something.

So here we go, each from a different WIP, in order of how much they've pulled me away from the things I should actually be working on. You'll get three that are reasonably comparable moods and then we're going to switch the tone in rather a jarring way.

Under the cut because not a one of them will be under six sentences.

ONE

“Don’t give me that,” Baz tosses his head. “We talk about this at least weekly.” “We actually talk very deliberately around it,” Agatha corrects with a smirk. “Yes, well, we both know what it is we’re not talking about,” he snaps. It goes very loudly unspoken. No one named, just a tacit understanding that Baz is gone for someone, casual mention of highly specific hypotheticals, and an uptick in the conversation about it when Simon leaves the room. “I’m obsessed with your ex-boyfriend, are you happy? Does it bring you joy to hear me say it?” Agatha heaves a long sigh, her mouth pursed in thought. “It’s actually not as fulfilling as I thought it would be,” she muses, stopping once more while her dog pretends it has any pee left to gift to the local shrubbery. “I’m kind of underwhelmed.” Baz looks up to the sky. “Ever so sorry my problems don’t entertain.” “What problems?” she says. “My ex-boyfriend just sent you a musical love confession. I will bet actual money that you’ve had dreams like this.” “I don’t know what he meant by sending it!”

TWO

As Simon is returning from loitering in the copy room for a change of scenery, he sees on Penny's screen that she's in the middle of responding to an email from Baz. Simon flips her paper tray off the desk. “Oh, rotten luck!” “Simon!” Penny yelps as she futilely lurches to catch her scattered papers. “Why would you do that?” “Me? I’m over here,” Simon says from her other side, reaching across her station and deleting the drafted email. Penny’s head pops up with another indignant sound for the click of her mouse, but Simon is dropping into his own chair while she’s still bent at the waist in hers, apparently unable to decide whether to figure out what he’s done on her computer or to collect her paperwork. Simon leaves her to it and opens Baz’s email at his station.

THREE

“Snow—” “It’s not—look, it’s not a big deal, we can just ignore it—” “Ignore—?” “It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t even mean anything, it’s fine, like, what’s it even matter, really?” Simon made the mistake of glancing up at Baz again after finally pulling his eyes away. He looked like someone had smacked him in the face with a fly swatter. Or a bolt of lightning. “Nothing has to change.” Baz’s mouth pulled into a snarl as he charged forward a step, but he stopped. His back snapped into position, spine straight and rigid. Simon could see it play out on his face as he drew a line between them, pulled himself back in. “Are you messing with me?” he whispered. “What?” “If you’re messing with me, I will disembowel you.” “Jesus Christ, Baz—” “I will eviscerate you,” he hissed. “Are you messing with me?” Maybe he should say yes.

FOUR

Baz didn’t open his eyes. He kept his hand over his mouth and turned his face into his pillow, tried to choke down the sound building in his chest as Snow knelt beside his bed. Snow’s heart had kicked up to a quicker beat, but his breath was steady. The weight of his hand settled on the blanket, just shy of Baz’s elbow. “What can I do?” he asked. It knocked into something already crooked in Baz’s chest. “You’re—you’re shivering, are you cold?” Baz screwed his eyes up tighter and nodded. “Okay, okay, here—” Simon stood, stepped away, stepped again, shifted beside the bed with a heavy rustle of fabric. “Here.” Baz opened his eyes and shook his head, a breath stuck in his throat as he jerked back from Simon’s blanket, pushed it away. “Okay, hey, okay,” Simon said softly, twisting the blanket around his hand and throwing it to the floor. “There, okay? Okay. Do you—can I—hey, okay, can I just—?” Simon did it slowly, leaning over Baz’s bed with a hand poised between them like he was ready for Baz to lash out, ready to retreat. Baz didn’t, and Simon kept going. Baz didn’t lift his eyes past Simon’s chin when Simon laid down beside him.

That last one is the last one because we're ranking by things that have taken up time recently. If we're going all-time, it should be number one. It is in fact in a WIP sub-folder called "the labyrinth is growing," where it lives in perpetual limbo with five other documents.

Now tags <3

@monbons @forabeatofadrum @artsyunderstudy thank you for the tags today!

