#harlan sweete

[areesvt]

I want to keep them safe in my pocket 🥺

[lavendarzbee]

Everyone’s talking about Spoon, and yes. Wtf was he on the wall!?! But like- Ema was fully committed to get shot to save Ashley (and Rachel)! AND SHE WAS SMILING!?? Girl how did she just accept the fact she literally about to die!?

[oliveoomph]

Okay, I am not a home wrecker, Hannah.

Harlan Coben's Shelter - s01e07 - "Sweet Dreams are Made of This"

[eamons-redguitar]

im in love with this man im in love with this man im in love with him

who let him be so adorable

[roetrolls]

I'm surprised the dark carnival hasn't taken Harlan out for blasphemy. How does he get away with claiming to be a god?

"That's the thing about Harlan. He's smart. He knows how to play the game."

"The way he talks about himself, the way he has the twins talk about him... It's all just vague enough to let the masses fill in the blanks with whatever satisfies them best.

He'll tell you the messiahs are fallible and he isn't, but what's he actually trying to suggest? That he should replace them? Or that they sent him to correct their mistakes?

Doesn't make a difference to him. All he cares about is making sure those brain-dead carnival cowards are lapping up every word."

"And that's not even mentioning his powers. He calls it 'suggestion', pretentious fuck. It's goddamn hypnosis.

He just... burrows into your brain, and he bullies it into submission. Barely even has to try. It's like he can't say two words without another tongue finding its way to his shit-ass Hot Topic boot."

[gaygryffindorgal]

I know they're still in the works but what if they had kids for Winona and Harlan?

Name: William "Liam" Lawrence Rosewood (or Rowle, could go either way but I think they might end up wanting to get some distance between them and Harlan's family because they kind of Suck)

Gender: male (he/him)

General appearance: light brown hair, hazel eyes, freckles

Personality: adventurous, brave, friendly, sociable, nosy, has a good sense of humour, a little insensitive, thinks he's the hot shit but has a good heart

Special talents: dancing, green thumb (which no one ever believes about him until they see him in Herbology class)

Who they like better: Winona

Who they take after more: Winona, but gets his superiority complex from his dad

Personal headcanon:

He's sorted into Gryffindor at Hogwarts. He plays Quidditch as a keeper and enjoys Charms and Herbology. He probably travelled a lot as a kid with his parents and is pretty worldly, speaking multiple languages.

Face Claim: Chase Stokes

[eva-knits12]

Meeting Harlan

Trigger warning: twin babies, Ransom Drysdale, multiple sclerosis, chronic illness, fluff

Summary: Harlan meets his great-grandchildren

The diaper bag was all packed with plenty of wipes, plenty of diapers, plenty of books, plenty of toys, and plenty of bottles with your pumped milk. You were sitting in the passenger's seat of the Lexus, peacefully napping. Harlan and Katherine were in their infant seats, peacefully sleeping. To say you were tired lately was an understatement. You were exhausted, and so was Ransom. Taking care of the twins was a 24/7 job, with thankless hours, thankless pay, and the days and nights were long. The twins slept for most of the time, but it seemed that every few hours, they needed a feeding, a change, or they just wanted to be held. You and Ransom couldn't be any happier, though.

Ransom was driving, and you were on your way to see Harlan. He wanted to meet his great grandchildren, and since it was a nice day that wasn't too hot or too cold, it was a nice day. It was Tuesday, and it was getting closer to the spring.

"Marta, go make sure that the door is unlocked," said Harlan.

"Of course, Harlan," said Marta.

Marta unlocked the front door, and went into the kitchen to pull out the crudites, and she got out the charcuterie board. She got out some glasses, and made sure to have bottles of water in the fridge. She started the coffee, and checked the fridge to make sure that the cold cuts and the cheese was okay. She wasn't ready to set them out yet, so she set the bread out, and set out some plates.

Eventually, you and Ransom arrive at Harlan's house. He knocks, and Harlan opens the door.

Ransom brings in the Harlan and Katherine, and then he unloads you from the car, and puts you in your wheelchair. You get some exercise with the walker and the cane by getting up and walking around every once in a while. This is just easier.

"Oh, look at the twins. They are adorable!" says Harlan.

Harlan and Katherine are in their nice, warm sleepers, and are still peacefully sleeping in their infant seats. Ransom wheels you into the house, and takes you to the living room.

You, Harlan, and Marta talk while Ransom brings in the twins. Ransom also has the diaper bag on his shoulder. Ransom takes off his camel coat to reveal that he is wearing his aran sweater, along with his pinstripe pants with his favorite loafers. You were wearing jeans and Ransom's old Harvard sweatshirt that he just can't get rid of. It's the only things you could find that haven't been spit up on. It seems that every other day, you and Ransom are doing laundry, and it feels like you just can't have enough clean clothes. Of course, the dogs did try to jump on Ransom, like they always do. Ransom has made it clear that he doesn't like dogs. He was also iffy about bringing the twins in, not knowing if they are allergic to pet dander. Marta and the maid Lois made it a point to make sure that every surface was vacuumed and that every surface was clean.

"Harlan, this is amazing, thank you." you say.

"Anything for the mother of my great grandchildren", says Harlan.

Ransom was apprehensive, to say the least. The last time he had you over, the rest of the family pulled their usual stunts. After that, Harlan refused to have them over, but you and Ransom often came over every Sunday to make a day out of it. This is the first day in a while that you have been over to Harlan's. Ransom felt it wouldn't be good idea to drive out to rural MA to Harlan's house with a pregnant wife who also had multiple sclerosis. So, Marta often drove over to you and Ransom's house.

