#save me Harlan

[thesunnys1deup]

The Jurgen Leitner rant except it's Kayne from malevolent I love him with a burning hatred.

[witchinatree]

i have posted a LOT about the issues i had with season 4 of TUA but i'm going to say everything i've been thinking right here right now. i cannot get this shit out of my head.

i think a lot of it ties back to the flaws i noticed in season 3, they tried to take on too much and abandoned the previous storylines that were waiting for them (viktor's traumatic relationship with leonard, five's trauma in general, lila's parents dying because of five, DAVE, etc etc) and we were all expecting them to tie it all together in season 4

instead they just.. added more..???? jennifer and abigail were thrown in late season 3 and were just suddenly supposed to be super important to us (they were not.) the subway that takes you to other timelines (objectively cool as fuck, why is this only introduced in the last season of The Timeline Show)

and i'm still really upset that reginald is an alien because it makes no fucking sense. i always assumed he created the mystery 43 babies (why else would he seek them out and already have a plan for them) but the alien route was.. ill-fitting. i think it would've worked better if he fell in love with abigail, who was an alien and created marigold, and then his hubris and curiosity was what unleashed it into the world and doomed the timeline. "sure this mystery chemical destroyed the planet my wife is from but i'm reginald hargreeves so that won't happen to me!" [happens to him] also i wish abigail was not just used as "see! abuser not so bad! abuser have wife! he love wife :]" because. what. and then her weird complaints about reginald in episode 6 that came out of nowhere confused me. they just should've written her entirely different if they were gonna have her at all

AAALSO i hated that they regressed all of the characters back to how they were in season 1 (or worse??). luther was living in the old umbrella academy building because apparently he will never leave it?? after everything?? diego's life was different but he was still doing this weird job shit (discount batman and mail carrier are the same thing) and he was miserable with his loving wife and kids (who ARE you.). allison's husband left her again (what the hell raymond) and she was still the neglectful single mother of claire?? after EVERYTHING I KNOW I ALREADY SAID THAT BUT GOD. klaus actually had something going for him, if only his recovery wasn't made into a joke, and then he relapsed and got kidnapped and was just very.. season 1 klaus.. but with no ghost ben anymore. five.. eugh. he was not season 1 five he was just NotFive. crazy how they had a magnus archives crossover and just brought in NotThem to take five am i right guys. ben's also different because it's not the same ben from season 1 but they just made him really fucking mean. like worse than season 3 because there wasn't that underlying "please i just want to be loved" thing. crypto bro ben was funny as fuck though. and VIKTOR just fucked off by himself after working so hard to be part of the family again. glad he got to transition and become canada's #1 manslut but jesus, just abandoned everything you did to be part of the family huh.

my vision for the ending of TUA would go something like this

ending of season 3, pretty much the same but they all have their powers and reginald's head getting sliced in half did not reveal him to be some alien freak. also at some point abigail would have been introduced. i don't feel like rewriting season 3 too okay i'm cutting corners.

luther finds sloane when he goes back to where the umbrella academy building used to be, but it's now a very lovely apartment that the two of them live in together. they host all of the family gatherings for sentimental and space reasons. i think luther would explore the stripper idea but decide not to follow it because of sloane. sloane would be fine with it but luther would still get worried.

diego and lila live in the same house somewhat nearby. lila's family (they do get to be alive but lila does have to overcome the trauma of losing them while simultaneously getting them back) are their neighbors, it was the compromise they came to because diego wanted their house to be their space but lila wanted her family close. they have three kids who are each loved and names get to be in the fucking show. (looking at you mystery twin. grace and coco (?) didn't really get much attention either). they have a big backyard that the kids all play in together when they're visiting

allison and ray are still together and they have claire (maybe another kid...) they also live somewhat nearby the rest of the umbrella family because i refuse to let them separate. i don't have much to say about them other than RAY DID NOT WALK OUT ON HER.

klaus and dave live in allison and ray's neighborhood. maybe they adopted a kid? maybe they didn't? i think their family would be really cute either way. klaus is still overcoming his addiction and dave supports him through it. it's not made into a joke and actually gives klaus a lot of depth and emotional moments. also just in general dave meeting the rest of the family would be really really sweet

five gets to retire. he lives with viktor in my mind. full circle on viktor being the person who always waited for him and offered him a place to stay after he got home in season 1. five would not actually be getting a retirement pay because he has never had a real job so he's just vik's roommate now. he could have a romance plotline with a woman working at the department store down the street named delores. she looks familiar.

ben lives alone and works at a tech company? honestly i don't know what i would do with him in the pre-plot but it would not be put him in jail?? me personally. i think he would probably move further away than everyone else but stay close enough so he could visit sloane sometimes. he still feels like an outsider but doesn't know how to tell the umbrellas he wants to be their brother now

and viktor lives with sissy harlan and five (previously mentioned). his transition gets to actually be explored (PLEASE.), harlan is in therapy, and sissy is a strong working woman!! again i don't really know what to do with him pre-plot. just know he's the happiest he's ever been!!!

and just in general, a lot of this happiness from all of them comes from their powers and that they can finally be one big happy family together (whether ben likes it or not). setting up the inherent tragedy that comes with perfection

episode 1 opens by showing everything i just explained, the tragedy of getting everything you want or whatever the title was. their powers are still integral to their lives. they're either tied to their careers (luther would probably be like a wrestler or something again, diego could try police work again because i want that to be explored) or other aspects of their existence (allison still finds herself doubting how much of her life is real, klaus' relapses are always caused by his trauma surrounding ghosts, five sometimes space jumps when he wants to be alone [also i think he could feel some sort of shame/guilt because he lives with viktor and can't really contribute much without the commission. not really his fault though because of his insanely fucked timeline], ben uses the squid to carry things or grab things that are far away, and viktor plays the violin to help him remind himself that he is in control of his power now, and he won't end the world again)

the main conflict starts when ben meets a new woman named jennifer and shakes her hand when introducing himself (starting the marigold/durango reaction that builds very slowly throughout the season.) it could be romantic but i think it's just devestating. they're slowly realizing they're losing everything they worked so hard for because of something they can't control

yadda yadda yadda figuring shit out while also having conflicts in their life from the earlier seasons and it culminates in the old umbrella academy building, viktor is the only person who can remove the durango and marigold from ben and jennifer and save the world. he finally gets to be the hero, be the one to stop the end of the world instead of cause it, but he needs to take the marigold from each of the siblings in order to balance the amount of durango jennifer had (no idk why he would let the other like 30 something marigold kids keep theirs i really don't know how to fix that. why would they do this to me)

each of the siblings have to give up part of their lives, part of their identities, and it's hard for them!!! they struggle a lot to agree to do it!!! and it's also harder for them because they don't know if viktor will survive doing this. but he's the only one who can? is his life more important than the existence of everything and everyone? ultimately, they all give up their marigold, and viktor takes all of it and the durango to save everyone. it cancels itself out and stops the cleanse reaction, and i think it would kill viktor (but it doesn't have to). we see that same clip of the 'perfect world' but they get to be in it. they were never the problem. lila and diego play in the park with their kids. allison ray and claire are walking together. klaus and dave are talking on a bench. luther and sloane are carrying a large basket of food. ben and five are helping them set up the picnic. harlan is sitting in the grass with sissy next to him. each of the adults have a small violin tattoo on their wrists. their lives will never be as perfect as they were before, but they can finally just rest and move on. because it was never their fault.

also reginald dies. fuck that guy

[desertowlet]

Marta Cabrera's good heart and kindness and attempts to making things right is just. breaks my heart and completely undoes me. the fact she still felt the need to help the very people who have done nothing but wrong her, who ignore her existence and only acknowledge her whenever was most convenient for them, and who tried to rob her of everything for the sole reason of serving themselves first and foremost. all the way to the point of telling her and saying she was not worthy of the very will Harlan himself wrote and insisting they were far more deserving of the inheritance of the very man they simply treated as an asset more than an actual family member. they used him at such an egregious degree, up until the point where he had to cut all of them off for their own good. yet somehow Marta, who has fostered a genuine and dear friendship with the elderly man she took good care of doesn't deserve this inheritance? she was far more deserving to attend Harlan Thrombey's funeral than his so-called family– the very family that did not even bother to invite her to said funeral. she was more family to Harlan Thrombey than anyone else in the entirety of the film and it shows with how he treats her– how much he cared about the well-being of Marta and her mother and sister, and making sure they were safe. Marta didn't even do any of this with the intention of getting a piece of the inheritance– she was just doing her job but so much more. she was an honest and kindhearted nurse who wanted to do the right thing for Harlan. she tried everything in her power to save his life once she realized she mixed up the dosages, and became inconsolable at the realization that she did not have the means to do that. Meanwhile Harlan's eldest grandson, his own flesh and blood, shamelessly plots and schemes his grandfather's murder in an act of cold vengeance when he realizes he can't have any share of the inheritance. Harlan may have cared about the Thrombeys and wanted to make things right before he passed, however there is a clear difference between them and Marta; she was Harlan's family.

[tragedia]

i've been thinking about agents of fen'harel since yesterday, and out of the characters i already write here, harlan would be the easiest to commit to this cause. he doesn't have any noble aims, but can be radicalized further because his highest value in life is freedom, and in his mind serving and being loyal to someone is freedom too, as long as it's his choice. what that means? well, he would just as much join the inquisition, join briala, join solas, if the person who tried to bring him in offered him a particular thing: consistent basic decency and, i don't know, not siding with slavers and abusers. he's less of a cause person, and more of a person person, you see? hell, he'd commit to being a proper crow again if zevran himself, who's associated with freedom in his mind, showed up and told him he wants to rebuild the crows, but change them. it's not like harlan has moral qualms about his line work, he just hates the organization and those the perpetuate the cycle.

[eamons-redguitar]

ILL BUY YOU COCONUT LACROIX SPOON

[bonerot19]

oh interesting, I deeply disagree

I definitely think Harlan is meant to be flawed as well — any romanticizing of him does the narrative a disservice. it's his family, after all. he's largely responsible for how he raised his children and, by extension, how they raised their children. his money and fame affected him differently because he earned it, but his children and grandchildren were handed their privilege. (iirc he says he regrets handing Walt the publishing company because he essentially robbed Walt of the opportunity to build something of his own.)

I don't think Harlan "died trying to bring his mystery novels to life." he was taking notes on the situation before he thought he was going to die because his dedication to his novels was a character flaw (I think you could argue he didn't raise his children to be humble and 'good' because he loved writing more than his family). once Marta tells him the thing that could save his life is not in the medical bag, he sobers up immensely. reality sets in. he's no longer thinking about his novels, he's trying to come up with a way to save Marta. because he realizes he is going to die.

is it complicated and something out of a murder mystery? of course it is, that's what he knows. it's what he's good at. but he absolutely does it for Marta.

as far as the idea of Harlan "recording something to insist it wasn't negligence" — that wouldn't work imo. as far as Harlan knew, it was negligence. a mistake. which is negligence. because Marta, as a medical professional, owed Harlan, her patient, a duty of care and they both believed she had breached that duty of care. and that's just negligence as far as civil torts are involved.

if Marta had actually given Harlan a lethal dose of morphine, she would absolutely be convicted of something whether that be negligent homicide, manslaughter, etc. I'm no expert on that but I know a video from Harlan would not spare her this fate because he would be, you know, dead. prosecutors don't really care if a victim doesn't blame the person that killed them.