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @mooncello @whogaveyoupermission

@cutestkilla @run-for-chamo-miles @iamamythologicalcreature @thewholelemon @rimeswithpurple

@alexalexinii @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @aristocratic-otter @youarenevertooold

@bookish-bogwitch @noblecorgi @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ileadacharmedlife

#I tried to find something from the last one that was a more gentle shift from the others #but it can't be done #everything else had me melodramatically saying 'but I can't just give this away!'#like I haven't been hoarding it all since 2021 #six sentence sunday #my writing

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gctawaygirl · 1 year ago

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noemi giggled as she reached for the joint to take a drag of her own. she rolled onto her stomach to look at him properly, "you're not so bad yourself, dummy," she said as she blew out the smoke.

starter: open

muse: Baz Sheppard

"god, you're unholy beautiful " smoke escaping between his lips as he stared at the other. His thoughts and mind clouded by the joint that lay between his fingers

#drugs tw #muse : noemi conde #interactions : noemi & baz #noemi & baz 001 #partner : lxstreign #fandom : i am an original i am inimitable #verse : don't be a blueprint

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philaet0s · 6 months ago

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Celebrity/Social Media AU - Part 32

Previous Part: Part 31

Next Part: Part 33

The full AU is now posted on my ao3!

Simon

Making my way backstage during the concert is definitely the worst part of my day. I nearly get lost, even though I’ve done walked the opposite way only about two hours ago and someone who works here gave me clear and detailed instructions. When I arrive in Baz’s dressing room, Keris, who is in charge of all of Baz’s and his musician’s stage outfits, immediately points at a pair of slacks and a crisp white shirt. “Put them on, quick.”

I would not dare risk disobeying her. She looks stressed. Everyone who works with Baz on his tour looks stressed.

The clothes fit me perfectly, and yet, I’ve never tried them on before, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Baz had my clothing sizes memorised, so.

“You should have makeup on if you’re going on stage,” Keris comments, as she rolls up my sleeves artfully.

“Nah, there’s no time for that,” I say. I purposely left the show very late so there would be no time for makeup. I don’t want any of that stuff on my face, it’s itchy. “I should go now, he’s going to finish the song soon.”

“You’re right. Just one last thing… Turn around please.”

When I do, she tucks in my shirt more than I had, then untucks it a little. “Perfect. Go.”

…And I now have to do more walking around.

Thankfully, the distance is not so big this time, and there are people to guide me. They all look even more stressed than Keris. I don’t think the people who work with him are very happy with Baz’s latest idea… I feel bad for them, but I, for one, am too excited about his idea to be fully compassionate.

I’m right behind the stage now, and Baz has finished his songs. Normally, he moves on straight to the next one, but tonight, Agatha, Niamh, Dev and Niall all stop playing.

“Hey, so…” His voice quickly get drowned out by people cheering. I peek to watch the audience. He waits for them to have gotten a little less loud to continue. “So… London… We know each other very well, you and I… I live in this city. I’ve lived in this city for a long time, but for a few years, I’ve lived in this city with someone very special… Someone who is here, tonight.”

Though none of their faces are clear from this far away, I can tell people in the public turn towards the VIP area, where I was sitting a few minutes ago. Of course, some of them already knew I was here. I even had a few people come and talk to me, like I was the celebrity, it was odd but not totally unpleasant.

While they were busy trying to find me, someone brought the chair that, in a matter of two shows, has become very famous in his fandom. It’s now placed behind him.

“No… Not over there… He’s here tonight,” Baz says, with emphasis. I can hear the smile in his voice a few seconds before I see it as he turns to me, extending a hand.

The crowd goes wild. Loud cheering and clapping accompany my entrance.

Once I’m close enough, I take Baz’s hand. Mine is sweaty. It is intimidating standing in front of tens of thousands of people. I don’t know how Baz does it so confidently.

He mouths ‘Hi, love,’ as he squeezes my hand before holding his mic up to his lips again. “My partner, my muse… My Simon. Everyone, say hello to Simon,” he says, pointing the microphone at the public, who scream in return. “Good. See, it’s not so hard being well-behaved?”

More cheering. They love it when he’s flirty with them. (I could not blame them).

“Simon is going to help me with tonight’s performance, if you don’t mind.” With how loud they are, I doubt they mind. “I thought that I could do something special for the last shows of this incredible tour, the shows in this city that is so dear to me. I hope you’ll like my surprise, London!”

And with that, he pushes me down on the chair, hard enough to look good for the audience, but not so hard that the chair –or I– will fall.

At the same time, the band starts playing the first notes of Hands Down. A song from the first album he wrote about me. The dirtiest song on the first album he wrote about me.

He puts the mic back on the stand, switching to his headset microphone.

Sit back and enjoy. Touch me if you feel like it. That’s all the instructions he gave me when he exposed his idea to me. Which is really no instructions at all. And he didn’t tell me what he was going to do in any specific way, so I’m discovering his ‘surprise’ for London with the same excitement as the audience.

At first, it’s rather tame. He walks around the chair, singing the first verse of the song. The tips of his fingers are dragging along my collarbones, the top of my arms, my shoulder blades. Teasingly.

I’m focusing on the lyrics as much as on what he’s doing, and it makes me realise that that is what he does in the song too, in the first verse. It’s all teasing. He’s using that sexy, sultry voice, he sings a little slowly, drags the ends of some of his words, none of which are overtly sexual yet.

