Tsalyani - Hello!

Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish followers. May the next several days bring you light and blessings.

i know ur not taking requests right now . but if i could just get a CRUMB of meeting ransom at a halloween party... a hc, a drabble, a fic, IDC i am so desperate for this. i need to know what he’d dress up as. please i am begging

Bwahahaha I could feel your shameless hoe desperation, nonnie, and I couldn't just leave you hanging. Consider this your very own Halloween treat 😘

Trick or Treat?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader Word Count: 2,943 Summary: You’d rather be anywhere else than a Halloween party thrown by rich Boston elite, but luckily a pretty asshole with a lame Halloween costume keeps you entertained. Warnings: Explicit language. Sexual themes. AU.

You didn’t even want to go to this Halloween party.

It wasn’t your normal scene and you had very little in common with rich Boston socialites. But your best friend had begged you, pulled out the puppy dog eyes and pouting lower lip and everything, and damnit! You couldn’t say no to her when she did that.

And she knew it.

She also promised it wouldn’t be as bad as you were already assuming, because her cousin was throwing the party and her cousin was awesome.

Her cousin was also a rich Boston socialite who lived in an actual facts manor on the edge of the city.

Your mouth literally gaped as you struggled with your costume as you got out of your friend’s car.

That was another thing you weren’t crazy about - wearing a costume. You hadn’t done that in years. But when you told your friend you would just dress in your scrubs and be a nurse for Halloween, like you were every other day of your life, she nearly rioted.

So you’d called in a favor with another friend, one who was a local theater director and gleefully helped you comb through his costume department to pick out something to wear to the party.

And you would be lying if you said you weren’t just a little bit in love with the extravagant renaissance dress. It was from a Shakespeare play you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was actually very pretty and fit you surprisingly well.

But as you continued to gape at the many expensive vehicles filling the circular driveway, the type of high end cars you would never even ride in, let alone own in your lifetime, you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

And that feeling only increased as you followed your friend inside the manor and realized your pretty dress was a far cry from the various sexy Halloween costumes donned by the other women at this adult frat party you just stepped into.

You froze in the entryway, eyes so wide you were sure you resembled a cartoon character, as you glanced around.

There were people everywhere. Filling the excessive manor, with their excessive alcohol, and the too loud music making the floor vibrate beneath your feet.

“I just wanna find my cousin and say hi,” your friend chirped, adjusting her sexy witch costume as she grinned at you. “Go find us some drinks, and maybe a couple of sexy vampires or something to take home for the night, and I’ll catch up with you.”

“You’re not seriously going to ditch me as soon as we get here?” you scoffed.

“I’m not ditching,” she promised. “I’ll be right back!”

And then she was gone, lost in a sea of sexy doctors, sexy Red Riding Hoods, and sexy…you squinted - was that a sexy SpongeBob Squarepants costume?

“Oh my god, why did I agree to this?” you muttered to yourself, realizing that a few people nearby were smirking at your more traditional--and conservative--costume as they whispered to each other.

Feeling your face warm, you hitched up your dress and shimmied through the crowd. There were drink filled coolers, kegs, and tables laden with snacks and food throughout the space, so you grabbed a beer, just one, cause your ditching BFF could get her own, and planted yourself in a corner of one of the less crowded rooms.

It looked like some kind of sitting room and, bored from the party and trying your best not to make eye contact with the drunk, sleazy looking spartan a few yards away who was eyeing you up like a prime rib, you hedged around the perimeter of the room. You observed the various family photos and awards as you idly sipped your beer.

You were trailing your fingers along a familiar book on the built-in bookshelves when a voice suddenly spoke to your left.

“So what’s your deal? You an exiled princess? Or a lonely queen? I could probably help with that second one.”

You started, straightening and glancing over to find a ridiculously attractive man staring at your chest.

He was tall and lean, his shoulders broad and encased in an expensive looking maroon sweater. His dark gray slacks were perfectly tailored, hinting at muscled thighs and long legs. His dark blonde hair was neatly swept away from his face, his pale skin a beautiful practice in sharp lines and perfect angles.

He was, quite simply, the most handsome man you had ever seen in real life, and you fidgeted to be in his company.