Harlan also tells Marta they can't try to save him because any investigation into Marta would reveal her mother as an illegal immigrant (and he knew that he had left everything to Marta in his will, and that she would not get that inheritance if she was found guilty of his death in criminal court or liable for his death in civil court) but if no one knew she was involved, her inheritance would allow her to pay for the best lawyers and keep her mother from being deported.

this story is a tragedy because Harlan died when he didn't have to. the tragedy is based on the fact that Marta and Harlan did not know he wasn't actually given a lethal dose of morphine. Harlan's actions were to save Marta, he used his knowledge of murder mysteries to help her evade police suspicion because that's what he knew and also because it makes a good movie. he'd been selfish his whole life, evidenced by the way he raised selfish children, and his last act on this earth was one of selflessness.

I think it does the movie a disservice to say he died trying to bring one of his books to life as though it was all for fun and he didn't actually care. the tragedy is that he did care, very much, so much so that he died when he didn't have to, just so Marta could be safe.

knives out is so good for so many reasons but I really appreciate how utterly, absolutely, devastatingly sad it is that Harlan didn't have to die. he didn't want anything bad to happen to Marta because of a mistake she didn't actually make. he would've been fine. she was his friend and he died to protect her. what a perfectly executed tragedy.

[buckets-and-trees]

Between the Lines

Characters/Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x curvy female!Reader Word Count: 4.4k Summary: When presented with a deal you can't resist, you agree to to create an illusion so you can achieve your actual dreams.

Content/Warnings: masturbation, slow burn, forced proximity, fake engagement, annoyed/disgusted to lovers

Notes: This takes place after the events of Knives Out. Yes, all of the movie. No exclusions. Dividers by @vesearartistry and @saradika. My humble offering for week seven of my Countdown to Chris-mas. Thank you @stargazingfangirl18 and @biteofcherry for both indulging some of my plot-talking for this fic!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You sat nervously in the lobby of Blood Like Wine Publishing watching the gears behind the glass display on the elegant clock above the reception desk.

Up until the death of Harlan Thrombey, the publishing house had published his works exclusively with a new murder mystery being produced and translated into dozens of languages each year like clockwork, the gears and cogs a well-tested as the antique clock on display.

With no Harlan, the publishing house had opened to submissions and you and your agent had made it through the initial rounds of querying and contract negotiations.

But now, only a year and a half after the prolific genius’s death and transfer of ownership to his nurse and friend Marta Cabrera, Marta had sold to a new owner - yet to go public in name, and they had asked for a meeting before finalizing the contract.

You tried not to fidget as you gripped the leather armrests of the chair, willing the minutes to pass faster. The lobby was eerily quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional rustle of papers and the soft clacking of the keyboard from the receptionist's desk. The walls were adorned with framed book covers, each one a testament to Harlan Thrombey's literary legacy. You couldn't help but wonder if your own work would ever grace these halls.

As you waited, your mind raced with possibilities. Who was this mysterious new owner? What did they want? Your agent had assured you that this was just a formality, but the knot in your stomach suggested otherwise. You found yourself studying the intricate patterns in the marble floor, tracing the veins of gold and silver that snaked through the stone like the plot twists in one of Thrombey's novels.

Just as the clock struck ten, the elevator dinged, and a tall woman with perfectly coiffed short white hair strode out, her heels clicking authoritatively on the polished marble floor. She paused at the receptionist's desk, speaking in hushed tones before turning her piercing gaze towards you.

"I assume you’re my ten o’clock?" she questioned, her voice sharp and commanding.

You suppressed a gasp and abruptly stood, smoothing your clothes nervously as you approached none other than Linda Drysdale - the legendary daughter of Harlan.

"Yes, that's me.”

She gave you a once-over, then nodded. “Come with me.”

You followed Linda into the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest. The mirrored walls reflected your nervous expression back at you, and you tried to school your features into something more confident. Linda stood beside you, her posture perfect. In contrast to you, she seemed entirely at ease, tapping away at her phone with manicured nails.

When the doors opened, you stepped out into a hallway lined with dark wood paneling and more framed book covers. Linda's office was at the end, a massive space with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The room was dominated by an imposing desk made of rich mahogany, its surface neat and organized.

"Please, sit," Linda said, gesturing to one of the leather chairs in front of her desk. As you settled in, she moved to a small bar cart in the corner. "Can I offer you a drink? Perhaps some whiskey? A gin and tonic? Coffee? Tea?"

You shook your head, politely declining. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

Linda shrugged, pouring herself a generous measure of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. "Suit yourself," she said, returning to her desk and settling into her high-backed leather chair. She took a sip, savoring the whiskey before fixing you with her piercing gaze once more.

"I've read your manuscript," she began, her fingers drumming lightly on the desk's polished surface. "It's intriguing. You have potential, there's no denying that."

Your heart swelled with pride at her words, but you remained silent, sensing there was more to come.

Linda leaned forward, her eyes never leaving yours. "I'm prepared to offer you a book deal. A three-book contract, to be precise. The advance is generous, and the royalties - well, let's just say they're enough to make even my father's ghost smile."

You felt a surge of excitement, but something in Linda's tone made you hesitate. There was a glint in her eye, a slight curl to her lip that suggested there was more to this offer than met the eye.

"However," she continued, swirling the whiskey in her glass, "there is one small condition."

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implication. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "What kind of condition?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Linda smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You see, my father liked to play games. In his will, he left us with one final trick. I don’t know how much of this you heard or followed in the news, but he left us nothing - his cash and assets, our home, and this publishing house all went to Marta Cabrera, his nurse at the time of his death.”

You would have been hard-pressed to have missed the news because it had spilled over into scandal.

“I don’t expect to see the sixty million, and that’s tough, but I can live with that - I’ve made my own fortune, and neither Walt and his family nor my sister-in-law and her daughter need to continue suckling off the teat of dad’s treasury. The house still hurts, but I’ll get it back - I can bide my time. But this? It only took me eighteen months of patience and strategy, working through subsidiaries and intermediaries, to close the deal on getting Blood Like Wine back in the family where it belongs.”

“I will go public with my ownership by the end of the week,” she continued, “but for better and for worse, the acquisition has ended up coinciding with my son’s pending release from prison.”

“Ransom?”

Linda nodded, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before disappearing behind her composed facade. "Yes, Ransom. As you can imagine, his... indiscretions have caused quite a stir in our family and social circles."

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure where this was leading.

"My son made mistakes, grievous ones. But he's served enough time, and now he needs a chance to redeem himself. That's where you come in."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "I'm not sure I understand, Mrs. Drysdale. What does this have to do with my book deal?"

"The condition," she explained, her voice taking on a steely edge, "is that you convincingly pose as his sweet-as-a-peach fiancé for two years.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Ransom Drysdale, the man who had attempted to murder Marta Cabrera and frame her for Harlan's death, and she expected you to agree to this? You stared at Linda in disbelief, and the silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft ticking of an antique clock on the bookshelf behind her.

"I... I don't know what to say," you finally managed, voice a little weak in your shock.

Linda leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of whiskey. "It's quite simple, really. You play the role of Ransom's devoted fiancée, help rehabilitate his image, and in return, you get your book deal. Three books, a substantial advance, and the backing of one of the most prestigious publishing houses in the industry.”

"But... Ransom... he tried to kill someone. He went to prison. How could I possibly-"

"Details," Linda waved her hand dismissively. "The public has a short memory. With the right narrative, we can reshape Ransom's image. A reformed bad boy, humbled by his time in prison, now devoted to his charming fiancée and ready to contribute positively to society. We both know the power of a well-crafted story. People will believe anything."

You felt your head spinning. This was so far beyond what you had expected when you'd nervously entered the building this morning. "And what does Ransom think about this plan?" you asked, grasping for any semblance of normalcy in this surreal situation.

Linda's lips curved into a tight smile. "Ransom will do as he's told if he wants to maintain his lifestyle and eventually inherit his share of the family fortune. He knows the stakes."

You sat there, stunned. The offer was tempting - a three-book deal with Blood Like Wine Publishing was beyond your wildest dreams. But to fake an engagement with a convicted criminal? It seemed insane.

"I understand your hesitation," Linda said, her voice softening slightly. "But consider this: you'd have unprecedented access to our family. Think of the material for your future novels. The inside scoop on one of America's most infamous families. Isn't that what every mystery writer dreams of?"

You had to admit, she had a point. The Thrombey-Drysdale saga was the stuff of legend in literary circles. To be on the inside, to see how they really lived and interacted? That alone could draw readers in if they thought there was any chance you’d pull threads and weave it into your future novels.

And besides, this was your dream: a multi-book deal with a prestigious publisher, the chance to see your work in print, and to potentially become not only a published author but one who with Blood Like Wine’s name and marketing department could be a truly successful author. How could you pass it all up?

“What would you say to four books?”

You blinked, taken aback by Linda's sudden offer. "Four books?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Linda nodded, a sly smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Four books. And we'll double the advance. Consider it... hazard pay." She chuckled softly at her own joke.

Your breath caught in your throat. Four books? The offer was even more tempting now, dangling before you like a golden carrot. You found yourself leaning in, drawn into Linda's web despite your better judgment.

"I... I don't know," you stammered, your mind racing. "This is all so sudden. What exactly would be expected of me?"

Linda's smile widened, sensing your wavering resolve. "Nothing too taxing, I assure you. Attend some charity galas, be seen at upscale restaurants, perhaps a carefully orchestrated paparazzi shot or two. We'll craft a beautiful love story for the press - how Ransom found redemption through your unwavering support and love."

You nodded slowly, uncertainty swirling more strongly, gut churning because you were actually considering this. You could do public appearances…

“A year and a half,” you countered.

Linda shook her head firmly. “No, I won’t budge on the time commitment. Two years is a bankable amount of time to make sure we turn enough pages to fully close this chapter. But I’ll give you six books.”

Your heart leapt at that, and even though your gut was uneasy, your brain was shouting that this kind of deal was something you could not refuse. “Six books, and the first two released before the engagement period is over.”

“Deal,” Linda agreed.

You took a deep breath, your mind reeling from the enormity of what you had just agreed to. Six books. A multi-million dollar deal. And all you had to do was pretend to be engaged to a convicted criminal for two years. It seemed surreal, like something out of one of - well not one of Harlan's novels, but whatever romance author was currently trending.

"I think I will have that drink now," you said, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.

Linda's smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "I find a good whiskey helps smooth over even the most unusual of business deals."

You nodded, watching as she selected a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. The soft clink of glass on glass filled the room as she poured a generous measure into a tumbler. The rich, peaty aroma of the whiskey wafted towards you, promising warmth and liquid courage.

Linda returned, extending the glass to you. Your fingers wrapped around the cool crystal and your eyes met Linda's. There was a moment of silent understanding between you - a recognition of the Faustian bargain you had just crafted and agreed to.

As you raised the glass to your lips, Linda's voice cut through the silence. "One more thing," she said, her tone casual but her gaze intense. "I'll up the advance to five million if you agree to move in with Ransom."

Your GPS led you to the top of a cul-de-sac in the Brown’s Wood neighborhood of Lincoln, Massachusetts. Beautiful trees and a typical New England landscape ushered you up the drive to the midcentury modern home owned by Hugh Ransom Drysdale. It didn’t scream home, but there was no denying it was a stunning feat of architecture - white walls and black roofing framing a structure of mostly floor-to-ceiling windows.

You sat in your car for a moment, gathering your courage. The enormity of what you had agreed to in Linda’s office had been sinking in all week, but this was it. Five million dollars. Six books. And two years of your life pretending to be engaged to - and now living with - a man who had attempted murder.

Maybe approaching all of this as if it was one big plot so of course it had to all work out was a ridiculous coping strategy, but it’s the one you had adopted.

But when the seven-figure advance had appeared in your bank account, giving you more money than you had earned in your entire life, you didn’t have it in you to back out.

If he murdered you, at least you would have paid off your student loans, credit card debts, provided for your parents’ retirement, and put away enough money in a trust for your nephew’s college fund.