Then, as his lyrics become more explicit, so does his performance.

He’s behind me, and he drags his hands down my chest, until his fingers reach the waistband of my trousers. He lowers his head to, angling it as if he was whispering in my ear. His hands are slower on their way back up. They play with the top button of my shirt, to eventually undo it. And the one underneath it too. He places his lips close to my neck, to mime kissing it. I shiver all the same as I feel his breath on my skin.

He straightens up. He walks around the chair again until he’s in front of me. Almost mechanically, my legs open wider, something that I may feel ashamed about later. Not now, though. Absolutely not now. Because now he’s in front of me, singing those scandalous lyrics, looking better than he ever has. Because now he’s brought me in front of the crowd of his sold-out Wembley Stadium concert to show me off.

Because now he’s going down on his knees, in the space I just freed.

Jesus fucking Christ.

It’s the first time since his performance began that I notice the audience. The sounds they just made could probably be heard on the other side of the city. His hands are back on me, on my knees and then up my thighs. If he was actually going to… his lips would be following. He loves kissing my thighs. It’s his favourite spot for hickeys.

Instead, because having his face between my thighs might be too sexual even for him –or perhaps because he wants to spare me the embarrassment of getting hard on stage– he keeps his head right where it is, and looks up at me, with an intensity in his eyes that makes me feel hot all over.

For the final part of his song, he stands back up, only long enough to sit on my lap. To straddle one of my legs, more accurately. They’re too far apart for him to fit on both at the same time.

His own leg is practically pressed to my crotch, simply because it’s too damn long for it to fit in any other way, which is not helping lower my body temperature.

He’s rolling his hips now, like he does when he’s riding me. Same pace, too. One of his hands is toying with a button of my shirt he hasn’t undone and the other is on my shoulder, for balance.

He leans in, as if he was kissing me, but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, he’s singing, but my body reacts all the same. One of my hands holds the dip of his back, to keep him close, and the other flies up to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He smiles, and it changes the way he sings. I think I could die, right here and now. I know we’re in front of a whole stadium of people, but that moment feels so intimate, so beautiful.

Already, much too soon, he gets to the end of song. I don’t want it to be over yet. God, couldn’t he write a 20-minute song?

The last lyrics are sung close to my face, his breath brushing my lips.

And when he finishes, he kisses me. Actually kisses me.

#snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #co/ws/awtwb #social media au

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liaromancewriter · 7 days ago

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Winter Wonderland

Premise: Cassie and Ethan enjoy the holiday decorations around town, leading to a candid conversation about their relationship.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,475

A/N: This is set during the Secret Dating phase in Lia Land. Submission for @choicesholidays Winter 2024 and @choicesjanuary2025 prompt "hot chocolate:

Cassie Valentine discreetly glanced at her wristwatch beneath the table, wondering if there was still a chance to salvage her evening plans.

She had already changed into street clothes an hour ago and was ready to clock out when she received a page to report to the Diagnostics Team office. Dr. Ramsey had been clear from the start. The team’s schedule was unpredictable, and all members had to forego time off as needed.

As the latest and the most junior member, Cassie had to flex more than others since she was juggling a tough residency and diagnostics fellowship. Still, there was an upside to all the time spent at work—she got to do it with her boyfriend.

Not that anyone else knew the delectable Ethan Ramsey was hers, she mused with secret amusement. She knew, and that was all that mattered.

She side-eyed Ethan at the front of the conference table, facing the videoconference screen she hadn’t known existed until today. His eyes were alive with curiosity and interest as they consulted with a colleague in California. The virtual consult would determine if the team was required on-site for the diagnosis.

Cassie wouldn’t mind a couple of days of sunshine. Winter had Boston firmly in its grip. Of course, there was something magical about walking through a winter wonderland during the holiday season. Twinkling lights strung on palm trees didn’t have the same appeal as snow-dusted oak trees.

“Thank you, Dr. Amherst. We’ll review the patient file and get back to you tomorrow.”

Ethan wrapped up the call, and Cassie refocused her attention on the job at hand. She really hoped tomorrow didn’t mean they would be working late into the night. But, with this team, you never knew.

“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Baz said, stretching his arms, “but I could use a break before we work on the diagnosis.”

“I agree,” June said. “I’d rather come in early and approach the case with fresh eyes.”

Cassie held her breath in anticipation. Ethan seemed to hesitate, but then he nodded in agreement.

“Let’s pick this up tomorrow morning. Not much else we can do today.”

Baz and June wasted no time gathering their things and heading out. Cassie wasn’t far behind, but she stopped when she saw Ethan sit down at his desk and flip open the patient file.

