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chuckbass-love · 4 months ago

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Only Love Can Hurt Like This | Ransom Drysdale | Part 12

A/N: Yet again, i have left this way too long and at this point there are no excuses except life being life. I really hope y’all are still invested in this and if not then i completely understand.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Summary: The moment you’ve put off finally arrives and you’re scared, but what will happen if the test is positive?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talk of pregnancy, swearing, vaginal intercourse, anal fingering, daddy kink, cum play, sweet Ransom moment (again to make up for such serious moments in this part) 18+ again, being as the entire series thus far has been 18+. Enjoy guys💕

Word Count: 4,380

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @cevanswife go check them out! 💜

Noise. Suddenly, when time is moving extremely slow and you’re impatiently waiting with bated breath, for something so important, there’s always too much noise. Noise that you barely even notice in your day to day life when you’re rushing around completing errands or running out of the door for work. Even when falling asleep in the pitch black and silence, the noise is louder now than it is then.

Like the clock in your bedroom, above the en suite door. Despite having a timer on Ransoms phone set already, you can practically feel that damn clock laughing at you, mocking you and telling you that you still have one more minute left.

One more minute.

Or the wind outside, smashing against the double glazed windows, making your ears ring. God knows why.

And then there’s the noise you can’t hear too well but faintly, and that’s still enough.

The washing machine and the dryer in the laundry room. Rattling.

Tick, tick, tick.

One more minute.

One more minute before your life might change forever.

You never thought you’d see this side of Ransom, the side where he’s switched on, attentive, loving and willing to try and be there, no matter the outcome of this dam test.

Why is it taking so long. Your knee starts to bounce off its own accord. You can’t stop it. Just like your hands, they shake a little, anticipation is the sole cause. Oh and nerves. Your anxiety is wracking your entire body.

Dare you glance down at the timer on the iPhone on the bathroom side.

45 seconds left.

You start too whisper, counting down as your knee starts to bounce more, your nails picking at the nails on your other hand until a soothing hand comes to stop it.

“I’ve got you baby”

30 seconds left.

“What if it’s positive?” your worried eyes search his for some reassurance, needing him now more than ever to show and possess the strength you don’t have.

It’s been a whirlwind couple months, from breaking up with Ransom to getting back together with him, then dealing with his bastard of a friend...well, ex-friend. And then having him use your sister, your own flesh and blood, to get back at Ransom. It’s a lot for anyone to deal with and in the midst of all of it, you can’t help but admit you have been careless with safety during sex. It’s kind of hard to stay on top of things when the last thing on your mind is safety. All you want lately is to feel him close, skin to skin, for him to ease the anxious feelings away with his body. His touch, his kiss. So powerful, so gentle yet rough.

It’s what you always seem to need lately.

And if those needs have resulted in a tiny human growing inside of you.. would that be so bad?

“Then we’ll deal with it, we’ll sort this together. You and me”

Sort this? Deal with it?

Does he mean -

You can barely even let that thought manifest and clearly your knee is working overtime and you’ve gone back to picking at your hands and nails again as Ransom stills both. Using one hand to force your eyes to his.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me. I didn’t mean that in the way it sounded. I meant that we’ll talk about it. We’ll cope and get through this however we need to. We’ll discuss this together..okay?”

You feel yourself nod as you look back down at the timer.

1 second left and...

The ringing sound of Ransoms alarm goes off, startling you despite knowing it was coming.

You take a deep breath, waiting a second so that you can calm your hands and that shaky knee of yours before you look at Ransom and pick the test up. His hand over yours, holding it as you both bite the bullet and glance.

Two lines.

Two very clear, very real lines.

You feel his hand grip the test to look at it properly without you. He takes it and stands up as he begins to pace the small bedroom. His large frame taking up all of the space.

Were you too quick to believe his promises of being there no matter the result? Did you buy into that false sense of security yet again?

Everything moves in slow motion, even your thoughts. You daren’t disturb him while he paces, with his eyes fixated on those two lines. He’s processing. Internally cursing this baby inside of you. Or at least you think

Ransom’s POV

Two lines.

Two very clear, very real lines.

I instantly feel claustrophobic, instantly need air. After pacing for what feels like forever, i feel worse. I need proper air, i need it now.

I rush to the window, practically cursing inside as i fumble with the handle, i push it open and lean there for a moment, breathing in and out rapidly, unable to catch my breath fully.

I needed that. That’s the air i needed.

With my eyes shut and fresh air blasting my face, i start to cool down. The temperature in my face cools slowly but enough for me to regain a coherent train of thought.

It takes a minute before the thought of her comes back to me. I spin around instantly to find her, tears pooling in her eyes, a worried look on her face. I can tell that the first thing she thought of when she saw me just now was that i’m angry.

How wrong could she be.

I rush to her side, pulling her close to me so i can hold her.

“Shhh, i got you. I’ve got you” i soothe, or at least attempt to as she sniffles into my chest.

“A-are you mad?” her voice comes out just above a whisper, while a rogue tear slips down her cheek and onto my chest.

“Of course not”... “why would i be?”

It seems logical in my head, why would i be mad? How could i be mad?

I’m happy, albeit overwhelmed but happy nonetheless.

“You’ve barely said a word’

“It’s overwhelming that’s all darling, it’s a lot to take in and i can’t even imagine how you must be feeling. Talk to me”

Your POV

You pull away from his chest, wiping your tear stained face as you swallow your nerves down as best as you can so that you can get your thoughts out into words.

“I’ve always known that i’ve wanted to be a mother. Even when i was younger with my sisters, playing moms and dads” that earns a chuckle from your sweet but misunderstood boyfriend.

His arm cradles you as you continue.

“But that’s a far cry from that to this, to doing it, for real. Having a tiny human depend on you for everything. It’s also the unexpected, perhaps. The fact that this wasn’t planned. We’ve been so preoccupied lately, being careful when having sex hasn’t exactly been at the forefront of our minds. But what if it was meant to be that way?”

“How do you mean?”

“What if this was always supposed to happen. This little life growing inside of me as we speak. Sometimes things happen when you least expect it, for a reason”

I feel silly saying that but it’s true. Life can have a funny way of challenging you, and doing it in ways you wouldn’t expect.

You look up at him, searching his eyes for anything to show that he’s truly okay with the outcome of the test.

Facing a positive pregnancy test was certainly not on your plans for this year, but what matters is how you deal with it, how you communicate with one another about this. It may be your body but you want the choice to be one you make with both yours and Ransoms input. It took the two of you to create this life. It’s only right the two of you decide what happens.

Your hand naturally goes to your stomach and you gently rub your thumb across it, wondering what life would be like with a baby. How Ransom would hold up as a father. You know he’d be a whole lot better than his father, that’s for sure. Which let’s face it, isn’t a hard feat at all. Richard Drysdale is a bastard of a man. And you know that Ransom wouldn’t mind you saying that. It’s a fact.

Ransoms hand joins you, his thick and long fingers fingers guiding your own to stroke your stomach.

“We don’t have to decide just yet” he starts, getting down on his knees in front of your bed and positioning himself in between your legs, parting them as he inches closer. A position you’ve had him in more than once. It brings heat to your sex. You can’t help it. The man is quite literally a sex god.

You’re sat here, in the midst of a serious conversation and yet you’re in the mood to be intimate. This man can literally touch you in any way, be in front of you talking about politics or even pissing you off in some form and you still feel that invisible string, pulling you to him, like a magnetic force. You belong to him, and he belongs to you. However, times like these make you want him all the more.

His eyes darken as he catches yours doing the same, he knows that look.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, if that’s okay?” you murmur, your hands roaming down his tanned and toned body, abs for days, that sexy V-shape leading into his boxers, where his not so mysterious size awaits you.

You need him, god you need him more than you need to breathe. Everything is aching, your anxiety wreaking havoc on your body once again, you need a distraction, just for right now. You know that you can’t avoid it forever, but you can allow yourself to forget, just for today. Or even just for right now.

“Oh yeah, and what do you want, hm?” his finger crooks under your chin, lifting it up, not allowing you to avoid his eyes. “Come on, tell me princess. This only works if we communicate” his voice is going deeper as he finishes talking. He knows exactly what you want, but as always, in true Ransom fashion, he’s making you work for it. Just the way that you like.

“I want you. No, i need you. I need you so badly. Your touch, your hands. I need it all over me. Afterwards i promise we can discuss the pregnancy. I just need to be close to you. Please” your doe eyes cause him to falter his usual Daddy persona.

“Like this?” he rasps, manoeuvring so that you’re laying down on the bed and he’s on top of you, his hands gripping your ass before leading up your body, squeezing and gripping every curve, his soft sighs make it clear how much he wants you too. No spot untouched.

You hum in appreciation and agreement with his words and he continues, his face burying into your neck, kissing, licking and biting like a wild animal desperate for his next feed. You’re his prey. Always have been since day one. You belong to him.

“Use your words, slut” his demand comes with a menacing drawl, one you would never wish to ignore. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. When he’s in this zone, this fantasy of your owner, Ransom is not to be tested. Best believe he will always come out on top.

“Y-yes, like that” you moan breathlessly as his hands slide up to the tie of your robe, his fingers barely need to work at it before it opens, giving him better access to you and that sexy goddess like body of yours, or at least that’s how he’s always seen it. You’ve never once had to wonder if he’s into you, his reaction to you is enough confirmation.

Ransom moves you to the centre of the bed, spreading your legs before moving in between them once again. “Yes, what?” his eyebrows raise, a playful smirk on his beautiful face.

“Yes Daddy”

And that was all he needed to begin.

His lips pucker as he places kisses along your stomach, working his way up to your neck, gentle kisses at first. But the higher he gets, the more hungry he becomes, nipping you here, licking you there. Your chest starts to rise and fall quite quickly now, your cheeks flush as he reaches your breasts.

No matter how many times he looks at them, feels them in his hands and plays with them, he loves them. It’s like he’s obsessed with showing every significant part of your body some love. But then again, when it comes to Ransom, every part of your body is significant. Every. Single. Inch.

“Look at these nipples of yours, all ready for me. I’ve barely even touched you” his pleased tone makes you smile a little. Daddy Ransom is here for real now.

You prepare yourself mentally for the rollercoaster your body is about to be put through.

His index fingers and thumbs roll the pert nipples as he kisses the valley between your breasts, licking his way to one nipple to bite it ever so slightly, enough to make you jolt in surprise before repeating the same on the other. His pleasure comes with a build up, a build up that renders you desperate for him, desperate for his cock. But it’s all worth it.

“Being so patient for me, baby. Such a fuckin’ good girl” his New England drawl makes you wetter, the pool of arousal at your entrance causes you to wriggle and writhe, needing to rub your thighs together for some kind of relief. But with Ransom between your legs, you’re trapped.

“Woah woah, what happened to patience” his hand moves down towards your sex as his face moves inches above yours “behave” his words come as he smacks at it. He repeats it once more before continuing his journey to your neck. His mouth starts to suck and bite the tender skin, it’s bound to leave a mark, proof to everyone that he was here. His intention.

You wait for him to move up to your face to give you a kiss and when he does it’s messy, emotional and needy. Tongues moving and colliding, your hands gripping his face before he moves them above your head. One hand of his holding them there while he reaches for the handcuffs in the bedside table draw. Your eyes widen as your brain can only imagine what is in store for you. Rough sex with zero mercy. He plans to fuck you until you beg for him to stop. Just the way you like him to. The arousal worsens as he straddles your chest, tying you to your headboard.

Once you’re attached, no escaping, he gets off of the bed to step out of his boxers slowly. The teasing only makes you more in need for him. And then theres his cock. God it’s like he was sculpted to perfection and brought to you to continuously render you speechless. Every day that you get to look at him and that body of his is a gift that keeps giving.

Your eyes rake over him one time too many but he doesn’t mind. In fact the cocky bastard loves it. It boosts his already inflated ego when it comes to his appearance.

That’s Ransom for you, he looks good and he knows it. He’s used that to his advantage plenty of times. You recall him doing the same for you when you first met.

“Like what you see, baby?” he winks, that wink makes you melt but you forget you’re stuck in place by those handcuffs.

You nod, practically salivating at the sight.

“Please” you beg, pathetically.

“I need you” the whimpers fall on death ears as he climbs back onto the bed, fisting his hardened cock for you to watch as his own eyes rake over you. He knows he’s one lucky man.

“Do you now? How much?” Like you said, he’s a bastard.

“Badly, i’m so wet for you. Please”

And with that, he spreads your legs further, inspecting you with his eyes before his index finger starts to rub at your clit a little while his middle finger explores your folds until it’s at your entrance, rubbing your juices around.

“So you are” he hums in appreciation before lifting your legs up a little and bending down.

His mouth attacks your pussy, making you whimper in shock. It’s never been so easy before to get him to give in. He must need you just as much, if not more.

“Taste so fuckin’ good” his growling and breathy voice turns you on more, god you love him. So fucking much. You love the way he relentlessly attacks your body with his mouth, hands and cock. He just knows what you need.

You’ve been here so many times now, danced this same dance. You’re fluent in each others bodies language. Knowing every weakness, every tell tale sign of an orgasm, every pressure point that gets the other begging for more. However, you rarely get to use your knowledge as Ransom enjoys dominating too much, and who are you to argue?

Your hips buck up as you grind into his face.

“You eat my pussy so good Daddy” you whimper, desperate for more of him, his teeth nip not so gently at your demanding clit but it spurs you on. You thrust faster and faster before he holds you still, your thighs wrapped tightly around is head as his nails dig into your soft skin. He’s hungry.

That all too familiar rope in your stomach starts to tighten, your climax building, and building and building. Until one last flicker of his strong tongue causes the rope to snap.

You cry out, his name falling off of your tongue like a prayer, all to familiar. He licks you through the orgasm while your legs shake around his head, just the way he likes. You’re so sensitive but he wants more, who are you to deny him. His tongue now lapping up all he forced from your body, the juices make him groan

He forces your body back to the bed, allowing you too lay there while he stares at you. In awe, perhaps.

His hands wrap around his hardened cock as he moves over you so that your legs can lock around his torso, keeping the two of you connected, while your hands aren’t available.

“You want this cock inside of you? Gonna be my good little slut, hm?” his filthy words only make you want him more, you shake the cuffs in attempt to free yourself so that you can touch him, wanting him inside of you faster.

The taunting tuts he gives you, warning you about rushing him. Ransom is especially thorough when it comes to giving pleasure. He likes to make sure no stone is left unturned, leaving you a puddle of satisfaction with shaky legs for further proof.

“I need it inside of me, i need you. Make me your slut, use me for your own pleasure” you plead, doe eyes returning as you bite your lip seductively. That’ll do it, the final nail in your coffin, clearly, as he slides into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch.

Two sets of eyes close in tandem as pleasure envelopes both of you. All of your stress from the last 48 hours vanishes in a heartbeat. Tension disappears.

You know you have to face everything soon but this is a short term distraction, one you are both welcoming with open arms. It’s what you need right now, no harm in satisfying that.

His thrusts speed up as he grips your legs, pushing them up and back. Folding you over so that he can push down on the backs of your thighs, using it as leverage for him to go to town. Fucking into you with reckless abandon, giving you all that he has. All of his confusion about the new circumstance you’ve found yourselves in, all of the tension that piled on top of him the moment he saw those two lines. All of it is channeled into this moment right now.

“So fucking wet for me, baby. My god” the sound of his balls slapping against your asshole mixed with the sound of your juices each time he drives his cock balls deep into you bounces off of the walls, making you glad you live alone.

His hands move to splay across your ass, gripping it so tight that his nails dig in, leaving a mark for certain. You wince but revel in the pain of it, the beautiful pain.

“You feel so good inside of me, daddy. Are you proud of me, taking all of you like the good little slut you turned me into mm?”

His eyes darken, his brows scrunch as his middle finger circles your puckered hole, so tight, so fucking tight.

He throws his head back grunting as his thrusts get more aggressive before sucking that same finger and circling the hole again. He pushes it in slowly, blowing out a deep breath he’d been holding in until his finger slipped inside, just a little. It’s been a while since he played with your ass like this.

Oh how you’ve missed it. Pushing in and out, he works it in deeper each time, training it to take all of that finger.

God you’re so good for him, he needs you to keep being good, to keep taking what he dishes out. You’re always good, so perfect, so precious.

He loses control, rough isn’t the word for how he’s fucking you, his finger getting faster with its movements, working in time with his cock as it moves in and out of your soaking wet pussy, your juices covering it tip to base.

Yet again, the tell tale sign of an impending orgasm washes over you as you cry to be released. His one free hand moves up momentarily to pick the key up for the cuffs. You nod rapidly, signalling to him to free you. You need to be closer, you need to touch him.

Ransom notices this, smirking as he speeds the pace of his finger up a notch, working harder to push you through that orgasm you’ve needed so much. “Is my good girl gonna cum, huh? Gonna make a big mess all over daddy’s cock?Give it to me baby, come on, give me that cum, i need it like i need fucking air to breathe. Come on, slut, cum on this cock. Give yourself a mess to clean once i free those hands”

His words are enough to push you over the edge as you cry out once again, for the second time today he’s the reason for your relentless pleasure. Your pussy walls clench down on him, again and again and again, making him moan along with you. He pulls out quick, pushing the key into the lock to free you at last before manhandling you around so that you’re on your knees on the floor, in between his naked legs, sucking his cock.

His hips buck, forcing you to take all of him, one punishing thrust after another, saliva drips from your mouth each time he pulls out. His hands grip your hair, giving you no choice but to comply. All while your cum drips from your stretched out and satisfied hole.

Pleasuring your man brings you pleasure too, you can’t help but feel the same old need for more as you service his cock with your mouth, bringing him close to his own orgasm. But before you swallow it, you pull off in time for him to spray your chest. His arousal covering your breasts fully. You waste no time in playing with it, moving it all across with your fingers before licking it off slowly, seductively. His eyes follow your every move, amazed.

“You’re so sexy, you know that, right?”

You nod, confidently. You don’t always know it but in this moment right now, you believe it wholeheartedly. Nothing could stop you from showing it to him.

The taste of him makes your pussy throb non stop.

Look at you, such a desperate slut, constantly craving his cock.

His thumb strokes your chin as he leans over you, catching a drop that didn’t quite make your mouth before you take it and suck the remains off.

“That, my darling, is certainly my favourite distraction” he hums with satisfaction as he stands up, towering over you before picking you up and carrying you to the en suite. “But let’s get you cleaned up, hm? Then we can talk about that test”

You nod before resting your head on his chest as he walks you into the bathroom for a much needed shower.

Sooner or later you’ll need to face that test, and as nervous as you are. There’s no one you’d rather have those difficult conversations with.

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dbnightingale24 · 1 year ago

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The Dog House Isn’t The Best, But It Can Still Be Our Home

Final installment to 'Pavlov's Dog'

Part 3

I told you guys I'd post it at some point 🥴 I'm honestly so sorry this took so long to post, but last year got really dark for me and everything just kind of took a backseat. Thank you so much for your patience, and thank you to all of you who checked up on me. It means more than I'll ever be able to express. Thank you @fuckingbye for being an amazing friend, and for also making this amazing moodboard. You are a saint and I love to the ends of the earth. Without further ado, here's the final chapter!

Word Count: 71,942 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY), Public Sex, Semi Public Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Angst, Heartbreak, Mild Violence, FLUFF, Lying, Betrayal...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Will You Take Me Back In The Morning If I Promise To Never Act This Way Again?

I do not give consent/permission for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

“You can’t keep going on like this, babe,” Daisy sighs sympathetically as she takes a seat next to the bathtub.

“It doesn’t matter,” you shrug as you take a drag of your cigarette, “none of it fucking matters.”

“Babe, it’s been two weeks. You do the same thing every day. You get up, eat the smallest bit of food, you sit out on your back deck and smoke until you decide to start drinking, then you draw yourself a bath and drink and smoke in it until you decide it’s too cold, or I come and get you. You can’t keep doing this.”

“I don’t even have a reason to be mad at him, do I?” you scoff incredulously before taking a drag from your cigarette, “it’s not like he lied. He didn’t even know, so I have no reason to be this upset, do I?”

“He was a complete and total asshole,” she states firmly, “and you have every reason to be upset with his actions. Yeah, it was a shit show, but he definitely could’ve handled it better.”

“The shit he said right in front of that child, even if it isn’t his, were so fucking cruel! No child deserves to be spoken to like that, and he of all people should know that!”

“Babe-”

“After everything we talked about on that trip...it’s like it didn’t even matter to him. He didn’t even care.”

“I’m sure he was just shocked-”

“That’s not an excuse, Dais.”

“I never said it was, but c’mon: it’s Ransom. You really think he was thinking clearly? Linda and Marta were there and I’m more than sure he was afraid of losing you, then Marta drops a fucking bomb on him, and it sounds like she did it on purpose, if I’m honest. Just to fuck him over.”

“Daisy, I just-”

“BABY, PLEASE ANSWER THE DOOR AND TALK TO ME!” Ransom calls desperately as he bangs on your front door.

Like clockwork.

“Why can’t he understand that I need time? I don’t owe him shit,” you start to sniffle as your tears fall, and you grab the bottle of tequila that lives by the bathtub now, and take a long drink from it.

“I’ll get rid of him, just please...please get up and do something,” Daisy begs desperately.

“Ya know, you’re wrong,” you say as she reaches the doorway, finally looking at her, “I put on makeup today,” you smile weakly.

She lets out a humorless laugh before disappearing and you hear her footsteps quickly making their way downstairs.

Since everything that took place on his doorstep, you haven’t spoken to or seen him. You don’t know what to say or how to handle the situation. He’s been calling and texting non-stop since it all happened, and every two days he comes by to visit, and Daisy tells him to leave you alone every time.

But you can’t keep avoiding him.

No, you don’t know what the right thing to do is, but you know that avoiding him is the wrong thing, and you can’t keep letting Daisy handle these issues for you. You have to at least speak to him, but say what? Do what? It’s not like you have any real right to be mad at him. It’s not like he cheated on Marta with you, he didn’t cheat on you with her, he clearly didn’t know he had a child so he didn’t keep it from you, and he did defend you to Linda. However, that doesn’t change the things he said to that child.

Possibly his child.

“He’s not my son and this isn’t fucking funny!”

“We can take a test if you want, but he is your son!”

“Well, I don’t want him! You wait...however many years to tell me about him, and you sure as shit don’t need any money, so why now?!”

“He deserves to know who his Father is, Ransom! He’s a Drysdale and-”

“Watch it,” Ransom warns with a foreboding tone.”

God, how could he be so cruel to a child, after all of the talks you two have had? He’s always cruel though, isn’t he? To you, to Marta, his own son (the resemblance is too strong for that boy to not to be his child), and fuck it, even Jack. He can’t ever seem to control his temper and, if he can’t do that, what chance do you two have together?

Still, he owns your heart and you don’t know how to get it back at this point. You don’t know and you don’t wanna know.

“Ransom, you have to stop coming around!” you hear Daisy yell, and you sigh before taking another drink from the bottle.

“You can’t stop me from me seeing her, Daisy! She’s my girlfriend!”

“Bullshit! You two never made it official-”

“Daisy, stay out of it! Let me see her!”

“No! She’s not ready to see you and you can’t force-”

“I’m not forcing anything-”

“What do you think this is?! Showing up because she won’t answer your calls or texts, and demanding to see her?! Leave her alone!”

“You can’t stop me-”

“Let him in!” you call, lighting a cigarette as you use your tip toes to turn the water back on, and heat up your water just a bit.

Who the hell knows how this is gonna go?

You hear the both of them speedily stomping up the steps, but Daisy get there first and says, “are you sure? You don’t have to-”

“I can’t keep letting you fight my battles,” you smile weakly at her as you turn the water off.

“Babe-”

“I have to deal with this at some point. I can do this,” you all but mumble not believing yourself as you take a drag of your cigarette.

“I’ll be in the room over,” she sighs softly before turning, “fuck you Drysdale!”

“Fuck you!”

You hear her slap him and shake your head. Nothing can ever be simple, can it?

“Sweet Thing, please-” he starts as soon as he makes his way into your bathroom.

“Ransom...don’t,” you quickly interrupt. “This isn’t just some small disagreement.”

“I didn’t even know I had a child!”

“I could’ve dealt with that, Ransom! It would’ve taken some time, but I honestly could’ve dealt with that! It’s the way you spoke about him in front of him!”

“I don’t want him!”

“You didn’t have to say it in front of him! Jesus, it’s not his fault that you’re a selfish bastard! He didn’t ask to be born, and Marta-”

“She did this out of spite! Not because she wants me to be apart the child’s-”

“Be that as it may, he didn’t do anything! Basically telling her that she has no right calling him a Drysdale, when he is in fact a Drysdale! Ransom, I know you’re rough around the edges, but for fucks sake! All the talks we’ve had about our own fucked up childhoods and you do this?! You just...I don't fucking get it with you, Ransom!”