The house loomed before you, a monument to wealth and taste that felt utterly alien. With a deep breath, you grabbed your bags from the passenger seat and made your way to the front door.

Before you could even ring the bell, the door swung open, revealing Ransom Drysdale himself.

He was taller than you expected, his presence filling the doorway. His piercing blue eyes scanned you from head to toe, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "So, you're the lucky lady my mother's picked out for me," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You bristled at his tone but forced a smile. "And you must be the charming ex-convict I've agreed to shackle myself to," you replied, matching his sarcasm with your own. "Can we consider the awkward introductions done now?"

Ransom's smirk widened into a grin, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, I like you already. Come on in, darling," he said, stepping aside to let you in. "Welcome to Hill House Drysdale. Try not to get too attached - I hear it's only a two-year lease."

You stepped into the house, immediately struck by the minimalist decor and open floor plan. The entire back wall was glass, offering a stunning view of the surrounding woods. It was beautiful, but cold - much like its owner, you mused.

The house was a stark contrast to the warmth of the Thrombey mansion you'd seen in news reports. This place was all clean lines, minimalist furniture, and an abundance of glass and steel.

"Nice place," you commented, setting your bags down. "I half expected to see crime scene tape and chalk outlines."

Ransom's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Sorry to disappoint. I save all my murdering for the family estate. This is my sanctuary."

You couldn't help but chuckle bitterly at his dark humor. At least he wasn't trying to pretend this was anything other than what it was - a business arrangement.

"So, where should I put my things?" you asked, gesturing to your bags. Some of your things had been sent off to a storage unit, but the things a moving consultant had determined would come here with you had been packed up and moved earlier in the day.

"The master suite is upstairs," Ransom said, closing the door behind you. "Stay out unless you’re embarking on a conjugal visit.”

You scoffed. “Charming.”

He winked at you, then began to take you through the house. “Other than that, you’re free to roam the house, and I’ll stay out of your space. Living room here,” he gestured around, then walked to the right, and you followed him into a sleek, modern kitchen. “Two Bosch ovens, a six-burner range, your choice of pretty much any appliance in one of these cupboards.”

“You cook?”

It was his turn to scoff. “God, no.”

He walked you through the length of it, coming out on the other end of the living room, and then walking through a dining room with a long black table and another two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows.

Ransom didn’t strike you as one for entertaining dinner parties, making this more of a feature room than anything else.

At the other end, you came to a new wing of the house.

“This is you,” he said simply. “First door office, second is your bedroom and bathroom.”

You hesitated at the transition point from the dining room to the other side of the house.

“What is it?” Ransom asked, turning and putting his hands on his hips impatiently.

“Linda said a contractor would be brought in to install a door and security system.”

“She said could, and you’ve got locks installed, but I own this house, installing a wall and door here is more invasive than I was willing to agree to, and since she’s a real estate mogul she conceded it would altar the property value.”

“I…”

“You can relax. I’m not likely to try to murder you - the memory of the inconvenience of being incarcerated will probably last for twenty-four to thirty-six months, putting you in the clear.”

You frowned.

“They’re nice rooms, state of the art locks, you’ll be fine,” he reiterated, rolling his eyes. “Digital reinforced with an analog component that you’ll have the only keys to.”

He tossed you a keychain with three keys, which you were quick to catch.

“Downstairs there’s another living room that’ll be for you exclusively and a laundry room.”

“So, you’ll be coming through here to do laundry then?” you asked.

“Cute of you to think I do my own laundry.”

Now it was you who had an eye roll to give.

"Speaking of, all your stuff was delivered safe and sound, but I took the liberty of having some clothes delivered for you. Can't have my fiancée looking like a struggling writer when we're out in public."

You bristled at his comment. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Ransom's eyes raked over you, his gaze lingering a bit too long for comfort. "Let's just say they don't exactly scream 'trophy wife of a reformed bad boy billionaire.'"

You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself of the substantial paycheck waiting for you at the end of this charade. "Fine. When is the first public outing?"

Ransom checked his watch, a sleek, expensive-looking timepiece that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. "We have a charity gala tomorrow night. My dear mother thought it would be the perfect opportunity to debut our 'relationship' to society."

Your stomach twisted with anxiety. Tomorrow night? That was so soon. You weren't prepared for this.

“Last thing,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “Here’s your ring.”

Ransom reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. As he opened it, your breath caught in your throat. Nestled inside was a ring that could only be described as breathtaking.

The center stone was a flawless oval-cut diamond, easily 3 carats, that seemed to capture and refract every bit of light in the room. It was held in place by a delicate setting adorned with two smaller diamonds on either side. Each facet of the ring sparkled with an intensity that was almost hypnotic.

"This," Ransom said, his voice uncharacteristically warm, "is a family heirloom. It belonged to my great-grandmother, passed down through the generations. My mother insisted I give it to you."

He carefully removed the ring from its velvet nest and held it out.

You reached for it, holding it delicately and studying it more closely.

“And I am going to insist that you wear it continually,” he added, tone back to its normal bite, “none of this on and off business. We’re engaged and there’s no reason to risk a slip up forgetting to put it on before you leave the house.”

The weight of it in your hand felt significant, both physically and metaphorically. This wasn't just any engagement ring - it was a piece of Thrombey family history.

"It's... stunning," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ransom's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something - pride? nostalgia? - passing across his face. "It is, isn't it?" he said, his sarcastic tone momentarily abandoned again. "My great-grandfather proposed with that ring after returning from the war. It's seen its fair share of family drama."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I bet it has."

Ransom cleared his throat, his mask of indifference sliding back into place. "Well, go on then. Put it on.”

"Are you sure about this?" you asked cautiously. "Shouldn't a family heirloom go to someone real?"

Ransom's expression hardened slightly. "I’m hardly that sentimental. This arrangement is real enough for my mother, and it's real enough for me. Besides," he added with a sardonic smile, "you're as close to family as I'm likely to get these days."

With a deep breath, you slipped it onto your left ring finger. The final symbol of the elaborate charade you had chosen to undertake.

It was near midnight, and you were worn out and nearly ready to collapse into your bed. The movers had done most of the work, but you still had had some unpacking to take care of and moved the furniture around in your bedroom and the room that would be your office. After giving you the engagement ring, Ransom had left you alone the rest of the day.

You padded quietly through the dining room that connected the two halves of the house to the kitchen to fill up your water bottle before bed.

The house was eerily quiet as you made your way through the darkened rooms. Moonlight filtered through the expansive windows, casting long shadows across the polished floors. You tried to move silently, not wanting to disturb the stillness of the night or alert Ransom to your presence.

As you entered the kitchen, the cool tile against your bare feet sent a small shiver up your spine. You fumbled for a moment, searching for the light switch, but decided against it. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the soft glow from the windows was enough to navigate by.

You had just placed your water bottle under the refrigerator's filtered, letting the cool water splash into your bottle, when another sound caught your attention.

At first, it was barely perceptible - a faint, rhythmic creaking from upstairs. You froze, straining your ears. The sound grew clearer: a low, guttural groan, followed by the unmistakable sound of skin moving over skin.

Frozen in place, your cheeks flushed hot as realization dawned. Ransom was fisting his cock and unabashedly enjoying it.

Part of you wanted to flee back to your room immediately, but you were paralyzed, afraid any sound of movement might alert him to your presence.

Your breath caught in your throat as Ransom's moans intensified, echoing through the quiet house. The rhythmic creaking of his bed frame quickened, punctuated by deep, guttural groans that sent shivers down your spine. You stood frozen in the kitchen, your water bottle forgotten as you listened, captivated against your will.

Your body betrayed you, responding to the primal sounds drifting down from above. Heat bloomed in your core, your skin tingling with unwanted arousal. You could almost picture him - his muscular body taut with tension, head thrown back in ecstasy, those piercing blue eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Your imagination filled in the details - the flex of his biceps as he stroked himself, the sheen of sweat on his chest, the way his abs would clench with each thrust into his fist.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to quell the ache building between them.

"Fuck," Ransom's voice drifted down, rough with need.

The raw intensity in his voice sent a jolt through you. Your breath quickened, matching the frantic pace of his movements above. You knew you should leave, retreat to the safety of your room, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

The sounds grew more urgent, building to a crescendo. Ransom's groans became deeper, more primal. You could hear the desperation in his voice, the need for release. Your own body thrummed with sympathetic tension, your nipples hardening beneath your thin sleep shirt.

Suddenly, Ransom let out a long, guttural moan. The sound of it vibrated through you, igniting every nerve ending. You imagined him arching off the bed, his body taut as a bowstring as he found his release.

The house fell silent once more, save for the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Realizing you were still clutching your water bottle, you turned and tip-toed back to your room as quickly as possible.

You slipped quietly back into your room, closing and locking the door behind you with trembling hands. Your heart was still racing, your body flushed with unwanted arousal. You leaned against the door, trying to steady your breathing.

What had just happened? You'd come to get water and ended up an unwitting eavesdropper to your fake fiancé's private moment. The memory of Ransom's deep groans echoed in your mind, sending another shiver through you.

You shook your head, trying to clear the vivid mental images. This was ridiculous. Ransom was arrogant, infuriating, and had literally tried to murder someone. You shouldn't be affected by him like this.

And yet, the memory of his moans lingered, making your skin tingle and your core ache with need.

When you crawled into bed, you brought a book with you instead of your vibrator, refusing to sate the lust that had been kindled because you didn’t want to risk thinking of him. If you couldn’t resist him the first night living under the same roof, there would be no hope for you to make it two years.

And so you read until your eyes drooped and you were finally succumbed to sleep.

HAPPY KNIVES OUT NOVEMBER! It seemed like an appropriate point during the Countdown to Chris-mas to finally buckle down and write my first Ransom fic!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[ghosts-and-glory]

if requests are still open, what about some Shamura doodles / headcanons?

You know I always have a Shamura up my sleeve, Shamura, save me Shamura.

Btw the dialogue is a quote from “I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream” by Harlan Ellison (1967) because it’s like my favourite piece of literature to ever exist lmao

Idk why but I like mentally zoomed in on how Shamura joins your cult dissenting. I think they should also get to try and kill The Lamb, as a treat.

Headass ramblings under the cut.

It may be a hot take but I feel as though Shamura probably has the most hostile relationship with The Lamb. (Only rivalling Heket probably.) Again joining the cult dissenting, they’re the ex bishop of war who caused the sheep genocide and they don’t even seem to grasp the gravity of their actions due to their injury.

I am most enamoured by what Shamura was like before the betrayal. Other npcs speak on them as if they where something so much more. What we see of them they seem unaware and consumed by guilt and after loosing their godhood they’re reduced even further. Like both Narinder and Kallamar’s fights are harder than Shamura’s and that drives me crazy, the implications of it.

Speed round, they’re a jumping spider to me and as a mortal around the age of 60.

As a oldest sibling myself I can and I will project so hard onto them watch this-

Shamura definitely is not the kinda eldest to have played kindly with their siblings. I know in my heart that they could win sparing matches against them and would ruthlessly kick their asses.

I am also blasting them with my aromantic beam.

Shamura, my problematic fave.

[levans44]

Call me crazy, hold me down

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you met ransom in college, working as harlan's intern. when he sees you again 10 years later, this time with an engagement ring on your hand, he’s hell-bent on finding out more. he's always had a way of getting under your skin, but this time, it’s different. times have changed—and so have you.

warnings: 18+ SMUT, power play, implied cheating, jealousy, history of FWB, degradation, light breath play, fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, slight age difference, canon divergence, porn w/ plot, plot twists

word count: 3.4k

“Ransom? Ransom Drysdale?”

With a velvety swoosh of his overcoat, he turns to face you, sharp blue eyes landing on yours.