His blue eyes finally lifted from your cleavage as he took a pull from his beer, and you remembered his question about your costume.

Your gaze narrowed. “I’m not exiled or lonely, I’m just--”

“A stuck up prude?” he guessed, eyes sparkling as your mouth fell open.

“Well who are you supposed to be?” you cried, waving a hand at his normal attire. He stuck out like more of a sore thumb than you did.

A smirk slowly curled his lips and he stepped closer, invading your personal space as he met your gaze. With a perfectly straight face, he replied, “I’m the guy who’s gonna be balls deep in that uptight pussy by the end of the night.”

You spluttered wordlessly, torn between the embarrassment that warmed your face and suppressing your giggles, because this guy was ridiculous...even as a tiny part of you rippled with excitement at his lewd declaration.

Because, honestly? You’d never had a man that pretty show you a lick of interest.

His snicker of amusement that he momentarily struck you speechless made your gaze narrow further. You rolled your eyes as you shoved him out of your space, very purposefully ignoring just how warm and firm his chest felt beneath your touch.

“In your dreams, asshole,” you snorted before hurrying past him in search of your friend.

Your search stretched on, and after what you guessed was fifteen minutes or so of your friend being MIA, as well as dodging a number of lecherous comeons, you needed air.

Even if that air was abnormally chilly for an evening in late October. You decided you’d much rather risk frostbite than spend one more minute inside that fancy manor with all those smug, outrageous partygoers.

Which is why you hedged away from a small group of people smoking a joint just outside of the manor and wandered around the side of the large home. Relief eased the tension from your shoulders as you found the dark, chilly grounds around you empty of anyone else.

With a quiet sigh, you leaned against the cold, gray stone of the manor, hugging yourself as you shivered in the evening chill. The grounds seemed to stretch on forever, in what you assumed were rolling hills of perfectly manicured grass, but you couldn’t really tell in the dark. There was a lake in the distance, and for a split second, you wondered what it would be like to be this rich.

It’s not like you were struggling financially. You lived comfortably, and you appreciated everything you had. You actually really loved your job as a nurse and enjoyed working hard and helping others on the daily.

But still...what would it be like to drive home to this at the end of each day?

It was a concept you couldn’t even compute, and didn’t spend a lot of time trying to.

Another round of shivers shook your frame and you crossed your arms tighter over your chest.

“You look cold, sweetheart.”

Your head snapped up, spying the pretty asshole from earlier rounding the side of the manor and sauntering toward you. He was wearing a long, tan coat, a colorful scarf draped around his neck, and your jealousy at how warm he looked was instant.

He kept coming closer, until he was standing right in front of you, no more than a foot away. His gaze dropped to your chest once more, which was now put on further display with your arms tightly hugging yourself to fend off the cold.

It was your turn to snicker, at his complete lack of shame. “I finally figured out your costume,” you said. “You’re a guy who can’t take a hint.”

He laughed. “You can call me ‘Ransom,’ princess.”

You blinked. “Is that actually your name?”

His eyes narrowed as he took an exaggerated step closer, his front brushing against you and making you straighten. You pressed yourself against the stone behind you even more, trying to keep some distance between the two of you.

It was strange, the gentle malice shining in his gaze as he planted his palm on the wall beside your head. It was so different from the smug amusement you’d witnessed in him thus far.

Ransom leaned in close enough that his body heat was chasing the chill from your body, and you shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His hand fell to the curve of your hip, gently squeezing and you froze. “Wonder if you’ve got the talent to back it up. Feel free to drop to your knees and show me. For science.”

“Oh my god!” You half laughed, half gasped, trying to shove him away. “You are so disgusting!” Your eyes narrowed when you realized how ineffective it was - trying to push him away.

In fact, he only pressed closer, until your hands were pinned against his stomach and he was smirking down at you.

You huffed your defeat and instead glared up at him for all you were worth.

“Sticks and stones,” he faux pouted, chuckling as you gave him a waspish gaze.

You opened your mouth to tell him where he could shove his sticks and stones, but Ransom swooped in and kissed you quiet.

You were so stunned you went still, your breath catching at the warm play of his lips against yours. And then he was smiling against your lips and forcing his tongue into your mouth, until it was teasing your own and…

Well, sadly this pretty asshole was a very good kisser.

