#ransom drysdale reader insert

[krirebr]

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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[howdoyousleep3]

Prompt: Mommy Kink

Pairing: Female Reader x Randsom Drysdale Word Count: ~7K Tags: age difference, dom/sub relationship, alcohol use (light), porn with little/hidden plot, porn with little angst, mommy kink, nipple play, shower sex, praise kink, exhibitionism, dirty talk, topping from the bottom, multiple orgasms, edging, fluff Author's Note: This has become a fic I've been dying to wash my hands of; it's been in my life and WIP folder for far too long. I hope it doesn't read that way and I hope you can enjoy it. ❤️

As soon as you close the door to your apartment behind you, you know Ransom is here. 

You’ve stopped questioning how he gets into your home.

Based on the subtle tells littered all throughout your apartment, his mood is not a positive one. You know that without needing these signs from the slow walk through your kitchen and towards the living room; he doesn’t visit you when he is cheery. Cabinet door open, tequila bottle left uncorked, his coat draped along the back of your couch; he’s feeling quite brazen tonight. And he’s been drinking. 

You remind yourself of the importance of patience. 

You make no rush to find out where he is even though you have a sneaking suspicion that he’s somewhere in your bedroom. You can see him thinking that being in your most private of spaces will unnerve you, but it’s the most telling of all; a bedroom is the most intimate space in a home. 

You pour yourself two fingers worth of tequila, skip the ice, and place the bottle back into the cabinet. You leave your purse on the kitchen island.

The sound of your heels dances across the darkened walls of your apartment as you make your way to your bedroom. Your shin-length skirt flutters around you at a shared languid pace. You take your time turning off lights and ensuring the apartment is as it should be along your way, sipping on the golden liquid as you go. You gently pull the neck scarf from around the hollow of your throat, removing your hair clip and letting your locks tumble down over your shoulders. 

You softly smile to yourself as you unbutton your shirt enough to where the delicate lace of your bra is visible. There’s no doubt his eyes will be on your breasts in an instant. Good.

You aren’t sure what you expect, but him sitting in your bed, back against the headboard, your current read in his lap is not it. 

He sits in your room with only the dim light of your bedside lamp. You wonder if he realizes it’s terribly domestic. Your steps cease to falter though, not wanting to show him one ounce of surprise as you make your way to your dresser. By the time you’ve set your tumbler on your dresser and removed your watch from your wrist, he still has not spoken to you. You choose to break the silence. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” you murmur, reaching for the backs of your earrings as you remove them, turning to look at him as you do so. 

Your heart nearly stops. 

Immediately, you want to push and ask him what’s happened, his split lip and fresh bruise on his cheek pulling at your heart, but you know if you rush him, he’ll run. He’s still as gorgeous as ever though, his sharp clean jaw and an even sharper set of eyes. From across the room, they’re dark, but up close you know they’re beautifully haunted and bright with mischief. 

In his cable knit sweater and his socked feet, his hair unruly and boyish, the sight feels like a vice around your heart. 

He’s beautiful. 

He’s also a brat. 

Your favorite.

He merely watches you as you place your earrings in the tray on your dresser, placing the clip and neck scarf in their appropriate places as well. You pull your stocking-clad feet from your heels, sighing as you stretch your arches out and make your way across the room to your closet. When you reamerge you break the silence again. 

“Did you have a good day?” 

Not a question of why he’s here or what led to him being on the receiving end of such physical violence that then resulted in the marks on his face. It’s a simple inquiry, but you aren’t surprised by the venom in his tone. 

“What the fuck do you care?” 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t care, you know this.” Your tone is gentle, soft, as you reach for the zipper of your skirt and try again. “Did you have a good day?” 

His eyes are on your body as your skirt drops to the floor. They feel like a physical touch, a heavy one. Even broken and furious he still manages to fill this space with intensely sexual energy and your body, fragile from your own long day, reacts immediately. You ignore said reaction as best you can, but you’re sure your hardened nipples are visible through your shirt as you bend to reach for your skirt. 

“I didn’t come here to talk about my day,” he tells you, tone sharp and mocking. 

“Oh? And why did you come here?” 

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“I came here to fuck you.” 

You in turn do not miss a beat either. 

“Oh, sugar— that’s not quite the truth, is it?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, turning and making your way back into your closet. As you remove your shirt the decision of what Ransom needs comes to you easily. When he comes to you in a mood like this you rarely have to break him down any further; he comes to you ready to be pieced back together again. Rarely do you see this side of him, this pushy, needy side of him that needs a gentle yet implacable hand. 

You leave your stockings, bra, and panties on and return to the bedroom, reaching for your glass along the way back to your bed. 

“Finish your drink,” you tell him, gesturing with your own glass to his on the bedside table. You take a slow sip of your tequila, relishing the burn that slips down your throat. He doesn’t make a move towards his glass and juts his chin out in blatant defiance. 

“You’re not going to waste a drop of my good tequila, Ransom Drysdale. Finish it.” 

You’re surprised and simultaneously relieved when he waits a few seconds and slowly reaches for his glass. Maybe it was your stern tone. He locks eyes with you as he tosses the rest of the tequila back quickly and you make the active decision to not reprimand him for not savoring this finely aged liquor. 

You finish off your two fingers not long after he does, maintaining eye contact as you do so, and when you’ve both swallowed the last of it down, your belly is more than warm. 

You skipped dinner, didn’t you? 

Damn. 

You take a few more steps towards him and hand him your glass. He only hesitates a few seconds before he reaches for it. 

“Thank you, baby,” you murmur, turning and heading into your bathroom, your stockings muffling your footsteps as you walk. You reach for the lights, turning on the dimmest setting, then head to the walk-in shower. You turn that on as well, the above rain shower head as well as the jets of water coming out of the wall. You place two of your largest and fluffiest towels on the bench just out of reach of the spray of water. 

You stop in the doorway of the bathroom, cock your hip and make yourself look as seductive as possible. You bite back your grin when you see that both glasses are out of sight. Good boy.

“Shower with me.” 

The way he gazes at you and your body almost makes you shiver. It’s fond and it’s hungry, the attitude he came here with deteriorating with each passing minute. This is why he came to you— to be loved on. You’re not quite sure how you became this person to him, what led to him clinging to you and reaching for you, but you’ve not once been uninterested. The opposite in fact; you take this cherished role very seriously. 

The last of the fight Ransom wants to put up is terribly visible on his face, the younger man as transparent as always. The way his eyes roam your body feels like a physical touch: down your torso, over your thighs, between your legs. You feel your panties grow damp in an instant, especially when he rises to his feet and reaches for the hem of his sweater. You don’t move from your spot in the doorway, watching on as he strips himself first of his sweater and then his undershirt, your heart kicking up into your throat once he’s bare chested, somehow soft yet hard all over. 

He’s quite literally breathtaking. 

You try your hardest to minimize the rise and fall of your chest as you watch him remove his pants, but you’re certain your neck is flushed and giving you away in an instant. Your panties are ruined, your nipples are more than visible through the thin lining of your bra. There’s no way your face isn’t giving your hunger away either, your eyelids heavy as he kicks his pants a few feet in front of himself, directly in front of you. 

It’s as if he’s taunting you, testing you in order to see the direction the two of you are headed in for the night. 

He knows you won’t tolerate such a move.

You have no choice but to square up with him, and you do so with a dramatic look down at Ransom’s pants on the floor and back up at his face. You’re impressed with yourself when your eyes manage to not linger or even pause on the impressive and familiar bulge between his legs, the dark material of his briefs straining to conceal his erection. The look you are met with is casually challenging, as if he wants you to push back and to do so hard. 

You don’t waste any time. You give him exactly what he’s here for— 

“Mama doesn’t like a mess, sweetheart. You know that.”

The effect of your words is instantaneous. You can practically see your sentence slipping over his shoulders and down his spine, his eyelids fluttering as he swallows quite audibly. And for a moment, he looks vulnerable, fragile even. It breaks your heart, shatters it, brings light to your importance in this role and in his life. You anticipate him fighting you a bit more, which is why you have to put effort into schooling your features when he steps forward and reaches for his discarded pants. 

Oh, baby…

Folding his pants, he places them into the chair to your right and then reaches for his shirts as well. Once his clothes are in a neat stack and he’s left standing in front of you, close enough to force you to tip your head back to look up at him, you want to toss your plan to the side and snuggle Ransom to sleep and not wake up for days. 

But he’s here for a reason. 

“Good boy,” you purr, voice husky as you reign in your eagerness. His lips part when your fingers reach for his cock, circling what you can around the fabric of his briefs. He’s harder than stone under your grip. You can swear you feel him throb there in your hand as you hold onto him, squeezing him. The weight of him, the girth of him, makes your pussy ache, makes you wish you had something to clench around. Your pussy wants him. 

Down girl. 

“Such a big boy,” you whisper anyway, testing the limits of what is and is not acceptable for the night. Ransom responds beautifully, eyelids drooping a bit alongside his jaw as you tug at his erection, stroking him off slowly through his underwear. It’s a selfish move, one just for you to indulge in, and he lets you with a hitch in his breath. 

Christ, he’s beautiful. You want more of him. 

“Is this for me?” you whisper on his lips with a squeeze at his cock, Ransom bending down to meet the tip of your chin. If your mouths weren’t nearly touching you’d miss his gentle and hesitant murmur of “...yes.” He knows what you want to hear but you know he cannot be pushed into indulging in your dynamic; he has to reach that point on his own terms. 

That fact doesn't stop you from giving him a nudge though.

“You sweet boy. All for me?”

You tug on the waistband of his briefs, pull it past the tip of his erection, exposing it. You hear the beginnings of a groan he manages to bite back. 

“For you.”

“For who?” 