“What is there to get?! We fucking talked about this, Y/N! I’m not-”

“That’s no excuse for this! You took it too far and I...Ransom, I can’t-”

“Don’t you fucking say it,” he warns as his eyes start welling up with tears. “Don’t you fucking say that to me!”

“Ransom...I love you, but I can’t be the only good thing in your life. The only person you like,” you sob, sitting up and ashing your cigarette in the ash tray resting on the little table near by.

“WHY NOT?!”

“It’s too much fucking pressure! It’s too much pressure, and I can’t keep watching you be terrible to people because you had a rough childhood! You having a rough go of it doesn’t mean you get to walk all over people for the rest of your life!”

“Listen, give it a few days and you’ll see-”

“No, Ransom. This is done. I can’t do this with you anymore. You have to grow up at some point, and I refuse to mother you.”

“Y/N...you’ll see...you don’t mean it. You always say you’re done and you come back-”

“I can’t anymore. All of this just hurts too much. You keep finding new ways to hurt me, even when you don’t mean to, and I just...you’re cruel, Ransom. You’re cruel, you’re a bully, and you will hurt anyone by doing anything. I know there’s good in you, because you’ve let me see it time and time again, but you refuse to let others in, even in the slightest and I just...please don’t call me anymore,” you sob pathetically. “Don’t call, don’t text, don’t come by...we’re done.”

“You don’t mean this-”

“Don’t make it harder than it has to be, please. Just let me go,” you beg softly as you wipe your eyes.

“You’ll see. In a week or so, you’ll see and I’ll be waiting. I’ll wait and everything will be as it should, again,” he smiles weakly, wiping his own eyes.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll call you in a few weeks, okay, Sweet Thing,” he promises, making his way over to the bathtub. “I love you and I’ll talk to you.”

He cups your face and kisses you passionately and you’re so tempted to pull him into the tub with you, but you know you’ve got to stop. You left one toxic relationship just to jump into a different type of toxic relationship.

“Ransom,” you breathe once you two break apart, “please-”

“I’ll talk to you in a few weeks,” he promises with a sniffle before standing up and walking out.

“Ransom-”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” he repeats, his voice cracking as he continues on his way out.

Daisy is back inside and by your side instantly, climbing into the tub and holding you close as you cry uncontrollably, as you try to come to terms with the choice you’ve just made. Yeah, he’s right in saying that you always come back, but that’s not the case this time.

You need to stay away from him for good.

The fact that he has it in his head that all of this will be sorted out in a few weeks, lets you know that this is only the calm before the storm. As both you and Daisy lean back into the tub, and she holds you close while you cry into her shoulder, there’s only one question going through your head:

How the hell are you supposed to quit the love of your life?

4 Years Later...

You can read the rest of the story here

taglist: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @companionjones, @autumnrose40, @fuckingbye, @pono-pura-vida, @nomadstucky, @mazda098, @chemtrails-club, @bree-lyrie, @mjey12, @charlottiedawson, @fenixstar , @thickania

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wolverton · 2 years ago

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VIRGIN MARGARITA

by tenderising & wolverton

T | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter + Benoit Blanc/Phillip | WIP

SUMMARY:

Somewhere in Cuba at the height of summer, a man is missing and with him, a special cocktail recipe that divided the populace. The world-renowned detective Benoit Blanc is on the case with his part-time sidekick and full-time husband Phillip. On the other side of town, Hannibal Lecter—who does not yet know he is about to become a murder suspect, but would not find it all that surprising if he did—is beginning to experience the consequences of his actions in unprecedented ways. The love of his life, Will Graham, claims that karma waits for no one.

Summer domestics in the heart of Cuba, a murder mystery, and crack that is only occasionally treated seriously, brought to you lovingly in collaboration with @tenderising <3

READ ON AO3

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannigram #will graham #hannigram fanfiction #murder husbands #knives out #glass onion #benoit blanc #benoit blanc and phillip #phillip #crossover #hannibal crossover #knives out crossover #hannibal fluff #knives out fanfic #fanfic #hannibal fanfiction

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krirebr · 3 months ago

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More Than This 8

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~9.5k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and en dashes, the slooowest burn, family drama - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Ohhhhhhhh boy. Getting this update in right under the six month wire. I'm so sorry this one took so long, you guys. I had to drag this chapter out of me. But uh, it's horrifically long, so that's something?

And, I know I keep saying that we're about to start a happier part of this story and then deliver a bucketful of angst, and yeah, whoops, I've done that again. I should just stop making promises, huh?

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has spent the last almost six months talking this one through with me. And to @bigtreefest who was so great with the encouragement and gut checks and did a quick beta of this chapter! But, of course, all mistakes are my own.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The rest of the day was quiet. Calmer, more settled than you were used to. After having gotten everything out into the open, it was so much easier to acknowledge Ransom’s presence, to coexist with him. You hadn’t fully realized how much you’d been holding your breath until you could suddenly breathe freely. It was a wild feeling.

Once you were all cried out, Ransom turned on the TV, turning it to the classic movie channel. That was how you learned he loved old movies. “Grandad and I used to watch them together. When I was a kid,” he said quietly. He didn't volunteer any other information and you didn't ask. But you watched the old noir with him.

One movie turned into two and soon the whole afternoon was gone. It had been… comfortable, in a way you’d never expected to be with him. Neither of you had said much, but the silence hadn’t been stifling in the way it’d been even just the day before. For the first time since you’d gotten here, you felt something a lot like hope.

He made two arrangements while sitting with you on the couch. The first was for movers to come to collect his gym equipment the next day so that your new room would be empty when your things arrived in a couple of days.

You were made aware of the second when you received a text from him. You looked up in confusion. You were sitting right next to each other. He chuckled lightly. “That’s the number to your new car service. Call it, let them know where you’re going, and a car should be here within half an hour.”

You stared at the number. Holy shit, you’d be able to go places. You felt silly for how emotional you suddenly felt, but it was like your entire world was expanding in real time. It felt like fresh oxygen in your lungs. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

He just nodded in response. “After you’ve used that for a while, we can talk about whether a private driver might be more appropriate. If that’s what you need.”

You looked at your phone again. This was proof in your hands that you could tell Ransom what you needed and he would do what he could to help you get it. That he wasn’t the enemy you’d assumed he was. You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes and you took a deep breath to try to quell them without calling attention to your state.

Ransom, of course, noticed anyway. “Is that not ok?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect. Seriously, thank you. I’m sorry, I just–” You had no idea what to say to him, how to explain yourself. As good and necessary as the last several hours had been, he was still a stranger. And as much as he’d demonstrated a willingness to help you, that didn’t mean he wanted you getting your messy emotions all over him. “Sorry,” you said again, “I’m just emotional today. Hormones probably. I’m afraid you’re going to be dealing with this for the next nine months.” You grimaced in what you hoped was a playful manner as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.

He remained serious, concerned. “I think I can handle it,” he said, his tone still so soft. But if you looked very carefully, you thought that you might be able to see a hint of panic in his eyes. You didn’t know if it was for the havoc that your pregnancy hormones might wreak or everything that would come after. You didn’t ask. You knew you wouldn’t be able to answer the question for yourself either. So you turned back to the movie.

At some point, you both started to get hungry, so Ransom ordered takeout. As you ate, you asked a few questions about the sorts of movies he liked, grateful for a safe topic to fill the silence. You certainly wouldn’t call him verbose, but you learned that he had a soft spot for Billy Wilder movies. You wouldn’t really say the conversation flowed, either, but your questions didn’t seem unwelcome. It was nice. He was starting to feel like a real person.

When you were done, you cleaned up the leftovers together, packing them up and putting them away in the fridge. It was while you were doing that that the doorbell suddenly rang. You both looked up, confused. “If that’s fucking Linda, I swear…” Ransom grumbled.

“She never rings the doorbell when it’s just me here,” you griped. You continued putting things away, sticking your head in the fridge as Ransom went to get the door. Then everything happened so fast.

First, you heard Lola yipping excitedly. As you started to turn around to see what was going on with her, Ransom asked “What are you doing here?!” And then–

And then Ransom was on the ground, clutching his jaw, and Steve was looming over him, his hand still in a fist.

“What the shit?!” Ransom ground out.

Steve’s eyes flitted around wildly until they landed on you. He sighed in relief, clearly doing a quick check as he looked at you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone so much gentler than his posture.

“Am I– What– What are you doing here? I don't–” You felt like you couldn’t process anything that was happening. How was he here?? Your gaze caught on your husband, still on the floor. “Oh my god, Ransom!” You dropped to your knees next to him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I–” he started, then carefully flexed his jaw, “Fucking shit. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Your hand hovered uselessly between you as he slowly stood up. You turned back to Steve, who had stepped fully into the house, closing the door behind him, and now had Lola in his arms, softly greeting her as she snuggled into him adoringly.

“Steve, what are you–” you started but then you saw the suitcase at his feet. “Are you staying here?!”

Steve finally turned his attention away from Lola. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously, with a challenging glare to Ransom.

You sighed helplessly. “There’s no guest room…”

“Yeah,” Ransom grumbled as he rifled through the freezer until he pulled out an icepack, “as thrilled as we are to see you, we do have hotels here. You might be more comfortable in one.” The icy coldness that filled the room wasn’t just from the open freezer.

Steve took an aggressive step forward. “And leave you alone with my sister for even one more day? I don’t think so. I’ll be just fine on the couch. I’m easy like that.”

“Steve–” you tried but you were quickly interrupted.

“Really? You’re here for your step-sister? That’s interesting because my understanding is that you haven’t had much time for her lately,” Ransom said snidely.

Steve started to puff up in a way that was much too familiar from the playground fights of your childhood. “Oh my god!” you yelled. “Stop! Both of you!” You briefly put your head in your hands and took a deep breath, then one more. You straightened yourself and tried to deal with one of the fifteen problems at hand. “Ok, I, uh, I guess I’ll see about making up the couch,” you said, then stomped your way upstairs to the linen closet.

Steve followed close behind you, still carrying around Lola. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “you haven’t actually said ‘hello’ to me yet.”

“No,” you growled, as you looked through the closet without turning around to look at him, “I guess I haven’t.”

He pulled your arm lightly. “Hey, come on,” he said. “I’ll help pull this stuff together if you tell me where to look. We both know Ransom’s just gonna let you do all the work.”

That earned you finally turning to face him. “Well, he did just get punched in the face, so I think he’s a little more concerned with that than making you feel comfortable right now.”

Steve’s face scrunched up. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you? Well, let's see. You showed up unannounced and punched my husband in the face. Yeah! I'm a little mad at you!”

“He deserved it,” he growled.

“How would you know?!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed. You did not have the energy for this. And where were all the blankets? You remembered the pile currently in the corner of the gym. Right. You turned around and walked down the hall to your makeshift bedroom, Steve still on your heels. As soon as you walked in, he stopped, putting Lola down. “The fuck is this?” he asked, harshly, his hands on his hips. You realized your mistake immediately. His eyes scanned the cushions and blankets set up, the exercise equipment still there, your few possessions strewn about. “Is this where you sleep?”

“No! Just last night.”

“Why did you need to sleep here last night?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

It felt like a trap. If you told him you’d panicked and needed some space, he would ask why. Steve never dropped anything. And you just could not tell him you were pregnant right now. It was the absolute worst time for that. But you didn’t know how else to answer his question. “I just needed a little space.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. God, you hated being the focus of that look. It was the look he gave you when you scratched his car when you were 16, or when you were 18 and he had to pick you up from a party at 2 AM and wouldn’t tell him what had happened. It was the look you got when you were little and used to steal his paintbrushes so he couldn’t paint and he’d have to hang out with you. You’d hated that look since you were six years old. “Why are you here, Steve?”

He just shook his head for a moment. “You sounded so sad and tired this morning. And I’m just so sick of not being able to see you, not being able to tell what’s wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Not being able to protect you.”

“Steve,” was all you could say at first. Then you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You launched yourself at him and wrapped him in a big hug. He was a fucking idiot. You couldn’t believe he’d punched Ransom. You were so mad about that. But he was your fucking brother and you’d missed him so much.

He hugged you back tightly. “It’s so fucking good to see you, Chipmunk,” he murmured into your hair.

You stood there, savoring the closeness for as long as you both were able, and then you pulled away and stared down at the mound of blankets and cushions. The big couch downstairs had been pulled apart the night before to give you a place to sleep. That severely limited the options for Steve. You sighed. “I guess it would make the most sense to put you in here.”

“And where would you sleep?” he asked, his tone taking on an aggressive edge, aimed at the man downstairs, you knew.

“I’d go back to the bedroom,” you said, with a put-on casualness like you weren’t aware of the fight that was about to happen.

“Absolutely not,” Steve said firmly.

“Oh my god, Steve! You can’t control where I sleep!” you said, throwing your hands in the air.

“The whole reason I’m here is to make sure you’re ok and that he can’t hurt you! I’m not gonna do something that puts you back in his space!”

“Steve, I don’t need that! He isn’t doing anything!”

“Then why did you text me? Why were you crying?!”

You did not have the energy for the conversation that would answer that question, so all you could do was glare at him, which he answered with a confrontational jut of his chin. The two of you just stood there locked in a staredown until Steve muttered, “What sort of grown man doesn’t have anywhere for guests, anyway?”

“The sort that likes an excuse to stop people from staying at his house,” Ransom said pointedly from the doorway, startling you both. “What exactly do you think I’d do, with you right across the hall? I’ve already gotten a taste of how you solve problems,” he said to Steve, gesturing with the ice pack still held to his face. Then, much softer, to you, he said, “I know you want your own space, but you’re more than welcome to share the bed until your stuff gets here. That’s all I wanted to say.” Then he turned around and walked into his bedroom, Lola scampering behind him, ready for bed.

You stared after him, unable to parse the feelings bubbling up inside you. He’d been so different lately. Or maybe you were just finally looking.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve asking “Your stuff?”

You turned your attention back to him. He was watching you too carefully. “Mhmm,” you hummed, trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here. I’m turning this into my room.” He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask too many questions probably so you cut him off. “It’s been a really long couple of days, Steve. I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

He set his jaw. You could tell he wanted to fight you. Force you to talk to him. But you held your ground, looked him in the eye with a hint of challenge, and eventually he deflated, just a bit. “Yeah, okay,” he relented before he pulled you into another crushing hug. You’d really missed his hugs.

“I am happy to see you,” you whispered.

“Me too, Chip,” he whispered right back.

After making sure he had everything he needed, you left Steve alone with a quiet “goodnight,” and made your way back to Ransom’s bedroom. He and Lola were already snuggled in bed, snoring softly. You quickly went through your bedtime routine and then joined them, very careful not to wake either of them. After how eventful and emotionally wrought the last few days had been, it didn’t take you long at all to drift off into sleep.

You woke up in the morning pressed up against Ransom, face to face, your feet tangled together, Lola on your legs. You carefully pushed yourself away, watching him warily to see if he roused at all. Thankfully he didn't. You were sure he wouldn't be thrilled with how close you'd both gotten in the night.

You quietly got up and let yourself out of the bedroom, a now wide-awake Lola at your heels. The door to the gym was open and the room was empty, Steve’s suitcase wide open on the floor next to the nest of cushions and blankets. You didn’t hear anyone moving around downstairs, so he was out on a run, most likely.

You headed down to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then started looking through the fridge for the leftovers from the previous morning. As you were doing that, a creak on the stairs let you know Ransom was joining you.

“Morning,” he said, voice scratchy from disuse. He went to the coffee maker and just stood in front of it, waiting for the pot to finish.

“Morning,” you said from inside the fridge. You found the leftovers and closed the appliance, finally turning to him with a gasp. You put the food down on the counter and went to Ransom. “Oh my god, your face!” A large bruise in a deep shade of purple took up most of the left side of his face, centered on his jaw and cheekbone. You rushed to his side and without thinking, extended a hand to touch him before you realized what you were doing and pulled back at the last minute, embarrassed.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbled, his attention still fixed on the coffee slowly dripping into the carafe.

You stared at him for another moment, before you just couldn’t keep your feelings inside anymore. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

He finally looked at you at that. “What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked.

So much, you thought to yourself, maybe, probably. But for right now, in this instance, you just shrugged. “He’s my brother,” you said, a little helplessly.

“Did you tell him to punch me?” he asked as he decided he’d waited long enough and filled his mug.

“What? No!”

“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.” He leaned back against the counter as he sipped his coffee. “Where is your brother?”

“On a run, probably,” you said, now helping yourself to a mug and fixing it up how you liked.

Ransom scoffed. “Of course, he is.” He looked at you carefully for a long moment and you struggled not to squirm under his gaze. “You happy he’s here?”

“Of course!” you said, too quickly. He kept looking at you. “I mean, I didn’t invite him here, so… It was just a surprise. I don’t know. He’s very protective, you know?” Ransom raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Right, yeah. He just– Sometimes, he just– he decides what’s right. And then there’s no changing his mind.”

He made a little hum, then nodded and said, “Yeah, I know. I have met him before. But why are you worried about that?”

“Uh, he just, he isn’t always a good listener. And he’s gonna have a lot of questions for me today. I know he will. And I don’t know how I’ll answer any of them without telling him about the– that I’m pregnant.”

“And you don’t want to?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly soft.

“No, that’s not exactly– I just–” you sighed. “This isn’t what he ever wanted for me.”

Ransom made a small noise of understanding. “You think he’ll be disappointed in you.”

There was no judgment in his tone, but it still made you shrink in on yourself a little. You nodded.

“Listen, it’s no secret that I think he’s a sanctimonious asshole.” You opened your mouth to start defending Steve, but Ransom shook his head. “Let me finish. It’s clear that he loves you. I think you’ll be ok. And if he does give you shit, well, it’ll be just one of a few things he’s done to earn himself a punch.”

“Oh god, Ransom no, please don’t do that.”

He grinned at you. “Nah, I won’t. Some of us have self-control. I know him being here is important to you. I’ll try not to do anything to mess that up.”

You wondered if the warm feelings spreading through you would always be such a surprise. If he would always be such a surprise.

“But,” he continued before he paused to drain his mug. “I am going to try to get out of here before he gets back.”

“This is your house. You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, “you should have a nice day with your brother.” Then he put his mug in the dishwasher and went back upstairs to get dressed, with you staring after him.

Ransom left and, sure enough, Steve got back a few minutes later. He went straight to the shower and you tried to busy yourself and calm your nerves while you waited for the inevitable conversation.

When he came down, his hair was still wet and he was dressed in jeans and a plain white tee. There was nothing casual about his demeanor though.

“So,” he said, sitting down next to you in the kitchen, “you ready to tell me what’s been going on here?”

You started to get up. “Do you want some breakfast first? We have some pastries left over from yesterday.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you back down into your chair. “No, I want to know why you've sounded so upset every time I’ve talked to you since the wedding.”

You squirmed under his sharp gaze. You knew him. You knew that he wouldn’t give up until you told him everything. But you also knew how awful his reaction would be and you just weren’t ready to give everything up. “It’s just been a lot of change, you know? Of course, it’s been hard. I’m just… adjusting. It’s been an adjustment period.”

“Adjusting to what, exactly?”

“To marriage! To living in a new place! You know, the obvious.”

“The obvious is why you always sound like you’ve been crying?”

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands in frustration. “You know me,” you tried. “I’m emotional.”

“You’re emotional?! Is that what he says to you?” Shit, he was already getting angry and you hadn’t even told him anything yet.

“No! God, Steve. That’s not what I’m saying! I’m just trying to say that it’s been a difficult transition, but I’m starting to feel better about it.”

“And I’m asking you to tell me exactly what about it has been difficult.”

You wanted to growl. Once he got an idea in his head, he was so fucking intractable. “What’s been difficult about moving across the country to a brand new city and living with a stranger??”

“Yes. Exactly. In detail please.” And then he just stared at you and you wanted to scream.

“I’ve been a little lonely,” you conceded, hoping a partial truth might satisfy him. “Ransom has to work a lot and it’s been hard to know what to do with my time.” And then, without giving him time to react, you asked. “How about you? How are you? Now that I’m out of the way, is Joseph trying to set up matches for you?” It was a low blow, but you were grasping for any defense you could reach.

“I don't understand why you won't just tell me what's going on.”

“I'm trying! It's just a lot more complicated than you realize and I think that maybe once you're in an arrangement of your own–”

“My marriage won't be anything like this.”

At first, all you could do was gape at him. Then you just sighed. “I don’t think,” you started slowly, “that you can have any idea what a marriage like this is really like until you’re inside of it, Steve.”

He shook his head. “I know what sort of man I am,” he said confidently. “I know how I’ll treat my wife.” And you saw it then, the pity in his eyes, and everything in you bristled.

Sanctimonious. That was the word Ransom had used. You loved your step-brother so much. You’d defend him to the end of the world and back. But he really could be such an asshole sometimes. And seeing him now, like this, you could understand why someone like Ransom might hate him.

“Well,” you said, trying so hard to keep your voice even, “you’ll be lucky then. To have such an easy go of it. I hope you don’t find that it’s harder than it looks. That appearances can be deceiving.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s why I’m asking you to tell me. I don’t understand why you won’t.”

“Because I know you won’t listen! You’ve already decided what’s going on here!”

“Well, it seems pretty obvious! I know you, and I certainly know him. So yeah, when you’re crying every time I talk to you and you send me cryptic texts wishing I was here, yeah, I think I have a pretty good guess about what’s been going on.”

“You’re so frustrating,” you growled a little. Then you sighed. It was inevitable. You knew it. At this point, you just wanted to get it over with. “Ok. Fine. But you have to actually listen to me, ok? Like, to what I’m actually saying. You can’t just jump to conclusions. Okay? I’m serious.”

“Chip, yes, of course. I’ll always listen to you.”

You took a deep, fortifying breath. “It’s been– It’s been really hard here. I’ve been on my own almost the whole time and it’s just been really lonely. You just– you can’t know what it’s like to be married to a stranger. We haven’t known how to talk to each other and I just– It’s been really hard for both of us.” At that, Steve scoffed, but you couldn’t stop now, you had to get this out. “Anyway, um, a few days ago I learned some news, that was–” You paused to try to find the right word. You had no idea how to classify it. It wasn’t upsetting, per se, but what other word was there? “And then Ransom found out and that’s when I texted you. And slept in the gym.”

“What was the news?” Steve asked, gravely. He was looking at you so intently. You really didn’t want to do this, but you knew you had to.

You looked off into the corner of the room, unable to get this out and meet his eyes at the same time. “I’m pregnant,” you said quietly.

Steve stood up so abruptly that you couldn’t help but jump. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he actually snarled. You’d never heard his voice do that before.

“Steve, please,” you started, both hands out in a placating manner. “Please, can you calm down so we can talk about this?”

But, of course, he ignored you. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, helplessly. “He’s out. I don’t, I don’t know where.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just clenched his jaw and stood rigidly, his hands on his hips. You could practically see the untapped adrenaline coursing through him.

“Can you please just sit down?” you pleaded. “Just take a deep breath and sit down and we can–”

“I’m going for a run,” he said, curtly, then turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

“But you just got back from one!” you called after him. He wasn’t even dressed for a run. But that apparently didn’t matter. He was gone.

You just sat there for a moment, completely lost, with no idea what to do. Then you got your phone out and texted Ransom.

He knows

Don’t come back for a few hours, I think. He needs time to calm down. I’m sorry.

The checkmark showing he’d seen your message appeared almost immediately, quickly followed by the three dots that showed he was typing, but then those disappeared. A few moments later they came back but quickly disappeared again. No response ever came.

The men from the storage company came to take Ransom’s gym equipment away. You threw yourself into directing them, happy to have a distraction from worrying about where Steve was, what he was feeling. But then they were done, the room was empty, and Steve was still gone.

Ransom got back first. He found you in the former gym, trying to rearrange the couch cushions in the center of the room into something more comfortable. He paused in the doorway, Lola dancing around at his feet. “Where’s Steve?” he asked, as he bent down to pet her.

“He, uh–” you said without looking up, “he went for another run. He wasn’t very happy.”

“Fucking asshole,” Ransom muttered.

You finally looked at him, shaking your head. “No, he just doesn’t handle it well when he doesn’t know how to fix something.”

Ransom looked at you very seriously. “And if he makes that your problem, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“That's not– That's not what happened. That's not what he's doing.”

He stared at you for a long moment, causing you to look away, uncomfortable with the attention. “Okay,” he finally said with the hint of a sigh. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you want company or…” He trailed off and shrugged, then left the room.

About an hour later, Steve burst back into the house, yelling into his phone. “Well, where the hell did that money go? There’s no reason for him to be that over-budget. I’ve seen the dailies. –No, you get down there and you get that set back under control. –I can’t, I’m not in LA. There was a family emergency. –Yeah, I know Joseph is still there. He isn’t my only family, is he? Listen, just go do your goddamn job.” With that, he hung up his phone forcefully then stomped upstairs without acknowledging you or Ransom where you were seated on the couch.

You could feel the irritation coming off of Ransom but he didn’t say anything. You were grateful. You had no idea what to make of Steve right now, how to explain him. Or excuse him. The awkward silence was preferable to trying.

