#ransom and marshmallow

[imaginedreamwrite]

7 picture's vibe is kinda giving Ransom and Marshmallow. Don't have specific scenario in my head, but I feel like whenever Ransom does that he is content and happy (well, of course, he is happy - his Marshi is right beside him 😍)

He was aware of how your skin prickled under his hand, goosebumps rising to your flesh while you tried in desperation to act like you weren’t being affected. His hand was steady on your thick thigh, fingers deftly squeezing your leg every few minutes to feel you shiver under him.

“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the road?” Trying to deflect from Ransom stroking your bare thigh with his hand, you turned the conversation to how he was driving, alluding to him being more distracted by you than he should be.

“I’m driving fine, passenger princess.” The corner of his mouth twitched, a smirk toying at his plump lips, his eyes likely burning beneath his dark sunglasses.

“Passenger princess?” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not a passenger princess.”

“Marshmallow,” Ransom slid his hand higher than he had before, heat from the apex between your thighs radiating against the side of his hand and wrist, “take it as a compliment. I like having a passenger princess.”

“I’m not a passenger princess,” you denied him, or tried to, and fixated your attention on the radio instead, “you never said where we’re going.”

“Iceland.” He spoke without skipping a beat, unabashedly naming the beautiful country that had once been on your wishlist of places to see.

“Shut up, we are not.” You turned to face him, eyes steadily growing wider the longer his smirk placated on his face. “Ransom we are not.”

“Aren’t we?”

“We can’t go to Iceland now! We have…work and responsibilities and-”

“-and a private jet we can fool around in.” He lowered his sunglasses and stared you down when he came to a red light, eyes simmering with intense lust, hunger and need.

“You’re serious? We’re going to Iceland? Now?” Your voice raised a pitch, your shock and awe debilitating.

“Yes now, there’s a bag packed in the trunk for you. We’re heading to the airport now.” Ransom squeezed and tapped your leg, the conversation coming to an end with a cocky ‘you’re welcome, baby.’

[imaginedreamwrite]

For the headcanons: Ransom has always known Marshmallow very well, even before they were together. When something’s off, he notices. When she’s feeling depressed or something has her in a funk, for example, she doesn’t eat like she usually does (skips breakfast and/or her morning Starbucks). Ransom knows something is wrong and doesn’t automatically assume she’s doing it to lose weight like everyone else in the office does.

If he could’ve snapped their necks, he would’ve. If he could’ve thrown them out the window of his office, he would’ve.

Ransom loathed the way they talked about you, he despised the way Walt accused you of trying to impress your boss by skipping meals.

Ransom hates them all, every single one of them. He hates them more than he’s hated anyone because he knows its not true. Ransom knows that you’re in a funk, you’re in a bad mood or you had a bad morning, you’re in a negative headspace and you’re not avoiding food or Starbucks to lose weight.

He knows you. And he loves you, fuck…he loves your body. Your curves drive him wild, every ridge and bump that you think he couldn’t love, drives him wild. Ransom is mad about you, he’s driven to the brink and back and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that you’re not yourself.

He finds you hiding in the bathroom, the stall barred shut and your heels discarded in the corner. He hears the sound of you sniffling, the soft quieted mutters that hit his ears create a distinct pull deep within his soul.

Ransom Drysdale lives and breathes for you. You are engrained in every single cell of his heart, you are the stitching that binds him together in wholeness. He never expected to fall in love, he never expected to be swept away in this overwhelming tidal wave that crashed into him.

He fell headfirst, he threw himself over the edge and there would never be a chance to escape.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Ransom rapped his knuckles against the door while his left hand is flush against the wood, “but I need you to come out.”

“I can’t work today, sir-“

“Ransom, marshmallow.” He cut you off with gentleness, that he hadn’t even known he was capable of, rolling off his tongue. “Come out, Marshmallow. We’re don’t working today. We’re taking the afternoon off.”

“You have things to do, Walt-“

“Walt isn’t the damn boss. I am.” Ransom jiggled the handle, popping the lock loose. “Walt can go fuck himself. Come out, baby. Let’s go for a drive, get you a coffee.”