“It’s late, Ethan,” she said, not hiding her exasperation. “Are you really planning to keep working?”

“I just want to go over things while they’re still fresh in my mind,” he said, sliding on his glasses.

He looked up at her. “Go home, Cassie. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going home,” she said, settling into the seat across from him. “I’m heading to Faneuil Hall to check out the Christmas tree and holiday decorations. Come with me.”

Ethan smirked, amused. “Isn’t that for tourists?”

“And for doctors who’ve spent fourteen-plus hours in a space that smells like antiseptic. I went last year, and it was nice.”

He rolled his eyes. “I see those decorations every day on my way to work. I’ll pass.”

“Fine,” Cassie said, pulling out her phone. “If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me.”

When his phone pinged, Ethan glanced at the screen. “What’s this?”

“I just shared my location with you,” she explained. “I’ll keep it on until I get home.”

Almost ten minutes later, Cassie stepped out of the car, thanked her rideshare driver, and drew in a deep breath of the crisp evening air.

Just what I needed, she thought, feeling the tiredness fade away.

The scent of roasted chestnuts and pine mingled with the faint melody of holiday carolers stationed near Quincy Market. Strings of twinkling white and multicolored lights wound their way around the lampposts and tree trunks, casting a soft glow on the historic architecture.

Huddled inside her thick parka, Cassie trekked down the cobblestone streets, her boots crunching softly against the uneven stones as she admired the holiday wreaths adorning shop doors, their vibrant ribbons fluttering in the brisk evening breeze.

Tourists exclaimed excitedly at storefronts showcasing meticulously arranged scenes of snow-covered villages, glittering ornaments and festive garlands. Meanwhile, hardy Bostonians paid no mind to the spectacle, staying laser-focused on their holiday shopping lists.

Cassie treated herself to a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a bag of tiny, freshly fried donuts before settling onto a bench outside Faneuil Hall to people-watch.

A massive Christmas tree towered over the square, draped in a cascade of shimmering gold and silver lights that seemed to light up the night sky. Nearby, a family of four posed for a picture in front of an illuminated reindeer installation while a couple took a selfie, their cheeks rosy from the cold as they huddled close.

“Got room for one more?”

Cassie’s heart lifted at the sound of her lover's familiar voice. She turned to see Ethan and couldn’t help but break into a wide smile.

“Always.” She shifted to make room for him beside her.

“Christ! It’s fuckin’ cold tonight,” he shuddered as the wind picked up.

“You should’ve grabbed a hot chocolate on the way,” Cassie teased, taking an exaggerated sip from hers. “Here.”

She offered him the bag of still-warm donuts, grinning when a dusting of sugar landed on his coat and the corner of his mouth as he took a bite.

“Relax, babe,” she said with a laugh as he muttered about the mess, brushing away the sugar particles with a napkin. “You missed a spot.”

Cassie leaned in and licked the sugar from the corner of his lips. Ethan turned his head, his lips brushing against hers, and then he placed two fingers under her chin, holding her in place as he kissed her deeply and without hesitation.

Firecrackers burst in the distance—or was it her racing heartbeat and the rush of blood to her head? Cassie didn’t know or care as she fell into the moment.

All too soon, their lips drifted apart and the kiss faded into a whisper as their foreheads touched, sharing a quiet, unspoken connection.

“Excuse me?” a man’s voice interrupted. Cassie glanced up to see the other half of the couple who had been taking selfies earlier. “Sorry to disturb you, but could you…?”

He held out his phone to Ethan, then glanced uncertainly back at his girlfriend. Cassie grinned at Ethan’s hesitation and decided to take pity on him.

“I’ll do it,” she offered, stepping forward.

She took a few photos as the couple wrapped their arms around each other and struck playful poses for the camera. The last photo had them kissing softly under the Christmas tree lights. Cassie thought it might be the best one of all, envying the openness of their relationship.

As the couple walked away, thanking her with bright smiles, Cassie sighed wistfully and settled back onto the bench beside Ethan.

“What’s that sigh about?” he asked, raising a curious brow.

“Nothing,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she gathered the empty cup and paper bag to toss in the trash.

“Do you wish we weren’t keeping our relationship secret?”

Cassie was always amazed at how astutely Ethan could read her feelings. She supposed it was inevitable when two people had been in an intimate relationship of one type or another for almost nine months.

“We’re private people.”

“That’s not what I asked, Cassie.” He took her hand, intertwining their fingers. “Do you want to go public?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Our families and my close friends know. It should be enough.”

“But…?”

Cassie rolled her eyes. He could be relentless, like a dog with a bone. She knew he wouldn’t drop it easily.

“But I hate how the nurses flirt with you at work while I have to pretend it doesn’t bother me. Or how, if we took a selfie right now, I couldn’t post it on Picta because, as far as the world knows, I’m single.”