You can see the word on the tip of his tongue, his hesitation palpable. You run your thumb along his cockhead, purse your lips around his plump bottom lip in encouragement. You reach for his hand with your free one, help him wrap his trembling fingers around the skin of your neck hoping the gesture will bring him comfort, will ground him. 

“For who, sweetheart?” 

He swallows loudly. 

“For…for Mama...” 

Yes. 

You know your eagerness could scare him away in an instant, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a shaky noise, one that blurs the line between a purr and a groan. There are few things in this world sweeter than Ransom giving into his desires and letting you take care of him in the way only you could. It’s more than a word, it’s more than a misunderstood kink; it’s what this sweet boy needs from you and you’re more than happy to provide. 

You want to give him everything in this moment, want to start by bending down and suckling on his pretty cockhead, but you reel yourself in just enough to whisper, “Can you take the rest of my clothes off, baby? Please?” 

His hands are immediately on your thighs. His touch is rough with eagerness, the tremble in his capable hands obvious, a flush growing on his chest. He drops to his knees then, leans forward and presses his lips along the inside of your thigh as he works one stocking down your leg, peppering it with little kisses, first one and then the other.

He never gives in this easily. He never becomes your sweet boy without more of a fight. 

He must need you tonight. 

The sight and sensation of him kneeling before you does wicked things to your head. With your stockings removed from your legs, he moves up and reaches for your hips with both hands, fingers curling around the meat of them. He kisses over your panties, over your mound, unabashedly inhaling before he’s tugging on the waistband of your silky panties. When you step out of them, one leg at a time, your hands fall easily to his head, fingers slipping through his normally gelled locks. The gentle touch has him exhaling roughly into your belly. 

His urge to put his mouth on you is damn near palpable and fuck, your pussy can feel it too. 

You almost say something, chastise him for so obviously warring over his distracting thoughts and urges, when you feel his fingers run up your backside. He finds the clasp of your bra quickly and he expertly flicks it open even quicker, easing the straps down your shoulders until it too joins your other undergarments on the floor. Your breasts ache, nipples pebbled tightly and begging for a warm mouth. 

This time Ransom gives into his urges, nuzzling at the curve of your breast, rubbing his cheek into it as he sighs. The need to guide his head, to coo as he suckles, almost does you in. 

Instead you take a step back.

“Shower, sweetheart…”

You turn and leave him to follow after you. Pride thrums through your body over the fact that you’ve stayed strong so far, that you have given Ransom what he needs. He doesn’t need someone he can persuade or bend to his will, doesn’t need someone that will give into him easily. He needs steady, he needs calm. He needs structure and love, needs to be soothed and doted on. He needs to be told no. 

You had assumed the steam of the shower and the scorching temperature of the water would bring you clarity, but it seems to do the exact opposite; it makes your need for him grow infinitely. As you begin to remove your makeup and wash your face as causally as you can, your eyes drink him in slowly and luxuriously, his body entirely bare as he seems to saunter into the shower, almost predatorily. 

His eyes are on your body as well, something you would know even if you weren’t looking right at him, the path his eyes take feeling like the lick of a flame. You aren’t intimidated by the glint in his eyes or the curl of his lips; you know his looks are deceiving. His reputation is upheld by his looks, his sharpness, but at this point you know better than to believe there isn’t an abundance of softness underneath his facade. 

When you turn to wet your hair under the stream of water, hot water running down your already heated form, your front presses deliciously against his own. His heavy cock presses tightly against your stomach and your clit throbs at the slick feel of it against your skin. His energy is anything but calm, both of his hands coming up to frame the base of your throat, tightening them briefly before he bats your hands away and replaces them in your hair. 

You don’t react in the slightest to his gestures, eyes locking with his through the rising steam. Trust is a pillar in your relationship, whatever this is. He’d never hurt you, unless that’s something you asked for.

The intimacy of this shared shower is not lost on you.

As you tip your head back and look him over, your eyes are immediately drawn to his lip and his cheek, the respective cut and bruise. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” you ask gently as he reaches for your shampoo, your hands landing easily on his hips. Once they’re there you let them wander easily and greedily, squeezing and sliding them up his sides, down and around to his ass, up his back. Carved from marble, he has to be. His answer is what you expect, a short, “No,” in addition to your name. Just because it’s what you expect doesn’t mean it doesn’t disappoint you. You know little about his family, even littler about his job, his endeavors, but you know he is surely undeserving of physical violence. 

His hands in your hair feel like absolute heaven. When you envisioned the end of your day and this shower it was without him, but even then you were looking forward to it. The addition of Ransom is a delight. His capable fingers work wonders on your scalp as he thoroughly works the shampoo through your hair and you can’t help but moan and let your eyelids fall closed. His trapped cock twitches as each noise falls from your lips, each movement sending a wave of arousal to your core. 

When he rinses the shampoo from your hair, tipping your head back to meet the stream of water with a hand on your neck, you reach for his cock. 

His gasp is so pretty, almost as pretty as your handful. 

“Mama’s missed you,” you tell him as he rids your hair of shampoo, leaning into his hold on your throat as he pulls you towards him with the same grip. His lips land on your temple as you take your time feeling him, unabashedly groping at him. “It’s been so long since you’ve come to visit me.” 

He doesn’t answer, but he does let out his first unreserved noise of the evening, a groan of an exhale that sounds almost painful. You grin into his chest as you bring your other hand down to hold onto his balls, cupping the heavy pair, rolling them. He ruts against your front, your hold on him, does what he can to thrust into your fist. You openly ignore his efforts, taking your time to enjoy the weighty feel of him in your hands, giving yourself a moment to be greedy, to imagine what this will feel like inside of you soon. 

The insides of your thighs are slick and it has nothing to do with the stream of the shower. 

One more soft and urgent noise from him has you humming, pinching the tip of his cock softly. 

“You tell me when you’re close, remember?” 

You’re far too pleased when there is little hesitation as he answers very quietly, “Y-yes, Mama.” You give his sac a slow tug. 

“Are you close?” 

You know he is. You always know when he is about to come. His stomach draws tight, his breathing stutters, his lips part and his eyelids grow heavy. It’s obvious, yet he shakes his head, attempts to fuck into your grip. Greedy boy. You know you should be disappointed, but you find that you’re more thrilled than anything else. You fist his erection and pump him vigorously in your grip, his bitten, “Fuck,” dropping right to your clit. 

“No? You aren’t close?” 

You’re stroking him exactly how he likes, long strokes with a squeeze of your closed fist at the tip, your other hand holding on tightly to his balls. He whines in response, shakes his head and dipping it down so he can press a sucking kiss to the corner of your mouth. How sweet. 

“Liar,” you whisper against his jaw, digging your teeth into it as you drop both of your hands at once. You push him back by a hand in the middle of his flushed chest. You’re tempted to drop to your knees and selfishly suck him off when you get eyes on his hard and angry cock, but the build is so good. You know waiting will be what he needs and what you want. 

“Sit down,” you tell him, gesturing towards the built-in bench at the end of the shower as you reach for your conditioner. “Mama needs to finish washing her hair and then needs to wash her body. You can’t be trusted.” He doesn’t look hurt at your words, just mischievous as ever. If anything, regret flashes in his eyes briefly before a cocky, hungry look takes its place and he leans back into the bench, spreading himself out in an intimidating manner. 

You’re always weak for a manspread, for the way he can send his limbs out in a way that makes him appear even larger than he already is. He knows your weakness. You bite the inside of your lip at his obvious and defiant demeanor. 

You take your time distributing the conditioner through your hair, winding it into a low bun once it saturates the strands as you want it to. You won’t let this man, any man, take away from your self care. When you reach for your loofah and luxurious soap you feel the weight of his eyes on you and you feel your inner vixen slip through your veins and down your spine. 

His eyes on you are your guilty pleasure, your ultimate weakness. The attention he gives you, this special form of attention, is the foundation of your relationship. He looks to you when there is no one else to turn to. He looks to you when he needs comfort that is meaningful and deep, erotic and pleasurable. 

So, his eyes on you make you intoxicated with power, such a unique form of feminine power. You lean into that sensation as you move your loofah across your body, sudsing it up as you make swipe after swipe over your skin. You’re taking care of yourself, showing yourself gratitude and love, but it’s also a show for him. Where you squeeze, where your touch lingers, when you bend your body— it’s all for him. 

But you’re not immune to the way your touches and his gaze combined makes you feel. 

Ransom just about cracks when you turn away from him and bend at the waist, unnecessarily reaching down for your feet. The view has to be sublime. You’re so aroused by the situation that has unfolded before you this evening, turned on by the touches of your little display, that you can feel how swollen your pussy is. Bent over, you reach between your legs with a free hand and give into the urge to rub at yourself, fingers slipping against your clit, dipping between your folds. 

His whine is barely detectable, bitten off and swallowed, but it’s there, you hear it. And it’s just as sweet a victory to you as a climax is.

You’re impressed with yourself at the strength it takes to stand back up just out of reach of the spray of water, turning to face where Ransom sits on the bench. That is when you bring the loofah to your chest, slowly and unnecessarily rubbing it over the heavy curve of your breasts. The ache of the tightness of your nipples as you touch yourself forces your exhale to sound more like a whimper and you drop the loofah to indulge, both for yourself and Ransom. 

You squeeze your breasts together, the soap causing them to slip and smush together lewdly, and you enjoy it immensely as you pinch at both of your nipples. 

You let out a happy, throaty noise and do it all again. 

“Mama,” Ransom bites out, his tone daring to sound more like a warning than a plea. His look is one of warning as well, a stern look you’re sure he gives others and watches them crumble. But not you; you never crumble. 

He knows better than to try it on you. But he sure is a tempting sight, one plucked right out of one of your wettest of dreams. You’ve stood in this exact spot in your shower before, wishing he was sitting just as he is now, cock hard and eyes dark. His body, bare and wet and so big, makes you feel as if you could easily lose your footing in your normally rock solid feminine dominance. 