Standing in the gilded glow of the country club, Ransom Drysdale wore tradition like a second skin—rich cashmere sweater, perfectly tailored chinos, and the kind of bone-deep confidence that only old money could bestow.

Yet he wore it all with a touch of recklessness, a lazy defiance that set him apart even as he fit right in.

The burgundy scarf draped around his neck—a vibrant, unruly splash against the muted palette of the room.

And, of course, the Gucci loafers. 

With the heels stamped down flat and soles scuffed to oblivion, they made it clear that, among the desperate sea of elites clinging to pedigree, Ransom was both one of them, and something entirely another.

Soft, pink lips part, exhaling your name. 

“Shit.” The incredulity in his eyes replaced just as quickly with an unmistakable hunger, raking over your frame with no remote attempt at decency or subtlety. But then again, neither had ever been his style.

“…is that really you, Sunshine?”

Sunshine. As soon as the nickname glides off his tongue, a memory flashes into your mind - the shock of cold metal against your bare skin, warm hands gripped around your hips as they hoist you up onto a library cart, rucking up the hem of your yellow sundress. 

You blink in quick succession, chasing the thought away. 

“In the flesh.” You nod, flashing him an innocent smile. 

Head cocked in disbelief, he steps in, arms outstretched for a hug. His palm skims your lower back, the other cradling a glass of whiskey.

A heavy whiff of cologne envelops you, that familiar scent of rich vanilla and cedarwood, and it’s all the confirmation you need to know that nothing has changed.

Harvard class of ’11 and '15, side-by-side members of Phi Beta Kappa honor society. 

You’d earned it through countless late nights and waitressing shifts, scrimping and saving just to make ends meet. And him? Well, a shiny new literature building bearing the Thrombey name may have tipped the scales.

For a moment, you let your nose brush against the soft fabric of his cable-knit sweater, whiter than the streaks of cocaine that marked his habits at Harvard’s exclusive club meetings.

As you start to pull back, you catch a flash of your reflection in his aviators, hanging from his collar—a spitting image of the Hamptons elite, you know you’ve never looked better. 

Knows he knows it too, evident in the way his fingers linger over your arm as he pulls back. 

“Whatcha been up to?”  

“Oh, you know, just making ends meet.”

 You sigh, twirling your fingers around the empty glass in your hand. 

“…how’s Harlan doing?”

Hand-picked by the infamous novelist for a summer internship your freshman year, it was Harlan who had introduced you to his other intern. Ransom was a senior then, neither grateful nor interested in the opportunity you had to fight tooth and nail for. 

“Well, old man hasn’t kicked it yet.” 

Ransom sighs, shoulders sagging with an undeniable air of annoyance as his hand leaves your side, stepping back to down sixty dollars worth of whiskey in one go. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, eyes wandering down to the empty martini glass by your hip. He glances back up, licking his lips and pointing a signet ring-clad finger in your direction. 

“Espresso?”

You shake your head, eyes darting down to your glass. 

“Vodka.”

He chuckles, nodding his head.

���Of course. Classic.”

You don’t dwell on his words, nor the suggestive wink he shoots your way as he heads in the direction of the bar, about to fetch you both another round.

You wince, reaching forward to stop him in his tracks.

“Oh no, Ran, you don’t have to.”

With a raised brow, his gaze drops to where your hand rests on his forearm. You pull your hand back abruptly, as if singed by his stare. 

A flicker of something possessive crosses his features, new interest lighting up his eyes. 

Jaw unclenching as he settles on that familiar smirk, though it’s a little stiffer this time. 

He raises his chin, cocking his head to the side, and the bridge of his nose catches the lighting of the overhead chandelier. 

A small twitch in his brow as he murmurs:

“Married, huh?”

You nod softly, pursing your lips as you glance down at the glistening stone on your ring finger. 

“Engaged.”

“Huh.” He murmurs, blinking.

His gaze falters for a moment before they find yours again. Eyes narrowed as he leans in, voice dropping two pegs:

“You know, between us, I always thought I’d be the one to get married first.”

You let out a soft laugh, amusement lighting up your eyes.

“Meaning you thought I’d never get married.”

He shrugs, mirroring the smile on your face.

“Can you blame me? I mean let’s face it…”

Lips inches away from yours, a devilish grin splitting his face wide open. 

“….neither of us were really the marriage type.”

And your heart skips a beat, a raw memory edging its way into your mind.

Coarse upholstery scraping against your cheek, the quiet creaks of wooden furniture ringing across the dorm common room—he’s got you bent over a worn-out couch, holding you down by the neck as he sneers in your ear. 

‘Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?’

You blink slowly, raising your brows with a quiet breath. 

“That was over 10 years ago, Ransom. I’ve changed.”

He chuckles loudly, head cocking in a silent challenge.

“Is that right?” 

Leans in even closer to your ear, close enough to feel his warm, whiskey-soaked breath.

“Because by the way you’ve been staring at my lips, I’d disagree.” 

Pink lips curl around a set of bright, sharp teeth as he grins, the edges of his wool coat dancing around your frame.

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat as he leans down, his lips grazing your ear and leaving a searing mark—like the red-hot tip of a cigarette against your skin.

“…tell me, Sunshine, you think you can keep your hands off me all night?” 

“Who is it?”

“Hmm?” You mumble, mind half gone from the way his hands were gripping your hips, ass pressed against the cold marble of the bathroom sink as he rucks your tennis skirt around your waist.

The scent of expensive liquor and mint fill your senses as he grumbles against your pulse point, voice coarse and low. 

“That schmuck you’re marrying.”

He pulls back from the space below your jaw and in the split second your eyes meet his—a viridescent streak of emerald amidst all that smug blue. And you know.

An electric jolt rips through your stomach, equal parts thrill and disbelief, and you throw your head back, letting out an incredulous laugh.

“Drysdale, are you seriously jealous?”

He scoffs, but his hand tightens around the swell of your hips, his ring digging into the soft flesh. Suddenly yanks you to the edge of the marble counter as you gasp, grasping at his sweater-clad chest for balance. 

“You really think I’m the jealous type, Sunshine?” he murmurs, nose brushing against yours as he splays his hand over your exposed knee, warming up the skin. 

Then, with deliberate slowness, drags the blunt tips of his nails up the inside of your thigh, making you visibly shudder.

“Still a fan of that move, huh?” He grins, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

Ignoring your half-assed attempts to push him away, he continues to trail his fingers upward until they find their way to your core, thumbing the outline of your sex through the damp fabric of your panties.

“…so who is he?” He taunts, gripping you in closer, lips pressed against the corner of your mouth. 

“Ransom…” you murmur, scalding under his hungry gaze as it swallows your every reaction—a sarcastic eye roll turning into a genuine show of pleasure once he shoves the flimsy lace to the side, fingertips dipping in between your folds.  

And although you had no plans of humoring his question, Ransom’s other hand flies up to clasp over your mouth, trapping the pathetic whimpers slipping off your tongue.

He shakes his head feverishly, crooning into your ear:

“Shh, wait, wait, you know what? Lemme guess.”  

You only let out a muffled groan in response, eyes rolling back into your head at the way two of his thick fingers enter your sopping cunt, agonizingly slow. 

“Let’s see… does he have a J.D.? 5 years at daddy’s law firm, promoted to senior partner before you could say nepo baby?” 

His fingertips find that plush spot deep inside you and you gasp, his palm muffling broken syllables of his name. His hand clasps tighter against your mouth, wholly ignoring you as you claw at his wrist:

“.. or, or, Wallstreet, maybe? You living out your dreams of being a little trophy wife, sweetheart?”

Pulls out only to add a third finger, shoving his hand deeper between your legs, forcing your knees further apart. You groan at the added stretch and he only smirks, continuing to pump his fingers in and out while ignoring your desperate gaze. 

“Ok, and this might be my personal favorite….” 

A feral flash of teeth as he grins, curling his fingers upward. You can't help but arch your back, your gasp still muffled by his hand over your mouth. 

“…is he one of those self-made, go-getter types? Daddy ditched mommy without a dime so he had to scholarship his way through some shitty state college?”

Faster now, dragging his palm against your clit, hand soaked with your arousal.

“Turned his life around with dedication and work ethic. Is that what you’re telling yourself, Sunshine?”

Eyes squeezed shut, you cling onto the fabric of his coat for dear life as his fingers stroke your g-spot over and over. 

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Bachelor number 1, 2, or 3?” 

He whispers, releasing his grip from around your mouth as you gasp for air, his now-free hand dropping down to his belt buckle. 

“F-fuck you, Ransom, He’s…ah, shit—“ 

A clink of designer metal is all the warning you get before he’s burying himself in you, replacing his fingers with the head of his fat cock. The words dissolve on your tongue as he pushes inside at a glacial pace, prolonging the ache of the stretch. Drags it out just as slowly, delivering a sharp slap against your clit, before sinking back in. 

Your eyes flutter shut at the obscenity of it all, the shameless lick of his lips as he smirks at your obvious embarrassment. 

“Fuck, look at you.” He murmurs to himself as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you in for a searing kiss, his tongue pushing past your teeth as he sets out on a relentless rhythm.

Pulls back with a wet smack to raise his free hand up to your mouth, coated thoroughly with your slick. Pushes three fingers past your lips, thrusting them down your throat, deep enough to make you gag. Your eyes roll back, clenching around his cock as you arch your back, sucking feverishly. 

“That’s it, show me how much you want it.”

And with his fingers still shoved down your throat, he smirks, tugging your head down to meet his gaze.

“Bet he doesn’t fuck you this good, huh?”

The glare you manage to give him as you gurgle around his fingers is just the edge he needs, letting out a loud groan as he snaps his hips into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing across the bathroom tiles. 

Your climax arrives with a strangled cry as your eyes squeeze shut, legs trembling as waves of ecstasy crash over you, your core spasming around his cock. 

While you struggle to catch your breath, Ransom’s thrusts become erratic, grunts growing deeper in an all-too-familiar way. He pulls out with a shudder, guiding your left hand between your thighs to wrap around his slick cock. The engagement ring glints under the dim lighting as you stroke him in quick, firm pulses. Ransom hisses, eyes zeroing in on the hand wrapped around him as he finishes with a throaty groan, streaking your inner thigh with his release.  

A soft jangle of his belt as he slides the buckle into place, while you carefully slide off the marble surface, steadying yourself. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Sunshine. Don’t I deserve to know what kind of loser managed to tie you down?” 

You’re still breathing heavy, light-headed and buzzing, yet you manage to choke out:

“… fuck off, Drysdale, he’s a bigger man than you’ll ever be.”

He lets out a sharp laugh, hand flying up to grab your chin, smearing spit and remnants of your arousal over your lips. 

Gives you a bruising kiss, teeth and all, just because he can.

Pulls back with a wet smack, flashing you a smirk that chills you to the bone.

“Yeah? Is that why I just fucked his fiancée in a country club bathroom?”

Three days later...

“Ransom Drysdale, you’re under arrest for attempted murder of the first degree. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot—“

Ransom’s sharp chuckle interrupts the arresting officer mid-sentence. His gaze snaps over to you, standing in the corner of the living room, arms crossed and watching intently. 

He barks out your name, laced with disdain. 

“You’re a cop? You gotta be shitting me.”

You take slow, deliberate steps toward him as the officer finishes reciting his Miranda rights, yanking Ransom’s balled-up fists into a set of cuffs. Ransom’s not foolish enough to resist, but he squares his shoulders, holding his ground as you approach him. When you’re close enough, he leans in, his voice dropping to a low growl, face inches from yours.

“You slut.” He spits, all nine circles of Hell swirling in his eyes. “You think you can fuck me over like this and get away with it?” 

He huffs out a breath, nostrils flaring. Glances up past your shoulder at Benoit Blanc, standing in the archway of the foyer.