"Are those the twins? They're so cute!" says Marta, who is looking at the twins in their infant seats.

After a while, Ransom brings the twins in, and gives them both to Harlan. Harlan holds the twins in both of his arms, and you take a picture. It's a nice moment between Harlan and the twins.

The one in the green sleeper is Harlan and the one in the pink sleeper with a matching headband is Katherine. Clever daddy. After a while, the twins cry, and Ransom goes to the diaper bag, fetches two bottles and Ransom and Harlan bottle feed the twins. You've fallen asleep again.

After a while, you wake up.

"What happened, Marta? Where are the twins?" you ask, with worry in your voice.

"The twins are fine. Ransom and Harlan are bottle feeding them right now," says Marta.

"Why didn't you wake me?" you ask.

"Look, you're a new mother. You're still tired, and still adjusting to their schedule," says Marta.

"That's true," you say.

Marta brings out the charcuterie board, and you help yourself to some fruit, crackers, and some cheese. Eventually, Marta brings out the bread, the cold cuts, mustard, and mayo. She also lays out some chips, and gets some bottles of water.

"Ransom, Harlan, I've laid out the cold cuts for lunch," says Marta.

"Thanks, Marta," says Ransom.

Ransom prepares you a sandwich, and then prepares himself a sandwich. He grabs a bottle of water for you, then a bottle of water for himself. Harlan prepares his sandwich, and grabs his water.

You, Harlan, Ransom, and Marta all talk while having your lunch. Today, you're lucky that you remembered to shower and brush your teeth.

Ransom and you check on the twins, who are in need of a change. You and Ransom take the twins to another area of the house, and change their diapers.

"Oh, look at them, Ransom. I never thought our two tiny babies would bring everyone so much love," you say.

Ransom kisses you lovingly, and he agrees.

"Harlan adores them. I never thought that I'd be a dad. I never thought I'd fall in love with someone enough to want to marry her. You changed that. You're so perfect to me, multiple sclerosis and all. I love you so much," says Ransom.

"I love you, too Ransom," you say, with tears in your eyes. Ransom meant every word of it, and you meant every word of it, too.

Eventually, it's time to leave. Ransom loads you in the car first, and loads your wheelchair in, and he loads the twins in. He drives you all home, with you and the twins peacefully napping in the car.

Ransom arrives home, and gets the twins inside. Harlan and Katherine are now in their cribs, sleeping peacefully. Ransom carries you back into the house bridal style, and places you in bed, and pulls the covers over you. Ransom falls asleep next to you. Eventually, Harlan and Katherine interrupt the peacefulness and the coziness with their hungry cries. Ransom gets two bottles of your pumped milk. Then, you both burp the twins. An hour later, they'll need a change. Just like clockwork, the twins cry again, indicating that they need a change.

Ransom decides to order Chinese for dinner, because that will make it easier for the both of you. Ransom goes to pick up the order, and he brings it back. He ordered the almond boneless chicken with the sweet and sour chicken with egg rolls.

"Ransom, thank you so much. I love you, my sweet boy. You do so much for us, you're one amazing husband," you say. Ransom's lips crash onto yours again.

You and Ransom enjoy your dinner, and you check on Harlan and Katherine, who are now sleeping in their cribs. The love that was in the Drysdale household was the best thing ever. Harlan and Katherine were the most amazing babies that you both knew. Ransom was the best husband that you ever knew.

[gayharoldfinch]

umbrella academy spoilers:

ok… so. was I the only one disappointed that viktor didn’t seem to really have much of an arc this season compared to the other characters? it’s like he had this feud with allison and that was it. where was the screaming and crying and the blowing shit up? and in the absence of any of that where was the growth? ngl he kinda felt like he fades in the background compared to his role in the first 2 seasons. 🤷‍♂️

[lukeskqwalker]

FUCK IT! I'm just gonna sit here and listen to my bees

[afflatushesperia]

hoping miss Visalia is staying safe out in fae country I should probably do more with her........ let her out of containment for some enrichment

[frogayyyy]

'On my world the nights are very long. The sound of the silver birds against the sky is very sweet. My people know there is always time enough for everything. You could come with me for a rest. You would feel comfortable there.'

city on the edge of forever screenplay, harlan ellison // star trek the original series, where no man has gone before // wichita lineman, glenn campbell // star trek (2009) deleted scene // not a lot, just forever, adrianne lenker // star trek: the voyage home

[echofades]

HARLAN COBEN'S SHELTER 1.07 | Sweet Dreams are Made of This

[holylulusworld]

Entitled rich people

Summary: Your boyfriend and his family are the worst.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warning: snobbish rich people, cocky Bucky, running away with a stranger trope, a break-up

Your boyfriend and his family are the worst. Entitled rich people at their best. 

One moment they greet you sweetly, and the next they ask about your father’s business, and if the rumors are true.

To hell with rumors. Your father’s business was in trouble for a while, but he’s a smart and eloquent man.

He mastered the challenge and saved his company. But this doesn’t matter to people like Linda Drysdale.

If she finds a weak spot, she’ll hit you hard, and without mercy. 

“Oh, it’s so sweet of you to visit us with Ransom while your father’s business is in trouble. I thought you’d prefer helping your father,” Linda coos, her eyes set on you next to your boyfriend. 