But that’s not what gets the both of you off, together. 

So, you continue to squeeze and fondle and pinch at your breasts, letting breathy noises fall from your lips. There are many weaknesses he holds for you, but this one just might take the cake. He loves your breasts, adores them even. He gets easily distracted by them, wants to hold them, wants his mouth on them. And when he’s most vulnerable, when he himself would consider him to be at his weakest, he wants to suckle on you, wants your nipples in his mouth as he whines and squeezes for more. 

His brazen display of entering your home without your permission, demanding sex from you, and warning you to not touch yourself is fresh in your mind as you pout, “They’re just so heavy and achy, baby.” 

You move to step back under the stream of water, cupping your breasts with both hands and squeezing at your handfuls, waiting for the water to do its job of rinsing the soap from your body. You then work the conditioner out of your hair, eyes locked onto him as you do so. 

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he does his best to conceal the way he pants for you, his cock heavy and achy itself. The sight of it standing proud between his muscular thighs, the way it arches up towards his stomach, helps make your decision for you. 

There’s a reason Ransom comes to you and only you. 

You delight in his look of surprise as you saunter over towards him. It seems he thought you weren’t going to give him what he came here for and you smile at him as if you don’t intend to prove him wrong. He leans up off the wall behind him, sitting up and looking at you expectantly, the look of surprise only there for but a moment. It’s easy to let him think he’s won as you straddle him, as his hands find your hips and squeeze to the point of pain. 

You aren’t surprised when his hands rise to cup your breasts, squeezing needily, but you are delighted nonetheless. 

It’s an easy decision then, how the evening and your time together should play out. 

You deserve to come. And you’re not sure if he does. 

“Mama wants you inside of her,” you whisper hotly on Ransom’s mouth, rubbing your ass along the line of his cock, fingers of both hands sliding none too gently through his hair. “Are you going to be good and let Mama have what she wants?” 

You can see the internal battle he’s putting himself through in his eyes, the way they somehow gleam with defiance yet soften with submission. You cling to that sign of submission and hum as he brings his mouth to your nipples. You run your fingers through his hair once more as he suckles loudly, pressing your breasts into his hands, into his mouth. Your pussy throbs at his treatment of you, at watching this man feast on your body. Your inner walls clench around nothing, the ache of it something fierce and making you feel a sliver of desperation. 

So, you push. 

“Let Mama come on your cock, baby,” you practically moan, reaching behind your body to grab at his cock. “Let Mama come on your big, baby cock. Let Mama sit on it.” 

Ransom moans around his mouthful, squeezing your breasts together and reaching for your other nipple with his mouth. The look on his face forces a moan from your own mouth, that pretty, glazed look in his eyes making you ache between your legs even more. 

“Mama,” is all he mumbles out against your skin, the both of you groaning when you press his cock against your waiting pussy. Your fingers dive back into his wet hair when you sink onto his cock, first the tip, then halfway down his shaft. There’s no exaggerating your need to ride the tip of his cock, to work yourself up to taking more of him. 

“So big, baby. Your cock makes me feel so good.” 

“Mama…” 

“Say it, baby. Tell Mama you make her feel good.” 

You know he won’t say it, won’t repeat your words about himself, but his reaction makes his disobedience worth it. Ransom’s moan sounds as if it grates against the front of his throat, long and drawn out, and it sounds like pure relief. A relief that only you can bring him. And isn’t that a heady reminder? 

At first, you bounce on your knees, taking your time to adjust to the size of him. It doesn’t take you long though, not with how hungry you are for the feel of him inside of you, the stretch of him, and you’re quickly saddled in close and sitting in his lap. You can’t help the groan that slips easily from your mouth, the indulgent one, the long and drawn out one. It’s more than the feel of him inside of you; it’s the feel of him. 

Ransom underneath you, pressed against you. His sizeable hands running from your hips, up to your back, squeezing at the nape of your neck, pulling you close and demanding your mouth on his. The feeling of him surrounding you as you rock yourself in his lap, as you use his body to make your own body feel impossible things, sensations you admittedly chase with others. 

You wind your arms around his neck, tucking your face into the side of his own, moaning again at the feel of him everywhere; he fills you up like no one else can. He returns your moan in kind and you can feel, can sense, that he’s near his breaking point of complete submission. 

That alone has your walls clenching down around the girth of him, has your stomach swooping as you gasp. 

You rock harder in his lap, bouncing in it as you cling to one another. 

“Mama…Mama.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Baby…yes. Yes.” 

The harder he holds you against him, the more difficult it becomes to move, to bounce. But it’s the way you like it when you’re this close to your orgasm, the way he’s come to know how you like to be held; you want it taken from you. It’s almost savage in nature, how hard you have to force yourself against one another, how forcefully you have to ride him, to use him. 

The sound of your skin slapping against his own, the sound of softness coming in contact with packed muscle, echoes against the shower walls and in your ears. The sensation of the stretch of your pussy around Ransom heightens, the pain, you let out a noise akin to a growl into his cheek, and—

“Take it,” Ransom whimpers through gritted teeth directly into your ear, hands sliding up your back to curl around your shoulders, to make you work harder for it. “Take it, mama. S’yours.”

It’s the submission you constantly crave, the high that burns its way throughout your entire being. This beautiful man, this man that is so unearthly dominant, so aggressive, gives you submission. Beautiful submission. He allows for you to use, allows for you to break him down, allows you to see a side that others couldn’t fathom. You’ll continue to fight for it, you’ve earned it over time, but it’s submission nonetheless. And nothing compares. 

You look him in the eyes when you come. 

You pull your head back out of his neck, dig your fingers into his scalp and hold him there while letting him see the results of what his submission has brought out of you. He can surely feel the way your pussy pulses around him, the way your body demands release from his own and makes a valiant attempt to milk his come from his cock, and you know he can hear you whining, but you always want him to see. 

Because him watching you, his eyes frantically taking everything in and witnessing the result of him being good as it’s sprawled across your features, is the best part. 

When your hips slow, when you’re sitting in his lap as you gasp for enough air to slow the beat of your heart, you recognize he’s truly giving you the submission you want. 

Without prompt, without redirection, without reprimand; Ransom waits. He clings to you and you feel the way his body trembles against all the places his skin touches yours, his chest heaving as well, and you marvel at his desire to be good. 

He comes to you for a reason. Your firm hand and expectations are ones different from the ones society places on his shoulders. People see hardness when they look at Ransom, see cockiness and an unjustifiable ego. They see a fight. But you see softness. You see years of unaddressed trauma present in the way he takes on the world head-first, see someone in desperate need of praise and comfort and trust. 

Even if he sometimes seeks out your attention through negative antics such as breaking into your house while you’re away at work, he chooses you. You choose one another. And that coupled with the blooming bruises on his face, ones you’re taking note of again now that the feral haze of want is clearing after your orgasm, makes the decision easy for you. 

“I want you to come,” you murmur against his lips, winding an arm around his shoulder as you use your opposite hand to stroke your fingers down his cheek. You rise up on your knees again, the two of you hissing at the sensations of two very different kinds of overstimulation. His hands fly to your hips, unabashedly whimpering against your mouth as he frantically shakes his head. 

“No, Mama. Mama…” 

He’s so far gone and so, so goddamn beautiful. 

It’s your turn to whimper, but you nod your head in retaliation against the shake of his. 

“Yes…yes,” is all you can say at first, the stretch and drag of his cock inside of you momentarily zapping all focus away from your mind. “Yes, I want you to come.” 

“Mama…Mama, please.” 

“You’ve been so good, baby. You’ve been—” 

The broken moan he pours onto your lips spurs your hips on, has you bouncing in his lap with renewed vigor. The drag of your nipples against his chest, your wet skin sliding easily against each other’s, overstimulates you further. You don’t give him another chance to further deny you what it is you both want. 

“You’ve been so good for me, sweetheart,” you repeat, brushing the fingers of one hand through his hair and looking him in the eyes as you cling to him. “You deserve this. I want you to come. Mama wants it, baby. Mama wants it.” 

“I don’t…fuck, but I don’t—”

You bite out a sharp noise.

“Hush. You’re going to come because you deserve it and because I want it. You’re good. You’re so good, baby.” 

When Ransom’s breath hitches, when his arms wind around your bouncing frame and his mouth drops open, you know you’ve got him. It nearly makes you come again, the vulnerable look he gives you as he accepts your words of support and praise and climaxes from it. 

The times when he comes with a gentleness about him, when he is most quiet, are your favorite. When you can feel him feeling his orgasm across every part of his body, when he almost looks at you with wide eyes as if he’s scared to feel this good, you can barely contain your own wave of emotion, the hitch in your breathing. 

“That’s it, baby— give Mama what she wants.” 

He shakes his way through his orgasm, clinging to you as if you’re safety and comfort personified, as if you’re the only thing that makes sense in a world that he has to fake his way through. Your own moans are broken, ragged even, the feeling of Ransom coming inside of you never failing to bring you an immense sense of purpose and pleasure. 

He sucks down air as if he’s run a marathon, breaths whooshing against your neck. His grip is still painfully tight on your sides where he clings to you and his breaths sound damn near sorrowful. You run your hands along his shoulders and marvel at the strength that hides his softness. So strong, too strong. So soft. 

Your eyes fall shut as your lips take in the softness of the skin of his neck and shoulder. 

When they open again it’s because of the sensation of being picked up. And when you make a pitiful noise in protest of being carried out of the shower, you’re met with a taste of your own medicine. 

“Hush. I’m allowed to take care of you too, Mama.” 

You swear you feel yourself blush. 