“… this isn’t over. I’ll see all your asses in court. You hear me?”

You tilt your head, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you glance black at the arresting officer, silently signaling for one last moment. 

“You know, it’s so funny you mention that, Ransom.”

Crimson lips raised into sharp peaks as you smile, taking another step forward.

“Can I share a secret?” You lean in, voice barely a whisper.

“Guess who’s leading the prosecution on your trial?”

You watch as his scowl falters, a flicker of confusion that douses the fire in his gaze.

4 years of shitty undergrad, putting up with entitled assholes like Ransom Drysdale, all so you could graduate at the top of your class and land a full ride to Yale Law. Youngest prosecutor in the state of Massachusetts to hold the title of Attorney General, just freshly appointed last week, and with a perfect record to boot.

Just one look at your first case—a claim filed by Harlan’s home care nurse who suspected foul play, that someone had switched the labels on her med vials, nearly forcing her to administer a fatal dosage—and you knew who had dunnit. 

Pulled a few strings to get on the shortlist for the exclusive country club that Ransom frequented, and a flash of your left hand plus a couple drinks back at his place was all it took. 

Inebriated from the whiskey and drunk off his arrogance—anything for his sweet, innocent ray of sunshine, lapping up tales of his grandiose plans with wide-eyed admiration.

How he had swapped the labels, how he managed to cover his tracks. 

How a damn Brazilian nurse foiled it all with her selfless resolve, getting Harlan to the ER even after administering the correct medication. 

It was everything you needed to build a complete case against him.   

You living out your dreams of being a little trophy wife, sweetheart?

Eat shit, Drysdale.

“So what.” Ransom spits, rolling his eyes, but the mask slips just another inch further.

“You don’t think my lawyers can get me out of this? It’s attempted murder, for fucks sake.”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” You step in closer, cocking your head to the side.

“You know, Ran, first-degree attempted murder is punishable for life in prison in Massachusetts.”

Even closer now, his face just inches from yours, breath hot and jagged against your lips. 

“Hire all the fucking lawyers you want — I don’t lose, asshole.”

A silence that feels like forever as his eyes dart furiously between yours, nostrils flaring.

And when he fails to find the familiar submission in your eyes, his smug, devil-may-care bravado is broken with a quick twitch in his brow—a brief flicker of realization, concealed just as quickly under a mask of rage. He lunges forward, looking just about ready to break out of his cuffs and wring both his hands around your neck. The officer yanks back on his arms in warning.

You don’t so much as flinch.

“You vile. fucking. bitch.” He hisses, gritting through his teeth.

“Hmm, takes one to know one.”

You smile, promptly stepping back as the arresting officer hauls Ransom away. 

“You slut! I’m gonna ruin your life, you hear me?” The sound of jangling metal cuffs rings out in the foyer as he’s dragged out of his grandfather's estate, past Blanc who simply sidesteps Ransom’s loud tirade.

“… get the fuck off me!”

“See you in court, Mr. Drysdale!”

You call, waving from the front door of the Thrombey mansion, watching the outline of Ransom’s designer sweater get shoved unceremoniously into the back of a police vehicle. 

Through the tinted windows of the back seat, you catch the glimpse of a man stripped of his mask, a ghost from your past, face twisted in fury and defeat.

“Miss, didn’t nobody tell you that gloatin’s in poor taste?”

A low, southern drawl croons from beside you. 

You flash a smile at Benoit Blanc, who’s watching the police car pull out of the driveway behind a lit cigar, an equally satisfied expression on his face.

“Oh, I think a little gloating may be warranted.”

"Ya know... the way you’ve pieced this all together is mighty impressive. You sure I can't convince you of a career as a private investigator?”

You laugh, watching the police car disappear through the dense woods.

“That’s kind of you, detective, but the courtroom’s where I belong.”

You purse your lips, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the band on your ring finger. 

“Plus, I… may have cheated my way in a little with this one.”

Blanc shrugs, smiling around his cigar.

“I figured as much, seeing as how you and Mr. Drysdale were on a first-name basis.”

You let out a small sigh, turning to face Blanc as you extend a hand. 

“It’s been a pleasure, detective. Couldn’t have done it without your insight.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.”

Cigar hanging from his lips, Blanc shakes your hand with a firm grip, before the shiny stone on your finger catches his eye, glinting in the afternoon sun. 

“…that’s a nice ring you got there, ma’am. Must be a lucky fella.”

He flashes you a wink, and you have to fight the urge to smile, realizing why this strange character of a man was heralded as the world’s greatest P.I. 

After Blanc leaves you with a tip of his hat, you take a few steps out into the sprawling yard of the Thrombey mansion, turning around to take in the full view of the estate. 

‘Playing life like a game without consequence…’ 

Harlan’s words echo in your head—one of the many nights you’d stayed over late, helping him finalize manuscripts while Ransom was out partying. 

‘….untill you can't tell the difference between a stage prop and a real knife.’

Lucky you that Ransom couldn’t tell 10-dollar cubic zirconia from a real diamond, either. 

After taking one final glance at the estate, you start your descent down the hill of the Thrombey estate, twisting the ring off your finger and tossing it into the dense shrubbery where it vanishes from view.

“So long, Drysdale.”

A/N: so uhm... this might be the filthiest thing I've ever written? hope you enjoyed the little reveals in the story, had to stay true to the og genre. title credit to fiona apple

[mozart-in-a-gokart]

My Thoughts On How TUA Season 4 Should Have Ended

Read it like a script outline maybe? Idk I never took screenwriting?

Way more detail below the cut:

Im so sorry if this whole thing comes across as very fan fictiony towards the end. I did my best.

::Here are some refreshers for some of the concepts I touch on at the beginning and where my logic comes from::

Note: I may have spelled Luther as Luthor throughout this and I realized this only after I was just about to post this so… bear with me.. thank you.

So we learned these things previously:

Season 1

Viktor was the trigger for the big world ending apocalypse

Season 2

Viktor was the trigger for the 3rd world war that ended the whole world

Season 3

Viktor has the ability to transfer marigold .We learned that from the whole storyline with Harlan in season 3.

Viktor had the ability to stop Allison from resetting the universe but chose-not to at the very end of the season.

Edited Addition: The Kugalblitz itself was the result of a grandfather paradox involving the umbrellas in the sparrow timeline. (I.E. You go back in time, you kill your grandfather, therefore you have no way of existing later.). Their parents were dead so the universe couldn’t handle these extra variables that shouldn’t and theoretically couldn’t have existed, so it collapsed in on itself.

Season 4

When the universe is reset all of the October 1st kids seem to exist because Lila also exists in the reset universe (we don’t see the sparrows unfortunately so this is a toss up but for the purposes of this I assume they exist we just never saw them.)

Edited to clarify a point: Lila’s parents are still alive in this timeline, meaning she was born to two parents with no marigold. This further backs up the idea that the same must be true for the rest of the Hargreeves siblings because if it wasn’t, one of two things would have had to have occurred. One: The marigold would have had to have been released. However, If it had the umbrellas would all have been born with their abilities, which they did not have at the end of season 3 in the new universe. Two: Another Kugelblitz would have occurred because they wouldn’t have parents and therefore would have had no explanation for existing in the new universe, causing yet another cascade failure.

Abigail has this insane amount of guilt that comes from creating both the Marigold and Durango.

The show seems to establish that in Abigail and his marriage, Reginald is the one who considers the children expendable and always has. Abigail seemed to care about them quite a bit (at least until the last episode)

Abigail manages at the last second to convince Reginald to die with her and let the cleanse happen because it’s THEIR FAULT all this is happening, not the umbrellas

When Lila and Allison’s family get on the train they do in fact transfer over and are inserted into the “correct” and “one true” timeline. They are essentially rewritten by the universe to allow them to exist there.

With all these things in mind this is what I think should have happened

Abigail should still have managed to convince Reginald that this was all their fault but it should have happened earlier in the episode.

Abigail should have put an emphasis on the fact that it isn’t the umbrellas fault at all and that they have a right to exist. That it’s the least they can do is try and help them figure a way out of this after everything they have been put through both in Abigail’s name, and by Reginald himself.

Reginald finally grows as a person, accepts this, and they both go with Viktor on the crusade to save Ben.

While on the journey Abigail learns about Viktors ability to transfer Marigold from one person to another and she LATCHES onto this.

Abigail and Reginald have a discussion about a plan that involves transferring the Marigold to both of them of Viktor can’t manage to convince Ben.

(Maybe there’s a scene similar to season 2 where Viktor talks with sparrow Ben in his mind. Sparrow Ben ends up making the point that they have to let him go. HES NOT THEIR BEN. He NEVER has been. They have to let him go. Let him do this selfish thing. He misses HIS family. His SPARROWS. Let him die.)

This is a good end IMO for sparrow Ben because he isn’t out Ben. We’ve all been talking about Ben being Ben for so long we forget this Ben is literally A DIFFERENT PERSON. He sees the umbrellas as his family’s murderers. It’s tragic but, I can’t see this Ben ever truly growing to love the umbrellas the way he seemed to with the sparrows

With that Obviously the plan to stop the cleanse by convincing Ben falls apart. Plan A never works.

They all would congregate back at the dilapidated Hargreeves mansion.

They all still talk about options and Five still says that the only way to end this once and for all is by destroying all of the marigold (Instead of being all defeated about it I think he should be angry and wired when he’s talking about it. I hate this drowned kitten looking guy. Where’s my embodiment of the it’s always sunny Pepe Silva Meme)

While they all argue about trying to use the subway to save themselves and Five doesn’t think it will work Reginald steps forward and tells them all to be silent.

They all force of habit stop and stare at him.

He says that he and his wife may have a way to save them all.

Klaus, Luther, Diego, and Five are all against letting him talk

Lila, Allison and Viktor are willing to let him talk what harm could he do now at the end.

He asks Five about the subway and if he’s right that you leave it at the exact moment in time you entered. Five agrees as far as he knows that’s correct.

Reginald and Abigail ask Five to blink all of them there, right now so they have a bit more time to explain.

Five says no not until they tell everyone what’s going on. He’s had enough running around and beating around the bush. Reginald explains things now.

Reginald does.

He explains that their bodies in this particular universe were not made originally of marigold. They were just born here. So theoretically, if they no longer had Marigold in their system. The Umbrellas themselves won’t need to be erased. They could attempt to escape with their family.

Luther points out that they don’t know how to extract the marigold.

Viktor reminds them that he can transfer it but he doesn’t know how good he is at it. Plus he needs to transfer it somewhere. He can’t just release it.

Reg : “That is correct. You would need to transfer the marigold to another vessel. It won’t work if it’s not in something living.”

Diego: “What’re you saying?”

Five: “He’s saying one of us has to stay behind Diego.”

Allison: “So what? You’re asking one of us to volunteer? To choose to be erased?”

Everyone starts up angrily shouting at Reginald who is interrupted by Abigail.

Abigail: “None of you would stay behind.”

Five: “Elaborate?”

Abigail: “Five you blink everyone to the subway. While we’re there Viktor transfers all of the marigold from all of you to Reginald and myself. All of you board the train. We will stay behind.”

Everyone is silent and staring

Klaus: “you’re cool with this Dad?”

Reginald: “I am not your father young man. I am Not your Reginald Hargreeves. I am however, a Reginald who knows how to respect hard work, which you all seem to have been doing for a great many years trying to stop exactly this thing from occurring. I understand that my wife and I helped set this in motion and I am nothing if not accountable.”

Luther: “wow… “

Abigail: “Let us do this?”

Lila is immediate in her agreement

Five doesn’t like the idea of this but it’s all they’ve got.

They all start teleporting as the Bennifer Cleanse beast starts shattering the windows to the house

We watch time seem to slowdown because the creature understands that the marigold isn’t “in this dimension anymore” it doesn’t know where to look.