“Business is fine,” you are your mother’s daughter, and never back down. Especially not in front of Linda Drysdale. “Sometimes the sea gets a little rougher, you know.” You flash her a perfect faked smile. “Luckily my father is a very good sailor and knows how to run his business. Unlike other people.” 

You dip your head to glance at Joni and her daughter. Two perfect examples of people who know how to live off the money of someone else. In their case, Harlan Thrombey. The only bearable member of this fucked up family.

“Sure, sure,” she waves your words off as if you are only an insect to her she can squish with her boot. “Your father knows best.” Linda sneers. “I hope he can save his business.”

“I think he already did.” You dip your head to look the man’s way. “Or so I heard. It was all over the news. Something about a fusion, and Miracle Inc. doing better than before.”

“Who asked you?” Linda’s nostrils flare, and she glares at the man daring to talk without her allowance. “I hired you for the garden, not to interrupt my conversation. People these days.”

“Right, people these days,” the cocky man mirrors her attitude. You chuckle. This guy doesn’t bow in front of Linda Drysdale, and it’s refreshing. “And you didn’t hire me for the garden.”

He steps closer, giving you a once-over while passing you by. He’s wearing black jeans, a matching black leather jacket and black boots. He looks like a bad boy, but his soft blue eyes tell you there is so much you don’t know about him…yet.

You glance in his way, waiting for him to say more. His voice is deep and rough. Something you like about a man.

“What? Of course, I hired you to take care of the garden. I remember our conversation,” she argues, but the stranger won’t have it.

“Lady, you didn’t hire me,” he points his index finger at her. “Your son,” the stranger now jerks his head toward Ransom standing next to you. Your boyfriend stiffens, and he shifts from one foot to the other, “came to my store, bought a bike, and never paid for it. I’m here to get either my money or the bike back.”

“You bought a bike like some vulture?” A gasp escapes Linda’s mouth. She stares at her son, shell-shocked at the news. “Y/N! Why didn’t you stop him? I knew you were trouble when Ransom brought you here for the first time. Before he met you, Ransom would’ve never done such a thing.”

“I’m not his mommy,” you huff, frustrated. “I have better things to do than watching your son’s every step. Unlike him, I got a job.”

“Because your daddy is bankrupt,” Ransom huffs, and pouts. He glares down at you, making sure you know your relationship just ended.

“No. Because my parents raised me right. They gave me roots, but freedom. I work because I want to make my own money, and not live off my trust fund. Which,” you grit your teeth, “by the way is way bigger than yours.”

“Back to the bike,” the stranger interrupts your break-up scene with Ransom. “Money, or my bike. Now!”

“I’ll call the cops. This is a home invasion,” Linda points at the stranger. “You better leave my house.”

“You better teach your son how to pay for the shit he buys,” the man grins. “Don’t you worry. I know where he parked my bike. The pretty boy fell off the bike the first time he tried to get on it.” The man chuckles now. 

“I want you to leave. Now.” Linda repeats. “Or I’ll call the cops.”

“Do it,” the man says. “We will see if you get away with stealing my bike.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks a brow. “I bet all your nice little friends would love to hear that your son is a thief.”

“No one will believe the likes of you,” she sneers and looks him up and down. “I’ll call my lawyer.”

“How about you call your lawyer, and I'll call mine,” he smirks. “If you want the public to know the Thrombey’s cannot pay their bills any longer.” 

You sigh deeply. “As much as I enjoyed this get-together, I’ll go home now. Ransom, lose my number.” The stranger looks at you when you throw Ransom an angry look. “Never call me again. I’m tired of being your arm candy, and to bear your family.”

“If you need a ride, I can help you out.” The man jerks his head toward the door. “It’d be my pleasure to offer my help to a lady in need.”

“Y/N,” you take his offered hand.

“James,” he says, eyes dropping to your hand in his. “You can call me Bucky, though.”

Bucky promised to drive you home, but he had to stop at this bike shop first. One of his partners called him on his way out of Harlan’s house.

“Y/N, this is Steve,” Bucky points at his friend. “He’s my partner and best friend.”

“Hey, what about me? I got the bike back!” Another man holds out his hand. “Name’s Brock, sweetness.”

“I hope you got it back in one piece,” Bucky jokes. “And no flirting with the lady.” He suddenly wraps his arm around your shoulders. “This one is mine…”

Tags in reblog.

[eulalielatibule]

Pine-ing For You

Pairing: Soft!Roommate!Ransom x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff, Christmas, some swearing, fake dating, there was only one bed.

Summary: You bring your roommate, Ransom, to your family's Christmas celebration.

A/N: This is a repost from my old account, @/hevans-angel. It's probably my favorite Ransom fic I've written so I wanted to get it out for this holiday season! Merry Christmas everyone!

You had known Ransom Drysdale for many years, since you both were in diapers. It was safe to say you two were good friends, despite Ransom being… Well, Ransom. You practically knew everything about him.

Practically.

Since letting him move in with you after he was cut from Harlan’s inheritance, however, you discovered the biggest plot twist of all plot twists:

Hugh Ransom Drysdale loved Christmas.

Like, love loved.

As in, the man who gagged at those commercials of families getting together and being wholesome was also the person that put up the Christmas decorations at 12 am on November 1st.

You didn’t mind though, it was nice seeing him enjoy himself for a change; you had never seen him smile so much before, it was sweet. You almost told him he should smile more often but you didn’t want to run the risk of getting him all embarrassed so he’d stop.