It was like all of your objections and offense literally evaporated as he worked your mouth with the filthiest, most thorough kiss you’d ever experienced in your life.

You moaned, prying your hands from between your bodies so you could touch him. One hand slid around the nape of his neck, the other groping his chest, exploring the muscles beneath.

Ransom hissed quietly as your cold fingers found their way beneath his scarf and collar and onto his bare skin. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.” He remained close, forehead pressed against yours, noses knocking.

You found your body curling even closer to him, craving relief from the cold, until you were flush to his chest, his coat now keeping you warm too.

“That’s my actual costume,” you murmured. “A frigid bitch.”

Ransom laughed, the amusement back in his eyes as they danced at you. “You’re funny, princess.”

You stared up at him, your hands tracing the smooth, luxurious fabric of his scarf. “Y/N,” you finally offered.

Ransom repeated your name softly, his lips curling into a hint of a smirk, but still more of a smile. “I’d be happy to warm you up. In fact, my house is fairly close and I have a very impressive fireplace.”

“Is ‘fireplace’ some kind of weird sexual innuendo or…”

“Why don’t you come home with me and find out?”

“It’s lame of you to prey on my hypothermia,” you told him.

“I’m pretty shameless when it comes to getting what I want,” Ransom returned. His fingers pressed into the curve of your hip, scorching you through the thick fabric of your costume. “Or who.”

At that, you grinned. “I have a feeling you’re used to getting what, or who, you want, Ransom.”

“You’re not wrong,” he smirked.

For some reason, you found his arrogance amusing, and oddly charming. Maybe you really did have hypothermia and it was affecting your judgment...or maybe that steamy kiss had thoroughly short circuited your brain.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, it was kind of fun, this sexy banter with a pretty asshole. More fun than hiding in the corner of a too loud party full of strangers.

“Sorry to say you’re gonna need to thaw me out a little more before I agree to go home with you,” you told him, gently pushing at his chest.

Ransom’s brows furrowed as he stared down at you, lips pursed with disappointment. “Meaning?”

“Meaning baby steps, Casanova,” you smiled mischievously, unable to help yourself as you gripped the lapels of his coat and tugged him close. “It’s gonna take more than a lame Halloween costume, lots of arrogance, and a decent kiss to get in my pants.”

“Decent?” Ransom scoffed, glowering as you pushed him away and stepped around him.

You immediately missed his body heat as the cool night air engulfed you.

“You always that enthusiastic for merely decent kisses?” Ransom huffed.

You hugged yourself tightly, glancing over at him with a wry smile as you blatantly ignored his question. “Does your car have heat?”

He blinked, thrown off by the change in subject. “...yes?”

“How about we sit in there and warm up, because I’d literally rather throw myself in the half frozen lake than return to that party.”

Ransom couldn’t suppress a smile. He shook his head, sighing as he shoved his hands in his coat pockets. He followed as you moved toward the front of the manor, then the driveway.

He pointed out his beamer, hand touching the small of your back as he guided you toward it. Then he was standing too close and pinning you against the passenger door as he dug around in his pocket for his keys.

“That kiss was way more than just decent,” he muttered, tugging his keys free. “You were practically putty in my hands. And those little gasps and moans, just from a kiss…”

Your face warmed as you blinked up at him, because he wasn’t wrong. It had been entirely too long since you’d had a kiss like that, let alone actually gotten laid. And just the thought of breaking your dry spell with this silver tongued Adonis was enough to make you shiver in delight.

Getting a whiff of his musky cologne as he shifted against you, you felt his hand sneak to your hip again. His proximity shielded you from the cold, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, just a little.

“Just imagine the noises I make when someone’s balls deep in this uptight pussy,” you teased on a quiet murmur.

Ransom’s breath caught, his grip on your hip squeezing hard as his gaze seemed to go dark with desire before your eyes. “Didn’t take you for such a tease, sweetheart.”

“What’s wrong, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

He smirked at your playful jibe, wedging his knee between your legs as he unlocked the passenger door. Even through the thick layers of your dress, you felt a dull ache spark to life in your core as Ransom’s thigh pressed against you with purpose.