We watch a subway staircase form in the center of the room and see tendrils of the Flesh Creature winding around it but never down in it because it doesn’t have a way into the subway. (You have to blink there)

We have a moment where the Umbrellas link hands in a circle and glow (like we do every season. It’s tradition)

We go around the circle through each of the umbrellas faces and watch the marigold pulled from them slowly. And transferred into Reginald and Abigail who are standing in the center we see it leave them and they all collapse

Viktor still has a little bit left in him and says he doesn’t have the strength to transfer it

Everyone looks defeated at that

Diego and Lila while they’re looking at one another

Allison and Klaus are hugging one another

Luther and Five collapse on the bench

Viktor says it’s alright. That he’s gonna stay. He’s gonna choose to stay and be part of the solution this time. He owes it to them for ending the world three separate times (He’s gonna choose to save everything and not cause it)

They all hug him at the door to the train and say “goodbye”

Five is keeping the train door open by standing in front of them

Klaus hugs Viktor and thanks them for being the only normal one of the bunch and keeping them down to earth

Klaus: and hey! Don’t sell yourself short! That third time wasn’t really YOUR fault. Allison was the one who—

Allison shoves Klaus out of the way and into the train.

Allison and Viktor hug the longest out of everyone.

Allison: “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

Luthor picks Viktor up and spins them around : “I’m sorry for not being a better brother. You deserved more.”

Viktor: “ make it up to me by finding Sloane in the next world and naming your first born Viktor.”

Luther is laughing and nodding boarding the train

Diego shakes Viktor’s hand and apologizes for blaming them for so much in previous years. “I was really closed off and I should have been better. I love you brother.”

Viktor: I love you too Diego”

Diego’s holding back tears as he boards.

Five is the last to say good bye

The two are just staring at one another quietly

Five: “You know… I never thanked you…”

Viktor: “For what?”

Five: Not giving up on me the first time

Viktor is confused

Five: “When I disappeared years and years ago. When I came back pogo told me about the Sandwiches and the lights and everything. I know it’s too late, but I’d be remiss if I never said it. So, thank you. For not giving up on me.”

Viktor smiles at him.

Viktor: “I guess I should say the same.”

Five cocks his head

Viktor: “You never gave up on us. Every single time the world was ending. You never gave up on saving us. You drove yourself insane trying to save us all and we never thanked you.”

Five scoffs

Five: “Guess we’re both thankless assholes…”

Viktor: “Nah”

Viktor shakes their head and pulls five in for a hug

Viktor: “Thank you for everything Max.”

Five slowly hugs them back

Five: “Don’t call me that”

Viktor pulls back

Viktor: I’m sacrificing myself for your asses. I can call you whatever I want.”

Five steps back

Five: “Goodbye Viktor”

They give all wave at Viktor as the doors start to close

Suddenly an umbrella Lodges itself in the doorframe and everyone including the audience is shocked

Abigail has stopped the doors from closing

Viktor whips around to see Reginald right behind him

Reginald: “Must I do everything around here.”

Reginald, now with marigold and Lila’s abilities of Mirroring, mirrors Viktors ability and removes the last of the marigold from him before pushing Viktor through the doors and onto the train.

Abigail lets go and the train doors close leaving all of the Umbrellas and extended family shaken

Abigail waves at them as the train starts pulling away and we see Reginald tip his cap to them

Reginald: Farewell Children of the Umbrella Academy.

Abigail: You were Extraordinary.

The train pulls away and we see Reginald and Abigail take each other by the arm and walk towards the exit of the subway

The camera is frozen in place and we watch them ascend the stairs. We hear the scream of the The Cleanse Creature echo the the subway stars start shaking

Tiles crack and light starts flashing from the stairway the ceiling begins to cave in and we transition to the umbrellas on the train

Viktors been helped up and they’re all dazed and confused just waiting for “it” to “happen” whatever “it” is

We get a similar scene to the original scene where they’re letting the cleanse consume them

During this scene is when Five explains that they will all likely forget one another. Because their parents are in all different parts of the country. They will have never met. It’s a hard reset.

This makes all of them sad (OBVIOUSLY) so we get the same cleanse conversation as more of a we don’t know if we will ever see each other again and if we don’t I just wanna say this to you all kind of conversation

We still end it with Klaus saying “You know, I just wanna say I love you guys… but you are all assholes.”

Everyone laughs and as they’re laughing music swells

We get a cut of the subway flashing colors because the reset is happening

We get flashes of color washing over each of them with the various scenes of them from previous seasons and those timelines disappearing

We flash through them in order of number

Luthor

Diego

Allison

Klaus

Five

Lila (as six instead of Ben roll with me I promise I have a reason)

And Viktor

The final flash is a long shot of all of them smiling in the train car and the camera zooms down it and into the same wormhole at the end that leads to the “real” timeline

We cut to black

There’s beats of silence (yes multiple)

The audience is thinking “Are we ending it here? Is it gonna be ambiguous? Are we about to see credits?

No.

Slowly a stereo fades into view we’re staring at it

Someone walks in front of it wearing a very familiar jean coat

We hear the stereo button click and The song “I Think We’re Alone Now” starts playing

We watch Viktor pull a woman who looks very much like sissy into their arms and they start to dance laughing loudly. There’s a pure white violin in the corner that looks like it’s been used so often and so long but so lovingly. We zoom out the window out the window and see this is on a farm somewhere we focus on the windmill wheel turning

It transitions to the wheel of a beat up old car arriving at the park. We watch Lila and Diego’s kids stumble out of the car holding skate boards and bubble wands. They’re older than they were. Lila shakes her fist at them from the passenger window. She’s shouting at them. You can hear her shouting be careful! And then shouting more in Punjabi

We don’t see who’s in the drivers seat but we zoom in on Lila’s fist and it transitions to another fist. This one gripping a paper and shaking it as it moves across a classroom towards the front.

We follow the page as it’s placed on a desk then pan up to a figure in a suit writing complex equations clearly having something to do with physics or rocket ships in chalk across a board

On the desk is a nameplate that comes into view only when the figure turns around to address the room and we see very clearly it’s an adult Five. The nameplate reads Maximillian Murphy PHD.

He’s addressing the class and telling them to get their assignments in by Monday if they want input before the final assessment. Mrs. Murphy will take them from you if you have them now. He gestures to the woman who set the paper down on his desk in the transition who comes around the desk and sits on it. She’s wearing a polka dot blouse. He’s finally found a real Delores.

The two smile at one another and we pan up to the ceiling and zoom in on a vent grating which transitions to the front grill of a bus

We see muddy shoes scramble up the steps and cut to the inside of the bus. We see the figure only from the back as they scramble down the middle of the bus clutching a rucksack wearing very old fashioned Amish clothes. We only see them from the front when finally fall into a seat next to a guy reading a book wearing dog tags who looks like he’s just getting back from deployment somewhere

We watch Klaus turn and greet Dave in the modern day and hear them have the same conversation we heard on the bus in Vietnam on this bus in the middle of nowhere USA

We transition from Klaus laughing here to a time a bit in the future. Klaus laughing wearing clothes more like him and pulling Dave down a street past a shop window full of movie memorabilia we hear him saying something about wanting a good view of the take off. Trust him just come this way’

We zoom in on a script that transitions to one that lands on a coffee table. We watch Ray pick it up and Allison settle herself on a chair near by. We watch and hear them talk about this new pilot for this new show And how “it’s a good one I can feel it” “okay. Let’s do this then.” In the background we can see acting awards on a shelf. Alison isn’t just a commercial actress. She has been in things and is good at it. Claire comes barreling down the stairs and jumps between them on the couch. “Wheres the remote! It’s starting!”

We see Allison and Ray lean in forgetting the scripts

We pan across the room and it all melts away into a car radio

We see a hand turn it up and we hear it talking about the first launch nasa’s funded on a while. Space stuff.

We follow the figure who turned up the radio as they lean out of the car and gesture wildly as Lila and the kids to come over here quickly!

You see all of them start sprinting to the car to listen.

We watch through the front windshield of the van Lila climb in and kiss Diego. The kids all pile in and stare at the radio in Awe.

We get a shot of Diego turning up the radio dile which transitions to a gloved hand adjusting diles on what is clearly the console of a rocket ship. We pan up and it’s LUTHOR. Space boy ready for take off

We hear the the count down of a take off start over the last portion of “I think we’re alone now” by Tiffany

The screen gets smaller until Luthor is in a neat box in the middle of the screen as we count down characters are added to the screen in their own boxes all tuning in to watch this launch

Ten - Sloan with a little girl on her lap pointing at the tv from the couch in a house that is so clearly hers and Luthors. She’s mouthing wave bye to daddy! It’s your daddy! Bye space boy!

Nine - Dot, Herb, the handler, and someone with a gold fish print Hawaiian shirt (AJ for sure), dressed to the nines are sitting in a backyard with a radio on listening and laughing

Eight - hazel and Agnes turn up the volume of a Tv at a doughnut shop they both clearly own. Hazel is behind the counter and Agnes’s waiting tables. The few tables seated have people we recognize there. Cha cha. Eudora and Detective Beaman.

Seven - Viktor and Sissy watching the tv over their living room couch

Six - Grace stopping with a baby carriage at a store front filled with tvs. Her baby on her hip pointing at the tv mouthing the the word rocket to the baby who giggles

Five - Five, His Wife and a bunch of other professors or huddled around an old tv in a lab in a physics building. one of the scientists is holding an open notebook with sketches of the comic characters in it. It’s Gabriel Bá. You can see him mouthing “come on come on!”

Four - Klaus and Dave sitting on a blanket on a hill near the nasa bad along with a ton of other people on blankets pointing and holding binoculars. Gerard way and his wife are among them.

Three - Allison, Ray, and Claire all leaning in to watch eagerly

Two - Diego Lila and all their kids leaning in to hear

One - every box but the ones with the Umbrellas go black.

It’s a close up of all of their eyes. They all read as excited. Looking up towards the future. “the beating of our hearts is the only sound”

All those squares go black on some tambourine beats

Houston we have liftoff.

Credits roll.

END CREDITS SCENE.

A close up of Ben’s eyes. We zoom out. We’re back on that train in Korea. We see him frown a second as he realizes something. He puts the book down a second. He looks out the window. Looks at his phone. There are text messages that read “dude where are you? We’re watching the launch without you!. How’d you miss this?!”

You see him realize.

In Korean “Motherfu—“

We cut to black again and cut him off.

The End

Is it cheesy? Maybe? But you know I think we deserve a little cheesy.

[rosedpetal]

A Good Father

Summary: Ransom shows his family he knows how to take care of his own kid.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader (as his baby mamma)

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Author's note: this is a repost.

Masterlist

If years ago someone ever told Ransom that he'd get married and have children, he'd laugh in their faces. Whenever anyone in his family brought the topic of him settling down, he would leave the table and curse at them.

Until you came in the picture.

He was having the worst day ever, and he desperately needed a cookie. So, he went to the grocery store and was about to pick the last package left of his favorite cookies on the aisle, when you swayed your damned hips and got the package first.

Ransom was livid. He threw the most embarrassing tantrum ever, threatening to call security on you and ruin your life, but you just laughed at his face and asked if he wanted to share. Share! How dared you?

So, you bought the cookies and gave him half. After the first bite, his mood improved and he actually asked you out on a date. It was the best night of his life.

Five years later, you were married and had a baby. You moved to a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, and even adopted a stray dog (well, he just got home from work one day and the puppy was chewing on one of his expensive shoes, while you had the widest grin he ever saw on someone's face).

Ransom loved you with all his heart. And when you gave birth to your baby daughter, he loved her beyond words.

But right now, you were set on making him miserable.