Several minutes later, Steve came back down, changed into fresh clothes again. He smiled at you in greeting and if not for the tense set of his shoulders, you would have thought everything was fine. “Hey,” he said, “I just ordered the two of us some food.”

“The two of us?” you asked, looking pointedly at Ransom.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed and the fucking fake look of surprise on his face made you want to scream. “I didn’t realize he was back. Well, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s his house. He’ll be able to scrounge up something.”

“Steve,” you started. Of all the unbelievably rude–

Your ramp-up to letting your brother have it was cut short by Ransom’s hand on your wrist. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. He looked tired and sad in a way you hated. He looked annoyed too, beyond belief, but underneath all that, you also saw something pleading in his expression. You remembered what he’d said this morning. He wanted you to have a nice day with your brother. So you swallowed down all of your anger and didn’t say anything. But you cataloged everything so you could have a private conversation with Steve later.

“See,” Steve said with a smug grin, “it’s fine. This will be nice. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten to pig out together. I got all your favorites.”

Despite your protests, Ransom made himself scarce. The food arrived shortly after he disappeared and Steve dished it up like nothing was wrong. You sat and ate with him, even though you weren’t much up for conversation, despite his frequent efforts. He never said anything about the news you’d shared that morning. You tried not to be too hurt by that.

As you were finishing up, Ransom quietly reappeared, grabbing something to drink from the fridge. Before he could run back upstairs, you stopped him, feeling awful that he must feel so unwelcome in his own home. “Do you want some food?” you asked, gesturing to the copious leftovers. “I could make you a plate.”

Not waiting for Ransom’s response, Steve cut in. “Is that how it works around here?” he asked, not of you but Ransom. “You’ve got her waiting on you on hand and foot?” his voice teeming with anger.

“Steve,” you hissed, trying to stop him, but he didn’t notice.

“I mean, I get it,” he continued, and there was a sharp edge to his voice that made you very nervous, “you must have thought you hit the jackpot, huh? Some sweet, naive little thing who's too young to really be plugged into the right part of the prep school rumor mill. Hasn't heard about the designer drugs, or the girls, or the parties. All the trouble your family's had to bail you out of. That's why they had to look clear on the other coast for an arrangement for you, huh? They had to go that far to find anyone who didn't already know what a piece of shit you are–”

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS” you shouted, your stool loudly scraping against the hardwood floor as you stood up. It’d barely been there, you’d barely seen it, the flash of deep hurt on Ransom’s face before he’d covered it up, first with a blank mask, then a sneer that threatened to bring everything down. But you wouldn’t let that happen. You were fucking done. You couldn’t deal with this anymore. “Can you just stop, Steve?! I’m so tired of this shit!” you yelled at him.

“What?” they said in unison, both men facing you now, surprised.

“Lola!” you called out. “Come on! Steve and I are taking you for a walk!” She came racing down the stairs, and you quickly put on her harness and leash. Then you were out the door, trusting that Steve was behind you.

You walked in silence for a few blocks. You could feel him watching you warily, but you didn’t turn around to look at him. You didn’t think you’d ever been so mad at him in your life. It might’ve been the angriest you’d ever been with anyone. Your hands were shaking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you finally seethed, stopping so suddenly that he almost ran into you.

“What?” His obliviousness made you even angrier.

You finally turned on him, your face heating up with rage. “You’re such a fucking asshole! You’re fucking everything up!”

He cowed just a bit at your glare but quickly recovered. “What are you talking about?! I came here to help you!”

“Well, you aren’t! I keep telling you that you aren’t but you never fucking listen to me!”

He recoiled a little, and then his eyes went steely. “Really? I never listen to you? I’m the only one who ever listens to you!”

Even if that were true, there was something about the way he said it that really pissed you off. “Fuck you!” you said and charged forward with Lola running to catch up behind you.

A moment later, Steve was on your heels again. “What is going on with you? You’ve been acting off since I got here.”

You spun on your heels to face him. “I’ve been acting off?! I wonder why! You’ve just barged in here like a bull in a china shop, not caring at all about the damage you’re doing!”

“I’m here to help you. I’ve been defending you!”

“Yeah, now! You’re trying to help me, now!”

“What does that mean?”

“Where have you been, Steve? You’ve been MIA the last three months, and now when things might actually get better, now you’re here to ‘defend’ me.”

“Better? This,” he hissed, flinging an arm towards your stomach, “is better?!”

“We had to do it. There was a clause in the contract. You know that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, and I'm sure he reminded you of that every chance he got, as he fully took advantage of it.”

If he hadn't already set you off, that would be the thing to do it. “Never! Ok? I was the one who pushed it. I was the one who rushed It. Me. Never him.”

That brought Steve up short. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Because of your aunt!”

For a frustratingly long moment, he just gave you a confused look. Then you finally saw the realization dawn on his face. “Oh. Laura.”

“Yes, Laura! That wasn't going to be me. Not ever.”

“I never would have let that happen!”

The laugh that burst out of you at that was cold, hard. “How?” you asked. “You're always saying shit like that, but what, exactly, would you have done?”

He started to answer, but you cut him off quickly, shaking your head.

“This is my life, Steve. Mine. I’m the one who has to actually live it. I don’t need you judging me for how I choose to survive it.”

“You shouldn't have to just survive it,” he said. His tone had suddenly turned sad. It made you even angrier.

“I'll be lucky to survive it,” you growled. “You get to just waltz around, forgetting how this world works whenever it's convenient for you. Meanwhile, I have to claw and fight for just the possibility that I might not turn into my mom.” You took a deep breath. “Ransom, at least, can fucking see that. He's stuck in this mess with me, and I think he might actually want to try. You’re not going to ruin that for me just because he insulted you once at a cocktail party or whatever.” You turned on your heels. You were exhausted. You didn't have the energy for any more of this. “I'm going back. You can come if you want. But you better fucking apologize. He didn't deserve that. No matter what he’s done, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way by you.”

Steve was a few minutes behind you getting back to the house, and he did apologize, although through gritted teeth. The whole time, Ransom’s eyes were on you.

You declared you were going to bed shortly after. It was too early, but you didn't care. You were done with this day.

As you were changing into your sleep clothes, Ransom quietly let himself into his room. You both looked a little startled by your state of undress. Part of you wanted to cover up. It felt so intimate, changing in front of him. But you knew that was silly. He'd already seen so much more of you.

He just stood there for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You yelled at him for me.”

“Yeah,” you said. “He deserved it.”

“But he's your brother.” He almost seemed confused.

The absolutely absurd thought And you're my husband popped into your head unbidden, but thankfully you didn't vocalize it. “That doesn't change the fact that he was wrong.”

Ransom didn’t say anything. Just stood there with a furrowed brow. After too much silence you asked softly, “Did I do something wrong?”

He jolted a little, like he’d been somewhere else, then shook his head. “No, sorry, I just–” He took a breath. “Thank you. I’m not used to people doing things like that for me.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You suddenly felt so sad for him. But honestly, the only person who’d ever done anything like this for you had been Steve. And you’d seen Ransom’s family. You knew he’d never had a Steve.

Sparing you from having to figure out a response, Ransom took a deep breath, “Listen,” he started, “about the things he said, I–”

You cut him off with a shake of your head. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. Sometime, maybe, but not right now.” Nothing about his past would change things for you now. You’d still be married to him either way. It was better to just focus on the man he was showing himself to be now.

Ransom took a long moment and looked at you carefully. Finally, he asked, “Did you yell at him for yourself too?”

You nodded, then added a quiet, “I did.”

“Good,” he said, then started to turn around. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” you whispered.

Right before he left the room, he turned back to add one more thing. “I’ve never seen you as naive. Not for a moment in this whole thing.” Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

You just stood there, in the middle of the room, unable to move for a few minutes. Then you took a deep breath and moved into the bathroom. As you finished getting ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that maybe you had two people in your corner now.

Your bedroom furniture and other belongings were delivered the next day. The movers set up the heavy furniture and then left everything else to you. As you started to begin unpacking, there was a hesitant knock on the door frame.

Steve stood just outside your now bedroom, looking far less sure than you were used to. “Would you like some help?” he asked softly.

“Sure,” you said, with a little shrug, pushing some boxes in his direction.

The two of you mostly worked in silence, only broken by Steve’s occasional questions of where you wanted your things to go. After a while he finally broke, “Dad’s been piling a ton of new stuff on my plate.” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, listening. “Responsibilities and projects and– He wants me to take on more of being the face of the studio, too, so lots of parties and dinners and stuff. My schedule has been out of control. I’d think he was getting ready to retire if I didn’t actually know him.” He let out a weak chuckle. When you didn’t react, didn’t join him, he put his hands up in defense. “Not an excuse, just–” he shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly and sighed, “just an explanation, I guess.”

“You told me that I could call you any time of day for any reason. That’s what you said. And then I did, and you were nowhere to be found.”

“I know,” he started, “I–”

You shook your head. It was your turn to talk. “I spent months here feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. I’ve had nothing to do, no one to talk to. I was living with someone I thought I needed to be scared of.” You paused, wondering if that would set Steve off, but he just sat there, waiting for you to continue. Like he was really trying to listen this time. “His family’s been so awful to me, his mom especially. And you know my mom's been no help. She just kept telling me to keep him happy, even though I didn't know how. And I didn't know how to talk to him and he didn't know how to talk to me. But I knew the only way I could even start to feel secure here was if we fulfilled every part of the contract. So,” you put your hand on your stomach self-consciously and shook your head. “And the only person I actually wanted to talk to was you, and you wouldn't pick up your fucking phone. It felt like I was just stuck here while you went back to your life and forgot about me.” Tears spilled past your lashes and you hurried to wipe them away.

Steve’s face, which had grown sadder as you'd been talking, completely crumpled. He crawled from his sitting position across the room to you as fast as he could. “Hey, no,” he said emphatically as soon as he was sitting in front of you. “I think about you all the time. I've missed you so much. I've been so worried about you. I know I haven't done a good job showing it. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn't care. I–” He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them, they had the distinct shine of unshed tears. “Talking to you was really hard. I felt like you weren’t actually telling me anything.” Before you even opened your mouth, Steve put up a hand to stop you from saying anything. “I'm not saying any of this was your fault. I know it's all mine. But I just didn’t know how to get you to talk to me. And if you wouldn't tell me what was wrong, then I couldn't fix it. I felt so useless. Every time we talked I felt so fucking useless. And so sometimes,” he paused like he was bracing himself, “sometimes it was kind of a relief to have the excuse of being busy. To have a reason to not call or text you back right away. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was always thinking about you. I was always worried about you. But sometimes I just couldn't fucking talk to you.”

It took your breath away, the intense stab of hurt you felt. “I’ve never needed you to be useful,” you gasped out through your tears. “I just need you to be there for me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I just need you to be there for me.”

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice so thick. “I know.” He moved forward, then paused, waiting for you to stop him. When you didn’t, he lunged for you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.”

You just sat like that, holding each other for several minutes. When you finally pulled apart, Steve blinked his eyes clear and said, “I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said softly, and took a deep breath, “and I forgive you for doing it anyway.”

You watched some of the rigidness leave his shoulders. “Thank you,” he breathed out.

Neither of you said anything, and there was still this tension in the room. You were so tired of it. You just wanted your brother back. You just wanted any normalcy you could possibly get, so you wiped the tears from your eyes and said, “You're right. I wasn't telling you anything. I think because I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn't listen past the first two words and then do something completely wild, like fly all the way across the country to punch Ransom in the face. Ridiculous, right?”

He just stared at you in shock and then clocked the wry smile on your face. He laughed despite himself, then rolled his eyes and groaned. “You're sure he didn’t deserve it?”

You pulled a small pillow from the box beside you and threw it at him, annoyed as he dodged it easily. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole!” You scowled at him, but you couldn’t quite keep the corners of your mouth from ticking up. The whole room felt lighter now, easier to breathe in. It was such a relief.

“I can’t believe you actually like him now,” Steve whined, his whole face scrunched up in disgust.

You shrugged. “I still don’t really know him. But I’m going to try to. We both are, I hope. I don’t know, I think maybe we could be friends, eventually.” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s a best-case scenario I never really imagined.”

Steve looked at you thoughtfully, and with a hint of playfulness, said, “Well. I’m never going to like him.” His eyes got a little more serious. “But I’m really happy, and so relieved, that things are getting better for you.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said softly. Then you both went back to unpacking, conversation ebbing in and out much easier now.

Eventually, you heard him let out a long sigh. You turned to look at him as he carefully pulled something from a box. Oh. It was Mr. Bun Bun, your favorite stuffed animal as a kid. You remembered crying as you packed it away to put into storage, Steve sitting next to you, gently rubbing your back.

He slowly took a few steps to the head of your bed and then reverently placed it against your pillows. He just stared at it for a moment and then looked around at the rest of the room. “Wow,” he said, and he sounded so sad, “I guess you really live here now.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “I've been here for months.”

“Yeah, I know. But I guess,” he shrugged, “I guess it still sort of felt like you'd be back any day. But all your stuff's here now. It just– It feels final.”

You looked around the room as well. It wasn't exactly like your old room in your old apartment but this was the closest thing you'd had to feeling home in months. “Yeah,” you said quietly, not quite sure what to do with these feelings. “I guess it does.”

Steve sat down on your bed and you immediately joined him. He knocked his knee against yours. “I know I keep saying this, but I really do miss you. It’s so weird to not have you in LA anymore. To go to all these parties and not be able to talk to you there. Or to be able to just drop by your apartment when I need to see you. Or when you need to see me.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “That’s why it’s so important for us to actually keep in touch.”

“I know,” he said, seriously. “I’ll be better at it. I promise.”

You hummed in response and grabbed his hand. Now that everything was out in the open, it was such a relief to just be able to enjoy his closeness, without the tension hanging over both of you.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and spoke again. “I’m gonna go home tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“You were right. I’m just in the way here. It’s time for me to go.”

“Ok,” you replied, your voice small. You weren’t sure how to feel about that—the last few days had been so hard and so exhausting. But you’d finally gotten your brother back and now he was leaving again? “Are you sure?”

He jostled you with his shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently with a smile. “I’ll be back. And I’ll even let you invite me next time.”

You smiled back. “Advanced notice?” you asked. “How novel!”

Steve grabbed one of your pillows and hit you with it. You collapsed into giggles, feeling lighter than you had for a long time.

You spent the rest of the day with your brother, which warmed your soul even more than you thought you needed.

You took Lola out for a short walk in the evening, while Steve finished gathering his things before the car would come to pick him up. When you came back in, you found Steve and Ransom locked in a serious conversation. They spoke in hushed tones, leaning across the kitchen island to face each other. There was no yelling. No tensing muscles ready for a fight. All the same, it made you very nervous.

They both quieted as they noticed your presence. That didn’t help to quell your worry at all. “What’s going on here?”

Steve gave you his trademarked boyish grin. “Just getting to know my brother-in-law.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously then cast a concerned glance at Ransom, but he waved you off with a reassuring shake of his head. Steve was still grinning at you like everything was fine. He really could be such an asshole. “Sure. OK,” you said, resigned to whatever weird dynamic was happening in front of you. “Are you all ready?”

“Yup,” Steve nodded, gesturing to where his luggage was waiting by the door. “Car should be here any minute.”

You nodded back, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. He pulled you into a hug quickly. He just held you for a moment before you heard Ransom clear his throat behind you. “I’ll give you two your privacy.”

You pulled away just enough to see Steve look over your shoulder so he could say, “Remember what we talked about.”

You looked over to Ransom who held Steve’s gaze and firmly said, “Yeah, you too,” then went upstairs.

“The fuck was that?” you asked Steve.

“Nothing, just a conversation we needed to have.”

“Steve,” you sighed in exasperation as you separated yourself from him.

He put up his hands in defense. “It’s fine. I’m playing nice. I promise.”

“Sure.”

He took a step back and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s one more thing I need to say to you. I should have done it yesterday when you first–” he shook his head. “My reaction when you told me about the baby was awful, I know that. And I don’t know if ‘congratulations’ is something you want to hear right now, so I just want to say that I’ll be here for you, whatever you need. And I’ll be here for the baby too. OK? I just really needed to say that.”

You searched his face, his eyes for anything that might warn you that his words were empty, but all you found was sincerity. You took a deep breath. “All I need is for you to pick up your phone.”

“I know,” he nodded quickly. “I will.”

You were so torn between the exhaustion and frustration of the last few days and just how much you'd missed your brother. You pulled him into another hug. “You’re such a jerk,” you said with a hint of fondness.

“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“And I love you so much.”

You felt him exhale, any remaining uneasiness bleeding out of him. “I know. I love you too.”

His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. “Your car is here,” you said sadly, pulling away.

“Hey, that’s ok. It’s not like they’ll leave without me.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you should go. You don’t want to get home too late.”

“Oh, chipmunk,” he sighed. “Ok, one more,” then hugged you again. “I’m so proud of you.”

You pulled back to look him in the eye. “What for?”

He took a moment to gather his words. Finally, he said, looking you right in the eye, “For being so much stronger than you should have to be.”

You had no idea what to say to that so you walked over to the door, Steve right behind you.

At the door, he put one hand on his suitcase, and with the other, he grabbed your hand. “I’ll see you again soon. I promise.”

You nodded, searching for something to say. “Uh, thanks for coming.”

That elicited a big hearty laugh from him. “Yeah, sure.” He squeezed your hand. “Take good care of yourself.”

“You too,” you said, opening the door for him.

He gave you a big smile before he walked out the door. You watched the driver take Steve’s suitcase from him and open the back door for Steve to get in. You stayed in the doorway until the car slowly backed down the driveway and turned onto the road. After closing the door, you still stayed where you were, trying to breathe through the flood of emotions overtaking you. You already missed him so much, yet you were so relieved he was gone. What were you supposed to do with that?

You were finally jolted out of your reverie by the sound of Ransom coming down the stairs, the tinkling of Lola’s collar accompanying him. “Steve’s gone?” he asked as he came off the last step.

When you nodded, you saw the way his shoulders slumped in relief. You held back the apology desperate to crawl out of your mouth. Steve’s actions weren’t your responsibility, you tried so hard to remember. But still, Ransom had lost the comfort of his own home for days. The guilt was there.

He got himself a water out of the fridge and then looked at you carefully. “How are you?”

The reflex to tell him you were fine was strong, but you did your best to resist it and answered honestly. “I don’t really know.”

He smiled a little ruefully. “I have no idea what’s normal for siblings.”

You chuckled lightly. “Neither do I.”

He took several steps towards you and you couldn’t help the way your body swayed in his direction, just a little. “But you’re alright?’

You nodded and said softly, “I will be.”

“Good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the way the fingers on one of his hands drummed against his thigh. “Well. I just wanted to check on you before I went to bed.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, strangely aware of the space between you. “I appreciate it. It was a weird few days, but I think I’m ok. Or I will be.”

“Yeah. Good,” he said again.

You both just stood there for a moment, the air around you oddly charged, until Lola pawed at your leg. “Right. Well, she needs to go out. So. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, then turned toward the sink as you went outside with Lola.

When you got back in, there was no sign of Ransom, so you led Lola upstairs to your new bedroom. She immediately hopped onto your bed, wagging her tail wildly. As you looked around, all of your things almost as they’d been in your apartment in LA, those feelings you felt while unpacking your things with Steve grew in you even more. You smiled at your little dog. “Yeah, feels almost like home, doesn’t it, Lola?”

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loverslodge · 6 months ago

Text

his number one wife

summery: your marriage to Ransom was supposed to business

pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

warning: slight angst, fluff, SMUT, swearing, arranged marriage au

A/N: finally got my grubby hands on Ransom. this baby better use his trust fund to feed me more in the future.

“But wasn't he married to someone else three years ago?”

You have been questioning your parents’ decision for over a week. Which means you questioned them immediately as they revealed their plan.

You are supposed to marry Hugh Ransom Drysdale next week. You both ran in the same circle, kind of. He was almost 10 years older than you. You had heard of his 3 failed marriages. One was his ex was just a plain bimbo while the other was an actual gold-digger. The third wife was just a cheater which they showed as an open relationship. The fourth divorce came as a surprise to you by your parents. They told you he is officially single since last month and you were wife number 5.

Harlan Thrombey was pissed at Ransom because he married these women just to piss Harlan off. Harlan wanted Ransom to do better so he could take over Blood like Wine under his supervision but with all these marriages and divorces, Ransom was losing his essence. Harlan had heard about his friend’s daughter, Y/N, who was an editor in a big publishing company, rival, sure, but an asset nonetheless.

Harlan had sorted his will, finally. He planned on giving everything to Marta right after Ransom’s last divorce but when he caught a waft your diligence, Harlan thought you were the answer to all the prayers. He had been closely observing you for a while before approaching your family with the preposition. He saw your reluctance and so he struck the deal up with something you cannot refuse and that is progress in life. Ransom had been wasting his life away and they were drifting apart. Harlan did not want that. He wanted Ransom to stay close to him. Unlike the rest of the family, Ransom did genuinely cared about Harlan. But Ransom needed a purpose in life and someone who could show him and support him. Harlan saw that in you. Harlan gave almost everything to you and Ransom leaving some things aside for Marta. But he needed to make sure that it didn't go over Ransom’s head. And that is why he added conditions to it.

Harlan had found out about the financial need your family had and to help out, he asked your hand in marriage for Ransom. He could only convince Ransom for this marriage by blackmailing him into it. He put a condition that he can only take over his legacy by marrying you for more than 3 years. He knew three years was a lot but that was the only way he could think of making Ransom stick to a sensible person.

Ransom had heard of you. Same circle and all. You were exactly the type Harlan was pushing for. Harlan was always on his back and he knew it was for his own good but damn living in a fucked up family and fucked up his brain. Ransom remembered seeing you in one of the fundraisers. You were dressed in a simple black long dress with a diamond brooch tucked on your bosom. Your makeup was light and your hair left in a loose bun. The only reason why Ransom remembers you is because you wore a red lipstick and he had jerked off to those lips that night. He wondered if you would wear that shade for the wedding.

……………….

It was officially your wedding day and you sat in your suite waiting to be called out. You didn't really have an option to say no. You had seen your family struggling financially and you got a call, directly from Harlan asking to meet.

When you met Harlan, he explained that Blood Like Wine needed a new owner and he wanted that to be you and Ransom. You had audibly scoffed at the idea but Harlan told you that if not, the publishing company would go to shit. You felt bad. You had read all about how Harlan started this company. You had ideas about starting your own but you had no capital. Harlan was giving you an open reign into doing whatever you wanted with the company and so you said yes. Not for Ransom but for the company. You were going to make it big.

You chose to wear a princess style wedding gown. You liked it. Fulfill your fantasy. Red roses adorned your hair and bouquet. Your hands were clammy. He was married to four different women before you. How were you supposed to compete with those? Especially as a virgin. Not that your virginity was an issue but Ransom was an experienced man with experienced ex wives. You definitely did not expect Ransom to go without sex for three years! You too would have wifely duties.

You heard your name called out and you shook your head. Maybe you'll get to talk to Ransom after the ceremony or after you reach his place, where you will live, with him. Your hands got clammy again and your breath started going short. Your walk down the aisle was a blur. For you, it took mere seconds to reach Ransom who was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking just as much of an asshole as he was. Your breath still shaky, you stood beside him, clutching onto the flowers with your dear life.

As soon as the doors opened, Ransom turned to see the lovely woman he was being forced to marry. When he saw you, his heart thudded so loud, he could swear everyone heard it. You looked like a cupcake, sure, that made me snicker but the closer you got, the more he could see you. He saw you shaking, breathing heavy and he saw you having a nervous breakdown in the middle of the aisle. He wanted to rush to her, hold her and tell her ‘it's fine’ but he would never, it didn't fit the Ransom brand. Just as you stood beside him, he shuffled closer to you subtly and held out his hand.

“Here, hold my hand and breath with me. I can get you out of here as soon as we are done with the ceremony.”

You instinctively go for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. You thought his breath hitched but you ignored and focused on the preacher. You merged your breath with his and by the time you zoned into the scene, the preacher asked to exchange the rings. You remember the rings because Harlan had shown them to you. You put the ring on Ransom’s finger and he does the same to you. He kept holding your hand during the rest of the ceremony. But as soon as the preacher announced that it was time to kiss, your brain started to struggle.

“I’ll put my thumb on your lips and kiss that. I know you don't want this but it's not like we have any options. Okay?” Ransom situated himself to get closer to you and cupped your face. He placed his thumb delicately on your lips.

You nodded with wide eyes. His thumb on your lips was sending tingles down your body. He shook his head and pulled you closer. “Words, baby, I need your words. Okay?”

You gulped. “Okay.”

Just as the words slipped out of your mouth, he placed his lips on his thumb. But his lips met with the corner of yours and you gasped. This was not good. Feeling tingles and lips on you. You could hear the crowd cheer but your wide eyes met his deep blue ones. They were unreadable. You put your hands on his chest and slowly pushed him and he let go.