“Mmm, careful, princess, you’re playing with fire.” His head dipped closer, lips hovering so close to yours you swore you could taste him. “You keep mouthing off like that, do all that teasing with no follow through, and you may just get burned right up.”

“Don’t threaten this frigid bitch with a good time,” you quipped. Your heart skipped a beat as Ransom smiled, white teeth flashing as those perfectly plump and tempting lips of his curled.

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun,” he hummed, his thigh pressing against your core hard enough to make you gasp. You didn’t resist as his hands cupped your hips, rocking you against him as his mouth teased along yours.

Your eyes fluttered as he kissed you, much slower this time. He took his time tasting you, gently pulling you apart with his lips and tongue, swallowing your needy little mewl as you wound your arms around his neck and yanked him close.

When Ransom finally pulled away, you were both panting. You pressed a hand to your chest, like it would quell the rapid pace of your heart, your underwear thoroughly ruined and sticking to you uncomfortably as Ransom’s leg moved away as he straightened.

“Better than decent?” he taunted, smile smug as you stared up at him, a little dazed.

You blinked, and then snorted in laughter as you processed his words. “I’ll give you and your ego a moment,” you giggled, patting Ransom’s chest before tugging open the passenger door and carefully folding yourself, and your dress, inside.

Ransom stood there, gazing down at you before ducking low, so his eyes could meet yours. “The thing about my ego, sweetheart? It’s completely justified.”

His grin was wicked as you stared at him.

“You’ll find out soon enough, once I completely and thoroughly ruin you.” His thumb skimmed your kiss swollen bottom lip, his eyes still glued to yours. “And then you’ll fucking thank me for it. As you should.”

You pressed your thighs together, warmth rushing through you and your earlier chill forgotten entirely as Ransom fucking winked at you before closing the door. And as he sauntered around to the driver’s side of the car, you couldn’t help but stare, fanning yourself just a little as you realized he may have just thawed your frigid bitch exterior a tiny bit more.

And you were totally okay with that.

Lol yer girl can’t write a short drabble to save her fucking life. 🤷🏻‍♀️

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She works hard to pay her bills

She works hard for her money

Iford Manor Gardens, Iford, England by Elaine Abbott

Evgeni Tcherkasski

Excuse me wtf?!

I was do soft and then ...

okay so... when geralts on the road and doesn’t have a lot of money for a while, his hair grows right? so imagine this: geralt with shoulder length or longer hair, and it’s so long that his classic half down half up doesn’t keep it out of his face anymore. after watching him grumble about it for days, jaskier steps in. he had four sisters and can do hair pretty well, if he does say so himself.

jaskier, watching geralt rip tangles from his hair after a fight and cringing: come here

geralt: what

jaskier: just do it

geralt: fine but wtf

jaskier gently takes geralts hair and brushes through it with his fingers, undoing all the knots and smoothing it out. he then starts braiding it, a single, simple braid that goes down geralts back.

it becomes a tradition. geralt keeps his hair longer, and jaskier does it for him. increasingly complex, multiple braids that end together, messy buns for when they’re camping. jaskier humming his newest song and braiding small strands all over geralts head while geralt sharpens his sword at his feet. it relaxes both of them, a moment of vulnerability after the excitement of the road every day.

heads turn while they walk down the town road and into the tavern because is that a Scary Witcher(™) with dandelions braided into his hair???? what the goddamn fuck. (geralt had been unsure but jaskier insisted he “needed some color contrast because all he wears is black leather honestly geralt” and geralt didn’t want to start that argument plus a part of him was glad, it made the children less scared of him)

geralts hair is always wavy when he takes the braids out at night (jaskier has yelled at him reminded him any many times that he can’t sleep in them because it’s bad for his hair)

and geralt gets used to it. (a part of him loves enjoys it)

and then one day jaskier leaves, and he doesn’t come back.

geralt cuts his hair with a sword and hates it almost as much as he hates himself.

Wise words from snek

As a writer I need everyone to know that whenever I write "exchanged glances" my intent is this

!!!!

My dad (Unattractive but super social) + My mom (Attractive but social) = Me (Unattractive and with social anxiety)