"I'm not talking about this again, Hugh." You pointed your finger at him and he flinched. You never called him by his name. "You're going and you're taking Lily with you. Her nanny is sick, and I have to work."

"But babe-"

"Not. Another. Word." You gave him one of your deadly stares, and he actually felt sorry for Lily having such a scary mother. After petting your dog's fur, you turned to Lily on the highchair and peppered her face with kisses, while she giggled. "Mommy's gonna miss you so much baby boo, you tell me if your daddy misbehave!"

Ransom tried not to roll his eyes at you. You pecked him on the lips and he pouted. Before you left the kitchen, he called you:

"Babe, don't forget your jacket. It might get cold."

You smiled at him. You knew he was upset for having to take Lily to his family's horrible get-together.

After your car left the garage, he looked at his chubby baby, wondering if he'd succeed in shielding her from the evil of his family.

Things change after having your first child. First, Ransom started saving money. No more shopping sprees for him. Then, he actually tried to get his own thing, in which he failed miserably. Seeing his struggle, his good old grandad secured him with the ownership of their publishing company (for Walt's despair). The only catch: he'd have to show to family meetings at least until Harlan Thrombey's death. 

Which was how he was stuck in this mess in the first place. 

Ransom was not stupid. He could handle these annoying game nights, dinners and whatever by provoking everyone and leaving after setting the mood for a big fight.

But bringing his baby with him?

Big no.

Well, you shared his opinion on this. You two would avoid having Lily in their company as best as you could, but some things couldn't be helped.

Your trusted nanny called in sick, and you couldn't bring Lily to work.

Ransom wanted to cry. 

He took the fussing Lily out of the baby seat and struggled to put her in the carrier attached to his front, got her pink bag on his shoulder and closed the door of the car with his feet (how you managed to do all these things so gracefully were beyond him). He got on the front porch of Harlan's home and wanted to scream. What the hell was his great-grandmother doing there, sitting alone on that chilly afternoon, with such a thin blanket covering her?

"Hey Nana, why don't we go drink some tea inside?" He offered. The small old woman nodded, in a way he new she didn't actually acknowledged him.

Fuck his family for treating Nana like she was something disposable.

Ransom took Nana's small hand on his and carried her to an armchair in the living room, where Fran was serving tea to Harlan.

Before Ransom could even say "hi" his grandfather was already up and speaking in his "baby" voice with Lily. His daughter giggled, showing her cute teeny tiny new teeth.

It was fucking cute, but the days of Lily's teething made Ransom and Y/N traumatized.

"Hi to you too, granddad." Ransom rolled his eyes, sitting across his grandfather's seat.

"Tea?" Fran offered Ransom. He thanked her, an habit you made him build. Saying "thanks", and "please", things his parents didn't bother to teach him. He wanted Lily to be better than him, and by that, he had to make himself better than whatever he was.

The first time Ransom apologized to Fran, the woman was so shocked that she broke in a fit of hysterical laughter, while Marta just blinked like she was imagining things.

Ransom took a walk with Lily still safely attached to his chest. He didn't want to admit it, but she was getting heavier and harder to carry all the times. God, after five minutes he needed to sit down on a wooden trunk to recover.

Feeling like his breath was coming to normal again, Ransom went back to the house, noticing that there were more cars parked there.

Here comes the shit show.

At the dining table, Richard's voice mixed with Walt's, like they were competing on who would talk louder. Linda absently smoked a cigarette, promptly ignoring Joni. Jacob and Meg where fighting over politics or some shit, and Donna was on her phone.

A miserable-looking Marta sat between Fran and Nana on the small couch on the corner.

And Harlan ignored the rest of them, with a glass of whiskey dancing in his hand.

"Oh, there he is! And look who is here too!" Linda beamed, putting out the cigarette. 

Ransom grimaced when his mother's nicotine smelling hand brushed against his daughter's face. Lily was so calmed before, and it broke his heart when she started crying her lungs out, like she wanted to be away from Linda's greedy presence.

Lily's crying made everyone shut up. She was born eight months ago, and they saw her only once, when Ransom and Y/N took her to Harlan's when she was a newborn. Linda and Richard tried to visit Ransom's house a few times, but they quickly grew bored of the grandparents role.

Joni, Donna and Walt couldn't really care less for baby Drysdale. Meg tried to be as nice as she could with Lily, but she was terrified of babies. As for Jacob, Ransom didn't want that little creep close to his daughter.

"Oh, Ransom, is she hungry or something?" Linda grimaced at Lily's screams. 

No, mother, she's upset because she hates you. Ransom wanted to yell at Linda's face, but he just took Lily in his arms and rocked her gently, kissing her sweaty temple and running his thumb over her tears.

"Shh, love. 'S okay, daddy's here for you. My brave little girl, everything's gonna be alright, I'm here for you." Ransom whispered gently to Lily.

Linda gulped, suddenly feeling her eyes watering. She wondered if she could go back she'd be a better mother. She doesn't remember ever holding Ransom like that, not even when he was a baby. She didn't even breastfeed him, and she and Richard never woke up in the middle of night to soothe Ransom's cries. Not when they had nannies for that. Not when they could buy their way of not giving him their time or affection.

"You're good with her, son." Richard cleared his throat, feeling the same guilt wash over him.

"Of course I'm good with my own daughter." Ransom scoffed, still rocking Lily in his arms. He lowered his head to her. "There you go, baby. Wanna hang out with auntie Marta while daddy spend some time with these assholes? Huh?"

Marta smiled a little at the snarky remark, and Ransom passed Lily to her, who was already making grabby hands for Marta.

Of course she likes the immigrant nurse, Linda bitterly thought.

"Wow, that was so cute, Ransom!" Meg complimented. "You make me think even I could be a good parent! No offense, of course."

"None taken, cousin. Having children is life changing if you're ever willing to have your own."

"Ohhh, I miss when Meg was that tiny. You were the cutest thing ever, baby." Joni took Meg's hand on her own. Donna and Walt's gaze strayed to Jacob, who smiled at them.

The memories of Linda, Neil and Walt's feet running in the house flooded Harlan's memory. How he missed them like that. How he missed his deceased son and wife. 

The atmosphere in the living room was way more harmonious, almost soothing. The Thrombey-Drysdale family was taken aback by Ransom's behavior. They never thought he'd be a good father.

[rebelumbrella46]

Let’s just be honest—The Umbrella Academy was essentially cancelled after Season 3, but given the massive fandom, Netflix gave them the chance to wrap up the story with a final season. It’s similar to what happened with Shadowhunters—it was cancelled, but after the outcry from fans, they were given two more episodes to tie things up.

For me, the first two seasons were masterpieces. They truly became my comfort show and introduced me to my comfort characters. This might sound cheesy, but it’s true—when the first season aired, I was going through a rough time in my life, and I held on to this show like my life depended on it. Season 2 arrived amidst the pandemic, and it was a light in the darkness for me as well. Even with the massive success of Season 2, I think Netflix hesitated to greenlight another season. I remember waiting for an announcement, and it felt like it took forever.

Season 3 was filmed during the pandemic, and if I recall correctly, Netflix cut the budget for visual effects. So, the season didn’t quite live up to the expectations set by Season 2. Regardless of its flaws, I enjoyed it, but I would have enjoyed it more if the writing hadn’t been so sloppy and, at times, cheesy.

But this last season? It feels like fanservice—and not even good fanservice. For example, the Lila and Five thing? The enhanced powers? The Jennifer Incident? All of it fell flat. Klaus’s storyline this season was basically what I wanted to see in Season 3, but it was delivered too late and added nothing meaningful to the plot.

But was the main plot really supposed to be about Jennifer? Who cares about introducing a new character in the final season instead of focusing on saying goodbye to the beloved main characters?

The subplots were boring. Klaus’s storyline was fanservice, but it felt like they just threw us a bone to appease years of fans asking for Klaus to get his comic powers. And it was insulting. Ben and Jennifer in love? Unrealistic and boring. The train station? Who came up with that cheap idea? I thought it would be a place built by Reggie, but there was no explanation at all.

The apocalypse no longer feels exciting or even important. There’s no sense of urgency anymore.

The family dynamics—the strongest part of this show—felt odd and weak. Pairing Viktor with Reginald was boring. Lila and Diego’s drama? Nonsense. And what was the point of Claire? I thought she would be the main conflict of the season, with everyone banding together to save a character we’ve known since Season 1, who has emotional ties to every Umbrella.

And where were the villains? To make it as interesting as Seasons 1 and 2, you need a great antagonist. Like Hazel and Cha-Cha, The Handler, Reginald, or even an antihero like the Sparrows, Harlan, or the Commission. Why not make Abigail the greatest threat? Or bring back some of the former villains?

What about resolving old family drama, so that if the show’s end was going to be the family sacrificing themselves, they could all go in peace?

Instead, they didn’t address Allison’s betrayal at all. They created a huge rift between Five and Diego. Nothing for Klaus and Ben. No Umbrella Ben. No Sloane. Why is Lila even here anymore? Why didn’t she just ditch out like Ray and leave Diego with the kids to be a single dad? That would’ve made more sense coming from Lila than from Ray, to be honest.

For me, the writers, producers, and directors knew this show was cancelled, so they didn’t even try anymore. For me, the ending of season 3 was meant to be the ending of the show.

I watched Game of Thrones after it ended, so I didn’t experience the same level of rage, disappointment, and betrayal that fans felt. But now, I do.

[croziers-compass]

Round 3 Fight.

The way I feel about Francis Crozier is can be explained by the way that that Arthur felt about John when John was "gone" in Malevolent.

[yee-littleskittles]

Yandere Doctor x Fem Reader 🩺

Where to begin…

Let’s say, one day you caught the flew, how tragic 😔

You had no other option but to go to the doctors and HOPE that they give you some stronger medication ( cuz Advil wasn’t cutting it)

As you stumble into the office, and make an appointment you lock eyes with some pale ice blue ones, woah!

“He sure is cute” you think, and without realizing it your face starts to heat up

You look away in embarrassment for a moment and hear a deep chuckle, “oh god he’s laughing 😖” you think

Finally after some minutes pass by your name is called into room 512, to Doctor H. Was that the doctor that chuckled at you?

Once inside the nurse assured you that the doc would be in a few minutes, due to all the drowsinessyou soon fell asleep in the chair…

Soon you started to feel a hand on your face, a chilly one at that, eventually you slowly opened up your eyes and found yourself being towered by the doctor with ice blue eyes

however that cold feeling you felt earlier, yeah, that was his hand, on your cheek?

He just stared... looking deeply into your eyes and features, "God why did he have to be so handsome!" You mentally screamed

Finally after what felt like ages he smiled, genuinely, and said "I'm sorry sweetie, just had to check your temperature, you sure look like you're going through it." He commented, his voice deep and smooth.

You're glad you're fever can take the blame for your flushed face.

"I'm Doctor Noah Harlan, you can just call me Noah" he mused " And I'll be helping you with you're sickness" he said as she went behind his desk and sat down in front of you, leaning in.

You soon began telling him your symptoms, your side effects and any detail that could help you get back to health, he listened in REALLY well, you definitely noticed him not blinking for a few moments. After a bit he took out you're portfolio of medical history.

It’s at times like this he’s grateful he’s a doctor , with all this info about you, he barely has to do a thing! There’s your address, he’ll have to check out your humble home soon!

He hummed, writing things down on his notepad, writing down the medicine that would have you back to your healthy self. Though, he still had to explain the pressure. So, like the good doctor he is, got up and sat next to you leaning in SO Close, you could've sworn to feel his breathe on your face, all to explain what medicine to take at what time, he wouldn't want a beauty like you to be sick again. No no no :)

Once everything was settled, you thanked him for all the help, "Gosh you looked so cute 🥰 " he thought. Just as he was about to walk you out to the Waiting room he ruffled your somewhat messy hair and said "Please keep me in contact, let me know on your progress. Take care!" Then that killer smile, Oh you couldn't help but smile.