You and Ransom were soon dragged to a private room where Harlan was waiting with a lawyer. Ransom was keeping his hand around your waist the entire time you were in the room. It felt, in a way, possessive, but you did not want to overthink it. You signed the papers and so did Ransom. Harlan had talked to Ransom and promised him the publishing company with a lot of his fortune the day he got married.

It took Ransom by surprise when he found out that he wasn't the only one who got the publishing company but it was you as well. They were going to partners, co-owners and well, a married couple to take the company forward. When he heard Harlan tell you that he is excited to see the changes you talked about bringing into the company, it boiled his blood. This was supposed to be his sole legacy and not a shared one. It pissed him off but he controlled it, for now.

The wedding reception went on in full swing. The Thrombeys were busy getting drunk and insulting people. Ransom sighed at the sight and sipped from his tumbler. You were dragged away a few minutes ago to the honeymoon suite. Apparently, you had told Harlan that you and Ransom won't be going for a honeymoon and whatever is to happen will happen in that hotel for the weekend. Ransom just wanted to go back to his place but conditions were binding him.

Ransom wanted to ask you about your apparent panic attack but he held off. So much was going on and he figured it out during the contract signing that you hadn't known about the wedding two weeks before. He, however, had known about it for over 2 months. He was given a choice between you or a socialite who was way too much into charity. He had picked you. He had seen you around often and had heard about you enough to know that you weren't going to dupe him or Harlan out of money.

You were pacing in your suite. You had managed to detangle your styled hair but getting out of the dress was proving impossible. You couldn't find the damned zipper. You were very close to tearing your dress when the door unlocked. Ransom sauntered in and threw his coat on the chair.

“What?” he asked as he manspread himself on the couch.

“Can you, uh, please help me? Nobody would help me out of the dress. I, uh, can't find the zipper.” You hesitated. You walked closer to him and he got up with a sigh.

“Why the fuck would you wear such elaborate dress anyway? It's not like you wanted to get married to me.” Ransom zips down the dress, leaving you almost startled when the dress started falling off your naked breasts.

“I might not have been keen on marrying you but I was bound by the contract. Harlan insisted. I couldn't say no.” You waddled into the bathroom with a pair of shorts and loose t-shirt.

“Why would you agree to a contract? You are an individual woman, as I have heard from your ungrateful friends.” Ransom raised his voice so you could hear him in the bathroom.

“They are not my friends. I know them due to social reasons. I, uh, I have no friends. I am, what my parents, very lovingly like to call, a social pariah. I talk to all but get close to none.”

“Is this why Harlan gave you the publishing company instead of me?” Ransom slipped on his sleep shorts and started unbuttoning his shirt. You yank open the door and walk with your wedding dress, carefully hanging it in the closet.

“He did give you the publishing company.” You settle in the bed and bring the comforter over your legs. You did not expect the room to be this cold.

“No, he gave me the company because of you. You are the reason why I have the company and I do not like that. I wanted to be the only owner, not a co-owner. You are just like others, trying to steal my legacy.” Ransom, in all his half-naked glory, sat on the other side of the bed.

“Hey! I did not steal anything. If anything, it was Harlan who told me that if I do not agree to marry you, he will close the company for good. He asked me to take over with you, not the other way around. Get off your high horse Hugh, nobody likes you like that.” You turn around and slip in, trying to get some sleep.

“It’s Ransom, and you know it. Do not call me Hugh. you are my wife and not some help.” He yanked the comforter off of you.

“Whatever. I don't care. I have this weekend to figure out how to announce it to the rest of the office and how to get your pervert uncle off my back.” You yank the comforter back and go to sleep.

You calling Walt a pervert hit Ransom on the nerve. He did know Walt did not see kindly to women but to have his new bride call out his uncle right off the bat clicked something in him. But he was also not going to let you take all the credits alone. He would be damned if you did all the work alone and became the office favorite. He will pester you into sharing your ideas and he will make sure that Walt stays away from all of this.

………………….

You were honestly shocked when you reached Ransom’s place on Sunday evening that nothing happened between the two of you. You had heard Ransom to be a lady’s man, always flirting, always so good to get women in bed. Hell, you had witnessed him get two sisters to stop fighting over him and took them both to bed! But he did nothing to you. Nothing! Zero! Nada! Zilch! You have no idea why it affected you so much.

You shook your head and took in the room that Ransom had so nicely provided for you. He was very understanding about the fact you don't want to share a room. But you both did share an office. In and out of the house. He made space for your desk in the home office.

As soon as you arrived at his place, he made a beeline to his room, leaving you to explore the house alone. You soon found the home office with your desk and started setting up. You weren't used to the weekends off and so you immediately started looking at the manuscripts that had piled up because of Walt’s lack of interest. It was going to take some time to sort through the genres and copies but you weren't a quitter.

Ransom heard you type away in the home office. Your typing was aggressive. He got annoyed. He marched into the home office to see you deep into the piles of manuscripts that you had asked your assistant to bring. It irked Ransom. He was supposed to do this. He is supposed to be the big boss. So he walks to your desk and takes a pile.

“No! Not that one. I had just sorted through that! This one,” you point at the pile on your left. “Take this pile. This one needs to go through extensive work. I am busy reading this one and if you want to help, pick that.”

Ransom was taken aback. Instead of fighting him into letting you do all the work, you actually gave him the correct thing to focus on. He put the pile back and picked the one you pointed at. But, instead of working on them, he just placed them on the desk and stood in front of your desk.

“What do you want? I gave you the correct pile. Start working on it.”

“It's time for dinner. Come on. Come downstairs. Work tomorrow. You have been at it the entire weekend.” Ransom was trying to be polite. He never treated his previous wives this way. But in all honesty, his previous wives were not worker bees. All they wanted from Ransom was money and he did do that. He wasted away his life and money on them but you weren't like that. Ransom noticed. He liked it. You made him be what he had always wanted to be. But he wasn't going to let you know that.

“I'm not hungry. Maybe next time.” You said without lifting your head.

Ransom scoffed and left. He didn't disturb you the rest of the night. But he did have his housekeeper send you some food. He wasn't heartless. He wouldn't want his partner to die without telling him what she had been up to.

………………….

Mondays were hell. Mondays should not exist. You drag yourself out of bed after pulling an almost all nighter. You had gone to bed at 3:30 am and the sleep didn't come to you for almost an hour because you were not used to the new space. You went to the bathroom next to your room and undress. You turned on the shower and step in to let it wash the exhaustion off of you.

Ransom woke up earlier than he used to. He looked at the clock that glared at him at 7:00 am. He sighed and rose to go to the bathroom to shower. He spent the entire night pacing his room and thinking about how he would ask you to step down so he could take over. He did not like how you just took over without a complaint or thought. You were stepping on his legacy. He walked in the bathroom and opened the shower curtain, only to see you, very naked and very wet.

Ransom could not take his eyes off of you. You had been making him horny but seeing your body, it excelled it all. He saw your curves and the way the water was dripping from your breasts to your core, he pictured a hundred things all at once. He just wanted to slip into the shower with you and have his way. He wanted to touch your curves, caress your curves, hold on to you and pull his name, that you refused to say, out of your pink puffed lips.

“What the fuck! Get out! Do you not have a bathroom in your room?” You shut the curtain and peak your head out from a gap you made. You are very embarrassed but somehow, not angry.

You were not the most confident woman when it came to her body. You saw your body as a bunch of fat pouches. So, when Ransom saw your naked body, you thought he would find you unattractive. He was perfect but you were not. His ex wives were perfect but you were not. You never thought of trying to please Ransom but after this, you wanted him to see you for your brain and not your pudgy body.

“My shower has been broken. The repairman will be coming today. I thought nobody would have woken up this early! Why are you here?” Ransom surprised himself when he turned around to give her privacy. He could hear a waver in her voice but still not his name.

“Oh! Well, you are one of those people who dont wake up early. Harlan told me you wake up at 10. And secondly, I don't have a bathroom in my room. This is the one where i put my things. Now, please, get out. I need to get out of the shower and I'm cold.”

Ransom sees your towel hanging near him so he takes it and tosses it over his shoulder towards you without turning. He hears a squeak coming from you and some scrambling till he feels your body heat near him. You weren't touching him but he felt you. Your breath directly on his shirtless back. He could see you in the mirror. He saw you adjusting the towel around you and your lips puffing out air. He just wanted to turn around and crash his mouth on yours.

You push your way out of the bathroom and run into your room, leaving Ransom in the bathroom with a hard on.

…………………..

Walt needs to mind his own business which is finding a new job. You were tired of him sitting in front of you. He kept on eyeing you in a way that made you very uncomfortable. You figured he was trying to assert dominance but this was pure perversion to you.

Ransom walked in the office. He had helped set up your desk in the same office since he wanted to look into what you were going to do. The room was huge. His desk was on a raised platform while you were on the level. You didn't mind really. The sofas were set to the window overlooking the company employee desks. You had your own assistant and Ransom had his own but you had instructed them to be in constant communication so as to maintain the operations. The HR department was informed of your position and they had worked out the paperworks on it which you and Ransom had signed along with the rest of the documents on your wedding day.

Ransom saw Walt being an ass. He saw him sitting on your desk and your face buried in the laptop trying very hard to avoid Walt. ransom twisted his chair and turned him around, away from you.

“Get out, Walt. you're harassing my wife. You're not needed. You're not the boss. If you have anything to say, talk to me.” Ransom points at the door.

“Hmph. try whatever you two want to but i will be the one saving this company by joining hands with Netflix. You will come running to me. Mind you.” Walt huffed out of the room.

Ransom saw your shoulder sag in relaxation. “Thank you.” you whispered so softly that if Ransom wasn't standing at your desk, he wouldn't have heard it.

“I put a pile on your desk. I thought you'd want to look into them. I don't want you to think that I am trying to take what is yours.” You point at his desk without looking up. Ransom was taken aback. You were involving him. You were not competing with him, but you were taking him along with you.

The day went by in silence. You stayed busy and so did he. Right before the lunch break, you and Ransom went downstairs and introduced yourselves to the employees. Obviously the female employees scoffed at his new wife but what irked Ransom was how the male employees were looking at you. Their eyes raked all over your body. He hadn't noticed your dress but now, he was seeing it. Your bosom was ample and so your cleavage was visible through the top of your blouse. You were wearing pants that accentuated your hips and thighs that made Ransom gasp internally. Your heels just gave your body the extra pump that it needed.

Ransom slowly walked and stood in front of you in a very nonchalant manner. He blocked the view of every male employee of you and he seemed pleased when he heard defeated groans from behind him. He smirked. He saw you weren't even aware of the effect you were having on the people. You were busy talking to the head of the marketing department and setting up dates to figure out marketing of new books. Somehow, he felt proud.

You hadn't brought lunch with you but you had work to do so you ignored food like you always did. After the introductions, you went back to the office and got back to work. Ransom had left right after that. You heard the employees return and you figured that the break was over. It must've been a while when you heard the office door open. You assumed it was one of the assistants and ignored it.

“Yeah, you can leave the file here. Email me the manuscript or if you can print it out for me, that would be great.”

“Did you even eat lunch?” That baritone voice jolts you out of the work.

“No.”

“Did you stay here the entire lunch break?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to eat?”

“...”

Your lack of response made him hiss in annoyance. Ransom picked the intercom from your desk and asked the assistant to bring you an avocado sandwich and freshly cut fruits.

“Listen, I appreciate you picking up the slack but you've got to eat. I can't have you falling because of low blood sugar. Don't expect me to do this every time.”

“I never expected you to do any of this. It's fine. You are not responsible for me.”

You talk back to him and go back to your work. Your food arrives soon and you munch on it while working. Ransom could not help but keep looking at you. He had never seen someone so diligent about Blood Like Wine, except Harlan.

Not everybody knew but Ransom loved Blood Like Wine as his own. It was not because it was his legacy but because it was part of his loving grandfather. Harlan might be a nosy asshole but Ransom did love him and whatever Harlan had was going to be Ransom’s, without question. Although, after all the marriages Ransom had pulled, Harlan was getting worried that he might actually have to cut him off but Ransom looked like he was coming around with this marriage. Harlan liked seeing Ransom getting more involved in it, even though it might be because he saw you as a competition.

Harlan was on his desk at his home when he got reported on their first day together. He smirked when he learnt that Ransom, even though reluctantly, got you lunch. He was also impressed with the amount of work you were catching up on and making Ransom work as well. Usually Ransom would just sit at the office for an hour or so and go off galavanting but with you there, Ransom went home at a regular time and with you strutting in front of him.

……………………..

Two months had gone by and you couldn't complain. Except Walt hovering around you whenever he gets a chance. He just wanted you to listen to his ideas but you knew what Harlan wanted and stayed away from any Walt ideas.

Ransom has been really nice to you. You both never had any moments but whatever was going on, it made things a little clear for you. Ransom was a good person. He was just misunderstood. Actually, people around him were so toxic that it had made him a miserable person. He brought you lunches, dinners and especially freshly cut fruits because you had a tendency of forgetting to eat.

He was somehow more observant than you gave him credit for. He was also such a great boss. Sure, he would be rude and appear as overbearing but it was all in good faith, he just didn't know how to frame the sentences politely.

You handled the employees after he would walk away. You would explain the problems to them in a very mild manner and that boosted a lot of confidence in them. Your pair was seen as ‘good cop, bad cop’. It was very evident who was who.

You still shared an office in his house. You felt at home now. Ransom had started liking having you around. He would actually wait to get a glimpse of you in the morning. If you had left for work before him, he would be cranky the entire day. Nobody noticed that about him, neither him nor you.

………………….

You were comfortably sitting at your desk in the home office when Ransom threw open the door in a haste.

“What?” You were startled.

“I lied to Harlan. I said something and now he is going to be here to check on it. I need you to cooperate.” Ransom practically begged. And you knew that because he never begged.

“Before I cooperate, I need to know the reason. I'm not doing anything that I don't want to do.”

“Obviously. I'm not someone who would force someone to do things.” You raised an eyebrow at Ransom’s comment. “Not unless it's necessary. You know what I'm talking about.”

“You're stalling. What did you tell Harlan?”

“I told Harlan that we were getting along very well. He assumed sexually too so now he thinks we can't keep our hands off of each other. I didn't bother correcting him and now he is coming here for a surprise visit.”

“How do you know about his surprise visit?”

“I have my assistant on his tail. Kind of like a double agent. So will you cooperate?”

“I don't see what's there to cooperate.” You were just getting confused with Ransom’s babbling at this point.

“We will need to look like we are making out.” Ransom straightened up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You stood up in rage.

“What's wrong with that? It's not like my cock will be in your pussy. You're overreacting. Stop being so prude.” Ransom shrugged his shoulders.

“Ransom!” You yelled loudly, stunning him.

This was the first time in six months you had ever said his name. If you wanted his attention, you might refer to him as Hugh but it was as far as five times in six months. He counted. He always did, unconsciously. He was dying to hear you say his name and now…

“Say it again.” Ransom walked up to you, backing you up against your desk.

“What?” Your voice softened and hoarse.

“My name.” Ransom’s voice dropped an octave, making you clench your thighs.

Ransom walked closer and before you could realize, he had spread your thighs and was standing in between them. You were propped up on the desk and his hands were planted on your waist. He glides his right hand up your body, sending tingles through your clothes. His hand ends up on your neck and he presses his calloused thumb against your throat lightly.

You look in his darkened eyes and obediently do as he told you. “Ransom.” It comes out hoarse due to the fact that you're turned on.

Hearing his name from your mouth and the vibrations that his name caused on his thumb turned him on. Without a thought, his lips descend on your throat. A whimper escaped your lips and your hands slipped around his waist.

“Again.” He demands softly, keeping his lips on your throat.

“Ransom.” You say it again with a whimper.

His lips latched on to your neck and he started sucking and licking. You were a whimpering mess. The way his name vibrated from your throat to his lips spurred him on too much. Your hands tightened around his waist. His right hand held onto your neck while his left slipped in your shirt sending sparks up your back where he placed his hand. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist as well, pulling him close. His clothed bulge was now snug against your clothed dripping cunt.

It felt like a while till you heard the door to the office open. Harlan was greeted by a scene he was definitely not expecting. He knew that Ransom lied when he did not correct him. But the scene before him was surely not a mirage. Harlan cleared his throat and called out both of your names to pull you both out of the haze.

Your back was against Harlan and so Ransom looked over your shoulder to greet Harlan. You were too embarrassed to turn around so you did what you thought worked the best and that was burying your face in Ransom’s sweater-clad chest. Ransom tightened his hold on you making you feel more comfortable against him. You were now aware of his bulge against your wetness which, in turn, pooled more wetness.

“Sorry, Harlan. I'm a little busy here. Is it important?” Ransom’s hoarse voice rang through your ears.

“No. Nothing important just came by to see you two.” Ransom saw Harlan’s smirk. “Let's meet this weekend at my office. Both of you.” With that statement, Harlan walked out, closing the office door behind him.

You didn't realize you were holding your breath. You let out a strong air and were about to pull away from Ransom when he lifted you off the desk. You yelped and tightened your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He kept on nipping at your neck making you moan and whimper as he led you to the sofa in the office. He sat down, making you straddle him.

He moves his lips from your neck slowly to your lips. He brushed his lips against yours and looked in your eyes for permission. Your eyes popped open to see his dark blue ones staring right at you. You wanted his lips on yours and he was letting you lead this time. He had loosened his hold on your waist as well, telling you that it's okay to stop.

You looked at his lips and back in his eyes. They were full of desire and you would be lying if you did not want his cock in you.

You grabbed his sweater and pulled him for a deep passionate kiss, surprising him a little. He got over his shock in a second and dove deep with the kiss. Tongues were tangled and hairs were ringed around the fingers. You were grinding against him, so was he.

His hand moved to your breasts and started fondling them from over your bra. You whined, not being able to feel his skin against your taut nipples. You moved your hand back and unhooked your bra then directed his hand under your bra. You hiss and moan when his palms caress your nipples.

He was surprised when you took the lead and directed his hand to your bare breasts. He sighed and drew his lips on the open skin near your breast. You whined again and tugged your top off, along with your bra, leaving your top bare for him. Before he could descend his lips on your chest, you tugged at his sweater and he removed it to reveal a very tight and thick chest.

You roam your hand on his chest and admire the piece of art it was. Seeing your reaction to his body, he chuckled lightly, still fondling your breasts. You wanted his mouth on your nipples so you dragged his face to your breasts and shoved a nipple near his lips. Taking the hint, he opened his mouth and sucked and licked your nipples, making your back arch and moan loudly.

“I am loving the initiative.” Ransom whispered against your nipples.

“Well, you are holding back.” You tug on his hair.

“Then let me not make you wait.”

Ransom unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He shuffled a little to drop his pants and boxers to his ankle while you did the same with your underwear.

“Let me tell you something, darling, once I have you, I have you. We are not going back. You still have a chance to back out.” Ransom brings your nipples to his lips again, making you moan.

“You're wrong. Once I have you, you're not going back. You better keep that in mind.” You tug at his hair and bring his face near yours. You cupped his face and forced him to look in your eyes. “I will ruin the lives of every woman you will think about during our marriage.”

Ransom chuckled. “You're the only woman I'm going to be thinking about for the rest of our lives.”

You settle well against his thick, long cock, pressing it against your wet lips and grind on him again as you attack his neck with your lips. You started marking him up, leaving deep, dark marks all over his neck while slowly grinding against his naked cock. He was a moaning mess.

“Shit, darling, so possessive.” Ransom grabbed your jaw and dragged your lips back to his.

You lifted yourself a little and his other hand guided his cock within your folds. As his cock entered you, you let out a loud moan.

“So big, Ransom.” Before moving, he lets you get used to his size.

“Fuck, Darling.” Ransom began to move.

You ground your hips against his movement that made you both moan. Because of these movements, his cock kept on hitting your spot and you could do nothing but moan loudly.

“Darling, you’re fucking tight. Damn, I can feel you squeezing me.” Ransom held your hips and made you move faster. You threw your head back and leaned back on his shoulder. Your lips found his again and drowned the noises both of you were making.

“Fuck, Ransom. You make me feel so good.” You descend your lips on his chest and he guides your hips through the movement. He loved hearing his name from you. Especially when you moan about it. He doesn’t think he will ever go back to hearing you say his name normally again.

You both came closer to your high and you brought your hands down to your clit the same time as Ransom. Seeing he was going to take care of you, you take your fingers back and grip his shoulder to move faster.

“Fuck! Faster Ransom!”

Ransom swirls his finger on your clit faster and you bounce on his cock with much vigor. You both get to your high together and the coil in your stomach snaps. You cum all over his cock as he kept on thrusting in you, cumming himself. You ride out your orgasm with him. His thrusting falters and you sag against his chest just as he sags on the couch.

You both stay like this for a few minutes. Ransom had his arms around you and one of which was caressing your cheek. You snuggle closer to him. He was still buried deep in you and both of your cum dribbled out of you on the couch but none of you wanted to move.

“Come on, darling, we should get up and get cleaned. It's time for your fruits.” Ransom held on to you and stood up. His cock slipped out of you, making you whimper at his loss.

“Are you sure youre not feeding me fruits so that you get to fuck me again?” You try to tease Ransom that made him chuckle.

“Yes. That is exactly why. I need you in my bed.” He walks into the bathroom and helps you stand in the shower. “But before that, I'm going to have you in the shower.”

That entire day was spent in the bed with Ransom. After each round, he would feed you fruits and give you water bottles to stay hydrated. It wasn't until way past midnight that you both grew tired and after one last round in the shower, you both snuggled in his bed to sleep.

Next day when you woke up, one thing was made very clear by Ransom and that was “You are it for me, darling. You're my wife, you're my partner and I am willing to spend the rest of my life making sure you eat on time.”

Fair to say, he moved your desk out and extended his desk so you could sit with him. He refused to stay away from you for even five minutes but you didn't mind. Both of you worked in expanding Blood Like Wine into a bigger name than it was and you managed to protect his legacy just how he liked it. Harlan was happy with whatever was going on and stopped meddling.

Ransom had finally found a woman who was his number one and for whom he was the number one.

#fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out

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deliciousangelfestival · 11 months ago

Text

Nothing Has Changed - 1

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

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By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

The clink of the spoon against the teacup echoed in the room. Your father, Tom, stared down at the tea, trying to keep his composure, but his heart ached for you.

He looked up at you sitting across from him. You could see the worry in his eyes, yet he seemed more concerned about you thinking he needed support, when it was supposed to be the other way around.

“Eat the cookies. You need to eat. You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Tom said, pushing the plate of cookies closer to you. His voice was gentle but firm.

The cold plate touched your skin, jolting you back to reality. You couldn’t believe that you had once promised never to come back home. Your father looked so much older than the last time you saw him, seven years ago.

As you watched him, you could see the lines on his face, the graying hair, the tiredness in his eyes. He looked fragile, contrasting to the robust and indifferent man you remembered.

He used to be so distant and reserved, his eyes always seeming to look through you rather than at you. His mind was always elsewhere, consumed by his work. You remember feeling invisible as if you were never a priority in his life.

He doesn’t know that you were an outcast and bullied the whole time you grew up in this town. It was all because of his job and the house you lived in.

Flashback Starts

In this town, there was only one mortician—your dad. And the funeral home was connected to your house.

Kids your age made fun of you relentlessly. They called your father the angel of death and labeled your home as hell. The bullying started early and only intensified as you got older. By high school, it felt like there was no escape.

But then, a glimmer of hope arrived when a new kid from the city transferred to your school.

His name was Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey. He was sent to this small-town school because he was a troublemaker. The principal asked you to help Ransom, hoping you could help him.

At first, it was tough. Ransom was resistant, and his rough exterior matched the rumors about him. But you stayed patient and persistent.

Over time, Ransom began to open up to you. His academic performance started to improve, and slowly, a bond formed between you.

Because of Ransom’s improvement, you met his family for the first time. It turned out that Drysdale was a mighty name. His family owned a big bank.

This was the turning point. Ransom introduced you to his grandfather, Harlan Drysdale. “Grandpa, my friend here is a genius. She’s the one who solved the issues you’ve been stressing about. I just showed it to her to ask her opinion, and she solved it.”

Harlan, the patriarch of the company, exuded a charisma you had never seen before. He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and respect.

You felt nervous, your hands trembling slightly as you stood there. Harlan’s presence was intimidating, but there was a kindness in his eyes that put you at ease.

“Is that so?” Harlan said, a smile spreading across his face. “I’d like to hear more about this solution of yours.”

Ransom beamed with pride as he gestured for you to explain. You took a deep breath and started to talk about your idea, feeling a strange sense of confidence growing inside you. Harlan listened intently, nodding along, his expression thoughtful.

When you finished, Harlan leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed. “You have a remarkable mind,” he said. “Ransom is lucky to have you as a friend.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt seen and appreciated. You glanced at Ransom, who gave you an encouraging nod.

Meeting Harlan and the Drysdale family marked the beginning of a new chapter. You were no longer just the mortician’s kid. You were someone with potential, someone who could make a difference.