“I’m not posing for a selfie on Picta under any circumstances,” Ethan murmured.

“Wanna bet?” she shot back, glaring at him.

Ethan smirked, his lips twitching as if to hold back a retort. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. “You’d lose that bet, Dr. Valentine.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, a challenge glinting in her eyes. “Careful, babe. I always play to win.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s get out of here before I freeze my balls off sitting on this icy bench.”

She grabbed her things and fell into step beside him, their fingers brushing but not quite holding. As they walked into the twinkling glow of the holiday lights, Cassie glanced at him, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

Maybe the world didn’t need to know about them just yet. Moments like this were enough.

A/N: In case you were wondering. Ethan lost that bet. 😂

-----------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash @lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @loreofyore

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #ethan x mc #winterholidays2024 #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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anunkindncss · 11 months ago

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Bas snorted slightly, sighing. "Well.... It could be. Unless the ghosts really talk to you. Then they're just regularly offended by misinformation." He glanced up at her and shrugged his shoulders. "Otherwise, it can be kinda entertaining. People get so easily spooked by things they don't understand." He stood, offering his hand. "But I'll take you up on that. Just tell me what kinda coffee and we'll get you all sorted."

continued || @anunkindncss

"Well," Lydia considered the offer as she watched him help pick up the scattered papers and the spilled cup of coffee, "Maybe you could buy me a coffee? That's really all that's been ruined." But it was the mention of a ghost tour that truly caught her attention. Usually, she didn't care about ghosts, but there was the prickle of nostalgia for her more youthful adventures with her ghostly roommates, the Maitlands. "You work for a ghost tour company? That sounds like a fun job."

#convo: lydia x baz;#muse: bas garza;

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roseharpermaxwell · 1 year ago

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RWRB FirstPrince Fake Dating Recs

Click below for my fake dating faves.

Grown Men, Holding Hands by @whimsymanaged. T, 1.4k. “I didn’t know you two were together!” a paralegal named Dustin is exclaiming as he beams from Henry to Alex. “How oblivious of me. It’s not like there wasn’t a vibe.”

“Oh.” Henry laughs awkwardly and gives a little cough. God, Alex would die for this man. In a normal way. Obviously. “No, that’s good. We were hoping no one would pick up on the…vibe.”

or, Alex and Henry pretend to be a couple.

Iced Hazelnut Latte by @f-ing-ruthless-baz. T, 1.6k. When an American stranger comes up to him acting like his boyfriend, Henry rolls with it. Because what else is he going to do? Study?

sparks fly (whenever you smile) by cxpbuck. G, 4k. When Alex wakes up after a particularly alcohol-filled night, he’s surprised by a blonde stranger in his bed. What’s more surprising, however, are all the messages on his phone congratulating his engagement to said blonde stranger.

A Toast to the Night by @three-drink-amy. E, 5.5k. Henry looks up from his drink and swears his jaw drops. Standing in front of him is one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen. From his dark brown curls to the way his deep eyes gleam as he stands there, an awkward smile on his face. Henry is nearly sure this man is going to ask for his seat. He probably has some woman with him, scouring for a place to sit.

“Uh, hi,” the man says.

“Hi.”

“Look, this is really awkward,” he says and Henry feels the confirmation in his gut — also maybe disappointment. “My ex-boyfriend just walked in and I really don’t want to talk to him. I was wondering if I could sit here with you so that he won’t talk to me.”

can this be a real thing (can it?) by @theprinceandagcd. M, 5.7k. June huffs. “And I suggested that he does go, and take a date.”

Something uncomfortable gets stuck underneath Alex’s rib cage on his next breath. “It would piss them off,” he muses, staring at the furrow in Henry's brow and wishing he could smooth it away with his thumb. His fingers twitch, and he shoves his hand into his lap.

Henry is almost pouting. “Ah, yes. Let me select from the many suitors banging down my door.”

“Take me.”

It takes Alex a full second to realize that he’s the one who has spoken, and now everyone at the table is staring at him with slightly agape mouths.

Including Henry.

you don't know the answer (til someone's on their knees and asks you) by @theprinceandagcd. T, 6.1k. “This might be the best one yet,” Henry comments, picking up another forkful of cheesecake and holding it out toward Alex. “Cheers to another successful con.”

They clink their forks, sharing small secret smiles over their free dessert before exiting the restaurant with their fingers interlocked and thanking the hostess, while all the servers watch them leave with hearts in their eyes.

(are we falling like) snow on the beach by @coffeecatsme. T, 6.4k. Henry has to belatedly agree that the Craigslist ad isn’t posted by an organ harvester, yet confronted with the face that has haunted his dreams for weeks—even if all they shared was an awkward hug—Henry thinks that would’ve been more desirable.