He sets you down on your bathroom counter, taking one of the towels you set out and drying you off with it. You watch him as he’s gentle with your body, as he squeezes the water from your hair. Your eyes follow him even as he dries his own body off, moving much more efficiently and quickly compared to how he cared for your body. 

You want him to stay. You want him to stay for a long time. But you don’t dare vocalize your desire for him to stay with you; it will surely scare him away. You’re certain it’s obvious on your face though, with the way you look up at him and lean towards his touch as he begins to move a brush through your hair. 

You know your thoughts are obvious when he pauses before reaching for you again, hands wrapped gently around the column of your throat as he gazes down at you. 

Don’t look at me like that. 

You can hear the words even if they are unspoken. 

He’s said them to you before. 

You’re ready for the inevitable sting of rejection when he pulls you up into his arms once more and carries you into your dimly lit bedroom. When he pulls back the duvet and manages to climb in with you in tow, the surprise written all over your face is surely something he chooses to ignore.  

He reaches for your bedside lamp then, engulfing the room in total darkness, reaching for you next. 

A level of emotional content washes over you as he settles into your bed beside you as if it’s something he does every night, as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Your bodies meld together, your limbs intertwine, and your heart aches the moment the thought of you not being able to do this with other people crosses your mind. Aftercare, gentleness, snuggling, is something you have to force yourself through with others. 

It seems you both yearn for things you can only find with each other. It seems that there's a reason you're pulled back to one another again and again. 

His breaths are barely evening out, deepening, when you break the silence with a whisper as your fingers run up his back. 

“You’re going to tell me who hurt you.” 

The answer you get in response isn’t even a word; it’s a gruff noise.

You decide to not press the issue any further, promising both yourself and him that you’ll make whoever hurt him pay in your own special way, and tuck yourself into his neck. 

One win at a time.

[likeahorribledream]

new guy

» CHAPTER NINE: STORM IS COMING

CHAPTER EIGHT

SUMMARY: Turns out you and Ransom don't necessarily have the same goal for your relationship.

PAIRING: Ransom x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst. New Girl AU.

REQUEST: Librarian!Reader, she’s shy and insecure about her appearance.

18+. Minors DNI.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

All his life Ransom has heard people around him complain about how quickly the weekends go by and that they all hate Monday mornings but he never understood why. He thought that by getting a job he'd finally understand but he doesn't. He loves the weekend because he can sleep in with his girl but he also loves week days. 

His alarm doesn't bother him because he's usually already awake to gently wake you up instead of the very annoying sound coming from the alarm clock on your phone. Your alarm goes off at 7, but he wakes you up at 6:59 every morning.

Neither of you talk aside from mumbling a quick "good morning". You aren't morning people and you both love your peace and quiet after waking up. 

Ransom loves mornings just because you're a little grumpy and cuddly. It's not unusual for you to stop in the middle of a task just to get a hug from him before going back to getting ready. 

Then, he gets to spend the entire day with you at work and watching you share your love of books with other people. Watching you recommend books is one of his favorite things. The way your eyes light up when you're talking and how you can't stop smiling make him melt. 

Going to work is never a chore because he gets to do it with you. 

Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd ever be the kind of guy to one, be in a relationship and two, be obsessed with a girl and yet here he is. 

Harlan cutting him off changed him but meeting you transformed him. He's glad he met you after losing everything because otherwise he probably wouldn't have looked at you twice, he would have been too busy chasing other girls to notice you. He wasn't good enough for you back then, he still doesn't think that he is now but he works at himself every day to change that. 

Some may say that Ransom isn't Ransom anymore but he'd argue that he's never been more himself than he is now. 

Going to work is never a chore but he still looks forward to the weekend. 

You promised to teach him how to cook on Saturday morning and it's something new that he's looking forward to. 

If his family could see him now. Selfish, trust-fund asshole Ransom Drysdale learning to cook from a girl, from his girl. They would hate every second of it and for the first time in his life Ransom could say that he genuinely doesn't care what they think. 

Every day that he wakes up this week means it's a day closer to Saturday morning and he's excited, which you think is adorable. 

Sometimes he reminds you of a child. In the sense that he gets excited for the most basic things and you find it endearing. It makes your heart ache that no one ever took the time to show him those things but you're glad that you get to be the one to teach him. They make fond little memories that you will look back to in years and smile as you think of them. 

You feel bad for not spending as much time with Chase and Theo as you used to but they don't mind. You're happy, happier than they have ever seen you before and that's all that matters to them. 

With the week finally over and work out of the way, you can finally relax and have fun with the guys. It's been a while since you've done a Friday game night and that's exactly what you're doing tonight. Take outs and board games. Ransom didn't really feel like playing so instead he's sitting on the couch, scrolling through breakfast recipes on his phone while the three of you are sitting on the floor around the coffee table. 

"Theo." You laugh. "Stop showing me your cards! I'm cheating and it's not even on purpose." You shake your head.

You've been playing for an hour and it's the fourth time you've had to tell Theo to hide his cards. He's too busy bickering with Chase to even notice what he's doing. 

Ransom gets off the couch and stands next to you, looking down at you. "Can we go to bed?"

You look up at him. "You don't want to play with us?" 

"Not really, no." He shrugs. 

"I'm having fun, I don't want to go to bed yet." You sigh and put down your cards. 

"Alright. Can I snuggle while you play?"

You smile. "Best of both worlds." 

Ransom sits on the floor between you and the couch, resting his back against it as you lean back into him. 

"Never in a million year did I ever think I'd see Ransom ask to snuggle." Theo says after watching your exchange with Ransom. 

"Why not?" Ransom asks as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

Theo shrugs and shakes his head. "You don't strike me as the cuddling type." 

"Guys usually tend to hide their soft side." Chase adds.

Ransom snorts and shakes his head disapprovingly. "I've never cared about what other people think of me and I've never let their opinions stop me from doing what I want. Am I supposed to keep my hands to myself or pretend like I don't care about my girl because otherwise people are going to be uncomfortable? Fuck that, that's dumb." 

You bite back a smile and turn your head to the side to kiss his cheek. 

"That's good." Chase nods, approving of Ransom's way of thinking. "The guys before you thought the opposite, it's nice to see that you actually care." 

You clear your throat, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Can we not talk about that?" You ask quietly, picking at your cards and avoiding eye contact. 

"That's because she needed a man." He peppers your neck with kisses and grins at the sound of your laughter. 

"I need one of those too." Theo mumbles under his breath. 

"Not this one." You warn him. 

"Your brother then?" Theo smirks playfully.

"There are so many men out there, does it really have to be my brother?" You whine.

"Yes! He's sweet and funny." 

"And hot." Chase adds.

"So hot." Theo sighs dreamily. 

You point a finger at Chase. "Don't encourage him." 

"Looks like Theo's going to be your brother-in-law." Ransom teases you. 

You turn to the side to look at him. "You do know that means you and Theo will technically be family." You ask, raising a brow. 

He stops laughing and looks at Theo. "Stay the fuck away from her brother."

Theo gasps. "That's no way to talk to your future brother-in-law, Ranny." 

"Don't call me that." 

You and Chase exchange a look before rolling your eyes. Ransom can pretend all he wants but everyone knows he adores Theo just like Theo adores him. For some reason they like to bicker. Constantly. It's like they are making up for all those years they were brother less.

You collect everyone's cards while they keep fighting and put them back in the box, clearly you're done playing for tonight. Ransom sees that you're moving to get up and helps you stand. 

"Where are you going, kitten?" 

"To bed, are you coming?" You hold out your hand.

He takes it right away and hurries to his feet. 

"Good night." You say to your friends before leading Ransom out of the living room to his room. 

You lie down under his covers together, he's holding you close to his chest as he spoons you. He lovingly kisses the skin of your shoulder and of the side of your neck. 

"Are you tired?" 

You nod and turn your head to the side to try and catch a glimpse of him. "You?"

"I'm beat." He moves his hand to your cheek to hold your head to the side. He brushes his nose against yours and smiles softly before leaning down to kiss you. "Good night my love." He whispers between two kisses, making you smile.

You cover his hand on your cheek with yours, not hesitating to press your lips to his. "Good night baby." You whisper back once he gives you a chance to breathe again. 

He moves his hand down from your cheek and instead lays it flat on your chest, right above your heart. He waits for you to turn back your head to bury his in your neck. It doesn't take long at all for sleep to find you both once you're comfortable and all wrapped up around each other.

Surprisingly enough, you manage to stay in that exact position all through the night. It doesn't look like either of you moved even an inch. 

You wake up first but you don't move or open your eyes, enjoying every second of being in Ransom's warmth and arms.

Ransom lets out a small content sigh as he wakes up. He doesn't need to open his eyes or look at you to know that you're already awake and he smiles.

"Good morning." He whispers against your neck, his voice low and dripping with sleep. 

You smile and move your hand to his hair, gently scratching his head as you run your fingers through his hair. It's longer than when he first moved in and he uses a lot less products to keep it perfectly styled all the time, which you love because they are fluffier and softer. Especially in the morning. "Good morning." You say softly. 

You stay like this for a few more minutes before speaking again. "I'm sorry Ran but I need to move. The leg that's under me is cramping up." You laugh quietly. 

He chuckles and moves to give you enough space to lie on your back instead. Ransom comes to lie on top of you, settling himself between your legs as he holds himself up on his elbows to make sure he doesn't crush you. 

"Better?" He leans down to give both of your cheeks a kiss. 

"Much." You giggle at his kisses. "You woke up into a cuddly mood this morning." 

"Too much?" He looks down at you, worried he might be overdoing it.

You quickly shake your head no. "I like it." You reassure him with a smile.

"Can we go make breakfast and come back to bed after eating? I don't want to move but I'm starving." He huffs, slightly annoyed that he needs to get up.

"It's Saturday, we can do whatever we want." You smile. 

"Kiss." He purses his lips, making you laugh.