The years of bullying and isolation started to feel like a distant memory, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and possibility.

He looked at you and slowly nodded. “For a high school student to solve a credit issue is amazing. I’m glad my grandson found a hidden talent.”

Your heart felt warm. You had never received such a compliment in your life.

“You will be a valuable asset in the future. Dear, are you interested in working with me?” Harlan asked.

“Yes, sir!” you replied quickly.

This was your golden ticket to leaving this town, having a better life, and succeeding.

After graduating high school, you packed your bags, said goodbye to your dad, and jumped into Ransom's car. As the car started moving, you didn’t glance back even once.

You had made your decision to leave everything behind.

You received a scholarship for college from the Drysdale charity, supported by a glowing recommendation letter from Harlan himself. You studied hard, like a person possessed, determined to graduate quickly and start working at the Drysdale company.

You graduated in two years and fulfilled your promise to work with Harlan. You gave it your all, becoming a workaholic to prove yourself.

Your hard work paid off, and you made a name for yourself in the finance world. They called you the “female Midas” because every company's stock you bought saw its price soar.

Harlan was proud of you; you could see it in his eyes.

Then everything changed after Harlan died.

The company's business structure changed too, with Ransom in charge. You tried to talk to him, but he didn’t listen.

One day, the FBI raided your office and accused you of insider trading. You hadn’t done it, but the accusation hit hard. Even without proof, you lost friends, and your trading and financial licenses were revoked.

You called Ransom, but he didn’t pick up. You tried contacting the other Drysdales, but nobody wanted to help.

You had spent seven years celebrating Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with them, but they still hadn’t accepted you.

You had poured your sweat, blood, and tears into this company, only to be thrown away. After everything, they still hadn’t accepted you. The way they made you feel like family, only to discard you, was a sick joke.

Even a wolf would accept a dog into its pack.

You sat alone in your empty apartment, your hands trembling with anger and betrayal. The silence was deafening, starkly contrasting to the lively gatherings you once shared with the Drysdales. The warmth you once felt from their acceptance had turned cold and hollow.

You looked at the framed photo on your desk, a picture of you and Harlan on the day you graduated. His proud smile felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the harsh reality of your present.

You picked up your phone one last time, scrolling through the countless unanswered messages to Ransom and the Drysdales. Each one felt like a dagger, a reminder of the trust and loyalty you had given, only to be met with silence and abandonment.

You have lost everything. The court has taken your apartment, your car, and blocked your bank account until the investigation is done.

You feel ashamed and don’t have any close friends to turn to.

Your last hope is your hometown. With your small amount of cash, you pack your laptop and a few outfits and take the last train home.

When you call your dad, his voice sounds uncertain when he hears you’re coming home and ask if he can pick you up.

It’s late at night when you arrive. It’s just you and your dad. You’re grateful no one else is around to see you.

Tom looks nervous. He tries to ask you on the car ride home, “Did something happen?”

You close your eyes and lean your head against the window. “I’m tired. I’ll tell you tomorrow morning.”

“Ah. Right. You must be tired,” Tom says, his voice shaky.

The silence in the car is heavy, filled with unspoken words. Tom glances at you occasionally, his worry evident in the rearview mirror. You can feel the weight of his concern, but you can’t bring yourself to talk about it yet.

When you finally pull up to the house, it looks the same as when you left. The familiarity is both comforting and painful. Tom helps you with your bags, his hands trembling slightly.

You only brought one bag, but he wanted to carry it, as if carrying your burden. He could feel that you were going through something.

Inside, the house is quiet. You head straight to your old room, which hasn’t changed much. The sight of it brings a lump to your throat.

You drop your bags and sit on the edge of the bed, feeling exhausted and defeated.

Tom lingers in the doorway, unsure of what to do. “If you need anything, just let me know,” he says softly.

“Thanks, Dad,” you reply, managing a weak smile. He nods and gently closes the door, leaving you with your thoughts. The weight of your situation presses down on you, but at least here, in this small room, you feel a glimmer of safety.

Flashback End

*******

The next morning, you woke up with no desire to move on. But seeing your dad already waiting for you, you couldn’t make him wait for an answer.

So you told him about the struggle you're facing right now.

Tom wasn’t ready for this. He thought you returned because your heart was broken by Ransom or you missed home. Or, you missed him.

After hearing every word that came out of your mouth, he couldn’t believe it. His only daughter had been betrayed like this.

“I need to stay here for a while,” you said. You would stay until you heard from the court. You had sent them evidence proving your innocence.

"Why did you say that like you're asking for permission? This is your home," Tom replied. He didn’t care if you were a criminal or a murderer. If you needed a place to hide, he would provide it for you.

"Thanks, Dad," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

'Knock. Knock.'

You and Tom looked at the door. Only he stood up. It seemed like he was already expecting someone.

He opened the door. "You're here early," he said.

You sipped your tea, assuming the newcomer was just another guest of your dad's.

"Nothing ever goes wrong when you do things early," the voice said cheerfully and friendly.

You almost choked on your tea. The voice sounded all too familiar, and you prayed it wasn't who you thought it was.

"Thanks. I'll meet you at the morgue in 5 minutes," said Tom as he moved to close the door.

"Are you having a guest?" the person asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Tom replied, his voice a little tense.

"Why are you nervous? Do you have a special friend?" The teasing tone drew closer.

You closed your eyes and clenched your fists. You knew your dad, short and not as physically imposing, wouldn't be able to stop the tall, athletic man approaching.

"Y/N?" the voice said, confirming your worst fears.

You opened your eyes and saw the new guest. Locking gazes with him, you felt a surge of apprehension and dread. He was Bucky Barnes, the embodiment of your past torment.

You, the quiet, bookish nerd, and he, the charismatic, popular guy—Bucky represented everything you had once dreaded in high school. His group of friends constantly tormented you.

Crossing your arms tightly, you couldn't mask the edge in your voice. "What is he doing here?"

Tom's hesitant introduction only added fuel to the fire. "He's my apprentice," he said, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What does that mean?" you asked, your tone sharp.

Tom cleared his throat nervously. "Um, well... after I retire, I'll be passing the business on to Bucky."

You raised your eyebrows, not saying anything. Tom seemed nervous, perhaps worried that you were angry he hadn’t told you about this sooner.

Meanwhile, Bucky still looked stunned to see you standing there.

Leaning forward, you couldn't contain the resentment in your voice. "Him? Are you sure? He and his group made a mockery of this business every single day, taunting me whenever I set foot in school!"

The room fell silent, the tension thickening with each passing moment.

You had hoped to find refuge here, but now you were having second thoughts. The person who had bullied you was now working with your father and set to inherit the business. It was a bitter pill to swallow.

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 month ago

Text

Future Mrs. Drysdale - Ransom Drysdale X Female Reader

Title: Future Mrs. Drysdale

Ransom Drysdale X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's Friends (Samantha, Tyler, and Lilith), bartender (Mentioned), Walt, Linda, Fran (Mentioned), Joni, Richard, Harlan, Meg (Mentioned), Jacob (Mentioned), and Marta

WC: 5,261

Warnings: Ransom (he needs his own warning sometimes), ignoring the Knives Out events, some breaks for flashbacks, bars, alcohol mentioned, italics, teasing, banter, flirting, nicknames, some suggestiveness, somewhat soft Ransom, mentions of Ransom's not so good home life, cursing, toxic family shenanigans, movie references, slight angst, and fluff

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. Ransom stirred beside you, his arm draped lazily - yet, protectively - over your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. You blinked awake, feeling the warmth of his breath against your neck and the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back. Carefully flipping onto your side, you smiled upon seeing Ransom's face. He looked so peaceful, with his mouth slightly open, and soft breaths leaving him. He was gorgeous. You knew that from the very beginning, despite his attitude.

You first met Ransom at a bar, of all places. A typical place for him to go, but not for you. It was your friend's birthday, and even though you weren't the biggest fan of bars, you went along since they were your friends after all. You'd deal with some discomfort for them. You didn't like how loud bars were, or how dark they all seemed to be. It was difficult to see sometimes, and hard to hear when people were talking to you. The dim atmosphere, the loud music, and the people yelling over that music made you overstimulate very quickly.

~~~

You found yourself to be the driver for the event. You did drink sometimes, but tonight was a night that you didn't feel up for it, and you knew that all of your other friends would be drinking, so being the driver was technically the only option; unless you got them all a cab or Lyft or something. But, you were confident that you could get the four of you all to your designated homes by the end of the night.

You had been sitting in a booth with your three friends, trying to pay attention to whatever your friends were talking about over the pumping music that practically vibrated through the floors.

"And then I told Toby- Wait! Y/N! Don't look now, but there is this reeeeeally hot guy looking at you." Your birthday friend - Samantha - spoke, her voice somewhat slurred; you'd have to make sure to only get her water at this point. But, at her words, your eyebrows furrowed, and your eyes followed where she was looking, only to see that there was some guy just watching you from across the club bar thing you were at.

Creepy.

"He's probably looking at you," You dismissed with a shrug of your shoulder before gesturing to the birthday sash and light-up tiara on her head, "You could help navigate ships like a lighthouse in a storm with that thing." You meant it nicely, and your friend knew that, cackling at your joke.

"Hey, at least I’m the beacon of fabulousness! Try not to get blinded by my radiance." She said while still laughing, you and your two other friends joined in. "But, like, no, he is sooooo looking at you."

"Lucky," One of your other friends - Tyler - said, "He is hot."

“So hot. Bet he has a yacht. Like one of those big ones, with like four floors and a jacuzzi.” Lilith spoke. “Trust fund baby!”

Shaking your head, you brushed your hair back out of your face. Feeling a strange buzzing on the side of your face, you turned, and yet again, your eyes landed on the guy across the bar. He was still looking at you. It was obvious that he knew that you had noticed him too because even in the dim light, you could see the smirk on his face widen.

Rolling your eyes, Samantha spoke, "Ohhh! Oh my god! This song is my song!" She exclaimed, sliding out of the booth, and grabbing Tyler and Lilith by their hands. "We're gonna dance!" She gave you a bright grin, only for you to nod, giving her a smile in return.

"Just be careful. I'll be getting another water at the bar if you need me." You gestured to the bar behind you, and your friends gave you one last smile, waving before getting lost in the dancing crowd.

You sat there for a moment, before slipping yourself out of the booth. Walking up to the bar, you gave the bartender a polite grin, opening your mouth to speak, only for a voice beside you to interrupt.

"Bartender, a Cosmopolitan for the lady." Snapping your gaze to the man beside you, you found yourself looking at the man that your friends had pointed out to you. "I’ll have an Old Fashioned - make it strong." He then turned his attention back to you, that smirk of his remaining on his face.

Taking a moment, you observed the man in front of you. He was dressed in a cable-knit sweater, with brown slacks, nice shoes, a brown overcoat, and a fancy scarf. And though the bar was still pretty dim with its lighting, you could see that his eyes were blue - maybe green? And even though you hated yourself for it, you'd admit that his hair was nice.

But he screamed 'money.' It was obvious from the way he portrayed himself, held himself, and spoke. Even down to the gold ring that adorned his pinkie finger. 'Trouble.' That was another word that came to your mind. Now, you weren't one to judge a book by its cover, but you could just tell that this guy was no good. So, you held your walls up high, wary.

"Wow, that’s a pretty confident move, ordering for me without even asking. Are you always this presumptuous, ordering drinks for every woman in your line of sight?" You asked, arching an eyebrow at the stranger.

His smirk widened, making a dimple show itself on his left cheek. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the counter, "Oh, I wouldn’t say I order for every woman I see." You huffed at his answer, you doubted that, "I'm Ransom, by the way."

You raised an eyebrow, "Ransom?" You were pretty sure that was a fake name or something. ‘Who names their kid 'Ransom'?’

"Yep," He popped the 'p', "It's my middle name," He answered, "Everyone calls me 'Ransom.' Except the help."

'Oh god... The help?' Crossing your arms, you see from the corner of your eye that the bartender had slid both his and your drink over to you, "And what do they call you?" You asked, already over this conversation.

"Hugh." He answered, short, and it was obvious by the way that he said it - with a frustrated frown - and the slight glint in his eyes, that he hated his first name. "So," He began again, leaning closer towards you whilst grabbing his drink and taking a sip; his grin returning. "What's your name, beautiful."

You held back rolling your eyes, still unimpressed and ever-so tempted to just ignore him and just walk away, "Y/N," You answered right back, "Look, I know what you're trying to do here." You tilted your head slightly, narrowing your eyes.

"Oh?" He answered cheekily, "And what am I doing?" He took another sip of his drink.

“You're trying to be charming, all suave and mysterious, thinking you can sweep me off my feet and into your bed with a few smooth lines and a couple of drinks. Maybe tell me it will all be worth my while, but let me save you some time - I'm not that easily impressed."

Oh, you wished you could smack that smirk off his face as he lightly scoffs with a short glance around the room, "Well, I do enjoy a challenge. So, tell me, Y/N, what does it take to impress you?"

~~~

What started as a chance encounter at a bar turned into one date, then many more. What began as a playful game of cat and mouse evolved into something real and profound. Before you knew it, you were exchanging "I love yous" and making plans for the future. And now, here you were, with a proposal that felt both inevitable and perfect, all because he did the one thing you never expected - impress you.

He likes to bring it up a lot; him winning the game and impressing you.

Letting out a small sigh, you continued to admire your fiancé. You loved how messy and untamed his hair was - strands of brown locks falling across his forehead, a refreshing contrast to the perfectly styled look he wore every day.

"You're staring," He muttered with a sigh, his voice thick and husky with sleep - making a pleasant shiver roll down your spine - his eyes fluttered open; deep blue eyes meeting your own.

"Am I?" You questioned with a chuckle, reaching out to brush those stray strands of hair out of his face, "Sorry - I don't mean to stare." You added softly, your finger running along his jawline. You wanted to tell him that he was just too pretty not to stare at, but before you could even say anything, Ransom spoke.

"Don't need to apologize, sweetheart." He pulled you closer into him with the arm over your waist, his smile softening slightly, "I know I'm irresistible."

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head with a chuckle. "Handsome Ransom," You murmured, cupping his cheek. He grinned, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your palm, his eyes twinkling with amusement and affection; your engagement ring sparkled as the morning sunlight hit it. It was moments like these - soft, sweet, and tender - that you wished you could live in forever. "You know I love you, right?" You muttered, the tips of your fingers brushing along his lips. His hand still holding yours.

“Yeah, I know you do,” He answered, his voice softening as he looked into your eyes. “And you know I love you too, right?” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his gaze warm, and you couldn't help but melt.

Those three words slipped so easily out from Ransom’s lips - more so when alone with you - but a year ago, they were like a foreign language he was struggling to learn. You understood the reasons behind his hesitance, the walls he had built up over the years. So when you first felt his fingers brush along your back, you didn’t think much of it. It was just a gentle, absentminded touch as the two of you lay in bed one evening, the world outside forgotten.

~~~

A Year Ago...

Ransom’s fingers traced idle patterns along the bare, soft skin of your back, his touch gentle yet deliberate. As you lay there, you felt him pause, his hand stilling, hovering in the air. Then, slowly, you realized what he was doing - his fingers were tracing letters, spelling out the words he’d never been able to say aloud: I love you.

For a moment, you said nothing, letting the quiet confession settle between you. You knew how hard it was for him, how those three words had never come easily. Ransom had grown up in a house where love was a transaction, where affection was a rare and conditional thing. His parents had been cold, calculating, more interested in appearances and money than in nurturing a child. So, for him, love wasn’t something he’d ever been taught to express. It was foreign, almost dangerous territory.

But here, in this quiet moment, he was letting down his guard. The weight of his confession hung in the air, and when you finally flipped to your side to look at him, his eyes were searching yours, nervous, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“I’ve never said that to anyone before,” He admitted, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Didn’t think I’d ever want to. But with you… It’s… Shit- It’s different.”

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers along his cheek. “I know, Ransom. I know.”

~~~

"Now," Ransom's hypnotizing voice interrupted your memories as he let go of your hand, "How about breakfast?" He then asked, sitting himself up on his elbow, leaning over you slightly.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you nodded, watching him slip out of bed and stretch his arms above his head, the motion causing his muscles to flex subtly beneath the smooth fabric. The soft material of his blue silk pajamas caught the light, emphasizing the luxurious sheen. “Sure,” You mumbled quietly, admiring his form, the way the pajamas clung just right, accentuating his physique in a way that was both effortless and undeniably attractive.

Ransom noticed your lingering gaze, his smirk reforming as he placed his hands on his hips, "Is something wrong, sweetheart?" He teased, and you shook your head.

“No, I just, uh,” You trailed off, sitting up as you ran your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know why you were so shy all of a sudden. "I'm starving, what were you thinking for breakfast." You changed the subject, feeling your face flush as you slipped yourself out of bed.

You fixed your side of the bed, re-fluffing the pillows, before you opened the curtains; letting the sunlight fully enter the room. All the while, Ransom watched you, his smirk slipping back into a small, admiring smile. You walked around the room, gracefully, almost like an angel - your hair a mess - wearing one of his other silk pajama tops. It was insane, the feeling he would get in his chest from just looking at you, from just being near you. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

You were saying something, as you were getting dressed for the day, though, normally, he would practically hang onto your every word, Ransom's mind was elsewhere. Before he knew it, his feet were moving on their own - the feeling of his bare feet hitting the soft carpet, over to you.

Upon noticing Ransom making his way over to you, you saw the intense look in his eyes; his expression was unreadable. A flutter of concern mixed with the rapid beat of your heart as you watched him approach, your words trailing off into silence. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with anticipation. Without a word, he wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you close to his chest, while his other hand cupped your cheek. The concern you held for him melted away the moment his lips met yours. The kiss was passionate, yet tender, leaving you completely breathless; on Cloud Nine. The whole world around you slipped away, fading, until there was only the two of you. Your hands - your mind fuzzy - raised only to clutch onto the silky fabric of his pajama shirt.

It was over quickly, much too soon. Ransom pulled back slowly, his breathing heavy, his eyes locked onto yours, his grip on your waist tightening as he tried to steady himself. "Damn..." He breathed heavily, closing his eyes briefly and resting his forehead against yours.

Your heart swelled, mind still fuzzy, and heart warm - stomach filled with what had to be more than a million butterflies, "That better be how you kiss me on our wedding day." You breathily spoke, a grin breaking out across your face; he chuckled in response, leaning down to give you one last quick peck on the lips.

"Oh, believe me, baby, it will be," He muttered with a grin before pulling back, "Now, I don't know about you... But, I'm craving pancakes."

~~~

"Just one time, Ran, please." You were practically begging at this point, following Ransom around his apartment as he headed to the living room.

"Nope," He popped the 'p', "That shit is not happening." He waved his hand in the air dismissively, before taking a seat on the couch.

Huffing, you crossed your arms once you stopped in front of him. "Ran, come on, I just want to meet them once." You raised your pointer finger, "Just one time."

Stretching out, his arms draped across the back of the plush couch, Ransom sighed, deliberately looking away from you. He knew that if he kept his gaze on you - especially when you were wearing one of his beloved cream cable-knit sweaters - he’d probably give in. But he couldn’t. Not this time.

The thought of bringing you to the upcoming family dinner made his chest tighten with anxiety. It was going to be hell, and he knew it. If you came with him, his family would undoubtedly try to tear you down. Not that he didn’t believe you could handle them; in fact, he was certain you could. But no one should have to endure his family for more than... Well, ever. He wanted to keep you as far away from their toxic grip as possible.

But underneath it all, in the deepest recesses of his soul, there was a gnawing fear. What if you saw them, saw where he came from, and decided he wasn’t right for you? What if their venomous influence made you question everything? The idea that you might change your mind about him, that you might see him as just another product of his family’s twisted world, was a thought he couldn’t bear.

He snapped out of his thoughts when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs. He didn't move, he kept his eyes on the window; 'Had that tree always been there?'

"Ransom," You reached out, cupping his cheeks in your hands, gently moving his face to look at you, his reluctant eyes met yours. "I know how much you dislike your family. From all the stories you've told me, how they treat you and each other... I understand wholly and completely. I won't blame you for not wanting to bring me along." Your thumbs caressed his cheeks soothingly, "But I just want to meet them once. Only once. And I really want to meet your grandfather. You know how much I love 'The Needle Game.'" You smiled softly, one hand leaving his cheek to brush back his unruly hair. "And no matter what happens, I'll be by your side the entire time. I promise. And- And if they get too much, we can leave anytime you want."

The look in your eyes was sincere. He could tell you meant it. Letting out a deep sigh of defeat, he shut his eyes. "Fine." Opening his eyes to see that bright smile appear on your face, Ransom spoke again, "One dinner." He raised his own hand in the air slightly, raising his pointer finger; and narrowing his eyes.

"One dinner." You agreed, before cupping his face with both hands once more, leaning down to press a plethora of kisses all over his face. "Thank you."

"Yeah yeah, I get it. You owe me big time, though." He huffed, his hands finally leaving the back of the couch to land on your waist.

You gained your own grin, your gaze turning mischievous as you leaned forward, "Oh, honey, I'm going to make you the best goddamn Biscoff Tiramisu you've ever had."

~~~

Standing in front of the full-body mirror, you adjusted your own cable-knit sweater; one that you didn't steal from Ransom. It was in your favorite color and went along great with the rest of your outfit. You observed yourself in the mirror, a small frown on your face, and your eyebrows furrowed. Ransom said he didn't care what you wore, but you still wanted to look nice; even if it was meeting his family.

Ransom appeared in the mirror behind you, dressed in his cream cable-knit, brown slacks, and nice shoes; it reminded you of what he wore when you first met at that bar over a year and a half ago. His arms wrapped around you, his face digging into the nook where your neck and shoulder met. He kissed your neck then moved his chin upwards, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "You look beautiful, as always." He spoke, resting his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror.

"Thank you, Ran," You smiled, feeling your cheeks flush, "You look handsome, as always." Your words made the nervous Ransom smile somewhat, his face digging back into your neck.

"We don't have to go." He muttered, words slightly muffled, "We could stay here, in bed all night. I could order your favorite takeout..." He tried, his voice trailing off, "And we can watch whatever show you're into, even if I hate it."

Turning around in his grasp, you leaned up to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, "As tempting as that sounds," You smirked, "I really want to see their faces when they meet me, and when they find out we're getting married." You raised your hands to fiddle with the collar of his sweater. Ransom never told his family that he had met you, or that he was in an actual relationship that didn't only last a night. He knew that his family still thought he slept around, going from woman to woman. He ignored their comments, knowing that they were wrong. So wrong.

As he thought about it, actually, the mere idea of seeing his family's shocked faces when they met you, seeing the ring on your finger, the more he accepted his fate. Though, he still hated that you'd have to be in the same building as them all. If he could, he'd move to some other state with you.

An almost wicked grin appeared on his face, "They'll absolutely lose it."

You mirrored his expression, "That's the plan, honey."

Driving the forty-five minutes to the Thrombey Mansion was relaxing and somehow tense at the same time. You were more relaxed than tense, or nervous rather. You loved long car rides, seeing the buildings and trees flash by. Ransom, on the other hand, was more tense than anything. His one hand held the steering wheel with a somewhat death-like grip, his knuckles white, his other hand held your thigh, grip gentle. There was a frown on his face, eyebrow furrowed slightly, eyes hardly leaving the road.

You looked over at him periodically throughout the ride, but once you were in a somewhat rural part of Massachusetts, and stopped at a light, you reached over and took one of his hands off the wheel. Ransom glanced over at you as you did so, letting out a deep breath from his mouth, the tension building in his chest deflating somewhat. Your hand covered his on your thigh, your fingers brushing along his hand. The knuckles of his singular hand on the wheel became slightly lax from the contact between you two.

You didn't know how long it took for you both to pull up to the old-money mansion, but once your eyes spotted it in the distance, your eyes couldn't leave it; your mouth fell agape slightly. You loved the look of the mansion. With its distinctive Gothic Revival design, large, dark stone bricks, steeply pitched roofs, and turrets. For some reason, it reminded you of the castle that you got to see when you went to Canada for an end-of-the-year high school trip; this mansion was just less castley.

As Ransom pulled up into a spot, sparking, you snapped your wide-eyed gaze to him, "You got to live here?" You asked incredulously, your tone laced with awe.

Despite how he was feeling, at the sight of your face, he gave you a small nod and smile. "Yep."

"You know how jealous I am?" You asked, tilting your head slightly, "This was my dream as a kid to live in a castle-mansion." Your eyes widened once more as a thought appeared in your head, you shuffled in your seat, "Oh! Does it have secret rooms? Like in the movie, 'Clue?'"

"Maybe," He shrugged, "Never really got around to finding that out myself."

Letting out a deep sigh, you shook your hands, "Well, are you ready?" You asked, and Ransom let out his own sigh.

"Never."