Shortly after that appointment you would run into Noah a LOT afterwards, in the store, out in the streets, even at the cafe you regularly visited.

You being nice, would chat with him at any given opportunity, you would think you were dating by how much you were seen in public together.

And Noah, he enjoyed every second. Once you would leave there would always be something you left behind that he would keep or himself, adding to his collection

At the cafe you left a used straw, he took that for himself 😌

At the store, you dropped your strawberry lip balm, well he can't let that go to waste now can he?

One of things he thinks about while being reminded of you is, Children.

Oh how he WISHES for you to carry his children, and the whole genetics of it all had him smiling

Would you're kids have his eyes and your nose? His hair and your smile? Oh the possibilities were endless!

And God save him if your child looked exactly like you, a mini you! All that cuteness would kill him!

However he knew he had to go s l o w... Boy that was gonna be hard.

This man would quite literally take someone else's kidney with no remorse if you needed a transplant. Not just kidneys but ANY body part for that matter.

Anything for his Darling~ ❤️‍🩹

Now would he kidnap you? While it's something he wouldn't want to do he can't help but LOVE the idea of being in the same place as you. And to come back to fund you again! What pleasure he would be in!

So if the circumstances called for it (another man in you're life) he would definitely 😁

Oh but don't worry! You're in the best of hands! He knows what he's doing. You will be pampered to the fullest extent, nothing to too expensive for you, afterall being a doctor pays VERY WELL.

You will be the picture of health when under his care, weather you want it to not 🤷‍♀️

At the end of the day, this Yandere will do anything for you. You want something done and he will make sure it gets done. Anything to see you happy and in his arms~

—————————————

This is my first post so… yeah 😅 hope you enjoyed!

Credits- Picture; From Pinterest

[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.

[ghoulsbounty]

OMG IM SO EXCITED TO FIND SOMEONE WHO’LL WRITE BOYD CROWDER.

Can I request some fluff about going to sleep with Boyd (like actually sleeping lol), like him and the reader have a fun and flirty relationship and she knows about his criminal enterprises (S4 vibes with the pocket watch UGH). Maybe he comes home late or something and is just all over the reader but not in a sexual way, just like a missing and wanting to be close to her way.

Out Of Time

Boyd Crowder x GN!Reader

Warnings: slight spoilers for season 4, a little angst if you squint but just pure comfort and fluff (Boyd is in love)

Word Count: 2K

A/N: Anon, thank you for my first Boyd request and simultaneously igniting a burning passion within me to write more for this man. I kept the reader GN because there wasn't really any need for gender descriptors, and yes I did make that gif just for this fic 🫡 I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

Boyd sat silently on the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on your tranquil, sleeping form. The mattress creaked softly under his weight, causing your steady breathing to hitch momentarily before settling back into a gentle rhythm. He brushed his fingers across your cheek, a surge of longing filling his heart. He had missed you. Those brief moments in the mornings, stolen before you left for work or he had to attend to his business, were never enough. Yet, he cherished every fleeting second, treasuring these quiet moments when he could simply watch over you.

He knew you held no resentment towards him, not even when he returned home later than promised, body weary and mind burdened by his actions, like tonight, and countless other nights. He understood that you wouldn't pry, wouldn't demand every detail of his whereabouts, because that wasn't your way, and for that, he was deeply grateful. It meant you could stay just a little bit safer. You never asked for more than he could offer, only requesting that he come back to you when he could, to reassure you of his presence, to let you know he was still breathing.

Of course, he would. He'd move heaven and earth, and blow the top off that damn mountain just to fulfil his promise to you. No matter the challenges, he would find his way back to you, and you'd greet him with open arms, washing away his sins and soothing his wounds with tender kisses. You'd offer him everything a man like him could ever desire, and he knew deep down he never deserved it.

He didn't allow himself to linger on the thought of not being worthy of you. You'd never insinuated it, not even during the fiercest arguments. You never stooped to using his vulnerabilities against him. It was evident to all that Boyd's Achilles' heel was you, yet you always made him feel invincible, as though he could stand against any adversary in Harlan County. And there were many, especially with the Oxy trade dwindling with the arrival of the new preacher and the drastic measures Boyd had to employ to protect not just his business, but your shared future together.

You often credited Boyd with rescuing you from a life confined to cleaning tables in seedy bars, but the truth was far deeper: you had saved him. Boyd harboured no illusions about his criminal past; he knew the trajectory it set for his future. Yet, it was you who prevented him from plunging too deeply into the shadows of his upbringing. The thought of returning home to you, regardless of the hour, was the sole beacon that guided him through the gruelling days of battling for control over Harlan County. He fought not just for the people or for himself, but for you, and for the possibility of a family you might one day bless him with —that was what made every struggle worthwhile.

You stirred beneath his touch, your lashes fluttering as your eyes slowly opened, bleary and seeking. A smile graced your lips as you spotted him, reaching out to rest your hand on his thigh, as if confirming he was really there.

"Was wondering when I'd see you," you murmured, your voice husky with sleep. Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Time ran away from me," he confessed, his gaze soft as he regarded you. "I'm sorry, darlin'."

You studied him for a moment, the urge to inquire further tugging at your thoughts before you decided to let it go. "Time can be a tricky thing."

Allowing him to guide you up, you melted into his embrace as he held you close. His gentle fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, smoothing the fabric of his shirt that you wore to bed each night under his touch.

"I left dinner for you in the fridge," you reminded him, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. "I'll join you."

He shook his head, drawing you back into his arms. "Not hungry," he murmured, planting a soft kiss on your neck. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Well, you failed miserably," you teased, a playful chuckle escaping your lips as he shook you in his hold around your waist. You could feel his smile against your skin. "How could I sleep with you hovering over me like a ghost?"

He chuckled, releasing you and gently nudging your shoulder. You settled back against the pillows, observing him as he rose from the bed.

"You'd scold me if I didn't kiss you goodnight," he remarked, a fond smile on his lips as he removed his pocket watch and set it on the bedside table. He held your gaze as he began to unbutton his waistcoat. "You ask every morning."

You hummed in agreement, running your thumb over the smooth surface of the brass watch. In the early days, you had made it a habit to stay awake during Boyd's late nights, eager to be alert in case his dealings took a dangerous turn and he needed to be patched up. It had occurred a few times, though not recently. Boyd Crowder was the sharpest mind in Harlan—few managed to outsmart him.

Your new job had demanded more from you, and though you had offered to resign, Boyd had insisted that one of you must earn through legitimate means. He had encouraged you to attend training school, funded the evening studies through unconventional channels and sang about how this new role was going to be a step in cementing the future you'd both dreamed of. Nevertheless, it had taken a toll on you, and you found yourself less vigilant than you were before, despite the anxiety that had kept you alert during those initial months, worrying about his safety. 

He didn't mind, of course. He reassured you that he was simply grateful to return home to you, for the comfort and warmth you provided him, and for the graciousness with which you welcomed his associates, despite your reluctance for your home to serve as a meeting place during desperate times. He never made you feel inadequate, even when he was out risking his life to carve out a brighter future for both of you.

You had both settled into a familiar routine, one that left you both yearning for more but ultimately grateful when the day ended and you found solace in each other's embrace.

As the covers shifted, a chill swept over you, but Boyd swiftly slid beneath them, now dressed only in his underwear, and nestled closer to you. He gently retrieved the pocket watch from your hand, leaning over to place it back on the table, before wrapping his arm around your waist. You lay on your back, gazing up at the ceiling, your fingers tangling in his thick hair as he nestled against your chest, finding comfort in your embrace.

A myriad of thoughts raced through your mind, a multitude of questions that remained unspoken as you focused on the steady rhythm of your shared breaths. Sometimes, you felt the urge to uncover everything, to strip away all secrecy and confront the raw reality of what Boyd endured each day. Yet, you quickly reminded yourself—that wasn't your place. Your role was to support him while maintaining a certain level of ignorance. It was crucial, Boyd had insisted, in case you were ever questioned about him. Which you were, often, if not by nosy neighbours from the holler then by your lawman colleagues. You had been prepared for every instance though, it was Boyd who had thrown you into the belly of the beast after all. 

You loved Boyd deeply, trusting him with your life because you understood it was the thing he valued most. If he required you to play a part, then that's what you would do. You'd remain silent, tend to his wounds, and hold him close, serving as the anchor he needed to prevent him from drifting too far out to sea.

His lips traced a tantalizing path over your collar bone, up your neck, and across your chin until they met yours in a soft, lingering kiss. A contented sigh escaped you as you melted into him, his hand exploring the contours of your body, caressing your side, gliding over your stomach, and tracing down your thigh. He grasped, stroked, and savoured every inch of you, his tongue intertwining with yours in a passionate dance.

Your hand slipped from his hair, instead cupping one cheek as the other tenderly stroked his jaw, rough with the stubble that grazed your thumb. He moaned against your lips, a sound laden with desire and need, but reluctantly pulled away, pressing one final kiss against the corner of your mouth before meeting your gaze with weary eyes.

"How long do I have you for?" he inquired, his voice heavy with longing, and you glanced over to the clock beside the bed. The red digits stared back at you, marking the finite moments of your togetherness as you let out a resigned sigh.

"Four hours," you replied, meeting his gaze once more. He nodded, a solemn smile touching his lips as he sank back onto the mattress. Extending his arm, he invited you to snuggle against his chest, and you accepted, finding solace in the warmth.

"What if you didn't go?" he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty, his fingers tracing soothing circles on the top of your arm. You chuckled softly, tightening your embrace around him as the notion settled into your mind.

"I'm not sure the Harlan County Sheriff's Department would appreciate their employees playing hooky," you replied with a teasing grin. "Even if it's just a lowly trainee like me."

"Oh, I'm sure Mr. Parlow could manage without you for one day," he replied with a playful smile, then his expression turned mischievous as he looked down at you. "Perhaps I could persuade him, given our history."

You shook your head, a glint of amusement dancing in your eyes. Boyd always teased about using his influence to manipulate your work schedule—leaving early, extending your lunch break—but you were adamant about keeping your relationship with him separate from your professional life, regardless of his hand in it. You knew he could pull strings if you asked, but it was important to maintain a sense of independence.

"You did mention we needed to keep Shelby on our side," you reminded him with a playful smile. "I'm pretty sure that's how I ended up agreeing to those early shifts in the first place."

He chuckled softly and leaned in to press another kiss to your nose. "You've got me there, darlin'," he admitted, his voice tinged with affection. "Just wish I had more time with you, is all," he whispered, his thumb gently tracing along your lip before stroking down your chin.

You bit your lip, weighing the possibilities and outcomes in your mind as you gazed up at him. "Perhaps just the morning wouldn't hurt. I'll bring them coffee to make it up—do you think that'll help? Maybe Shelby won't be too upset," you proposed, searching his eyes for reassurance. His gaze softened, a bright grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, baby, I don't think anybody could stay mad at you," he declared in wonderment, and you couldn't help but chuckle. He wasn't merely being sweet—being Boyd Crowder's partner came with its perks as well as its drawbacks, one being that those who didn't want to cross him tended to steer clear of you. It seemed that extended to the Sheriff's department as well.

"I'll call in the morning," you decided, determination firm in your voice.

You rested your head back against his chest, snuggling closer into him as his arms enveloped you, his chin resting atop your head as he spoke softly. "I do believe this'll be the best sleep I've had in a while."

You smiled contentedly against him, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the embrace of sleep, your dreams filled with the promise of the morning ahead, shared with Boyd, where every moment, no matter how seemingly ordinary, was something to look forward to.