You put your arms around his shoulders and lift yourself up, enough to reach his lips and kiss him softly. 

He grins and sits up, taking you with him. "I want more of this but after breakfast." 

"Don't ever say I like food more than you again, look who is choosing food over cuddling and kissing." You stick your tongue out before getting out of bed and stretching your arms above your head.

Ransom kneels on the bed behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. "Want me to starve for you, kitten? You say the word and I will. I'll starve to death if I have to." He gently bites your neck. 

You laugh. "So dramatic." You tease him. "No need to starve." You slip out of his hold before he has time to stop you and make your way to the door. "But don't expect kisses later. You chose food over me, you are gonna have to deal with the consequences." 

"Alright, come back here." Ransom gets out of bed to stop you from leaving but you're too quick.

You hurry to the kitchen and give him a cheeky grin. "Too slow, old man."

"You're lucky you're so fucking cute." He kisses your cheek and helps you set up. 

"What do you want to make?" You ask him, standing in front of the fridge to take out what you need for the recipe he chose.

"Pancakes? It seems like a pretty easy thing to do." 

"Easy and delicious." You bring all the ingredients you're going to need and put them down on the kitchen island. "I'm going to let you make them, I'll just tell you the steps." 

Normally making pancake batter takes you about two minutes but Ransom is really taking his time and you're letting him go at his own pace. 

Chase and Theo join you in the kitchen, their stomachs already growling. 

"Mom and dad are making us pancakes." Theo says to Chase, teasing you. 

You and Ransom both laugh at the same time except in very different ways. You laugh genuinely but Ransom sounds more like he's heard something stupid.

"That's not gonna happen." He shakes his head and chuckles before flipping the first pancake.

"What's not gonna happen?" You're pretty sure you already know the answer but you need to hear him say it. 

Ransom shrugs. "I'm not having kids." 

He's so focused on not burning anything that he misses the moment you get crushed by his words.  

"You don't want kids?" You stare at his back, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Nope." He says, emphasizing on the "p" sound. 

Your eyes fall to the ground and you stare at the floor, not knowing what to say. 

Theo and Chase keep glancing at each other and silently decide to leave the kitchen to go into Chase's room. 

Ransom feels the weird shift in the air and turns around, surprised to see you standing behind him. 

"Kitten, are you ok? You look like you've seen a ghost." He smiles in the hope it'll make you smile but you give him nothing. He turns off the stove and walks over to you, gently putting his hands on your shoulders. "What's wrong?" 

"I want to have kids." You say quietly, avoiding looking into his eyes. 

"Oh." He clears his throat. 

"Yeah." You take a few steps back and he lets go of you, his hands dropping back to his side. "Are you sure?" You hesitate to ask but the pain in your chest is making you desperate.

"Are you?" He keeps looking directly at you while you do everything in your power to avoid eye contact.

"I'm more than sure." You finally look up and the pain in your eyes knocks the wind out of his lungs. 

"You know me, you know of my family… We're not good people. It's in our DNA. I'm not going to add another selfish asshole to our family tree. I can't." 

You understand why he doesn't want kids, you really do. You don't blame him for thinking this way. "You're not like them, Ran. You wouldn't be like your dad-"

"Look, maybe I'll change my mind in like 10 years. We have time, right?"

"No, you do. I don't. What happens if in 10 years you change your mind and it's too late? What if I get pregnant before then and you resent me for the next 18 years?" You shake your head. "I'm willing to compromise about a lot of things but not this. I'm sorry." You walk around the kitchen island and head to your room, swallowing with difficulty because of the lump in your throat, rapidly forming from your unshed tears and heartache. 

Ransom follows you. "Why can't I be enough for you?"

You sit on your bed and take in a few shaky breaths. "You are enough, more than enough." 

"Then we don't need kids." He nervously runs his fingers through his hair.

"I do." You quickly wipe off the tear that escapes at the corner of your eye. "I don't know how to explain it, I just know that I do. I've known since I was teenager. It's the one thing in my life I've always been sure of. It's not because you're not enough, it's just… different." 

"Aren't we happy just the two of us together?" He is getting desperate as he gets a bad feeling about where this conversation is headed.

"We are." You nod. 

"Then why risk messing it up?" He kneels on the floor in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs with a pleading look in his eyes.

You smile sadly down at him and stroke his cheek with your hand. "I don't see having kids as a risk of messing things up, for me having kids is adding to my happiness." 

Ransom wipes angrily at his cheeks, he doesn't even know when he started crying. He stands up and looks down at you, holding back more tears. "So that's it then? We're done?" 

"I don't know." You answer sincerely. "I don't want us to be done." 

He stares at you then leaves your room. He storms out of the loft and slams the door as he goes, taking the stairs two at a time to get to the first floor and outside. 

You slowly stand up and walk over to your door to close it quietly before heading back to bed. You jump at the sound of the front door being slammed shut and quickly crawl into bed, hiding under your covers. You finally let the tears come out, hoping it will help soothe the soul crushing pain in your heart. 

It doesn't. 

Ransom pulls out his phone from his pocket, not caring that he's only wearing sweats and a coat outside. He scrolls through his contacts until he finds the person he's looking for. He lifts his phone to his ear as it starts to ring and he's relieved when the other person picks up almost instantly.

"Can I come over to your place? I really need to see you."

Lordy lord. It's been awhile.... This was written a long LONG time ago. I haven't edited anything I'm sorry. If you're one of the few that stuck around for this story, thank you and I promise there's more to come.

[halfrican-heat]

Lyv’s Library 📚

Hey, I'm Lyv! This is my masterlist. Browse around and see what you might like. Be sure to check out my BIO and REQUEST RULES for more info. Happy reading!

REQUESTS ARE: OPEN

Legend: ANGST/FLUFF/SMUT/SERIES

Ony's Observatory

Shorts

Backseat Driver Upstanding Gentleman

Full Fics

ALL MINE

Curated Characters

Sober!Ony Wedding Planner!Reader

Eren's Entrance

Full Fics

FAME (1)

Mackie Museum

S. Wilson

Take Care of You (Blurb)

Evans Exhibit

A. Levinson

Freakum

S. Rogers

Slow&Steady

R. Drysdale

Ain't Shit.

[deceitfuldevout]

Deceitfuldevout's Chris Evans Masterlist:

❤️ = Fluff

🔞 = Spicy/Nsfw

🖤 = Dark

❌ = No warnings/Sfw

One-Shots:

Poison Apple - Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Goth!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704554242553380864/poison-apple?source=share

Trust - Dark!Stucky x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649373631528960/trust?source=share

Red Daughter - Dark!Steve Rogers x ExHydra!Reader x Dark!Bucky Barnes: 🔞🖤 https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649377217724416/red-daughter?source=share

Sleeping Beauty - Dark!Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader x Dark!Bucky Barnes: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704649380328882176/sleeping-beauty?source=share

The Passenger - Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/704662523144765440/the-passenger?source=share

Ruining America's Sweetheart - Dark!Steve Rogers x Sidekick!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/726011254129524736/americas-sweetheart?source=share

PIty Party - Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Runaway!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/715180927034294272/pity-party?source=share

Series:

Easy Money - Dark!Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x Heiress!Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/708439020662882304/deceitfuldevouts-easy-money-masterlist?source=share

Trust Fund Baby - Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Reader: 🔞🖤https://www.tumblr.com/deceitfuldevout/707813567777439744/trust-fund-baby-masterlist?source=share

[chuckbass-love]

hHello, I hope it's okay, when do you update "only love can hurt like that"? That story really left me stung ❤️

Heyyyy!!!

I know i've been saying that i'm back but haven't actually posted any story updates or any stories at all. But i am trying to get back to it i promise.

Life is very hectic and things are only just starting to calm down and settle now.

My goal is to update before Christmas and my birthday and also to get a Jake Jensen fic out too. A girl can try and dream.

Thank you so so so much, genuinely, for supporting my work. I worked so hard on that series and it's very dear to me and one of my faves of my work so far. I cannot wait to finish the next installment and get it out to you lovely.

Hope you're well and still very much interested in this.

[krirebr]

I'm Feeling Like I Never Should

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Summary: It's bad enough you've been forced to be at this charity gala, but now you have to deal with your ex, Ransom.

Warnings: Explicit language, anxiety, insults, bad parents All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 Siri's Birthday Bonenanza!!! The prompts I used were seeking comfort (or sexy times) from an ex and “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” which both screamed Ransom to me. 😂 Thank you for hosting such a fun event, Siri!! I hope you had a great birthday!

Thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has an endless supply of patience for talking through ideas with me and helping me whenever I'm stuck.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The noise from the party floated down the secluded back hallway, muted but still audible. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall. You really hated these things. Too many people. Too much smugness. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t all just donate to charities in private. That’s what the internet was for. But no, you had to watch each other do it to prove how good you all were while eating canapes and drinking too much in designer gowns. You really hated these things.

And your parents knew that. Your mom, especially, knew exactly what rooms like this, full of distant acquaintances and strangers, did to you. Knew how hard forced mingling was for you. Knew the way it made your chest ache. And still, she’d insisted. And then she’d–

You wiped the stray tears from your face. It was pointless to get upset over things she’d always done, over a person who’d never change. You should know better by now.

The door at the far end of the hall opened and you reflexively looked over at the noise to find Ransom Drysdale standing in the doorway in a tux. Shit. Shit. He, of course, had seen you too and now he was striding over.  

 “Not fucking now, Ransom,” you whined, but of course he didn’t listen. He’d never fucking listened. Not when you were kids and knew him in passing. Not for the entire time you’d dated as adults. Why would he start now?

“Wow,” he said, gesturing to you with a crostini in his hand. “There’s a party going on out there and you’re playing wallflower in here? Color me shocked.”

“Yeah?” you said. “And what are you doing in here? Trying to find a caterer to pay to blow you?” No one could get your back up like him. He’d always brought the vile out in you.