Exiting on his side, Ransom walked around the car to open the passenger door for you. Taking your hand in his, he led you up the steps, all the while, you were looking at the amazing architecture. Entering, you found yourself staring at all the paintings and pictures hung up on the dark-wooded walls. You tilted your head up once you spotted the chandelier. Ransom stopped at the closed double doors. He could already hear them fighting, not yelling per se, but loudly proclaiming their opinions. He pressed his lips together.

You took a step closer to him, "It's okay," You reassured, smiling softly at him, placing a peck on his lips. "You got this. I'm here. I'm not going to leave your side." You repeated your promise from a couple of days ago.

Nodding, he reached out with both hands and with a turn and push, the doors flew open. Confidently sauntering in, with your hand in his, his usual 'don't care' attitude returning to his features.

Everyone was sitting at the table, and at your entrance, Walt spoke up, not even looking up from his plate. "Look at that, Ransom showed up on time for once." His condescending tone was evident, and at his words, the rest of the family looked up. However, they had only expected Ransom, not the addition of the young woman holding his hand.

"Oh, please, don't stand up - wouldn't want you to exert yourself." Ransom's tone was filled with sarcasm, leading you to the two empty chairs at the table. Pulling out your chair for you, having you sit at the end so you didn't have to sit next to his stepfather. Even Ransom didn't want to sit next to him.

"Well," His mother, Linda began from across the table, "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Clearing his throat, "Everyone, this is Y/N." He answered before Fran entered to place two plates before you. You quickly thanked the woman, adjusting the napkin on your lap.

"So," Joni's bubbly voice began, "What do you do for a living, Y/N?" Quick to the questioning.

"Oh," You began, "I am a freelance artist."

Richard, Ransom's stepfather then spoke, leaning forward in his seat to stare at you, his eyes narrowed. "I suppose it’s an unconventional choice - very bohemian. But do you ever worry about stability? I mean, it’s not like having a real, steady job with benefits, right?"

“Absolutely, it’s a bit unconventional. But I find that real value often comes from doing what you love, not just what pays the bills.” You answered without even a hint of hesitation.

"I quite enjoy art in all forms. Physical art is very similar to writing. Both paint a picture for those who lay their eyes upon it." Harlan finally spoke, earning your attention, "What mediums do you use, my dear?" He smiled kindly, and just from his aura, you could tell he was an extremely caring man. It was refreshing compared to the cold exterior the other members of the family displayed.

"I agree whole-heartedly to that statement." You returned his smile, "I work with oil paints, mostly. Painting landscapes and portraits. Sometimes I dabble in photography." You explained further, and you noticed everyone else had gone silent, staring at you.

"Well," Linda began again, changing the subject, "How did you two meet exactly?" She asked, gesturing to both you and her son.

Glancing at Ransom, you felt his hand land on your thigh, squeezing it gently, "At a bar-"

"Of course," Richard scoffed, not even letting her finish, "A bar. Figures."

Walt chimed in with a smirk, “Well, if Ransom met you there, I can only assume you know this 'relationship' won't last long."

Ransom’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained his cool demeanor. With a smirk of his own, he replied, “Well, if you think a bar is such a terrible place to meet someone, you might want to reconsider. After all, it led to this," He grabbed your hand to show off the ring on your finger, “So I guess it’s working out better than expected.”

The table erupted in gasps, and both you and Ransom smirked, reveling in the reaction. Linda frowned, clearly upset that her son had never mentioned you or the proposal. Richard’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, convinced there must be some ulterior motive behind the relationship. Walt glared at you, likely concerned about how your marriage to Ransom might affect the family’s inheritance.

Joni offered a forced smile, congratulating you both with a tone that betrayed her insincerity. Meg, on the other hand, found the whole idea of Ransom settling down amusing, clearly looking forward to seeing how it all played out. Jacob, though curious, quickly returned to his phone, more interested in his own world than the family drama.

Marta grinned, her expression filled with approval, while Harlan’s face lit up with a knowing smile. He had been waiting for the day that Ransom would make a significant, personal commitment like this, and he was genuinely pleased to see it finally happen. 'Maybe,' He thought, 'Maybe she'll bring out the best in him.'

Walt's eyes narrowed, and his voice dripped with disdain as he continued, “You know, it’s pretty clear you’re just here for the money. I’d bet you’re already dreaming about what you’re going to do with Ransom’s inheritance.”

The table fell silent once more, all eyes on you. You raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his attempt to undermine you. With a smirk, you replied, “Oh, absolutely. I’m already planning to invest in a yacht and a private island. But don’t worry, Walt, I’ll make sure to send you a postcard from the Caribbean.” Ransom's frown from Walt's words lifted right back into a matching smirk, his chest filling with pride. He hadn't seen this side of you in a long time - the confident, witty side you showed when he first met you. The way you held yourself, unbothered by Walt's comments, was something he admired. “Sarcasm and jokes aside,” You continued, placing your fork down, “I love Ransom. If you can’t see that, then I guess that’s your loss.” Walt's expression faltered, but the tension in the room was broken, and Ransom gave your thigh a reassuring, thankful squeeze. You didn’t up and leave, like Ransom feared.

Marta then spoke, shifting in her seat, "When's the wedding?"

You glanced at Ransom, giving her a small shrug, "We haven't decided between spring or summer yet. We don't have a date yet either, we're just taking it one day at a time."

"Y/N, Ransom. You have my blessing," Harlan spoke up, raising his glass towards you, "I wish you both the best."

"Thank you, Mr. Thrombey.” You smiled warmly, only for the older man to wave a hand.

"Please," He began, "Call me 'granddad.'"

~~~

Standing out in the large foyer, you clasped your hands behind yourself, looking up at Ransom with a bright grin, "Well," You began, "I think that went pretty smoothly."

"Hmm," Ransom gave you a closed-lip smile, "I will admit, I was expecting much worse."

Stepping closer, you tilted your head, "I think Granddad likes me," You spoke proudly, "And Marta, she's sweet. Can we invite them to our wedding?"

He chuckled lightly, wrapping his arms around your waist as your hands came up to fiddle with his brown overcoat's lapels. "If you want them there, yes,” He assured you, kissing your forehead, “Just you, me, Harlan, Marta, your family, some of my friends, and yours. Sounds good to me." He muttered, tightening his grip around your waist.

"Sounds perfect," You muttered right back, "Mr. Drysdale."

Ransom smirked, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, his blue eyes sparkled, "Future Mrs. Drysdale."

~~~

Main Masterlist | Miscellaneous Masterlist

#cute #fluff #x reader #slight angst #x you #fanfiction #x y/n #fanfic #x female reader #knives out #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x you #hugh ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans x reader

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bigtreefest · 1 year ago

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A What in Church?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader (can be read as a continuation of Meet The Parents or alone)

Summary: Ransom comes with you and your family to church…and then comes with you at church 🥴 (I’m sorry, but I had to)

Word count: 2,728

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, SMUT, near-fingering, p in v unprotected sex (pls, for the love of all that is holy, wrap it up), sex in front of a mirror, sex in a church😬, creampie, established relationship, swears, Ran is a sneaky li’l gaslighter but not towards you, lying in Church?, kissing, pet name usage, choking on one’s own saliva, implied female reader, li’l belly bulge

A/N: I hope God forgives me for thinking this up during church…

This is for the Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza set up by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18 with the prompts of characters cum together at the same time and praise.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

It was early Sunday morning when you dragged Ransom out of bed.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale, come on. You have to get up. We’re already running late and I’m not dealing with disapproving looks from my parents for punctuality. It’s already bad enough every time the church ladies give me a side eye when I show up.”

He sighed as he rolled over in his high thread count sheets, the sunlight now hitting his face causing him to squint. He looked at you through one open eye as he made a light scowl.

“Sweetheart, come back to bed. It’s too early. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” A sly smirk crept onto his face as he reached out and pulled your hips closer to the bed.

You put a hand on his forehead, trying your best and failing to push him away. “Ransom, no. The only reason I stayed over was to make sure we got there on time. My parents think you’re picking me up right now and neither of us are even showered. If you get up now, maybe I’ll let you join me. Then we can get going.”

His arms snaked from your hips and around to give your ass a squeeze. “Hm….deal.” He rasped out in his groggy voice before shifting to get up.

“Whose idea was it to join your family at the 8am service of church this week, anyway?” Ransom threw the covers off the side of the bed in a mini tantrum before rising on his knees on the mattress to be face-to-face with you. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly smoothing out the bed head before giving him a peck.

“Yours, baby. That’s what you get for trying to impress my mom.”

You fixed your makeup in the mirror of Ransom’s Beamer and smoothed down your baby blue linen dress after Ransom parked in the church parking lot. You turned to look at him as you straightened the collar of his shirt that peeked over his sweater.

“You look absolutely dapper. The church ladies are gonna love you. Probably enough for them to keep their judgy eyes off me. Now let’s just hope they don’t start asking my mom about a wedding date.” You grumbled the last part as you brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders before leaning back towards your own seat again and placing your hand on the door handle.

Ransom didn’t move a muscle as he sat there, leaning over the center console, with a look as deep at the ocean. That was weird. You’d expected him to have his cocky game face on, which he did, but his eyes showed something different.

“What? Is something wrong? Do I not look okay? Are you regretting agreeing to come along today?”

He sighed and shook his head before holding out his hand for yours. “No, you look heavenly. I am regretting sleeping in because if I wouldn’t have, maybe you would’ve actually let me touch you in the shower. I thought a shower with you meant with you, but you tricked me, you minx.”

You softly smiled at the beginning of his statement, placing your hand in his. As he kept going, you rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder. “Oh please. You and I both know you wouldn’t have gotten up for anything else. And if I would’ve let you touch me, we’d still be at your place.”

He shrugged before pulling you closer for a final kiss before heading in. It was the kind that left you breathless and speechless, and a little dizzy when he pulled away, but that could have been due to skipping breakfast, too. Your eyes were still closed when he spoke against your lips. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this that easily, though. Now stay here while I get your door. Gotta make sure the church ladies see me treating you well.”

Your jaw dropped as he gave you a smirk, fire rising in his gaze as he slipped out of the driver’s side and over to yours.

Ransom held your hand as he walked into the church, sliding into a pew near the back where your family had saved the two of you a seat. It was just in time for the service to begin. You were simultaneously filled with relief for not being late, but also anxiousness. You knew that when he held that look in his eye, Ransom was up to no good.

If someone had asked you what you’d gathered from the sermon so far, your answer would be ‘jack shit.’ You were too focused on Ransom, and the way his hand was creeping up your leg as he stared straight ahead. He looked enthralled by whatever the preacher was dragging on and on about, but you knew better from the way his lips curled just slightly at the corners and his ringed pinky finger was sliding under the hem of your dress. The cool metal gave you chills. Your breath hitched, just as you were salivating, imagining what Ransom could possibly have in store for you. Unfortunately, that didn’t make for a good combination, as you choked on your own saliva.

You tried your hardest to hold in your coughs, eyes watering, until you couldn’t take it anymore. They burst out of you and the sound of your coughs, one after another, echoed through the nearly silent room as you scrambled to get up and into the hallway. Ransom shot your parents a sympathetic look before wordlessly gesturing that he was going to check up on you. They nodded in response, glad you had found someone so caring and responsible.

You burst through the doors at the back of the room with Ransom hot on your heels. You fast walked into the family restroom and Ransom slipped in behind you. He locked the door and made his way to your hunched over form, your arms bracing you against the sink as you continued coughing and heaving, trying to catch your breath. Ransom rubbed your back in soothing circles until you took a final gasp for air and looked up at his reflection in the mirror with a scowl.

“You did this. This is your fault, Mr. Handsy.” It came out with the slightest rasp. Ransom’s face morphed from slight concern into suggestion. Now that he had made sure you were okay, he was more than happy to have you exactly where he wanted you all along: alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one out there snorting my spit. I could probably successfully swallow, unlike you.” He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to rile you up so you’d give in to him now since you didn’t earlier this morning. You’d never outwardly crumble that easily, though. Where was the fun in that?

“First off, you should be the one to know I’m great at swallowing. And secondly, if you believe you did nothing wrong, I think we should find you a neurologist for those wandering hands. Maybe the rings are causing nerve damage and cutting off the feeling in your fingertips.” Ransom couldn’t help but let out a small chortle at that. Good one, babe. But he knew what could push you a little farther. He knew how much you really did love the way his hands wandered, even if you’d say otherwise. He could tell right now even, as he shifted to stand behind you, soft fingertips tracing up the front of your thighs and under your flowy dress. His hand was in between your thighs, creeping dangerously close to your cotton panties. He used his grip to pull you back against him, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Oh honey, I don’t have to be able to feel my fingers to know how good they make you feel.” He ran his fingers over the dampening fabric as your breath hitched. Finally.

His grin grew wide as he slipped his pinky finger under the gusset of your panties and pulled it to the side, exposing your glistening folds to the cool air.

You hissed at the sensation as Ransom began running a finger through your wetness. If you were anywhere else but a church bathroom, he would have worked to pull even louder sounds from you than the tiny breaths and moans you were already making, but that’s not something that could be afforded right now. As his one hand continued to tease your entrance, the other moved to cover your mouth.

“Quiet, Sweetheart. You make a noise and I stop. Don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.” You nodded in acknowledgment and Ransom was satisfied with that response, kissing your temple that was collecting a thin shimmer from sweat already. Just as he was about to dip a finger in, though, the two of you heard music start. That meant service was almost over. They would play a few songs, and then everyone would rush out the doors, making it impossible for the two of you to leave the bathroom undetected and unsuspected of what was going on right now.

Ransom didn’t waste a second, though, pulling his hands off you to unzip his slacks and pull them down just low enough. His eyes locked in on yours in the mirror again, deep blue irises thin around lust and mischief-blown pupils.

“Sorry, sweetie. Don’t have time to prepare you. But you can handle that, right?” You didn’t have a chance to reply this time, as his hand found it’s place over your mouth again at the same time he fully sheathed himself within you.

The little squeak you made into Ransom’s hand when you were trying to hold back was music to his ears. Oooo, he liked that. He was gonna make sure to do whatever he could in the future so you’d make it again, but he didn’t have the time for it right now.

His hand that wasn’t over your mouth snaked to your tummy from where it was gripping your hip. Ransom could just barely feel the bulge pushing against your softness with each thrust and it drove him wild, as he sped up his thrusts and babbled into your ear.

“Yeah you can. You can take it. Look at you. Taking this so well. Being so good for me. I’d say you were an angel if we weren’t fucking like two whores in church right now.”

His vulgar words always did something to you, causing your eyes to roll back and your pussy to clench. That was Ransom’s favorite, especially when he found it out that his sharp tongue was something you actually enjoyed and rewarded him for, instead of punished. Despite his hand on your mouth, you were still working hard to keep yourself quiet, only letting out a low moan in response.

“Fuck, so good. So, gah-tight. You’re so perfect. I’m gonna take my hand off, okay? You gotta keep it down and I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You gripped harder against the sink as Ransom removed his hand, using it to hike your leg up on the edge of the counter, his hand that was previously on your stomach moving to rub your clit.

You gasped for air, before moving your own hand to your mouth. If you were at home, moans and curses would’ve been profusely spilling out of your mouth with how near your were to the tipping point. Ransom’s grunts in your ear we’re pulling you even closer to the edge when he licked your neck, the sweet taste of your perfume mixed with salty sweat hitting his tongue, and the debauchery of the gesture tossing you over the edge of your orgasm. Your knee gave out as you came, Ransom’s strong arms holding you up against the sink as you felt him swell and release in you at the same time, still rubbing your clit and shallowly thrusting for both of you to come down from your highs.

“That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart.” His breath was hot against your neck, but you were both pulled out of the post-orgasmic bliss by the sound of the music changing. The last song of service was playing and within a few minutes, everyone would be emerging into the hall.

Ransom pulled out of you faster than he had before, both of you moaning with oversensitivity and the abruptness of the action. You gained composure on your jelly legs before pulling your panties back into place and doing your best to fix your makeup in the mirror. Luckily, the smudges could be attributed to your coughing fit earlier, but Ransom’s rogue hairs that had flown forward and stuck to his forehead couldn’t. You quickly pushed them back into a decent position and straightened his collar before rushing into the hallway and taking a seat at an old pew that was next to a table with water bottles and cookies on it, set out for the social hour that always happened after service. Ransom grabbed a bottle and quickly chugged it down halfway, handing it to you just as the last song was ending.

“Here, hunch forward like you’re still recovering. And take this.” He was too good at convincing people of the scenes they had walked into. But how could you complain when it had gotten you out of trouble with the cops more times than you could count? Including after the two of you had been parked somewhere a little too long having car sex, or when he had driven just a little too recklessly while fingering you in the passenger seat. He always knew exactly how to manipulate the scene in his favor, convincing others to not believe their own eyes, but the stories he presented them instead. But he didn’t do it to you, never to you. He learned that the hard way, it’s better to be honest and do it with you. You were his teammate, who better to use his skills for than the one he loved? Bring it up though, and he’d deny it.

So you and Ransom sat there, your elbows on your knees and him rubbing circles on your back with his large, warm palm. Sure, it was performative, but it was also extremely comforting and reassuring, especially with the way he just rocked your world in the bathroom.

The church-goers began to file out of the double doors and into the hall. You looked up through your eyelashes to be greeted by your parents. They looked at you with confusion and a hint of concern when your dad crouched in front of you and your mom sat next to Ransom.

“Everything alright?” Your dad looked up into your eyes and you managed a nod, taking a sip from the water bottle and clearing your throat.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got into a coughing fit and couldn’t shake it. Much better now.”

Ransom heard the clarity with which you spoke. If he really wanted to be convincing, he should’ve had you suck him off. There wasn’t really the time for that, though. As much as he loved watching your lips wrapped around him, he came way faster inside you, and how could he allow for the evidence of scuffs on your knees when you were wearing such a pretty dress? Maybe next time, when you were in jeans.

Ransom was pulled out of his thoughts when your mom and dad spoke, thanking him for checking up on you.

“Oh no problem, don’t worry, I took good care of your girl. I always will.”

They smiled, and must’ve believed the scene in front of them, as the topic swiftly changed to what they wanted for brunch plans. Ransom met your gaze, giving a quick wink for only you to see before kissing the top of your head and giving his input to the conversation.

That was the last you saw of him for half an hour, though, as the church ladies descended, squeezing themselves between the two of you, oohing and ahhhing over your sly boyfriend. Every now and then, as they’d ask him a tidal wave of questions, his eyes would seek you, full of fire, secrecy, and love, paired with that signature smirk on his face.

Bonus A/N: I think something that this extravaganza has taught me is that I have a thing for mirrors….and that scares me. It’s so hot in fics, and sure, every time I walk past a mirror in real life, I’ve been told I stop, but I wasn’t aware of what a dangerous combination that made until now. Lord save me, but he’s probably too angry at me now bc I wrote this.

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intrepidacious · 3 months ago

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occupy my brain [3]

series summary: Being Harlan Thrombey’s research assistant would be the perfect summer job if it weren’t for his grandson.

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

word count: 1.1k

chapter warnings: implied smut. ransom being very ransom (cranky asshole) and yet very not-ransom (smitten). side characters talking shit about reader. please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: we've made it to the end of 2024, folks!! and what better way to celebrate than by finally continuing this fic that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got that first prompt request almost two years ago. since the first two chapters were mostly standalones, i'm thinking that most of the continuing ones will be as well. updates for this story are not going to be regular and probably won't follow the timeline chronologically either, but we'll see what next year will bring. either way, this is already way too long for an author's note, happy to have you along for the ride 🫶🏼

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

damage ensued

One thing was for certain: Hugh Ransom Drysdale had always taken great pride in not giving a damn about anyone but himself. So far, it had served him well.

That wasn't really a surprise. His family had been throwing money at every obstacle they came across for decades now; it'd be idiotic not to take advantage of that.

And Ransom was definitely not an idiot.

That’s why he'd soon stopped begging for everyone’s attention and instead made them listen. If that got him into trouble, why would he care?

A Thrombey was untouchable, even if he had a different surname.

Whenever life got too boring, he'd find a new way to keep his mind from wandering, from wondering; his brain was kept occupied at all times. That's how he liked it—sweet diversions filling the silent gaps in his life.

This was just what life was supposed to be, wasn't it? Absolutely no fucking problem in the world that couldn't be disappeared with a healthy serving of dough before he was left to his usual ways once again, mindless and sinfully enjoyable.

Except …

Except sometimes a thought did make it through the walls he'd built around the most vulnerable parts of himself, the parts of him he'd love nothing more than to forget about. An unbidden, uninvited thought that stabbed right through like a well-timed vicious whisper, slamming him out of whatever stupor he’d put himself other:

Is that really all?

Usually, that thought was easy to keep down. It was quiet, after all, and the world he liked to live in was loud and vibrant and perfectly distracting.

There was only one problem: You wouldn’t leave his mind.

Ever since that night that’d ended with you in his bed, traces of you lingered all over his house. An echo of the sounds you made when he was rutting into you. The memory of your eyes rolling back while you were sprawled out on his sheets. Images that, no matter how many times he jerked off to them, would not leave him the fuck alone.

It was ridiculous.

You were nothing more than an intern, for god’s sake. Easy on the eyes, sure; real damn easy. But just a girl. A random nobody with the most beautiful curves and the loveliest eyes he’d ever—

Jesus, there was something wrong with him.

That was how he found himself at the party of one of the friends he'd made by being rich and handsome, drowning out any reminder of you with too-loud music and another drink. He'd not gotten high in a while but maybe he should text his guy again; that was usually a surefire way to turn off any coherent, unwanted thought in his head.

For now, though, he couldn't be bothered to make the drive. Besides, he'd come here with one specific goal in mind: He had to get you out of his system once and for all, and do it fast. Judging by the past couple of days, that was the only way to get his life back to the way it used to be.

Replace the delicious memories by making new ones. Better ones.

Better. Faster. More.

Ransom took another swig from his beer. It really was such a drag that all the women at this party seemed terribly dull. Not that any of them had approached him; all his annoyingly persistent musings had put a scowl on his face, and that had been enough for most people to give him a wide berth. This was just great.

It was true what they said: If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself. And what he wanted, no, what he needed right now was to be sucked into oblivion.

Just so that he wouldn't see your goddamn face every time he closed his eyes.

Later, he’d tell police that he’d been provoked and that none of this was his fucking fault, and as far as he was concerned, that was the truth. After all, he’d barely slept in days. He definitely wasn’t to blame for any of this.

In any event: Despite his earlier public session of self-pity seemingly giving him quite the disadvantage when it came to getting laid tonight, Ransom knew exactly how to turn on his charms in the right moment, and so it didn't take him too long to find a girl who was just pretty and willing enough to turn his night around. Even better, she didn’t look like you in the slightest; her voice was rough and she smelled like cigarette smoke and too-sweet apple cider, and her name disappeared from his mind as soon as it left her lips.

This was what it was supposed to be like, he thought as he grabbed her by the throat and pressed her against a nearby wall. Just a way to get his rocks off. He was just about to suggest moving things upstairs when his spine went rigid.

Someone behind him had just mentioned your name; your full name, so it couldn't be a coincidence, either.

Of course, that had nothing to do with him. He was busy right now.

But something about those guys talking about you rubbed him the wrong way and he couldn't help but continue to listen, even as he was still trying to stay blissfully distracted.

"—about me, the bitch, I mean, what the fuck," one of the voices said, followed by an echo of snickers and a petulant, "I know, right?"

That whiny little thought perked up again, and any attempt to smother it only resulted in him listening in on more of that conversation, despite his expressed indifference.

"—definitely sleeping with the professor—"

"—that stuck up nerd? Nah, she’s—"

"—honestly pathetic—"

Something hot and ugly was twisting in Ransom’s guts, and even know there was no rational reason for it, it had to do with the grating voices of those frat boys. Finally, though, he'd heard enough.

"Excuse me," he told the girl and not too gently removed her hands from his collar, not even sparing her a second glance as he turned and fixed his hair. Then, before he could think about it twice, he strode over to the group. "Who're you guys talking about?"

"This bitch in my microbiology class," one of them said, rolling his eyes. "You know her?"

"Do I look like I know her?" Ransom replied, and they all laughed as if that was a hilarious answer to a rhetorical question. God, he was surrounded by morons. With a tightlipped smile, he waited until Microbiology made eye contact with him again, mouth still parted in the same malicious grin, too drunk or too dumb to recognize the inexplicable ire he was staring at.

"Anyway."

And then he punched the guy in the face.

thank you to @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane for fixing my first sentence for me and thank YOU for reading 🧡 i don't have a tag list but if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

wishing you all a good 2025 and good riddance to last year. i'll see you on the other side 🫶🏼

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale series #knives out fanfiction #knives out fanfic #occupy my brain

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ironteeth-fury · 1 month ago

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Graves and Shepherd who get pardoned after the whole Las Almas debacle because power, money, connections and America

And price and laswell try their goddamn bests but there is nothing they can do

And Ghost is a wreck. Two men he worked with, that he had to trust in the field, who /betrayed/ him, and there are no consequences? This is not something he can fix, not a problem he can make go away with a knife or a gun because he's army and legally their hands are tied.