Instead, you listened as he sang Christmas songs- his favorite was Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, and he changed the lyrics so that Walt got run over- and helped him bake those little sugar cookies that had Christmas trees and snowmen on them.

You even put up with him whenever you just so happened to be standing underneath the mistletoe. He'd kissed your cheek and you’d kiss his, and when you'd pull back he'd be smirking.

One time when you both were drunkenly singing All I Want for Christmas is You, he pulled you over to the plant hanging from the ceiling and kissed you straight on the mouth. It was a chaste, puckered lips type of kiss and yet it still made your heart flutter from excitement. You both carried on as if nothing happened, never brought it up when you were sober.

You eventually decided the incident was merely drunken shenanigans and nothing more, although a part of you wanted to feel his plush lips against yours again.

When you asked him to join you at your family’s annual Christmas party, you weren’t surprised that he said yes. In fact, he seemed excited to go. He had told you that Harlan always threw these big holiday parties at his mansion, but they always ended in fights and Ransom running off to the nearest bar so he could drown his issues in the first woman he saw.

Not this year, though. This year you promised him it was going to be good. You had a small family, so really it was only going to be you, your mom, your dad, and your siblings. Maybe grandparents too if they could stop by.

“The only thing is,” you started, “I kinda need to lie and say we’re dating.” Ransom’s eyebrow quirked up, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to go out with me all you had to do was ask,” he quipped, causing you to scoff playfully and lightly shove his shoulder.

“No, it’s just that if my grandparents show up they’re going to bug me about how I’m ‘getting too old’ and I need to settle down. I'd rather not deal with it this year." Ransom dropped a heavy arm across your shoulder and squeezed in reassurance; you felt like a ragdoll compared to his strength.

"Don't worry, I'll help you out."

🎄

Christmas Eve came along, and you and Ransom drove to your parent’s house. He insisted on taking his Beamer, but of course he had to drive even though he didn’t know the directions. It was in the next town over in a nice gated community. You were the youngest of the family, so when you moved out to pursue your career they moved from one really big and fancy house to a different really big and fancy house.

The man at the gate let you in and Ransom drove by each neatly decorated house; some had only lights, some lawn decorations, a few had next to nothing. It was to be expected though, seeing that mostly elderly people lived in the neighborhood. You figured it was probably hard for them to decorate given their old ages.

When he got to the destination, you both got out of the warmth of the car and into the cold Boston air. Your parents- or perhaps someone they hired- made their house look like a fairytale; Hundreds of white lights covered every inch of the house, giant candy canes acted as a faux fence around the front lawn and two nutcrackers stood guard at the base of the porch. It looked even more magical with the light dusting of snow covering the ground.

“Wow, do they do this every year?” Ransom asked as he carefully climbed the stairs. He extended his hand to you, and when you didn’t take it he glanced over his shoulder. “C’mon, we're dating. Couples hold hands, sweetheart.” He smirked and you huffed a laugh, taking his gloved hand as he helped you up the stairs.

“Thank you. Yeah, they love decorating for the holidays. The inside is probably going to be even better.” After a knock to the door, you heard some busting from inside before your dad opened it with a big smile.

"Hey you two! Merry Christmas!" He hugged you and kissed your head before turning to Ransom. "How are you feeling being away from your family for Christmas?" Ransom shrugged, taking his sunglasses off.

"Honestly? Relieved. I don't have to deal with their bullshit. Thank you for letting me join you guys." Your family, parents in particular, loved Ransom. They found him charming and his comments on his family always made them laugh, because who could disagree? The Drysdales and the Thrombeys were horrible. Everyone that knew them would say that. Ransom had his moments, but since moving in with you he had improved a lot.

“Don’t mention it. Come on it,” your dad stepped aside and you and Ransom went into the house. Just as you expected, it was decorated beautifully. A giant Christmas tree stood in the corner next to the fireplace, said fireplace lit up and had stockings already hung up. There were dozens of presents underneath the tree, and sparkling multi-colored lights adorned the entire room.

“The turkey should be ready in an hour. You two get comfy.” Ransom went over to the fireplace and blinked in surprise.

“One of these has my name on it.”

“Well yeah. Seeing that we’re spending the night here, why wouldn’t they get you a stocking?” You stood beside him. Ransom’s was knitted with red yarn and on the white, fluffy cuff was embroidered “Hugh” in gold colored thread. They never liked calling him Ransom, your mom said the name “sounded too mean.” Yours was next to his, all white. The yarn had silver threads laced in it, and your name was embroidered in silver.

“Do they get stockings for anyone who comes over?” He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, in fact he was the opposite of that. He just couldn’t believe someone would go through the trouble of doing that. As if you could sense that, you wrapped your arms around his torso from behind and hugged him.

“Face it, Ransom. We love you.” You grinned and he offered a small smile back.

“Finally admitting it, huh?” He turned around in your grasp. You felt your face heat up just a little as you shrugged nonchalantly.

“You know how I feel about you. You’re my best friend.” Ransom looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he kissed your forehead and sighed.

“You’re mine too.”

🎄

The party ended up going very well. Turns out pretending to be Ransom’s girlfriend wasn’t all that hard. You two pretty much acted normally, but there was extra hand holding, snuggling, and kissing. Lots more kissing. Whether it was on the cheek, forehead, even the back of your hand. He never kissed your lips, which in all honesty disappointed you. But you figured it was probably for the best, seeing that you were already so in your feelings about him.