He gave you a mean little smirk. “You rather I slipped you a fifty instead? Your mouth always was one of the best things about you.”

You felt your skin start to heat in embarrassment (and something else you had no interest in naming) as you growled, “Fuck off, Ransom. I’m sure this building has other hallways for you to lurk in. Please just leave this one to me.”

You looked down, waiting for him to leave, but he didn’t move. Instead, you felt his intense stare on you. When you finally looked back up, his gaze was softer than you expected. “Is it your mom again?” he asked. 

You pushed yourself back into the wall, for lack of anywhere to hide. It was easy to forget when he was such an asshole, when all you did was trade barbs, how much he’d seen, how well he knew you. All you could do was shrug, with a quiet, “You know how she is.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Still wants a mini-me instead of an actual human daughter?”

You sighed. It was too much, too real, to have him here like this. You almost preferred it when he was insulting you. “I really just want to be alone right now, Ran. Please.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, shaking his head. His voice was so sure, firm.

“Excuse me?” you bit out, the acid coming back.

“If I leave you alone, you’re just going to stand back here and spiral until you’ve made yourself completely fucking miserable. To the point where it’ll take you days to come out of it. That is not what you actually want.”

His certainty lit a fire inside of you. “I know,” you growled out, “that you think you know everything, but you aren’t actually the expert on me, Ransom.”

“Aren’t I?” he asked, with a hint of that smirk returning. It made you want to punch him in his beautiful face.

“Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you? I know it’s been a while, but I know you. Better than any of those assholes out there.” He threw an emphatic arm back towards the party. “Including your fucking parents. You can talk to me.”

“And say what, Ran? That she’s still dragging me to these things even though she knows what they do to me? That she’s decided that there’s not much to brag about in a single daughter to her society friends, so these fucking events have become matchmaking opportunities too? That she will never tire of reminding me just how much I’m not the person she wants me to be? It’s just the same old bullshit. It’s not your problem anymore. It barely was even when we were together.” You sagged back against the wall, all of your energy leeched out of you.

Ransom was quiet for a very long moment. You hoped that meant he might leave, finally seeing what a lost cause this all was. Instead, when he finally spoke, he said, “She always really hated me.”

“Yeah, Ran,” you sighed. “She hates a lot of people.”

“No,” he said, with a smile that still had a touch of meanness to it, but, as always, you could somehow tell that none of that meanness was directed at you, “what I’m trying to say is I bet it would fucking piss her off if you walked back into that party with me on your arm. Spent the whole night with me. Left with me, even. I bet she’d be so angry. I bet it’d ruin her whole fucking week.”

You burst into laughter. You couldn’t help it. No one could do petty like Ransom. You’d forgotten how fun that could be. “Yeah? That’s why you want to hang out with me? To piss off my mom?”

“No, that’s why you want to hang out with me. I want to hang out with you because you’re always the hottest person at these things.” And then he gave you the most shameless once-over you’d ever received.

“Oh my god,” you chuckled with an overly fond eye-roll, despite yourself. He was always just so Ransom. The things about him that pissed you off and drew you to him in equal measure never changed. You were sure they never would. “What about you? I’m sure you have lots of people to piss off. How are Richard and Linda?”

He gave you a bright smile. “Oh, just the absolute fucking worst. As ever.”

You laughed again. “Glad to hear we’re still in the same boat, at least.” You pushed yourself off the wall and took a step closer to him, feeling like you might finally be ready to venture back into the party. “What were you doing back here, anyway? Do you need to finish finding whatever it is you were looking for?”

Ransom glanced away from you for just a moment and then shrugged. “Nah. I was bored out of my mind out there and then saw your mom swanning around, in rare form even for her. Figured I’d probably find you back here.”

You touched his arm without thinking, warmth spreading through your chest. “Wait, you were looking for me?”

He shrugged again. “I know how much you hate these things. Thought you might need checking up on.”

All you could do was stare at him, all the best feelings from your time together rushing back over you. “You’re very surprising, Ransom,” you said, quietly.

He shook his head with a rueful grin. “No,” he said, “definitely not that. I’m just the same old asshole.” He offered you his arm. “Come on, let’s see if we can make that vein in your mom’s forehead throb.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly

[unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men]

Posting a little blurb of my Lloyd Hansen x Reader x Ransom Drysdale fic

All mistakes are mine and this is a work in progress

Warnings: Implied smut, Lloyd Hansen & Ransom Drysdale (they're both warnings) implied fingering, implied choking. Hope I didn't forget anything

Caught

*header made by the lovely and amazing @lilacevans *

*divider made by @saradika please check both out*

Lloyd strokes your flushed cheek and smiles “Oh yeah? Are you sure sunshine?” You nod and manage to slide onto Lloyd’s lap nuzzling along his neck, letting out a pleased grunt his hands move up and down your back, glancing at Ransom he winks at him “Look at you so bold now sunshine, what brought all this on?” You pout and grumble softly “M’sad and lonely!” Biting on your lower lip you look at both men

“Ran come closer please” He glances at you and rolls his eyes but slides closer to you “Shouldn’t have had so much to drink sweetheart” You poke him in the chest huffing softly “You should be nicer!” Ransom chuckles “Oh yeah and why is that? Because you told me too?” You lean in close and kiss him gasping at how soft his lips are, you feel him pull you tighter. Lloyd smirks and nibbles along your neck making you squirm in Ransom’s lap “Look at sunshine all needy, want us to help hmm?”

You nod feeling Ransom’s hands moving along the zipper of your dress, Lloyd grabs your hair pulling your head back to look at him “We need words sunshine, or have you already gone dumb thinking of us wrecking you?” You lick your lips and moan softly “Yes, I need both of you” Lloyd laughs and bites down on your neck sucking hard while his hand wraps around your throat adding pressure, Ransom watches and smirks “Who would have thought this would get you so eager” Sliding his hand along the zipper he unzips it a bit while his free hand slides up under your dress.

[likeahorribledream]

new guy

» CHAPTER TEN: A LITTLE GUIDANCE

CHAPTER NINE

SUMMARY: WHAT LIES AHEAD FOR YOU AND RANSOM?

PAIRING: Ransom x Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0K

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst. New Girl AU.

REQUEST: Librarian!Reader, she’s shy and insecure about her appearance.

18+. Minors DNI.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝚂𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚂 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

As soon as the door slams shut Theo and Chase come out of his room, looking around to see if the coast is clear.

"How bad do you think it is?" Theo asks.

"Pretty bad." Chase sighs. "I'm gonna go check up on her." He stops in front of your door and knocks softly. "It's me, princess. Can I come in?" 

You poke your head out from under the covers long enough to tell him to come in and disappear under them again right after. 

"Are you ok?" Your best friend asks as he closes the door behind him and walks over to your bed. 

"No. I'm not." Your voice breaks as more tears rush out of you. 

"What happened?" He sits on the edge of your bed and pushes back the covers to let you breathe. 

"I don't want to talk about it." You keep your back to him, curling up on yourself. 

He reaches over to you and rubs your back. "Where's Ransom?" 

You shrug. "I don't know, I think he- he left." You reach for a pillow and hug it tightly to your chest to try to calm yourself down.

"Want me to stay with you?" He pushes back your hair, away from your face.

"Can I be alone, please?" You whisper, scared that if you speak any louder you're going to break. 

"Of course. If you need me or Theo, just send us a text." Chase leans down and kisses your temple before standing up. "We love you." He adds before leaving. 

Ransom waits for his Über to show up to take him to his destination. 

"If you want a good tip and review I'd recommend not talking unless it's to ask for directions.."

The driver nods as he looks at him through the mirror. "Got it." 

With now time to think about what he wants to say, Ransom writes a few things down on his phone to make sure not to forget anything. He has a lot of questions to ask. 

The driver, as promised, keeps his mouth shut and Ransom gives him 5 stars and a $50 tip just for leaving him alone. 

He gets out of the car and up the few steps that lead to the front door, going in right after knocking. 

It's only been a few months since he has stepped into this house but it feels like it has been years. Things change quickly, he has changed too. Probably more so in the past few months than he has over the past 10 years. 

"I thought we were finally rid of you." Fran sighs as she sees Ransom walking toward her. 

"Fuck off." He says as he walks past her to his grandfather's office. He knocks but this time he waits for permission before walking in. 

"I like the beard and longer hair. It suits you." Harlan says to him as he takes a seat. 

"Mh. Thanks." He runs his fingers through his hair. 

"Not a fan of the bloodshot eyes though." 

Ransom sighs and glances down at the desk before looking back up. "Why did you have kids?" 

Harlan sits back in his chair and looks at his grandson, really looks at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Have you always wanted kids? Is it because Nana and Great Nana wanted them for you? Why did you choose to have kids?" 

Harlan takes a moment to really think about his answer, he's not sure why Ransom is asking him this but he has a feeling that his answer could potentially change Ransom's opinion. Whatever it is. "I don't know how it happened." He says sincerely. "I don't remember ever thinking about wanting to have kids until I met your Nana. I was a lot like you when I was younger. Reckless and handsome." He teases to lighten up the mood. "You often hear people say "I met the love of my life and my world got turned upside down" but when I met the love of my life my world finally made sense. All the puzzle pieces fell into place and everything felt right. I loved her with all of my being, still do. There's not a day that I don't miss her but she's not really truly gone because I see little pieces of her in every single one of you." He smiles fondly. "I can't say when exactly I decided to have kids, all I remember is thinking that the world would be a better place with more of her in it. Now that she's gone, I'm glad I have all of you to remind me of her."  

"Would you still choose to have kids if you knew how bad we were going to turn out?" 

"Not everyone turned out bad and it's not entirely their fault if they did." 

"Meg is fine but the rest of us, not so much." 