Exactly the way they’d fucking planned it.

---

Best friends Alex and Henry pretending to get engaged every week to get free dessert, until those pesky feelings get in the way.

When Henry needs a fake boyfriend for a family dinner, Pez finds him someone off of Craigslist. Turns out, it's the same person he's had a disastrous first date with months ago.

12 Year Starter by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 6.6k. “Hazza, you poorly assembled toast rack,” Pez interrupts him, effectively stopping Henry in his tracks as he tries to untangle the absurdity of that description. “You are not cancelling your birthday dinner just because your – admittedly charming and extremely sexy – best friend can’t hop across the pond in quite as sprightly and timely a manner as we’d previously hoped. You shall go to the ball.”

(call me) in case you need an escape by viciouslyqueer. T, 6.8k. Alex was studying in the library when a man asked to sit with him. He’s beautiful.

will you be my (fake) boyfriend? by coffeecatsme. T, 8.2k. It's a split-second decision. He drops his towel aside and beelines next to the blonde, grabbing a bottle of vodka on his way so he doesn’t look suspicious, and slams it loudly on the counter next to the pair. The blonde jumps and stares at him with wide eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Alex drawls out; he’s careful to move slowly but he leans over the counter anyway, going up on his tiptoes, and lets his lips brush against his cheeks. The blonde hairs tickle his forehead. “And here I was wondering where my favorite person went.”

During his shift at his bar, Out Law'ed, Alex saves him from a handsy flirt by pretending to be boyfriends. They keep it going.

lover of mine (maybe we’ll take some time) by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 9.2k. “Why am I even invited to the wedding?”

“See, it’s a funny story,” Alex says quickly. “After we broke up, Nora took this new job in Upper Manhattan. So she and June live there now. And I’ve been so busy working at Luna’s new firm that I haven’t really talked to my family about anything other than the wedding. So, um. Well. They don’t know that we broke up.”

Henry feels his fingers digging into the invitation, crumpling the paper, but he doesn’t care. “They what?”

Alex buries his face in his hands. “I never told my family that we broke up.”

Green Means Go by @indomitable-love. E, 9.5k. ‘Ah the joys of student living,’ Henry says, smiling at Alex. There’s something warm in his eyes too despite the cool blue colour. ‘I see you found the dress code,’ he says smoothly, giving Alex a sly smile. His voice is smooth, honeyed and rich even over the vibrations of the music.

Alex’s brow furrows. ‘Dress code?’

Henry pauses. ‘You’re wearing green, are you not?’

‘Green?’ Alex asks, looking down at his shirt and then back to Henry, in a short sleeved yellow button up shirt, then to Pez in lime green. He looks around again – two girls on the dance floor dancing together, one in a deep green velvet dress, the other in a khaki jacket; a group next to them, all in red; someone dancing in yellow dungarees. Everyone around them in one of those three colours.

Oh, fuck.

‘This is a stop light party,’ Alex says dumbly.

Alex is an exchange student and ends up at a traffic light party that he doesn't realise is a traffic light party.

All in the mood for a melody by clottedcreamfudge. E, 9.6k. Alex has a new upstairs neighbour. This isn't a problem in and of itself; it's not like he hasn't had upstairs neighbours before. It's been a revolving door of characters since he first moved into his own apartment four years ago, and none of them has been particularly significant.

This person though - whoever they fucking are - has a piano.

Just Business by bleedingballroomfloor. T, 11k. “I just need you to know that this is strictly a business relationship.”

Henry blinks. His brain is taking a minute to process everything — meeting Alex. Dozens of pictures lining his office walls, each featuring a different persona of his. Brochures upon brochures, prices upon prices. It’s a bit overwhelming.

“You’re asking for a lot here,” Alex continues, “and that means we’ll be spending a lot of time together. A Golden Tux. You’re asking me to pull off a Golden Tux, Henry. But I need you to know that this is just business.”

Henry knows he’s asking for a lot. A best man. A wedding party. Time with his family. He knows that this should only be about business. He knows.

(He also knows that Alex is very, very attractive, and he knows that this will be a long four weeks with Alex.)

i'll bet it all on me and you, i'll bet it all you're bulletproof by @anincompletelist. M, 11k. ALSO podfic by @thirdeye1234

“Let’s do this,” he says.

“Let’s,” Alex agrees, pushing down on the handle until the door swings open. “After you, boyfriend.”

This is most definitely not his finest idea. Henry usually practices much better self preservation skills. Much better common sense skills. He steps over the threshold of Alex’s room and it feels like sealing his fate.

They’re doing this for Alex to win over their bosses in a lighthearted game with a harmless lie, but Henry can’t fight off the bitter knowledge that, regardless of how tonight goes, Alex will be fine, but Henry has so much to lose.