And he would, he knows he would hunt them down and kill them and take the fall for it, if that means that he never comes home to dead loved ones again because he left a threat out in the world, a threat he ran away from instead of dealing with it.

But he also knows if he kills them, Price will get in trouble. Laswell too, likely. Maybe even Gaz and Soap.

So he stays put, barely sleeps, obsessively keeps an eye on his team and doesnt let them out of his sight. Becomes paranoid about checking locks and watching his team sleep. Hates hates hates that Laswell and her wife dont live on base -how is he supposed to watch, protect and defend if she isnt here?

And Soap sees all of this and tries to help, really he does, but nothing has an effect and he can see ghost collapsing under the sleep deprivation.

So he fibbs. Tells ghost hes been having nightmares (true) about las almas (true) about stalking the streets and being alone (also true) and would ghost please keep watch while soap sleeps because then he wont be alone. And soap made it out of that hell with Ghost watching over him, so if ghost watches over him again he'll make it out of this hell, too. And yes, this is all true.

But its also a ploy in the hope that Ghost will accept the same favor after.

He's heard his sisters complain about their husbands plenty, about how they will not accept help unless they think theyre providing it instead. So he tries that, and it helps, but not enough.

And Soap, desperately in love with Ghost at this point, angry at the world, impulsive and protective and oh so skilled, has had enough.

He does his research, makes preperations, gets another idea, thinks /fuck it/ and works on incorporating that, too.

He gets Price to send him and Ghost back to las almas, to help rudy and alejandro.

He crosses his t's and dots his i's

And asks Simon on a date.

Simon is fucking blindsided by this, it came out of nowhere what the fuck? And because he is so startled his brain gets no time to overthink and he just blurts out a "yes". Soap grins, pats him on the arm and tells him to be ready at 7, wear comfortable clothes.

So simon spends the rest of the day freaking out, he doesnt know how to date, hes never been on a date in his life. Dinner, movies, minigolf? What the fuck is he supposed to do with that??

And then Soap shows up with a dazzling grin and workout gear and hands him a gift. "Didnae think you were the type for flowers, L.t." he'll say, and its a /knife/ and its clearly custom made, different types of flowers etched into the blade and the handle both. Its sharp and perfectly balanced and the nerves calm down

Soap knows who he asked out, knows he would be uncomfortable with dinner and a movie. Ghost just has to trust him.

Its kind of scary how easy it is to admit that, yes, he does trust Johnny. With his life -with the lives of his loved ones. With his nightmares and his memories and the fact that his hands shake when there is dirt under his nails.

So he takes the knife, says thank you, and follows Soap.

And Soap? Takes him to a mission briefing? There are blueprints and schedules and movement logs. Soap wont tell him the target or exactly what theyre doing, and Ghost feels like he should be wary, but he isnt.

Because its Soap.

So Soap takes him on this mission and it ends with Graves on his knees in front of them, hands cuffed behind his back, and Johnny telling him "you can either kill him here, or I have a secondary location we can take him. We have all night, and all of tomorrow as well. Whatever you want, darling"

So yeah, murder date. Knife gifts. And i have more ideas on how this goes but tbh i am writing this and wouldn't wanna spoil everything ahaha.

Inspired by a blsky thread that made my brain run wild. (Blsky link but also ao3 link for the same thread for those that prefer that)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58595743/chapters/162947845

And a lil bit of the actual writing cuz why not

#writing #fanfic #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #murder husbands #murder dates #gift giving but its knives #knife gifts as love language #when your boyfriend is sad so you take him out on a nice date to kill his politically immune to prosecution enemies #and it ends in super freaky sex of course #might make it into a choose your dom kind of thing because honestly i see it going either way #and theyre both switches your honor #dina's story ideas that she will definitely write trust me #wildflower hearts

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dbnightingale24 · 1 year ago

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First, I want to thank everyone who has read, reblogged, or supported my stories. It means more than I’ll ever be able to put into words, truly. Without you all, I wouldn’t feel confident in launching my Patreon page! I’ll still post fanfics, but I’ll also be taking requests, and posting original stories. I hope you all will follow along, and continue to enjoy my stories! Thank you so much; you’ve given me the confidence I needed to do this. I love you!

Here’s the link if you’d like to follow along:

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=113976020&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

(It’ll be more official soon!)

@fuckingbye @emerald-evans @autumnrose40 @thickania

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georgiapeach30513 · 5 months ago

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My Worth In Blood

Summary: If he catches you, he gets to keep you.

Pairings: Vampire!Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, chase kink, teasing, blood kink, unprotected sex, PIV sex, minor breeding kink, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.9K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Inhale. Long, slow, and drawn out. Exhale.

Breathe in, “Mmm.”

Delectable.

Ransom’s piercing cool blue eyes scan into the dusky night. Who is that? He runs a tongue over his razor sharp teeth. Moving the muscle over it before he pierces his tongue. He inhales the intoxicating aroma of you again. You smell divine. Heavenly. But where are you?

Taking a few steps, he scents you again. He can already taste you on his lips, and pouring down his throat. His eyes nearly glow as he finds the pathway to you. Pupils immediately dilating when he sees you. Alone, minding your business, and reading a book at a cafe. Oblivious to the noise and hustle of the city. Your foot taps a steady rhythm on the table leg, and you flip a page of your book.

Lifting your mug to your lips, he smells your body’s beautiful scent mixing with the aroma of chai tea latte. His vision zones in on the pulse on your neck. Your body is heating up. Your chest heaves a bit more than the other patrons at the cafe. Heart beating so much faster. Your mouth opens as you inhale sharply. You’re fucking aroused. So heated over whatever you’re reading he smells your honey, and can already taste you.

He shakes himself out of his stupor, smiling as he walks over to you. You’re so caught up in the book you don’t even pay him any mind, so he sits down in the chair in front of you. My gods, your neck is a work of art. Pristine, and blemish free. Perfect for his bite. You don’t care about him, or the fact that he can feel your temperature raise. What has got you so turned on? What is it that makes you feel so — flustered?

He clears his throat, watching as you finish your page before closing your book, “I’m not moving. There’s other tables you can sit at,” and you lift your book up again.

“What are you reading?”

“Not into small talk,” you chide, trying to read despite his inquiries.

“Little Stranger?” Ge looks at the blackened book in your hands with a smile. It looks almost sinister.

“Mmm,” you respond. You weren’t going to finish this book if he didn’t stop talking. You want to roll your eyes. You want to show him just how annoyed you are, but you continue along your merry way. Enjoying each line despite the intruder.

“What’s it about?”

You roll your eyes up to look at him over the book, and finally you see him. He’s dangerous. You didn’t know who he was, or anything about him, but danger radiates off his pale skin. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness with how bright they are. You want to look away, and can’t. He smiles the most devilish handsome smile, and you need to melt into yourself.

“Don’t do that,” you demand of him.

“Do what?” He’s an arrogant thing. His mouth curls up into a grin that would have girls losing their panties immediately. But you sense the danger.

“Whatever you’re doing,” his head cocks to the side in a question, looking like an innocent pup instead of the predator you know he is, and it makes you you gulp. You don’t miss the way his hungry eyes go to your mouth, and then your neck. Nostrils flaring when he notices your pulse, “Stop it.”

“What exactly am I doing?” He’s a tease.

“You’re fucking me with your eyes,” his boisterous laugh startles you, but it’s not a bad sound. It’s musical. “You know what you’re doing.”

“My sweet little mouse,” that nickname? Why would he use that one? He isn’t allowed to make you feel weaker than you already are. And ‘my’? He’s already claiming you as his. Are you in a book? Is your fantasies coming to life right before your eyes. “Trust me, if I was fucking you, you’d know.”

“I said with your eyes,” his brows lower as he stares at you. Staring right into your soul. No, your core, sensing the heat and slick pooling in your paties. You whimper. Heat courses through your body, and you feel it tingle all the way to your toes. Your body suddenly has two heartbeats, and one is making you double over. “Stop!”

The feeling immediately quits, and you gape at him. “What are you doing?”

“Judging by the swelling of your lips, the dilated eyes, and the scent coming from between your thighs, you know exactly what I’m doing,” you press your fingers on your mouth. Running the pads of the digits over your lips. He’s lying. “Little mouse, I didn’t mean the lips on your face.”

“You pervert!” He chuckles again, and you lay your book on the table. Crossing your arms over your chest, and he reaches for the book. “Stop! Don’t read that, it’s private!”

Randomly the strange man opens your book, stopping where you last let off. His mouth quirks up with each line. His eyes move unnaturally quickly over the words. “I don’t think I’m the one that’s a pervert,” he chuckles, and then clears his throat. The man looks at you, while he closes the book. Clearing his throat, “Has anyone ever told you how delectable you smell?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you cross too many boundaries?”

“Has anyone ever told you how your heart rate spikes when you read your filthy smut?” You gawk at him. The audacity. “You’re reading this out in public. Is that part of the turn on?” You didn’t have to answer that. You’re enjoying yourself reading. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s quite a turn on for me that I could smell your arousal across the street, and all because you were reading that,” you clear your throat.

He isn’t a bad looking man. He’s actually — beautiful in an otherworldly kind of way. What he’s saying is embarrassing, and enthralling all at the same time. The man picks your book up again, and starts flipping through the pages. “You don’t lack many pages. Mmm,” his nostrils flare, and his jaw tightens. The man adjusts his sitting, and his pants.

“You’re uncomfortable with my book?”

“No,” gulping, you look down at your cup. You wonder exactly what he is reading, and why a stranger is making you feel things deep in the pit of your stomach that you can’t explain. It is completely animalistic, and you don’t want to fight it. What are you thinking? This isn’t fiction. This is real life, and he’s a real man. “I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“A man,” he is all man. You can see that clearly. “Nor am I turned off by this. This brother is a menace. Why is he putting blood on his sister?”

“Concerned about the blood and not the fact they’re siblings?” His nose curls up a bit. An intimidating man, looking adorable. He flips a few pages before glaring at you, “They’re not actually siblings.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” he doesn’t even ask. He grabs your book, and holds out a hand for you. “I won’t bite. Hard anyways,” so corny. And yet, you still give him your hand. Gulping as his eyes scan over your entire body when you stand in front of him, “Immaculate.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr.?”

“Ransom,” it’s a fitting dark name for him. “Don’t ever call me Mr. Drysdale,” lifting your hand, he takes a long whiff before pressing his pillowy lips on your chilled hand, “What are you?” Those eyes flit back and forth across your face. “You’re like no human I’ve ever smelled.”

“You’re strange.”

“And there’s more to you than meets the eye, little mouse,” you roll your eyes, going to lead the way to somewhere, when Ransom looks up at the name of the cafe, “Coven Cafe, servicing wicked brews, enchanted espressos, and potions all to you from a mystic mug?”

“Is there a problem?” You moan as he pulls you into his marble hard body, and he sniffs up your neck. His tongue flicks out onto your skin, and he licks you, “Are you as impressed as I am that after all these years, you found me?”

“You bitch.”

“Witch,” giggling, you push Ransom away from you. “And yet, you can’t get my scent out of your silly little vamp mind,” his eyes set afire. Glaring at you while your lips turn up into a devious smile. “You think you finally deserve to bite me? To feast on me? Go on, you can bite me if you want to,” pouting up at him, you bat your lashes, “I like it.”

His eyes flutter close, and you take it as an opportunity to run. He could outrun you with his eyes closed, so any head start would have to do. Sprinting to the nearby woods. He can track you. He probably enjoys that even more. Cackling the moment you get into the trees, you begin to peel off parts of your clothes.

Leaving him a trail of discarded pieces of you. Letting him know just how undressed you are. Teasing him as you run away. Whore of a vampire. You are no fool to Ransom, and what it is he wants, and you’re willing to give it to him. Even for just one night. You’d become his obsession, while he became your ultimate prize. He could deny it. He could say that witches and vampires are mortal enemies. But Ransom has dreamed of a taste from you for too many years. You made sure of that.

“Where are you?” His voice echoes into the night, and you can’t help but to laugh again. Letting your voice ring out into the night.

“Use your vampire made senses. Find me. Claim me. And you can finally taste me,” you duck into a thicket. Your eyes looking into the dark for a sign of one of nature’s ultimate predators. Waiting on him like you’re his prey. And you want to be. You want him to pounce. The stamina of a vampire is said to be unmatched. And you want to test out that theory.

Quieting your breathing, you hear crunching of the leaves, and it’s not the pretty creature of the night. The woods come alive, altering your senses, and you have a deep urge to flee. You don’t want to. You need him to catch you. But there’s too much movement all around you. His presence wakes up the woods. They all want to get away from him.

“Run,” a voice whispers against your back, and you bolt. He chortles. He’s only letting you get ahead because he loves the chase. Loves the adrenaline rush right to his groin. Loves the way that you smell when you’re scared. Those muffled little snickers tickle on your skin, letting you know just how close he is to you.

All he has to do is reach out, “Got you. Now,” he pushes your body up against his own. Grinding his hips into your ass. “It’s a bit cliche to have a witch running through the woods naked on a full moon, isn’t it?”

“Better make it quick. We might not be the only creatures of the night out here,” he thrusts himself forward, grinning when you whimper.

“Think you can handle that much?” Pressing his bulge up against your ass, you get weaker with every rub against you.

“Oh, baby, I’ve been on my knees while a werewolf tried to mate with me. You think your little cock is going to be enough?” His fangs snap out, and you gasp. “Do it,” whining as a fang runs softly against your skin. “I dare you,” your knees buckle, and you mewl as he pierces your skin.

His hips still dry hump you. A free hand roams down your body until he sinks between your velvety lips. “My gods, you’re leaking,” his fangs retreat back in, and you spin around to glare at him. “Oh shut up, you needy little bitch. Are you trying to mate with every creature out there? I’m a vampire. I don’t procreate.”

“Did you ever think that was the appeal?” Ransom rolls his eyes, but calmly starts to remove his clothes. “Able to fuck all day with no consequence. You could spill in my cunt, and never sire a child. And…”

“Did you really let a filthy mutt mount you?” The disgust on his face is evident. It makes you giddy knowing you can get under his skin so easily.

“Why?”

“I don’t much care for sloppy seconds,” pulling his pants down, his cock springs free, and you nearly drool at the sight. A rock hard rod, looking more like marble than flesh. “Are you a whore?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Oooh!” He picks you up without any preamble. Both his hands gripping a thigh as he spreads you out wide, and lifts you up to his face. “What are you doing?” You screech, and he sniffs you.

“Staring at your cunt.”

“Why?”

“Have you actually taken a mutt?”

The one thing that would offend Ransom, and you said it just to get a reaction. Typical. “No. Even I have standards,” he starts lowering your body, gazing up at your eyes that are pitch black with sinful lust. “You gonna fuck me?”

“I’m gonna fuck, and claim you,” lowering you further, he impales you on his cock, and you screech. His pulsing member stretches you out in such a state that you can’t even see straight. Giving you no time to adjust to him, he uses your body like a cocksleeve. Lifting you up and stabbing into you over and over again. Wanting you to feel every blinding pleasure throughout your body.

You’ve fucked other creatures, but never a vampire. Their skin is a crawling frost, but the speed at which he moves is enough to make your toes curl. The friction heats you up, even if his body can’t. “Gods, you are a pretty little witch. Too bad I can’t fuck my spawn into you.”

“Shut up with the breeding kink. You can’t deliver,” Ransom growls. It isn’t humane, it’s feral. He leans forward, biting onto your neck, while your body crashes into him. You’d heard of such highs as a vampire feasting on you during sex, but you weren’t prepared for this. This is heavenly. Setting your soul and skin on fire.

It’s like feeling your pleasure, but also his own. His passion. The way you feel to him. It’s beyond just orgasmic, you are giving him sustenance. You’re giving him air to breathe. To survive. “My gods,” he pulls off your neck, crimson drips from his lips, and he licks it off, savoring the taste of you. “What are you?”

“A powerful witch,” moaning, when he makes you take every inch of his veiny cock. Settling you over him balls deep Holding you still while he looks over your face. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Witch’s got my cock,” you snort, and he pulls you off him, only to slam you back over his length. “Bind yourself to me,” he demands. Vampires have been known to be cocky.

“Absolutely not,” his brow quirks up. This time he pulls himself out of you slowly before he rails back into you. “You’re amazing with that magic wand of yours, but I will never bind myself to you without a cost.”

“And what’s that cost?”

His eyes look at your open wound before he leans forward. His tongue flattens against your skin, and he pulls it up your neck. Sealing up the wounds. Returning to look at you. “Bind yourself to me,” Ransom scoffs. “It’s only fair. You have a blood bank, and my powers.”

“And what do you have, my little mouse?”

“You,” he settles your legs around his waist. Turning to place your back against a tree. “I know you’ve been searching for me. But you enjoy the chase too much to just let you have me. Now you do. Now take me, and become mine.”

“We barely know each other.”

“You thought differently when it was just me binding myself to you. We’ve known each other for decades,” he shakes his head, smiling, and you lift the veil. Memories of him following your scent. Getting almost close enough, before you enchanted him. Engraining your essence into him. “You’ve always wanted me. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

His mouth turns into a grin before he slams into your own mouth. Tasting yourself mingling with his sweet decadent being. His hips thrust into you with so much force that your back edges up and down on the tree. So much stimulation for so early in the night. He’s yours. He. Is. Yours.

With the force he’s pushing into you, you’ll be bruised. You can take it. You can take everything this beautiful vampire gives you. Everything. He’s yours. You were made for him. You can take it.

“You’ll take everything I give you,” Ransom rares back. Panting as he whispers on your lips. “All of it.”

“Every last drop,” you respond as his teeth pierce the other side of your neck, and your body comes undone. Euphoria settles throughout you. Sealing your fate with him forever. “Forever.”

Yours.

“Mine,” he growls onto your body. And lightning courses through your blood. He feels it. He feels it all. He feels you. “All. Mine.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @distractingbeth @musingsfromthemitten

@theinheriteddutchess @buckybarnesisdaddy

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savorypink · 5 months ago

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come and stay with us

a series of unfortunate events leads you to an inn.

fluff, smut, dad!alex.

Is there a stronger word for fucked? Doomed? Ill-fated? Wrecked? Should synonyms be on your mind? You're all the above, anyway. Your car's engine had a minor hiccup. Okay, minor is putting it lightly, but perhaps you could gaslight yourself into thinking this isn't a big deal. It'll spare you the tears.

The most crucial meeting of your career is today, but your car couldn't give half of a damn. In fact, your car's capacity for caring is so low that it broke down in the middle of Butt-Fuck Nowhere. If the empty road could morph, it would turn into a smile. It definitely feels like it's mocking you.

Now, you aren’t without options. You got a cell phone. Make a call—or several. There’s your boss; sweet talk him into not firing you. Reschedule your presentation, and it’ll be rainbows and sunshine. Oh, and don’t forget roadside assistance. You won’t last long on foot.

Like a madman, you dig through your purse, nearly tearing the leather to shreds in your haste. Your fingers finally close around the phone. Relief washes over you. Temporarily. The screen is off—odd, but you brush it off. When you press the power button, the low battery icon flashes. A warning. Your heart is in your throat but plummets before the phone shuts down. You don’t even reach the lock screen.

You worked too hard on your makeup. Banging your head against the steering wheel is not an option.

Perhaps you can make it on foot.

As you leave your car to open the trunk, the air is filled with the sweet scent of tree sap. Butt-Fuck Nowhere isn’t without a view. There’s some trees—lots of them, their leaves a vibrant cluster of fall colours. You didn’t hogtie a mechanic and throw him in your trunk, so you’re a little disappointed to see just your suitcases. You haul them out, lock your car, and start walking. But not before giving your car the middle finger. Cardio is fun. This is simply a workout.

The path unwinds before you, dappled with sunlight trickling through the sea of leaves. As you walk, the unmistakable smell of autumn hangs in the air, and the sound of leaves crunching under your pumps is the ultimate ASMR. God, it’s beautiful. The forest is alive with colour—reds, oranges, and golds blending together.

"Don’t do it. Enjoy this." You assure yourself. "You aren’t cooped up in an office. No higher-ups laughing at your ideas. For once, you’re breathing. And it feels easy."

Amidst your tranquillity, anxiety weighs its heavy shadow over your shoulders. Once your phone’s up and running, your first Google search will be "how to put in a two-week notice". The thought of showing your face in that office makes your stomach churn—what’s your boss going to think?

Better yet, what does this say about you? That you’re unreliable? Replaceable? The very things you’ve prided yourself on now remain up in the air.

The colours of autumn blur as you lose yourself in thought, a frigid wind whipping your hair. Maybe you need a change. A fresh start. Something away from the pressure of deadlines and high expectations.

As you round a bend, your pulse quickens. A two-story building comes into view. Ivy scales its stone walls while smoke billows from the chimney. Warm light spills from the windows, casting a glow on the cobblestone path before you.

For a moment, it feels like a mirage; you practically spoke this place into existence. You read the weathered sign before entering. Whiskey Way Inn. Though, the "inn" part is crossed out in red paint. "Lodge" is written above it in its place. Interesting.

Inside, the warmth is blissfully overwhelming. A roaring fire crackles in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the wooden beams. The armchairs around the hearth are plush and inviting with handmade pillows and—do you smell bread? And soup? The rumbling in your tummy proves your previous suspicions wrong. Dead wrong. This place is not a mirage.

Beside you, the small reception desk is vacant. A guestbook decked out in Bluey stickers sits on the counter, alongside some business cards and a pink glitter pen. Well, it definitely feels lived in. But by who? A three-year-old? You notice that the business cards get the same treatment as the sign at the entrance. "Inn" crossed out, but is "Lodge" written in that adorable pink pen. Again, interesting.

"Lilypad," a man’s voice groans. “You’re getting too big for me to carry.”

"Not true!" A smaller voice quips. "You carried a pumpkin yesterday. A big one. I saw you!"

"The abnormally large pumpkin you picked from the patch? Daddy’s back hasn’t known a good day since."

He’s got a tiny human at his side and unruly brown hair. Flour dusts the apron he’s wearing, and small handprints from, you’re assuming, Lily are scattered across it. Their large brown eyes bore into you, but the dad’s eyes linger longer than what feels appropriate. You sure feel crazy for wandering in Butt-Fuck Nowhere with no destination, but you didn’t think you looked the part too. You're still in your work blazer and pencil skirt.

Lily whispers something in his ear, and that very ear turns red when she pulls away. Lily giggles, and just like her, it’s adorable.

"Are you, um," he stammers, clearing his throat. "Checking in?"

You nod. "Kind of. I don’t have a reservation."

He sets Lily down, letting her scurry into the common area. "That’s alright. I’ll take care of you."

I’ll take care of you. Now, it’s something you’ve heard before from almost everyone in your life at least once. You can’t explain it, but the phrase seems more believable when he’s saying it. Is it weird that you want him to say it over and over until you die? His footsteps toward the desk are muffled; your heart is too busy pounding at your eardrums.

"How long are you staying for?" He asks.

The pounding stops. Your car’s abandoned in God knows where. You have a dead phone and a job that’s guaranteed to end after today. You chew on your lip. ‘Forever’ isn’t a booking option, right?

"Put me in for the weekend," you say. This is assuming you’ll have your shit together by then. Though, you aren’t so sure. "I can extend my stay whenever, right?"

"Mhm," he hums as he types. "Just let me know before your check-out time on Sunday at 12. Can I get your number?"

"Pardon?"

"Your number," he repeats. "So I can remind you about check-out and the events we’re hosting. And for emergencies, obviously."

Oh. That’s what he needs it for.

Your heart is back to pounding like mad. You give him the digits, trying to glue whatever’s left of your composure together. Why must the universe embarrass you in front of a man so handsome?

"Great. You’re all set." The innkeeper smiles, handing you a brass key and a business card. When he finishes at the counter, he steps forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The proximity feels just as inappropriate as his staring, but he smells…sweet.

It’s familiar, too, but his forehead colliding with yours keeps you from figuring it out. He was only reaching for the bags at your sides. You exchange your “ows” and sorries, and both of you are reluctant to leave the bubble you’ve created. But eventually, Lily’s dad is taking your bags upstairs.

You’re right behind him, but it feels as if there’s a magnet drawing you to him. You wonder if he’s choosing to ignore it because you don’t see those brown eyes again until he’s dropped your bags in front of the door.

"The Wi-Fi password is on the business card." He boyishly shoves his hands into his pockets but looks as if he's forgotten something. Suddenly, he shoves a large hand between your bodies.

"Alex. My name," he shakes his head, quickly correcting himself. "I mean, my name is Alex. Alexander, if you want."

Smiling, you take his hand, calloused and covered in flour. "Thank you, Alexander."

Alex’s eyes widen, and you get to see that smile again. If Alex were a puppy, his tail would wag a thousand miles, and his ears would perk up. It makes you want to give him head pats and ruffle his tousled hair.

"The pleasure’s all mine," he heads back down the hall but stops somewhere in the middle, taking that sweet scent with him. "Any questions? Concerns? You can text me if anything."