Everyone in the family loved him, as usual. Your grandparents said they were happy you finally settled down with a nice boy. They even asked if you two would get married. You told them to quit it, but Ransom butted in.

“I can say with 100% certainty that I don’t see myself ever leaving her side.” Everyone at the table aww’d. You looked at Ransom, both confused but you also felt like your heart would burst from the sweetness of it. He winked and took another bite of turkey.

After dinner you all played games and watched a movie. It was tradition in your household to watch A Christmas Story every year on Christmas Eve. By bedtime, your parents told you that you and Ransom would be sharing the guest room.

Of course, there was only one bed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whined, laying down on the plush comforter beneath you. You had already changed into your pajamas, and Ransom was about to change into his.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” He said, even though he was clearly smirking. You glared at him and he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m kidding. C’mon, this isn’t a big deal. We’ve fallen asleep on the couch together before.” He tried to reason with you.

“I know, but this is… Different.” You avoided his gaze and traced the stitching on a suddenly interesting throw blanket. Ransom sat on the bed in front of you and took your hand, making you look up at him.

“Do you want me to sleep on the ground?” He offered, but you shook your head.

“No, I don’t want you sleeping uncomfortably. You can sleep up here, but… No funny business.” You pointed a finger at him, and he nodded.

“You got it. No funny business.”

He went to the bathroom and changed into his pajamas, which was apparently sweatpants and no shirt. Lovely. You groaned and rolled over so you were facing away from him. You felt the bed shift as he laid down next to you.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Ransom.”

🎄

Christmas morning, everyone gathered around the tree to open presents. You sat next to Ransom on the sofa, his arm resting on the cushions behind you. The position was all too familiar, and your face heated; see, when you had woken up, you found yourself snuggled up to Ransom. You were nuzzled in his side, his arm draped protectively around you. You had managed to wiggle out of his grip without him noticing.

Gifts were passed out, "thank yous" and hugs as well. You had gotten a lot this time around, and your family even got Ransom gifts as well. That made him tear up, and you teased him for being such a sap.

Your gifts to him were simple but you hoped it showed you cared. It was a few new sweaters- you knew he lived in them practically all year long- a cookbook so he finally had no excuse to help you in the kitchen, and a writing set.

You had found this beautiful leather-bound notebook and fountain pen set online and ordered it immediately. Ransom had been talking about wanting to get into writing, whether it was novels like his Grandad or something else. You also mentioned to him that journalling was a good way to get one's feelings out in a healthy and constructive way. He seemed keen about the idea.

"Y/N, thank you so much," he pulled you into a hug and kissed your head. "I love this. I'll write you little messages every day." He said it in a joking way, but the way his eyes lit up made you think differently.

He went over to the tree and brought back a candy cane striped gift bag, placing it in your lap.

"Open mine now."

You untied the string handles and took the multi-colored tissue paper out. Inside was a set of three glass self watering globes- the top was a sphere and it had a long stem extending from it that had a hole at the tip, which allowed water in and out; perfect for watering plants.

The best part? The globe part was decorated to look like a cat’s face. It even had little ears. You gasped and looked at Ransom, who was looking pretty proud of himself.

“These are so cute! I… Can’t believe you got me a genuinely nice gift?” He scoffed and looked offended, but you knew he was just teasing.

“Oh wow, thanks a lot. As if you don’t go around our house talking to your plants as if they were real-”

“They are real.”

“As if they could understand you,” he offered, to which you nodded and he continued. “Besides, ever since you made me take care of them-”

“I didn’t make you, you insisted on it. And it wasn’t all of them, it was one. And it was fake.”

“Would you stop interrupting me? Could you do that?” He poked your side, to which you squealed and wiggled away from him.

“Okay! Okay. Continue, please.” You raised your hands in surrender, making Ransom laugh.

“Thank you. As I was saying, I know this is a hobby you love and…" he shrugged as he trailed off. You grinned and hugged him.

"Thank you, it's amazing. Now, what else did you get me?" He chuckled and squeezed your shoulder affectionately.

"The rest is at our place. It's a surprise."

Once all the gifts were opened and breakfast (and about half the candy in your stocking) was eaten you all said your goodbyes and headed your separate ways. On the way home, you and Ransom stopped by a coffee shop. You got tea and he got hot chocolate.

As you got out of his Beamer you saw something sitting at the front door. As you got closer you noticed it was a little cactus that had reddish-pink flowers growing on it. The way the flowers were growing made it look like it had a flower crown on. Your mouth hung open and Ransom hummed.

“Looks like the delivery made it on time.”

“Oh my god! I love it,” you enthusiastically picked up the potted plant and held it in outstretched arms so you could admire it. Meanwhile, Ransom unlocked and opened the door, an eyebrow raised.

“Are you actually crying right now?”

“Shut up, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” you stuck your tongue out at him, running to the living room to add your newest baby to the collection. He rolled his eyes lightheartedly as he sat down in his recliner.

“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart. I would have gotten you something more but seeing that I’m running out of money that wasn’t an option.” You scoffed and shook your head, ridding yourself of your jacket and mittens.

“Are you kidding? This was perfect. /You were perfect. Thank you for being so great at the party. It really means a lot.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, babe,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it. You turned to him and reminisced on the past month, all the fun you two had. It was the most fun you had ever had with Ransom, the most fun you had ever even seen him have. Growing up he pretty much avoided anyone and everyone during the holidays, which is why you assumed he hated it. Now you realized he just didn’t have anyone that he could actually celebrate with in a meaningful way.