"You turned out fine." Harlan looks at Ransom with a smile and pride in his eyes.

Ransom can't help but laugh. "In what world did I turn out fine?" 

"Look at how much you've changed since I cut you off, how much you've grown. For the first time in… years, you look happy. Genuinely happy."

Ransom shrugs and looks down. "I was." 

"It's that girl, right? Your friend that Marta helped? You fell in love."

It's not a question, it doesn't need to be.

"What happened?" 

Rubbing his hands over his face and sighing, Ransom feels close to breaking down again. "She wants to have kids." 

"And you don't?" Harlan asks curiously.

"Why would I? With how fucked up our family is, I don't need to put that kind of burden on a child or on her. She deserves better. My dad cheats on my mom constantly, they both hate me and each other." He shakes his head. "I'll be a shitty dad and a shitty husband." 

"Tell me, do you think your dad stops to think "am I being a shitty husband?" before cheating on your mother?" 

"Fuck no." Ransom laughs but there's no joy to it.

"Exactly."

Ransom frowns and raises a brow, confused. "Exactly, what?"

Harlan chuckles and sits up on his chair, leaning forward on his desk. "You are not your father. You are nothing like your father. You love her, you care about her. Let's forget about your parents, about this family. It's just you and her in the world, would you have kids with her?" 

"Of course I would. She's my whole fucking world, I'd do anything for her. I'd give her anything she asked for but this is the real world and Drysdale men don't make good fathers." 

"Then break the cycle." Harlan says, like it's the most obvious solution. 

"Oh, right. Sure. Just like that." Ransom answers, clearly being sarcastic as he rolls his eyes. 

"Why not? Are you a good boyfriend to her?" 

"I don't know. I guess."

"Do you love her? Show her affection? Treat her right? Take care of her? Respect her?" 

"I do."

"Then you've already broken the cycle of Drysdale men being shitty boyfriends or husbands. If you can do that then you can break the bad father cycle." 

"What if I can't and I end up ruining her life and the kid's life?"

"What if you can and you end up being happy with a great family?" 

"I hate it when you answer my question with a question." He shakes his head.

"I know you do." Harlan chuckles. 

"I'm scared I might have lost her." Ransom admits, so quietly that Harlan almost missed it.

"If you love her then fight for her. If you just give up then you're sure to lose her. Go home, fix it." 

Ransom runs a hand through his hair. "We have two roommates, they are protective of her, they probably won't let me talk to her alone and if they do they'll just hide and listen to everything." 

"Here." Harlan opens his desk drawer and pulls out a set of keys. "Send them there."

"Are those the keys to my old house?"

"Those are the keys to the house that I paid for. Now go, fight for your girl. Make me proud." 

Ransom stands up and takes the keys. He walks over to the door and opens it, turning around to add one more thing. "Please don't tell anyone about me and her. I don't want them anywhere near my relationship." 

Harlan nods. "You got it. Your secret is safe with me." 

"Thank you. For everything." 

His grandfather smiles at him. "I'm proud of you Ransom." 

He walks out of the house while taking his phone out of his pocket and tries to call you. He's not surprised when you don't pick up, it was to be expected. He hangs up to get an Über and he's surprised to see how late it is already. He hadn't realized that so much time had passed. It's almost dinner time but it feels later than that because of how dark it already is outside. 

On his ride home, Ransom thinks about how or what he'll need to do to get you alone without the guys. 

Once he gets dropped off near the building, he calls Theo to say he needs to see both he and Chase to clear the air before seeing you. After the call, he runs up the stairs and waits until he's sure they are gone. 

After the night they had locked you up in the loft together you had confiscated the keys from that specific lock and put them all in a drawer in the kitchen so while the guys are moving down to the first floor, Ransom quietly sneaks into the loft and locks the door. He leaves the key just in case one of you wants to get out, he doesn't want to hold you hostage he just wants to keep the guys out until he has had a chance to have a real talk with you. 

He sends them a quick text to tell them where he hid the key of his old house with the address. The guys would be pissed if they weren't so impressed by how quickly Ransom has learned to play by their rules. Plus, there are worse ways to spend your Saturday night than in a giant, beautiful house. 

Once he's sure the guys won't be interrupting anything Ransom takes off his shoes and his jacket, leaving them close to the front door. He takes a few deep breaths to settle his nerves before heading to your room. 

He usually loves moments when the loft is calm and in complete silence, like right now, but tonight he wishes there would be a noise, a sound, anything to cover his nervous heartbeat and the blood rushing through his veins at an incredible speed.

Ransom turns the knob and walks in without a sound before closing the door again. He moves closer to your bed, his heart clenching painfully at the sight of you looking so small and fragile, almost broken. He hates that he did this to you.

Lifting up the covers, Ransom carefully gets into your bed and lies behind you. A sigh of relief almost escapes his lips when you don't flinch or tense up at his presence, counting it as a small win. 

You have no idea what time it is, all you know is that you've spent the entire day in bed crying, sleeping or staring at the wall in front of you. You're tired and your body aches from lying in the same position for hours on end, yet you can't find the energy to move. Not even to turn around. Chase and Theo check up on you often to make sure you don't need anything, maybe that's why you're able to tell right away when it's Ransom who comes in and not one of your other roommates. 

You let him get in and settle down right behind you without saying anything. What is there to say that hasn't already been said earlier? 

What you don't expect is for him to reach over and wrap his arm around you, like he always does, and you feel terrible for jumping the way you do. Ransom tries to move his arm away when he sees and feels you get scared but you stop him, putting your hand on top of his. 

Ransom's eyes are burning with unshed tears as he wraps his front around your back, getting as close to you as physically possible. 

"I'm sorry for leaving the way I did." He says quietly, not surprised to hear the pain in his own voice. "Can you turn around, please?" 

You hesitate but slowly turn around to be facing him. As soon as he sees your face he moves his hand away from your waist and uses it to wipe off the fresh tears on your cheeks, not realizing that his own are now running free.

"I'm so sorry, kitten. I'm so fucking sorry." He whispers, knowing that his voice can't get any louder without breaking or wavering. 

You're fast to cover his cheeks with your hands, using your thumbs to make his tears disappear as soon as they come out. "You don't have to apologize. Sometimes things just don't work out." You give him the tiniest of smiles to show him you're not mad. You could never be mad at him for knowing what he wants or doesn't want. 

Ransom's eyes widen as he realizes why you think he's apologizing. "No, no, no, no." He says quickly and puts his index finger under your chin to make you look in his eyes. "I went to see Harlan today and we talked, for hours. You were right. I'm not my dad and I'll never be my dad. I love you, I'm fucking crazy about you and I never want to hurt you. I promise I'll never cheat on you or do anything else to hurt you, to hurt us." 

"Oh, Ran. I know you won't. The thought never even crossed my mind and I love you, I really do that's why it hurts so much but we want different things. As much as I love and adore you, I haven't changed my mind about wanting to have kids. I'm sorry." 

"I know, kitten. That's what I'm trying to say." He grabs your cheeks with both of his hands and rests his forehead against yours. "I changed my mind."

Your eyes widen and you quickly sit up. "Are you for real?"

"Yes." He sits up too, facing you. 

"A few hours ago you didn't even want to think about having kids, Ran this isn't like changing your mind about getting a cat." 

"Like I said, I talked to Harlan and he opened my eyes on a few things." He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger across your cheek. "If it were someone else, I wouldn't have changed my mind but it's you. I know you won't be scared to call me out if I do something bad and I know I'll love our kids because they will be yours. I really thought about it, I'm sure."

You stare at him speechless. "Maybe you should take some more time to think about it." You suggest, a little taken aback.

"I don't need to." 

You're shocked that he has changed his mind so rapidly but also shocked that you believe him even if you think an afternoon isn’t enough to make such a big decision. He seems so sure of himself, there's not even an ounce of doubt in his voice, in his words or in his eyes. 

Before you try to argue again, Ransom closes the distance between the two of you and kisses you. It starts off chaste and soft but it quickly turns sloppy and full of need, full of desire. One of his hands travels down your body to the small of your back where his hand then moves under your shirt. He sighs at the contact of your warm, soft skin and moves closer to you. 

You put your hands to the back of his head where you tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him close, as if he'd ever dare to leave you like this. 

Ransom kisses the corner of your lips and trails down from your cheek to the side of your neck to give you a chance to breathe. He sucks and nips at the skin, smiling against your neck when he feels you shiver. 

You bite your lower lip and close your eyes to let yourself get lost in his touch. 

He lifts up his head and he grins at the sight in front of him. "You look so beautiful." He presses his lips to yours, stealing your breath once more. He helps you lie down on your back, holding himself up with one hand flat on the mattress while the other is still on your back. He lowers himself with you and settles his body on top of yours, between your legs so as to not crush you under his weight. His hand that's on your back moves from under you and comes to take yours instead, intertwining his fingers with yours as he raises them above your head to rest on the pillow. 

Once again Ransom breaks off the kiss to let you breathe and instead presses soft kisses all over your cheeks, forehead and nose. He stops to look down into your eyes when he feels you cupping his cheek in the palm of your free hand to get his attention. 

"I love you." You say softly after feeling the urge to say it first this time. 

Ransom's breath hitches in his throat and he gently squeezes your hand that he's holding. He gets lost in his own mind for a few moments, trying to think back to the last time that someone told him they loved him and meant it. For years girls have told him they loved him, not because that was how they felt but because they thought it could get them expensive gifts or money. It didn't. Those three little words have always turned Ransom off, until tonight. He used to hate hearing them but now they might be his favorite words. "Fuck." He curses quietly under his breath, his heart is pounding in his chest in the most wonderful way. "I love you." He adds quickly right before kissing the tip of your nose. "Wanna get started on those babies?" He asks you, cheekily as he wiggles his eyebrows and grins down at you. 