Only Fools by @orchidscript. M, 13k. Henry rolled his eyes. “No. You tell me — that sounds better — why I should bring my ex-hook up to my brother’s wedding?”

Comfort Crowd by schmulte. T, 12k. But today. Today the universe is playing its worst prank yet. Because not only has fate cruelly given him a crush on possibly the most unattainable person at his school, but it also pushed them together in the most inconvenient of ways. And today must be the final nail in Henry’s coffin, because the perfect, beautiful boy sitting across from him has just opened his mouth and said:

“We should date.”

Firstprince fake dating/To All The Boys au!

Pez hummed and half-shrugged. “Why wouldn’t you? He’s the perfect thing to light your gran’s helmet of hair on fire.” Pez set his cup down and leaned forward onto the table. “That’s what Pip encouraged you to do, didn’t he?”

“Martha more than Pip, but yes. He did.” Henry sighed.

With his brother's wedding a few weeks away, Henry Fox is determined to not show up alone. Not wanting to ask a stranger, he instead turns to Alex, hoping to manufacture something believable from something familiar. Try as he might to keep a level head, Henry can't help falling in love with the man. Will it come around to bite him or will it turn into something more than he had hoped?

“Then ask Alex.”

___________________________________________

tangled up (with you) by @athousandrooms @dustratcentral. M, 16k. “See? I have no fucking filter. That’s exactly what got me into this situation. I guess the whole thing with wanting my mom to know I’m not straight got mixed up with all the frustration." Alex knows he's spiraling, panic rising the more he thinks of the snowballing effect of his lie, of the consequences that will inevitably come to bite him in the ass, but he has no idea how to stop it. "And now I have to come clean and tell her I don’t actually have a boyfriend and also explain why I lied, and if they didn’t think I was a complete mess before, this is gonna confirm it for sure.”

Henry takes hold of both his hands, fingertips stroking over his pulse points soothingly. “Alex, breathe.” He waits until Alex manages a slow, slightly shaky breath, then opens his mouth and throws him a fucking curveball. “What if you didn’t come clean?”

Alex is an expert at making messes, but this time he dug himself into a hole he doesn't know how to get out of, and now his family is expecting him to bring home a boyfriend that - small problem - doesn't exist. Luckily for him, Henry is willing to take the role.

Five Words In My Head by aforgottennymph. E, 19k.

“I have a proposition for you.” Henry tries not to think about those words in another context and ultimately fails. He schools his expression into something more civil, “Right. What is it?” Alex appears to be straining so hard to not roll his eyes that it’s surprising he hasn’t given himself a hernia, “Date me.” “Excuse -” “Pretend. Pretend to date me.”

Henry Fox is certain of four key facts; he needs at least four vodka shots to be able to stomach karaoke, his best friend Pez may be the earliest cause of his inevitable demise and he is sadly, deeply in love with his next-door neighbour who hates his guts.

The fourth is that the universe is out to get him as that is the only explanation for why said neighbour demands that they pretend to date, so he can prove to his sister that he is mature enough to be godfather to her child.

Wait until he finds out their hotel room only has one bed.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married by @miss-minnelli. T, 20k. Alex and Henry, an unreal amount of obliviousness and pining, and an idiotic scheme to swindle the government.

Please Don’t Let Me Be So Understood by @cha-melodius. E, 20k. “I’m glad you both see it that way,” Dr. Chen says. Then she closes her notebook and folds her hands on top of it. “I think I’m starting to get a sense of where the issues lie. The good news is that you’re both here, and you’re both willing to work on this relationship. That’s promising. Not all of the couples I see are even at that point.”

“Sorry, what?” Henry says, voicing Alex’s stuttering thoughts as well.

(After one too many fights at work, Henry and Alex are assigned mandatory reconciliation therapy by their boss. Except the therapist thinks they're there for couples therapy... and surely, a bet on who will break first makes more sense than actually correcting her, right?)

Fifty First Dates by @welcometololaland. E, 26k. Henry has used a dating app exactly one time. Predictably, the date turns out to be terrible. The bartender, however, is not.

A cute stranger’s solution to Henry’s woeful dating life is to set him up on fifty first dates.

It's Tradition by firb (f_ing_ruthless_baz). M, 29k. It’s tradition. Whoever catches the bouquet at the wedding has to kiss the person closest to them. And maybe they’ll have a Spark.

Well Alex doesn’t give a heck about tradition, and he certainly doesn’t believe anyone is going to find their soulmate at a wedding like Prince Philip’s. And when he’s the one who gets accidentally flogged by florals at the toss, he certainly doesn’t think he’s going to Spark—not since the only one standing near him is Prince Dickhead himself.