The door opened and you had stood on the other side, your arms wrapped around your waist. You stepped out of the bathroom stall into his embrace, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder.

“Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Free asks for the rest of the night?! You know what I'm here for: I'm 'bout that Marshmallow & Ransom life! Pretty please!

Or maybe something more about everyone's favorite naval pilot? A part 2 to the oneshot with Jake you wrote before?

Please & thank you!

“I’m getting my nails done” has somehow slipped past him when you first told him your had an appointment. But when you called out to him from the living room, answering his question why you time a block of time blacked out, Ransom hadn’t let it slide.

“You didn’t think to ask me if I wanted my nails done?” Ransom had carted himself into the living room with a glass of sherry infused brownie, the piece on the plate was still warm from when he ordered it.

“What? Ransom I didn’t think-“

“Didn’t think what?” He walked around the couch with a level of intensity and set the plate down on the coffee table with a little huff. “That I’d wanna spend the day with my marshmallow getting lacquer on my nails? Or a hand massage?”

“Where is this place anyway?” Ransom sat next to you, crossing one leg over the other and then he slipped his arm around your shoulders. “Hmm? The place north of the-“

“That place? No way.” You shook your head and scooched closer to him, resting against his shoulder. “I’m going to this place called Evoke Beauty.”

“And you didn’t think-“ ransom had pulled away to look at you, stalled by your own stern look.

“I’ll make you an appointment too. We can go together.” You caved and sighed, coming to rest against him again. “Happy now?”

“Delighted.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ransom has to be the most chaotic at the pumpkin patch.

“It smells like dirt.” The first complaint comes as Ransom scrunches his nose in protest to you dragging him here.

“It is a pumpkin patch, Ransom. It’s a farm-“

“I know what it is, marshmallow.” He grimaced and shoved his hands into his Burberry trenchcoat, the scarf around his neck falling looser around his neck. “Can we leave yet?”

“We just got here, and if you want to leave then by all means leave.” You step away from his vehicle with your crossbody bag slung across your shoulder to rest against your left hip, and your simple double-breasted jacket left open.

You had first mentioned the idea of going to a pumpkin patch to pick the perfect sets of pumpkins to carve, and had been more surprised than you imagined when Ransom had stared blankly at you. That look on his face had thrust you into a series of questions and conversations with your grumpy older boss about what he hadn’t done in his childhood. And upon hearing that he had never carved a pumpkin, let alone gone to a patch to pick his own, was a travesty.

“And this is supposed to be better than buying a pumpkin at the store?” Ransom had raised a dark eyebrow with his question, slowly trudging after you as you walked to the entrance gate and slipped a few bills to pay your fee.

“It’s fun, being out in the fall air and getting to see all the leaves change colours. Come on, it’ll be fun!” You insist on dragging him further, insist on dragging him toward the start of the patch while ignoring the sound of his eyes rolling.

“We could be home right now, drinking and fucking-“ Ransom’s comment had been cut short when you slapped your hand over his mouth, glaring at your boyfriend and his irritation.

“There are kids here, Ransom. Can you stop cursing like a sailor?” You had only removed your hand after he rolled his eyes, again, and you had expected that to be the end of it.

“And how,” Ransom had taken you by surprise by wrapping his arms around your waist and huskily growled in your ear, “do you think all these kids got here Marshmallow? Their parents spent all kinds of hours fucking in bed. That’s something we could be doing now-“

“Look Ransom,” you jerked out of his embrace and strut toward a display pumpkin at the front of the patch, one that could be won by guessing its weight, “it’s the size of your ego.”

You looked over your shoulder toward the man who loathed to be here, only to find him staring down a woman across a patch. He had fixated his eyes upon her with a scowl on his face that mirrored her own, and then you had noticed his jaw clenching.

“Ransom-“ You started to turn back to face him, preparing to walk toward him to try and intervene.

“Ransom Drysdale, at a pumpkin patch-“ the woman had started to smirk, her lips becoming parted to start a second statement aimed at him.