Now you realized that you didn’t want him to feel that way ever again.

“What are you thinking about?” You heard him ask, voice low and face soft. You broke out of your trance before gesturing for him to stand up. With a groan he did.

“Follow me.” You led him to the fireplace and stopped directly in front of it. Ransom’s forehead was wrinkled in confusion before he followed your eye line to the mistletoe hanging above you. He chuckled gently.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one to drag you over to the mistletoe,” he put his hands on your shoulders, gently letting them run down your arms and settle at your hips.

“Do you remember a few weeks ago, when we were drunk and you kissed me?” You felt him squeeze your hips lightly before nodding.

“That rings a bell.”

Your hands ventured up his chest, feeling all the defined muscles underneath the maroon sweater he was wearing. One hand rested on his shoulder, the other the back of his neck.

“I kind of want to do it again.”

“To get drunk or to kiss?” Ransom spoke softly. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed over your face.

You answered him by pulling his face towards your own and finally letting your two lips meet once more.

[levans44]

Tipsy, smutty headcanons w/ cevans characters (pt. 2)

(aka: how Ransom Drysdale would fuck you after a family dinner goes south)

He raises the subject on a lazy Sunday morning, over toasted English muffins and runny eggs on his sunny kitchen island.

Throws out the question like it’s a casual suggestion, but you know it’s a bigger deal than he’s letting on—in the short time you’ve known Ransom Drysdale, you’ve managed to pick up on a few of his tells: a quick tug at his collar, tongue darting across his bottom lip as he glances off to the side. 

You know I’d rather die than sit through dinner alone. 

And when it finally sinks in that your boyfriend of barely 2 months was asking you to dinner at his family’s house, you have to take an extra long sip of coffee to process what it really means. 

Though you barely knew anything about Ransom’s family, you’ve heard enough horror stories about the Drysdales and Thrombeys to last you a lifetime.  

Yet, you can tell from the way Ransom’s avoiding eye contact, and the way he’s been nudging the food on his plate for the last half hour, that this means something to him (and that a lot of other things mean something to him too, despite his indifferent exterior). So, you respond with a sweet ‘I’d love to, Ran,’  leaning over the marble island to seal your promise with a kiss. 

Dinner at the Thrombey manor is about as pretentious and droll as you’d expected. From the tactless queries about your family’s tax bracket to the seemingly light-hearted jabs at your career—a PhD, huh? So that must mean kids are out of the question?—the evening is littered with tense moments from the first course right up until dessert. Yet, you evade every invasive question with a breezy answer and sweet smile, reaching under the table to squeeze Ransom’s hand whenever you see him stiffen in your periphery, lips twitching with simmering rage.  

Promise me you’re not gonna let them get to you.

You’d reminded him at the entrance of the mansion, straightening out the edges of his collar with a calm smile.

And Ransom keeps his promise for the entirety of the dinner, refraining from sarcastic commentary to the point where Linda Drysdale starts eyeing her son with an inquisitive brow. 

It’s not until after dinner, when Walt Thrombey ceremoniously suggests drinks and cigars in the drawing room, that things start heading south. 

You should’ve seen it coming—all that jealously and insecurity brewing inside Harlan’s youngest son, always walking on eggshells around his dad just to keep his job at the publishing company. Forever envious of the potential that Harlan only sees in Ransom. 

So, how’s my favorite nephew doing?

Walt sighs, sinking back in his armchair with a Cuban cigar between his lips. Uncorks the extravagant 40-year old Cognac he’s been saving—anything to get a rise out ofthe black sheep of the family.  

And surely enough, it only takes a couple drinks before the backhanded comments start flowing faster than the alcohol. A snarky jab at Ransom’s car, his job. 

How’s that freelance… writer thing going, Ransom?

Then rubs the latest best-sellers from his publishing company all over your boyfriend’s face.

And when none of that manages to get a rise out of Ransom, Walt’s gaze shifts over to you. Grins smugly around his cigar he takes a long puff.  

He shrouds the room in smoke, directing a slurred question right over at Ransom as if you aren’t even there:

So. Another flavor of the month, huh Ransom?  How long do you think this one’s gonna last?

Even Richard Drysdale bristles in his seat, startled. 

And you swear you see red flash across Ransom’s face as the room falls silent. 

You murmur Ransom’s name, reaching over to squeeze his arm. But he beats you to the punch—grabbing your hand in one swift moment, lurching out of his seat and nearly tipping the couch over. 

Eat shit, Walt.

With those words, he storms out of the room, you in tow. Slams the door behind you both, sealing the frenzy of bickering that erupts from the rest of the family:

Jesus, Walt, you really had to say that?

Ransom, honey, please—don’t go. 

Really, Walter?

Oh come on, Lin, you know I was kidding!  

Ransom remains silent the whole drive back, gravel crunching under the wheels of his beemer as he pulls up to his driveway. Instead of asking him to talk, you decide to let him have his space, slipping upstairs for a warm shower. God knows you needed it, after all the dirty looks Joni and Donna were flashing your way when they thought you weren’t looking.

When you walk back downstairs, you find Ransom hunched over the kitchen island, nursing a bottle of beer. 

Because despite all the top shelf liquors paraded around during dinner tonight, you know Ransom’s drink of choice has always been beer.

Craft beer, to be more precise. In fact, he’s a little bit of a beer geek—growlers lining up his shelves, his fridge stocked with bottles from the best microbreweries around New England. 