When sparks fly and cakes collapse, Alex and Henry are going to have to face the music. They may be soulmates, but they sure don’t have to be happy about it.

Let Loose Your Glow by @athousandrooms. E, 45k. “Seems like my liege was caught in a situation where he’d rather the ground swallow him whole.” Pez nods towards a spot to the side, and Alex follows his gaze. He spots Henry easily – a tall lighthouse of tousled blond hair – talking to a girl who is clearly into him. His expression looks perfectly polite, but he’s subtly leaning away, and he looks tense.

So, Alex makes an impulsive decision.

Whatever happens, this is going to be fun.

Or: Alex is so very definitely straight, so pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend to get him out of an awkward situation should just be a fun little pastime - except that he doesn't really want to stop, and he has no idea why. But maybe it's okay to not think too hard and let himself go with the flow, for once.

Even if It's Just Pretend by nontoxic. E, 55k. “The queen wants to show that the Prince and the First Son are still deeply in love and committed to their countries.” Ellen swallows. “They want you to go on a tour of the Commonwealth together, to get the public to see those emails not as a sex scandal, but an invasion of privacy of a wholesome, loving relationship.”

“It was an invasion of privacy,” Alex says. He swallows. “Did they say what would happen if we say no?”

Ellen’s lips pinch tightly at the corners. “Then they will issue a full denial and Henry will tour the commonwealth himself.”

Alex doesn't hesitate. “Tell them we’ll do it. I’m not gonna let him do this alone."

It would kill him. Henry hates this shit. The public parading, the judgment. Having to do all of that, and deny who he is? Alex at least wants to be there, to hold his hand through it. Even if it's just as a friend.

It might kill Alex to pretend, but that’s a small price to pay to ensure Henry—his beautiful, vibrant, funny-as-hell, brilliant ex-not-quite-boyfriend—isn’t killed instead.

---

or, the alex-never-goes-to-kensington-after-the-lake-house, exes-to-fake-dating-to-lovers fic.

Never Did Run Smooth by clottedcreamfudge. E, 67k. "You and me? Best friends. Stellar. Love that for us. But we could absolutely fake being in love. Dating. Whatever. I know literally everything about you—" (No you don't, Henry thinks firmly) "—and you know everything about me. We would absolutely fucking annihilate the other contestants.”

"You're too drunk to apply," Henry points out, like he himself isn't about as wasted as it's possible for him to be without curling up and going immediately to sleep. "I doubt you could spell your own name right on the application. Or mine."

Alex grins and pulls something up on his phone; it looks like it takes him a few tries. "Wanna fucking bet?"

Or: Henry's life is a comedy of errors; a patchwork of oopsie-daisies; a quilt stitched together with hauntingly terrible mistakes. And at the centre of it all is his best friend, Alex Claremont-Diaz; director of said comedy, threading together his oopsie-daisies into a flower crown, rolling around in the quilt of his own making, and this analogy is going to shit because Henry's so in love with him he wants to die.

praying our bridges don't make waves by anincompletelist (soldouthaz). E, 82k. He glances down to the word ‘LOVE’ at the bottom. It’s too loud, too harshly written. Alex doesn’t feel harsh or loud. He feels a lot, so much it’s overwhelming sometimes, but the edges are soft, not hard. There’s a glow around it, something hazy and barely tinted gold, and Alex feels like if he could reach out and put his hands near it, they would warm up like they used to when he stood in front of the old brick fireplace back home.

He glances at ‘LOVE’ and then loops back around to ‘HENRY’.

Maybe, Alex thinks, hands shaking, they’re one in the same. Whatever the fuck that means.

When June gets sick, Alex knows he'll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets the care that she needs. Even if that means convincing his nemesis/sexuality-crisis-inducing/clandestine hook-up partner/somewhat of an actual friend to pretend to be his soulmate in order to pull it off. It's both more and less complicated than it sounds.

lights, camera, action (roses, wisteria and royal bluebells) series by coffeecatsme. E, 200k. If you could have anything in the world, anything at all, what would it be?

Alexander Claremont-Diaz has clawed his way into Hollywood despite all the hurdles in his way, and now he's starring in his dream movie—a queer romcom adapted from one of his favorite books, Roses, Wisteria, and Royal Bluebells. However, he barely has the chance to be excited before he finds out who his costar is. The privileged, white, bigoted Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.

The last thing Alex wants is to be associated with Henry more than he already has to, but a fateful interview and a few choice words against Henry turns him into enemy number one in Hollywood. To fix it, he has to pretend to be Henry's best friend and show the entire world his comments were nothing but friendly banter. However, as he gets inevitably tangled up in Henry's life, he realizes not everything is as it seems, and Henry might be hiding his own demons that might change everything.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

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