"Yeah. What’s with your business cards?"

He chuckles, flashing a heart-melting smile before disappearing down the hallway. "WWI doesn't look good on most business papers."

You’d do anything to hear that chuckle again. With that, you turn the keys and enter your suite, the room bathed in the warm glow of afternoon sunlight. A welcoming basket rests on the bed, filled with soaps, fall candles, and cookies - one shaped like a ghost and another a pumpkin.

You lean against the door for a moment, attempting to calm the butterflies in your stomach, and then, you realise—it’s cookies. Alex smells like cookies.

—

Alexander has the posture of a banana. That pumpkin must’ve done a number on him. Watching him set the table makes your back hurt, and you want to get up and straighten his back yourself. But when he’s dressed like that, you find it hard to be mad at him.

You'd forgotten about Halloween until you left the suite. Someone's responsible for the caution tape draped across your door and the fake cobwebs you tripped over when coming downstairs. Alex apologised for it, stating, "I let Lily do the decorating. Sorry."

All is forgiven. I mean, how could you not forgive him when he’s dressed as Mario? Hat, gloves, stupid moustache over his beard and everything. There's nothing more charming than a man committed to a bit. Footsteps and rustling fabric fill the room as Princess Peach, earlier known as Lily, rushes to her dad’s side.

"Daddy, I washed my hands!" She exclaims with excitement. "Can I help now?"

"Did you wash your hands with soap, Miss Toadstool?" Alex asks, raising a brow.

Lily looks down at her hands, then books it back into the kitchen. You almost choke on your coffee from holding back a laugh. From behind, Alex lays a hand on your shoulder, squeezing with assurance.

"Don’t worry. She didn't make your coffee. You can help me out if you want."

You set down your mug, smiling. "Anything for the Mushroom Kingdom."

When Alex takes you to the kitchen, the aroma of breakfast is there with warm greetings. Freshly brewed coffee mingles deliciously with the scent of muffins and bacon. You’re embarrassed when your stomach growls a bit too loud, and you swear you catch a chuckle from Alex. It deepens your blush.

The morning sun shines through the window, casting a golden hue on the countertops, and Lily, on a pink step stool, is washing her hands with way too much soap. The bubbles threaten to spill out of the sink, and she’s adorably unaware of the chaos she’s creating.

It's…quite grand. A thing so tiny and cute, making the hottest innkeeper you've met go grey before your eyes? Your heart swells. It's amazing. You can't get this anywhere else.

Alex lifts her off the stool, her hands dripping with suds. "Alright, Princess Peach," he says, setting her on the ground, "the Mushroom Kingdom just passed an ordinance. It’s the Stop Giving Daddy Anxiety law, and it starts today."

—

When was the last time you shared a kitchen with someone? Did you feel yourself wanting to float off the ground? Well, Alex makes it hard to stay grounded. Standing next to him, dicing fruit doesn’t feel like a group project you want to avoid. Unlike at your job, you don’t feel as if you’re trying to complete the picture. You’re already there.

Alex talks about Lily like she’s his best friend. Three days ago, she lost a tooth and got upset when Alex left her just one dollar. You don’t blame the girl, so you took her side.

“A dollar?” you ask in disbelief. “Do you hate her or something?”

He grins, embarrassment colouring his cheeks. “Is that not the standard Tooth Fairy rate?”

"Have you heard of inflation? That dollar won't mean anything in a few years. You're setting her up for disaster."

Alex chuckles, shaking his head. "I’ll adjust my fairy budget accordingly."

Lily is also in little league soccer, and she begged him to replace her shoelaces with ribbons. She’s a goalie. The only vegetable she eats without protests is carrots, and ever since this discovery, he’s been growing them in the inn’s garden.

In contrast, when you ask Alex about himself, you can see him searching for the words, almost as if he’s trying to remember who he is. You ask, "What made you want to run an inn?" and you can practically hear the Final Jeopardy music playing in his head.

"I like taking care of people," he says earnestly. "It’s a disease."

You laugh softly, but Alex’s eyes glint with a sincerity that’s hard to miss. "I’m an only child, so I’ve been taken care of for most of my life. Then, I had my kid and…the rest is instinct, I suppose."

He pauses, his gaze dropping to the cutting board. "I've had a whirlwind of a life. Messed around where I shouldn't. Deep down, I want control amidst the oddities of my...brain. So, I grew a beard, moved to the woods, and I have an inn. Seemed destined for it, really."

His honesty is refreshing, but he “messed around” where he shouldn’t have? This guy? The one with the cute kid that makes your heart leap? Maybe in another universe, he’s a dick. But right now, Alex’s words aren’t aligning with him. The infectious, steady calmness around him doesn’t match—and dare you say—the facade.

"Do I want to know where you’ve messed around?” You ask, unable to hide your scepticism.

Alex looks up, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "That’s between me and my therapist."

“So I’ll ask Lily,” you joke. “Got it.”

He laughs, and this time, it’s genuine. "She can't share patient information, but I’m willing to compromise. I have a pumpkin that needs carving. An extra set of hands never hurt, no? Help me, and I’ll talk to you."

You finish up with the last of the fruit, carefully placing it into a bowl. "Deal. Would these extra sets of hands hurt when I do this?" you ask, moving behind him.

You gently place your hands on his shoulders and align his back to perfection. Alex winces, but the goosebumps on his neck tell another story.

"Your disease is infectious," you say, taking the bowl and heading into the dining area. "Needed to take care of you."

As he adjusts to his new posture, Alex continues slicing his portion of fruit with a foolish, love-struck grin across his face. The idiot doesn't even realise the bananas are still in the peel.

—

Whiskey Way’s garden is a lush and tranquil sight. On an old, sprawling oak tree, the leaves turn to vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow, creating a colourful canopy ahead. Beds of chrysanthemums replace the summer blooms, their colours fitting right in with the fall palette.

A quaint stone path scattered with fallen leaves spirals through the garden, leading to the porch where you and Alex sit. It overlooks the vegetable patch where Lily's carrots and rows of rosemary, thyme and other herbs grow—their earthy scents sprinkling into the cool air.

Being here feels deliberate. You may not have found Whiskey Way by accident. And it’s certainly not a mistake that Alex brought you to what you’d deem the most mushy-gushy romantic place to spill his guts.

Speaking of guts, you’re knee-deep in pumpkin innards and seeds while Alex is going on about a UFO podcast he listens to in the morning. He’s a tad disappointed that since he’s started gardening, he hasn’t seen a crop circle.

"So they’re real?" You ask, dumping seeds and pumpkin guts into a bucket.

"Visitors?" Alex says this in disbelief, as if you’re asking if breathing is a human necessity. "Yes. Absolutely. They’re real."

"But have you seen one?" You raise a brow, and adorably, he blushes.

"Admittedly, no. But I want to believe in them. Even if they aren’t real, I’m having fun pretending." He turns to you, eyes shining like a boy on Christmas. "What about you? Do you believe?"

You’re compelled to say yes, but only to please the little boy behind those eyes. "I believe, Agent Mulder."

"Thank you, Scully."

When Lily turned three, Alex was diagnosed with depression. As he talks, you can see the walls forming, his eyes unsteady, and his voice trembling. But conversely, you watch as he throws a hammer at each one, breaking them down. You’re as awestruck as you are envious.

What does Alex know about you?

“Can I ask you something?” you say. Alex nods, his hands stilling on the pumpkin.

“What—” you almost bite your tongue. “What does it feel like?”

Alex looks down at the empty pumpkin, pondering your question before speaking. He sets down the carving knife and turns to face you, eyes meeting yours.

"You're a carpenter, and you've built yourself a house. It isn't your best work. You've done better in the past, but there's a roof over your head, so you don't complain. Then, a storm happens. Your roof has some holes and a leak. You patch them up and go about your day. It's not an issue.

“The day after, the storm gets worse. The holes are bigger, and the thunder keeps you from sleeping. You’re exhausted from the first time you've repaired everything. Your patchwork is sloppy this time, but the holes are covered, so you go to bed.

"The storm only gets worse. Your roof is missing, and the water is at your ankles. You can open a door or a window, but if you do, you'll flood the town and everyone in it. So you stay home. You're freezing. You're aching. And the house keeps flooding with you in it."

"Do you feel like that all the time?"

Alex shrugs. "On a good day, I’m lightweight. The garden isn’t neglected. My body isn’t either. Lily, the guests I have. It’s a day where I can...disrobe. A good day feels like today."

The wind rustles the oak tree’s leaves as you prepare to fill the silence, your voice barely a whisper.

"Are you…going to be okay?"

"I’ll be alright."

Alex loves the garden. He's said it about three times. When silence falls between the two of you, Alex would look out into the field, and it wasn’t to shy away from you or an awkward habit. It was his anchor. It kept him grounded, and you can feel yourself sinking with him.

—

Tonight, for the first time since you’ve entered the cosy cavern of Whiskey Way, you’re questioning your colouring abilities. Lily's got it down pat; in fact, she’s the one telling you to stay inside the lines. To be fair, she is the one wearing a crown. Lily's working on a giraffe on the left page, and you’re colouring an elephant on the right.

“Lily,” you pause, peering at her page, “Why’s your giraffe pink?”

“Because.” She keeps her eyes fixed on her masterpiece.

“Because...?”

“Because I said so.” Fair enough.

Also, for the first time, Alex is nowhere to be found. After the pumpkin carving, he’d gone off to prepare for the trick-or-treaters tonight, even though the inn doesn’t get much traction on Halloween. In his own words: “Lily gets a head start on candy, and we get a bowl of candy. Everybody wins.”

There’s something about Alex’s adding of “we” that makes it hard to conceal your smile. Whilst you’re smiling like the biggest idiot, Lily's finishing up her giraffe. She chooses yellow for the spots. What a kid.

“I heard the Tooth Fairy did you dirty.”

“Yeah,” Lily pouts, continuing her colouring. “I only got a dollar.”

“Well, what if I told you I’m…” you trail off, thinking. What is going on between you and her dad? “A close friend of the Tooth Fairy? I promise that you’ll get five dollars the next time you lose a tooth.”

“Five?!” she beams, and you see where that missing tooth ought to be. “Really?”

You draw a cross along your heart. “I swear.”

Alex comes downstairs with a pink, sparkly backpack slung over his shoulder, but Lily intercepts him before he can touch the last step. “Daddy! Guess what!”

Alex raises an eyebrow, looking over at you. "Oh, really? Who made you this promise?" The words are meant for you, and even though your cover is blown, you still try to hold back your laughter.

“It’s a secret,” Lily whispers, giggling.

He chuckles, blushing. "Ah, I see. Keep your secrets. Let's get your shoes on. Mummy's coming to get you, kid."

Alex places her down on the reception desk before grabbing a pair of tiny combat boots from the front door, their laces replaced with pink ribbons. Ribbons must be a Lily signature. As Alex puts the shoes on her feet, you notice he's ditched his costume, donning pyjama pants and a knit sweater, looking more huggable than usual. He's also looking paler than he usually does, tying Lily's laces at an intentional, slow pace. You even see his hands shake.

Alex isn’t ready to let her go.

"You’re gonna bring me lots of candy when you get back, yeah?" He asks.

“Mhm!” Lily nods, all enthusiastic.

“Good,” Alex finishes tying the left shoe. “Don’t eat any candy before bed. Especially the Twizzlers. Those are for Daddy.”

You and Lily both laugh. “Kay,” Lily says.

The front door creaks open, and the crisp evening air sweeps in. A heeled boot clicks along the floors of the inn, stopping at the reception desk near Lily and Alex. With dark hair cascading down her back and legs for days, you aren’t sure if she scares you or if you want to be her. The world feels like it’s stopped spinning.

Alex ties the right shoe tight enough to make Lily kick. He squeezes her foot to apologise and sets her down, swallowing the visibly large lump in his throat.

You get it. You totally get it.

“She got you to do the ribbons on the boots, too?“ The woman scoffs, taking the backpack from Alex. “Jesus. We might as well buy her clothes at the craft store.“

“Kat,“ Alex says. “Try saying no to that face.”

As Alex gestures to Lily, Kat rolls her eyes, but a hint of a smile tugs at her lips. “Unlike you, I am immune to the charms of a six-year-old girl,“ she looks down at Lily. “Even if she is cute. Lilybug! Ready to get some candy?”

Lily only hears the word ‘candy’. “I am! I am!“ She’s practically bouncing with excitement.

“Stop calling her that,“ Alex’s tone faux-firm. “She wrote it on a test paper.“ Alex kneels down to Lily's level, kissing his palm and pressing it to her cheek. “See you when I see you. And be good.”

She nods and runs over to Kat, waiting with hands folded over her chest. “Now, Lily. When someone tells you to be good, you do everything you can to be on your worst behaviour. Ain’t that right, Daddy-O?”

“Get out of my inn, Katherine.”

Kat sticks her tongue out. “Alex, why do you hate fun? C’mon Lily, let’s go get some eggs, and I’ll show you some real Halloween fun.”

“Katherine,” Alex warns.

“I’m kidding! Kidding! I’m capable of making jokes, Alex!” Kat says, throwing her hands up in surrender. Her eyes drop to Lily, a playful smile on her lips. “But we’re gonna have fun. Don’t worry.”

And with that, they’re off. Alex lingers by the door for a bit, waving to Lily until she’s out of sight. Once she is, he sighs, hanging his head low before turning to you. This is the first time his smile makes your heart sink.

“Sorry you can’t be with them tonight.” You say.

Alex shrugs, “Eh. I’ll see her later in the week. We got a…co-parenting thing goin’ on. But let’s not drift away from what really matters.”

You look around the room, your face getting warmer. “And that is?”

“You told my daughter I’d give her five dollars. She gonna act like she won Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. You know that, right?”

Relieved, you chuckle. “Be glad I didn’t say 100.”

—

You don’t recall when it got so hot. The fireplace is roaring as usual, and you haven’t complained. Not once. Right now, you need a fire department to put you out. Alex is only getting closer—not that you mind—but he isn’t making it easy to focus. His pinky wiggles next to your palm, wanting nothing more than to intertwine with yours.

Each time he "adjusts" his position on the floor beside you, the scent of his aftershave feels only inches away. If one of you sneezes, it could cause a forehead kiss. Your first kiss with Alex won't be an accident, though. You can feel it.

“So,” Alex begins, “And I mean this in the kindest way possible, I believe you owe me, Little Miss.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “Be specific, Tooth Fairy.”

He changes his position again, sitting crisscross in front of you. “The garden. I told you everything. Now, I think you should return the favour.”

You suck in a breath, but it feels more laboured than usual. Fuck. Do you have to?

“I-I don’t know where to start.” You say, twiddling your thumbs.

Alex takes your hand, laying it flat against his. With his other hand, he gently brushes your knuckles. “That’s alright. I have a plan. For each fact you tell me, I’ll give you a kiss. With your permission, of course.”

He likes a stipulation. Even in your sweaty, nervous state, you can’t refuse. “You like making me work for it, huh? Okay. Permission granted.”

“Alright,” Alex says, kissing your knuckles. “That’s one kiss. Talk to me.”

A smile tugs at your lips, but a dry, hard lump lodges in your throat. “From certain angles, I think you look like Al Pacino. Not a bad thing! Obviously!” Those final five words slip out before your brain can stop them. Jesus. An icebreaker? Now? You’ll be dead of embarrassment before he gets to kiss you.

“So I’ve been told,” He says with a smile. Alex opens your palm, pressing a kiss to it. “Keep going.”

You clear your throat, shuffling uncomfortably on the rug. “Um...okay. I have a degree in marketing, and I work in advertising.” You hesitate, then add, “So, I think your business cards suck.”

Alex chuckles, rolling up the sleeve of your sweater to kiss your wrist. Every bone in his body is disgustingly romantic, isn’t it? “Perhaps you can help me fix them. Now, give me something good.”

Good? Your heart is racing like a wild stallion, so fast and hard that you forget there’s a fire crackling behind you. Is vulnerable...good? Honesty? Does he really want that? You can’t pull the plug. You’ve buried yourself too deep. Or, that’s what the anxiety is telling you.

You recall your surroundings as Alex leans in and kisses your jaw. The firelight casts flickering shadows along the walls and over his handsome face. He’s getting closer, his breath warm against your skin. And God, are his lips soft.

“I’m listening.” He whispers. Alex can see your goosebumps.

You look down to still see Alex’s hand in yours. You squeeze it, bile stinging your throat. “I’m here because my car broke down. I missed a meeting and everything, but now...I literally don’t know what to do.”

Alex doesn’t kiss you, but allows you to continue.

“It’s weird. I feel weird. My job treats me like shit, but I keep going. My car treats me like shit, but I keep going. I put myself in these places where I don’t feel welcomed, and I keep staying. I’m still paying all my bills from school, and I’m waiting for everything to just...stop. But it won’t. And I’m scared. I’m so fucking scared, Alex. I don’t know what to do.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you try your damnedest, but they’re streaming down your cheeks. Your chest feels tight, making every breath shallow and strained, as if your lungs are being squeezed. Alex only holds your hand, and truthfully, it’s all you need. You lean over and rest your head on his shoulder, and you can feel the stability you’ve longed for.

“I,” you start. “I don’t want to be alone, Alex.”

Alex kisses your head before resting his chin on your scalp. “It’s a good thing you aren’t, right?”

—

“Your checkout time is in three hours.”

That’s not what you want to hear. And waking up in Alex’s arms makes it more of an offence. You aren’t prepared to go, and he isn’t ready to let you leave, either. Like in the garden, it feels deliberate. You’re meant to be with Alex right now.

The curtains billow in the breeze, the sun’s rays filtering through and bathing the room in the morning light. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, and you think this is his way of saying he wants more time.

“I haven’t checked my phone since I’ve been here,” you say, but you don’t sound as worried as you should. “My boss is gonna kill me.”

“You’re still on about that job?” Alex asks, sitting up. “From what you’ve told me, they don’t seem to care too much.”

Your arms close around his middle, and you bury your face in his chest. “If you’re asking if I’m still on about having my rent and bills paid, then yes. I’ll keep yapping.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “You can yap until I’m deaf in both ears. I won’t get tired,” he pauses, kissing your head. “But the subject of your yapping isn’t making you happy.”

You gently and repeatedly bump your forehead against his chest, letting out a groan. Alex isn’t wrong, but he shouldn’t say it.

Alex is a great guy. He has a cute kid, a full head of hair, emotionally aware and candid. He’s the kind of person you write poetry about or have posters of plastered on your wall. The inn is a warm, big bear hug with all the coffee and fireside chats you could want. It’s fairytale perfect—a fantasy. Why does it feel real? If everything is so right, how can it be real? Maybe you’ve been deprived of the “good” for too long that you only want to revel in it. And why is that a bad thing?

“What should I do?” You whine, dragging the “o”.

Alex shuffles to sit upright, and you move with him, settling in his lap. “Do you want my selfish little boy answer, or my adult answer?”

“Give me the fun one first.”

He laughs, a sound like warm honey, releasing a sigh. “I’ll give you both. Go home and figure your shit out. I’ll help you find your car and everything. I will always be here when you want to come back. That’s the adult answer.” You nod. “Or, you can stay with me and—”

You cut him off with a kiss. The warmth of his lips, the lingering flavour of coffee still dancing on his tongue, the strength of his hands pulling you near—it all makes the moment seem so...vivid. You aren’t wrong for wanting a fairytale ending in your fairytale place. Besides, Alex looks good in rose tint.

Pulling back, your breath ragged, you meet Alex’s gaze - a mixture of surprise and something else that sends a jolt of heat through your body. “I’m glad we had this talk,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “Very productive.”

Your hands glide from his stomach onto his shoulders, pulling him into another kiss. “We’re done talking.”

For the next three hours, you don’t want to think. Unless it’s about Alex. And his hands going up the t-shirt he lent you for the night. They’re still calloused and eager to please. You moan as he fondles and squeezes your breasts with a gentleness you wouldn’t expect from his rough palms.

Alex’s fingers twist and pinch your nipples in response, and you grind into his lap. His pulse thumps against your tongue, a wild, relentless beat that races beyond your own. It’s a heady mix. The heat of his skin, the taste of him—it leaves you breathless.

He breaks the kiss to remove your shirt, leaning forward until you’re pinned against the bed. “Listen,” he stops to kiss you again. “I want to,” another kiss, “Really, I do. I want you. Terribly. But on my meds, I can’t…Jesus, this is embarrassing.”

Your fingers trace the contours of his face, his blush deepening, and he eventually nuzzles into your neck, his beard tickling your skin. “That’s okay, baby. Don’t be embarrassed.”

To apologise, he plants lingering kisses on your neck, his fingertips ghosting the lace of your panties. “We’ve got next time, yeah? And I promise, when it happens, I am going to fuck you senseless.”

Your toes curl up against the sheets as your underwear dampens. He shouldn’t say things like that when he can’t fuck you senseless. You card your fingers through his hair, pulling just to tease. “Remember, you promised.”

The flimsy lace finally slides down your hips. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, in part of the cold air and the nakedness you feel—physical and in a deeper sense. Alex kneels over you and takes you in, like a painting he already knows the meaning of. His fingers glide along your folds, and you suck in a sharp breath, shuddering.

“I think,” He begins as he sinks a finger inside you. “I think you’re crazy beautiful.”

For a moment, it’s uncomfortable. You haven’t had too many guys before Alex, and you’ve grown accustomed to your own fingers. His fingers are longer and wider than yours, and they pump in and out of you with a feeling your lust clouded head can’t place. You moan as the pace quickens, spreading your legs further.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Do you get this wet for other guys?” No, you don’t. It almost feels unnatural. You shake your head. “I must be lucky. So fuckin’ lucky. You want more?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

He adds another finger, and you feel full already. Fuck. It’s too good. What is it again? Is it lightning? Electricity? An inferno swallowing you whole? Your hips are moving on their own, and your breathing is out of sync. Alex’s thumb brushes against your clit, and you moan, trying to curb the warmth in your stomach.

“Is this how you want me to fuck you?” He cups your face with his freehand. “Tell me. How do you want me?”

Hard. Slow and steady. You don’t know anymore. It’s a lot. You’re wetter than you’ve ever been. The quilt is damp with your sweat, and your back is arching off the mattress. Your nerves are on fire, and it’s all unfamiliar to you. You’d never reach these heights before, not with anyone or yourself.

It can't happen. Not yet. It's too soon.

All you want is for Alex to keep going. You want to tell him what you want. But before you find the words, clouds of white obscure your vision. Another moan escapes your lips as you feel your walls closing around his fingers. Tight. Fluttering. And the feeling is otherworldly.

As your body collapses onto the bed, the heat of tears begins to well in the corners of your eyes. Instinctively, your hands fly to your face, hiding it in pure embarrassment. May lightning strike you down swiftly and mercilessly. You weren’t supposed to do that.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologising for?”

There’s a hint of a snicker in Alex’s voice. Ugh. Yuck. You burrow your head deep into one of his pillows. They smell like him. Like allspice.

“I…finished. Quick.”

His arms come around you in a comforting, snuggly, knit sweater squeeze. It makes it hard to be mad at his laughter, which is a lot more obvious with your bodies glued together.

Damn him and that sweet, honeyed laughter.

“So? Who cares?” He kisses your temple, rubbing your forearms reassuringly. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then don’t worry about it. I promised you a next time. Don’t forget.” As he rolls out of bed, you miss him already. “I’ll run you a bath or a shower. Anything you want.”

You curl into a fetal position. “Just leave me here to die, please.”

His voice grows distant as he enters the en-suite bathroom. You miss him even more. “As long as I am here, you will not die. I have nowhere to hide your body, anyway.”

You smile into the pillow. It’s stupid. You want to flail your legs around like a giddy teenager. So stupid.

The sound of the shower starting gives you a moment to gather your composure. That, and to be a little nosy. Pulling your shirt on, you leisurely stroll around Alex's room, hoping to find a shiny object or a book of curses. Whatever. Something to keep you from missing him while he's in the shower.

His desk catches your eye. It even has a swivel chair. Nice.

On the overhead shelf, there’s a line of books. Mainly literature, with poetry sprinkled in. They seem like interesting reads, but your knowledge doesn’t extend much beyond The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and Parenting for Dummies. In the free space beside the books, a nearly completed Lego Batmobile sits. You smile, running a finger over the tiny bricks.

Nerd.

On the desk, there’s an open notepad. He’s titled a page as “Anyways”, with several lines crossed out—an obvious work in progress. One line remains: Baby, you go hard in the paint!

A framed photo catches your attention. It's Lily and Kat. Lily's in her pink soccer uniform, perched on Kat's shoulders. They look happy—maybe she'd just won a game. You wonder which one of them Alex misses the most.

As you continue to explore, a stack of papers half-hidden under a book catches your eye. Curiosity piqued, you pull them out, and your heart sinks. The heading reads: Introduction to Uncontested Divorce Instructions. What You Need to Know Before Starting Your Divorce Action.

#mickey is typing…#alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #happy fall! (country permitting) i am watching knives out as celebration :)

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