He pops open the top of what looks like his third drink, tossing the cap alongside the empty bottles of Treehouse littered atop his counter. 

You approach him, feet sliding quietly across the wooden floor as you let your hair down, toweling off the wet ends. 

Ran.

He remains silent, gaze fixed on the marble countertop as he takes another swig of his beer. 

Ransom, are you still upset about what Walt said?

When he still remains motionless, you sigh, pursing your lips as you take another step forward. 

He was just drunk. It didn’t bother me, really.  

Slowly, he glances over at you. And when his blurry eyes come into focus, they flit down your frame. He finally opens his mouth, voice barely above a whisper. 

That my sweater?

Hmm? 

You pause, frowning at the question, and glance down at the knitted beige sweater enveloping your frame—his sweater, covered in so many holes and snagged threads that you’d always had poked fun at him for even keeping it around.

Oh, yeah, do you mind if borrow it? I found it in—

You’re suddenly interrupted by a dull ‘clang’ as he drop his beer down on the counter, rushing forward toward you. His hands search desperately for your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips meet yours in a frenzied kiss.  

He pulls you back into the kitchen, crowding you between the counter and his giant frame. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling his heavy breaths against your skin as his lips drag down your neck, nimble fingers dipping under the hem of your sweater. And when his palms snake around the back of your thighs, hoisting you up on the marble surface, you gasp against his mouth, gripping at his shoulders for balance.

Ran, w-what are you doing?

And without missing a beat, you feel him murmur into your pulse point:

Loving you.

Taken aback by his shameless affection, because Ransom’s never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeves, you blush, eyes flitting up to the ceiling. 

Y-you’re drunk.

Maybe.  

He hums, hands traveling underneath your sweater to grip at your hips, your waist, pulling you even closer to where he needs you most. 

But I’ve never felt more fucking lucid in my life.

He looks you dead in the eyes, wetting two of his digits with his mouth before he reaches down.

Ran. 

You murmur aimlessly into his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut at the way his palm slides against your sex, thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit as his fingers sink into your heat.

And when he decides you’ve taken enough of his torment, he lays you back on the marble countertop, loose magazines and beer bottles toppling to the floor as he carelessly shoves them aside. Shucks the sweater up to your neck so your tits are on full display, smiling at the way it makes you whine, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy with desperation.

The sharp lines of his face softened by something other than just the alcohol, his gaze flits down to the apex of your thighs, mouth inching southward as he murmurs: 

You want me here, darling? 

He spreads your legs wide open, arms snaking around your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the counter.

Tongue pressed flat against your clit as he sinks two fingers into your heat, trying to coax more of those pretty little whimpers out of your mouth. Degrades you just a smidge, smirking into your cunt:

Fuck, look at you in my sweater. 

Nose digging into your mound as he stares up hungrily, chasing your sweetness on his tongue. 

C’mon, play with those pretty tits for me.

Pulls back just as your head starts lolling over to one side, a telltale sign that you’re on the brink. With your lips buried into the soft material of his sweater, you start to babble incoherently, broken syllables of baby, and please, and fuck.

You close, darling? 

You meet his eyes from between your legs, squirming as you nod under his gaze. 

p-please—Ran, need, need ta…

Mm, you’re gonna have to beg louder than that, sweetheart.

He shakes his head, flashing you a shit-eating grin as he draws feather-light circles over your clit, just enough to keep you teetering over the edge.

Please, Ransom, fuck me, I—

And when he finally lets you come, it’s the kind of toe-curling, back-arching-off-the counter orgasm that wipes your mind clean of everything that’s happened that evening. The noise that escapes your mouth is enough to reach his neighbors from down the road, his fingers curling and hitting that spot just right, flooding you with waves after waves of pleasure. 

Once you finally come to, he clambers over you with a hungry snarl, giving you a bruising kiss. 

You pull back, blinking up at him with an exhausted laugh as you wipe the wetness off his chin with your thumb.  

He leans back down with a lazy smile, giving you another quick peck before muttering against your lips:

Move in with me.

You frown, the abruptness of his words knocking out whatever breath is left in you.

What?

He gazes back silently, expression unwavering despite the incredulous look on your face. 

Mind still half-gone, you try to wrap your head around his words, eyes widening when it fully sinks in. 

B-but, Ran, my dissertation—

—then we’ll get a place in Cambridge, I don’t care. 

He seals his lips with a determined grin, and you know he’s made up his mind. Now, he’d do anything to try and convince you too.

And it there’s one thing you’ve come to learn about Ransom Drysdale, it’s that he never gives up easy.

He reaches forward, cupping your cheek in his palm. And the smug smile on his pretty pink lips is indication that he already knows—knows that you don’t any convincing in the first place.

Well, why don’t you think on it while I…

He smiles, crossing your ankles behind his hips as he pulls you down, hoisting you off the counter. 

…give you a proper fucking upstairs?

author's note: aaand what was supposed to be a headcanon/drabble situation turned into a one shot. I just liked the setup leading up to the actual smut too much to let it go! Also, I think this is the first ransom fic I’ve ever posted?! Lmk what you think!

P.S. the point about Ransom being a beer geek is 100% canon—a fascinating tidbit that makes his character that much more endearing. (peep the new england craft beers in this scene and this hidden secret abt the position of the beer bottles!! rian johnson is truly a mastermind.)

(read pt.1 w/ steve and frank here!)