“This is the closest you’ll ever get to a Drysdale. Since you stopped whoring yourself out to my father, you’ve lost it.” His comment was met with stark anger from the woman you hadn’t even heard of, and the soft muttering curses that were falling from her lips.

“What the fuck was that?” You questioned Ransom when he had joined you again, looking over your shoulder toward the woman who was still standing in the patch, glaring daggers at his back.

“My father has a particular taste for nannies and nurses. That little bitch used to work for my grandfather, she spent more time on her knees for my father than she had spent doing her job. She was under the impression that my father would leave my mother for her.” Ransom stepped between you and her view, cutting off your visible access to her.

“An image I didn’t need.” you shuddered and gagged, stepping vicariously onto the next path. “Thanks.”

“What kind of pumpkin are you looking for anyway? You know I could pay someone-“

“That one.” You cut him off and dragged him to a few pumpkins halfway down the row. “One for you, and one for me.”

“Why is yours bigger?” Ransom questioned, nudging the one you had picked out with the toe of his boot.

“They’re roughly the same size.” You argued, bending down to grasp the pumpkin around the stem.

“They’re not the same size, marshmallow. That one is clearly bigger.”

“Then you have the bigger one.” You looked up at him, watching him stare you down with a slow-building smirk.

“What?” You asked with suspicion, studying the glint in his eyes.

“You look damn good on your knees right now.” Ransom’s hand fell to the crotch of his jeans, fingers grasping hold of the fly. “Makes me wanna-“

“It’s a pumpkin patch, Ransom. I’m not going to suck your dick in a pumpkin patch.” You huffed and grabbed hold of your pumpkin to secure it in your arms and then you stood. “Nice try.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Fuck around and find out Friday marshmallow standing up to ransoms parents. He so screws her in the beemer after.

My family is terrible was something you had thought Ransom was over dramatic about, all the conversations you’d had with him talking about his past you thought had been overblown. There was a part of you that wondered if maybe the things he said wasn’t true, that maybe he was talking shit about his own family because Ransom Drysdale is a drama legend.

You thought it was rumour until you had to hand deliver and inquisition to your boss, and he happened to be at his parents place. You had gotten a first hand experience with the Drysdale/Thrombey’s in all their chaotic bliss with a file in hand, and a party well underway.

The explanation of having to drop off a file that couldn’t wait, was met with stark criticism from an older blonde woman who appeared to be high and oozing Botox. She had taken a look at you and snort into her champagne glass, a clear dig at your size, though it was nothing new.

“Your Ransom’s assistant, I was going to say little but…”

“Did you know that too much Botox and fake tanning will turn your skin into leather? Well I was going to tell you but from the looks of it you’re already there.” Strike one, and you’d commented in retaliation.

“Excuse me?”

“Ransom!” You called past her, raising your voice and bypassing all the niceties of using ‘Mr. Drysdale’. “You ask me to deliver a file-“

“Do you have any idea who I am?” His relative had scoffed and placed her hand on her chest, offended by your attitude.

“Don’t tell me,” you could see Ransom’s reflection in the window, the steps taken toward you were languid, “you witnessed the signing of the Declaration of Independence.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Her nose scrunched and her lips had curled into a sneer.

“Ransom I swear to God you have two minutes to take this file or I’ll shove it up your ass!” You yelled, done with this whole venture.

“Easy, marshmallow. I’m right here, don’t tell.” He appeared in the doorway, immaculately dressed in a sweater he didn’t know how to take care of, with a glass of his favourite in his hand.

“Ransom your little bitch-“

“Excuse me? Little?” You repeated her sentiment, teeth grinding. “Just because you don’t have an ass or tits doesn’t mean you need to insult those that do.”

“Are you going to let her talk to me that way?” His aunt, you finally surmised, looked to your boss to help.

“No.” Ransom smiled, genuine and oddly charmingly. “You don’t need to hear anymore. We’re leaving.”

“Ransom! Where are you going?!” He stepped out of the house and slipped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you against him.

“If I’m gonna get screwed, might as well get screwed by my marshmallow.”