[krirebr]

For MTT: what if Ransom was actually looking forward to the arrangement, sick of dating and the party scene. When he sees reader it’s love at first sight for him at least.

Chelsea! This was a great ask, but answering it was hard for me. Maybe because MTT has so fully taken over my brain and trying to change it just a little tripped all sorts of internal booby traps for me.

Regardless, I was able to come up with something. Here is an alternate version of their first meeting where Ransom isn't a complete dick from his POV. But because I'm me, I, of course, can't just let these two be happy right away. Even in this alternate, alternate universe.

And somehow, even though this fought me the whole way, it's still well over 1k words. I don't know how.

No Way of Knowing

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, references to forced marriage and forced pregnancy, angst

Ransom was furious when Harlan and Linda told him. Absolutely livid. How dare they dictate his life like this! Yes, most of his friends had already entered into similar arrangements years ago, but he was doing fine the way he was!

And they were so fucking smug when they told him. ‘Oh, it’ll be so good for you.’ ‘It’s about time you settled down and joined the real world.’ Fuck that.

But. When he got home and had a chance to think calmly about it, without his mother’s resting smug face glaring at him, what was he doing, really? He was inching ever closer to forty and sleeping with random socialites just wasn’t as fun as it used to be. Almost all of his friends were married, so he didn’t really see much of them anymore. He was kind of lonely if he let himself admit it. Would this really be so terrible, if he did it for himself and not for them?

The pregnancy clause was admittedly awful but if you took the narrow timeline away for a minute, he could actually see wanting to be a father. He’d do it right, wouldn’t treat his kids the way his parents had treated him. This didn’t have to be the worst thing.

So he spent the next week going through the binder they’d given him, did what he could to get to know you. You were young, which made him a little nervous, but it wasn’t the largest age gap he’d seen in one of these things, and you were still very much an adult. You seemed intelligent (your fucking test scores were in there, which just seemed like a wild invasion of privacy) and sweet. You had a dog, which wasn’t ideal, but at least it was small, so he hoped he’d be able to tolerate it.

All in all, you didn’t seem like the typical society fare that Linda liked to parade in front of him. He dared to hope that that would hold true once he met you. That opportunity came faster than he was ready for. Just a week after he’d signed the papers, he was sitting in a restaurant, waiting for you. He already had his Macallan 18, trying to get some liquid courage before you appeared. 

You were a few minutes early and seemed surprised but pleased that he was already there. He stood up as you approached the table, partly to be polite and partly to get a better look at you. You were beautiful. Gorgeous. It was shocking, really, the way you took his breath away. That’d never happened before. 

“Hi,” you said softly as you stood opposite him and extended your hand, then gave him your name.

“Hi,” he said, somewhat stupidly. He swallowed and tried to pull himself together. “I’m Ransom,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you said, cautiously, as you sat across from him and he sat back down. “Have you ordered yet?”

He shook his head, “Just a drink. I’m ready to order food whenever, but I’m in no rush.”

You nodded and after you briefly looked at the menu, he signaled the server over. He couldn’t stop watching you as you ordered. You asked a lot of questions about their wine selection. It seemed like you knew what you were talking about. He found himself wanting you to tell him all about it, how you knew so much, why you liked it. He just wanted to listen to you. 

Once the server was gone, you looked over at him warily. You were so nervous. He wanted to reach across the table and gently hold your hand, but he wasn’t sure how it’d be received. “So,” you said carefully, “I guess we should talk about how this is going to go.”

He nodded, a little disappointed that you wanted to get down to business straight away. He wanted to just talk, get to know you, take some time, but he supposed that he couldn’t blame you for wanting to get the hard parts out of the way. “I have a house,” he said, “just outside Boston. I think you’ll like it. It’s big, in a good neighborhood, quiet. But I’m not sure how suitable it will be for starting a family. That’s something we’ll have to talk about once you’ve seen it.”

You looked at him, shocked. “Start a family? Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? We’ve only just met.”

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Oh no. “Didn’t they tell you? You didn’t read the contract?” There was no way. They couldn’t have been that cruel.

He could see the panic rising in your eyes. “They didn’t give me any time to read it,” you said, your voice wavering. “What didn’t they tell me?”

Fucking shit. How could they have done that to you? And now he had to be the one to break the news. He cleared his throat and tried to speak calmly, gently. “There's a clause in the contract. We’ll need to conceive a child within the first year.”

“What.” you whispered.

He didn’t say anything, wanting to give you time to process. And he was afraid that if he tried to speak right now, his voice would come out far too angry. He needed to find out who was responsible for this, who had treated you so terribly.

“A baby,” you breathed. “With you? Right away.”

“They should have told you. Talked to you about it. I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t have found out this way.” He wasn’t sure you heard him. You just stared straight ahead.

That, of course, was when the server brought out the food. The sound of your plate hitting the table right in front of you seemed to bring you back to the here and now. You looked down at it and shook your head and then looked back at him. “I don’t think I’m very hungry,” you said. 

“That’s fine. We–” 

You stood up, interrupting him. “I’m sorry,” you said, both your voice and body very stiff, “but I need to go.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, desperate to get you to change your mind, to fix this. “I’d really like you to stay, so we can have a chance to talk.”

You shook your head. “No,” you said, your voice resolute. “I can’t tonight. Maybe– Maybe we can talk another time.” 

And then you turned around and walked away, leaving Ransom reeling. He would spend the rest of his meal thinking about all the ways he would make this up to you, earn your trust, win you over. 

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