You can't help but laugh at his playful attitude. You tilt your head a little to the side, matching his playfulness. "Are you sure you want the babies and not just the baby making?" 

"I'm a big, big fan of the baby making." He smirks. "But I'm gonna be an even bigger fan of the babies that come from it." 

You shake your head as you smile, amused. "How about for right now we practice and we can talk about babies tomorrow morning?" 

"Anything you want, my love." He smiles as he leans down to kiss you. The moment your lips touch, his playfulness is gone and all of his focus is on making you feel good, beautiful and loved beyond words. Over and over again until you're both too exhausted to move.

Ransom rolls off of you and lies on his back next to you, letting you both catch your breath. You wiggle closer until you’re flushed against his side and rest the back of your head on his bicep. He moves his head to look at you and smiles at how relaxed and at peace you look. He wraps his index finger and thumb on both sides of your jaw to angle your head in the right direction to give him easy access to your lips as he leans in to kiss you. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling away.

‘’We totally just made a baby, I can feel it.’’ He rests his head back on the pillow and looks up at the ceiling. 

You laugh and take the hand that was on your face, holding it between yours as you close your eyes. ‘’I think it’s going to take a little while before we do. At least I hope so.’’

Ransom frowns and turns his head to look at you. ‘’What’s that supposed to mean?’’

You blindly trace his pinky ring with the tip of your finger, slowly opening your eyes to look back at him. ‘’I love how excited you are about this but we don’t need to have a kid now. We need money, lots of it and our own place because I’m not taking care of a newborn baby on top of taking care of Theo and Chase.’’

‘’Right.’’ He sighs. ‘’I keep forgetting that money is an issue for me now.’’

You raise a hand to his beard and gently scratch with your fingers along his jawline. ‘’We just need to come up with a plan, to make sure we’re ready when it does happen. If we did make a baby tonight, we’ll make it work but I’d like to be prepared.’’

‘’It’s a good thing that one of us is smart.’’ 

‘’Don’t say that, you’re smart too.’’ 

‘’Oh, I know. I was talking about myself.’’ He laughs at your shocked gasp and kisses your temple. ‘’I’m just teasing.’’

You sit up to put your shirt and leggings back on. ‘’I hope you enjoyed getting laid earlier because that was the last time in a very long while.’’ You stick out your tongue at him before hurrying out of your bed and heading to the bathroom to take a shower. 

‘’No, come back.’’ He tries to stop you from getting out of bed but you’re too quick. ‘’Kitten.’’ He whines and smiles when he hears you laugh. He gets out of bed and follows you to the bathroom, not bothering with putting on any clothes since it’s just the two of you and he has locked out your other two roommates. ‘’What are we doing?’’ He asks, innocently.

‘’I’m taking a shower.’’ You turn on the water to let it warm up before getting in.

‘’What a great idea for us to take a shower.’’ 

You bite down on your lip, trying not to laugh and encourage him. You shake your head instead. 

He leans down to kiss the side of your neck, covering every inch of skin with his lips as he puts his hands under the front of your shirt to cover your stomach. ‘’Need some help with your clothes, kitten?’’ He nips at the skin right under your ear, making you shiver.

You slightly lean back into him, making him think he has won but you quickly snap out of it and pull away. ‘’I got it, thanks. I’ll be done soon if you want to take a shower after.’’ You take off your clothes and walk inside the shower, closing the door behind you as you step under the water. 

A few seconds later you feel a big gush of cold air coming in, making you aware that Ransom has opened the door. He steps in and stands behind you as he closes the door right after. 

‘’Ran, what are you doing?’’ You don’t turn around, your poker face sucks and you want to pretend to be mad for as long as you can. 

‘’Just making sure my beautiful baby mama is safe.’’ He wraps his arms around your shoulders and kisses the back of your head. 

You laugh quietly and lean back into him. ‘’I’m not a baby mama yet.’’

‘’Yet. But I’m working on it..’’ He moves his hands to rest on top of your stomach and you almost melt at how adorable he is being since coming back from Harlan’s. 

A small part of you wants to tease him and tell him that he’s being super cheesy but the sincerity in his voice stops you. Instead you put your hands on top of his and relax under the hot water. 

‘’Ran?’’ You say his name quietly after a few minutes of just holding one another. 

‘’Yes, my love?’’ 

‘’I’m starving.’’ 

He chuckles. ‘’Yeah, me too. Let’s wash up and then we can go out.’’

‘’Out? Ransom Drysdale are you taking me out on a date?’’ You turn your head to look up at him.

He smiles and kisses your forehead. ‘’I don’t know if you can call it a date because I definitely can’t afford fancy restaurants but we’re going out to eat.’’ 

‘’Well, lucky for you I’m more of a small restaurant kinda girl. Small prices, big portions and I have my own money.’’ 

‘’I’m paying and I sure am lucky.’’ He smiles before letting go of you to grab the soap. 

By the time you get out there is no more hot water but neither of you care. You head back to your rooms to get dressed and meet back at the front door.

You’ve decided to walk to the small italian restaurant a few blocks away, you’ve gone often but Ransom hasn’t had a chance to eat there yet and you have a feeling he’s going to love it. You, Theo and Chase have been going there for years and the owners know you well, they often give you discounts that you pay back in their tip. 

You sit at your usual table and Ransom surprises you by sitting next to you instead of sitting across from you. You are so used to your boyfriends being either ashamed of being seen with you or trying to hide that they have a girlfriend in case they run into their other girlfriends that you’re always pleasantly surprised to see Ransom doing the exact opposite. He puts his arm on the back of your chair once he's settled and runs his fingers up the back of your neck as he takes one of the menus to decide on what to eat. 

You on the other hand don't even look at the menu because you know exactly what you're going to eat, the same thing as usual. 

"Everything looks so good." He says as he flips through the few pages with his free hand. 

"It tastes even better, I promise." 

"I bet. It smells amazing in here." He quickly glances around to see what is on other people's plates to potentially help him make a decision. There are so many choices and it's hard to choose just one.

A waiter comes over to pour you water and take your orders, leaving swiftly after. 

Ransom gets closer and kisses your cheek as he reaches for his glass of water at the same time with his free hand, taking a few quick sips before putting it down. He watches as you lean into his side, smiling as he watches you yawn and rest your head on his shoulder. Bringing his hand up to your head, he gently strokes your hair while kissing the top of your head. "Tired, my love?" 

You nod. "Yes. Today was exhausting." 

His heart clenches at the painful thought of everything he put you through today. "I'm so sorry." 

"You don't have to apologize, Ran." 

"Yes, I do. I hurt you and I made you cry. I'm sorry." 

You tilt your head to be able to look at him without having to move away from his shoulder. "You didn't hurt me or make me cry. I was scared that we were done and I didn't want us to be."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." He teases, smiling lovingly down at you. 

"Good, I don't want you to go anywhere." You smile back at him, a look of pure adoration in your eyes.

Anyone that would look at the two of you right now could see, without even knowing you, that you're in love with each other. The looks, the smiles and the touches are filled with respect and need for each other that makes it beautiful to watch the interaction between you two. 

You barely let go of each other long enough to eat and as soon as you're done you find yourself back into Ransom's side. 

The same waiter from earlier comes back over to clear your plates and ask if you need anything else.

"I'm full, thank you." You smile before finishing your water and putting your empty glass back on the table.

"Just the check." 

You try to pay for your half of the bill but Ransom insists on paying, you know better than to try and fight him. Instead you might "find" $20 in his jeans pockets while doing the laundry, that you'll make sure to give back. 

You walk back to the loft with your arm around his waist and his arm around your shoulders. Walking is a great way to help the food go down but the air is getting cold and gets through your clothes. 

Once in the elevator Ransom pushes on the button for your floor and wraps his arms around you, hiding you under his coat to help warm you up. Back in the apartment, he locks the door again to keep the other two out for the night and meets you in the bathroom to brush his teeth as you do the same. You both head back to his room, closing the door behind you, then taking off your clothes to get into his bed. He stays in only his briefs while you steal one of his t-shirts to cover yourself with for the night.

"I love you, thank you for tonight." You press a kiss to his chest before laying your head on top of his heart, just in time to hear it flutter at the first three words of your sentence. 

"I love you." He rubs your back, closing his eyes as he breathes you in. 

Thankfully the day ends in the exact same way it started: You in the arms of the man that you love feeling good and protected, right where you belong.

[sarahowritesostucky]

In the Kinktober Spirit!🍂⛓️

Feel free to use! (give a RB or @sarahowritesostucky if you do!)

AI lumberjack Bucky: @mrmrbucky

[demonangelsworld]

Another masterpiece Navy. Ugh so hot 😤 love obnoxious Ransom 💜💜

Just Friends

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Summary: You want to be more than friends with Ransom. When he laughs it off, you cut him off. He doesn’t like being ignored. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, jealousy, possessive behavior, semi-public sex, Ransom being an asshole. 18+ Please!!! This is not beta-read, so any and all mistakes are my own

Been some time since I’ve given Ransom any love. The muse went where the muse wanted it to go. Gif by @aestheticallywinchester​. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Enjoy, lovelies!

Laughter was one of your favorite sounds. It always brought a smile to your face…until now. The sound that now reached your ears was vicious and you wanted the ground to swallow you up. And the laughter didn’t stop. Even when you looked away to hide how hurt you were.

Keep reading

[krirebr]

More Than This 7

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

Word Count: ~3.9k

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 em dashes, non-stop continuous action (not the car chase kind, but like, the no section breaks kind), the slooowest burn - 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: There's no going back now.

Permanent thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who lets me talk her ear off about this and always has the best input.

I cannot wait to talk to you all about this one, so please leave me a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think! And if you need to come scream at me, that's even better!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the windows. You rolled over and checked the time. It was after nine. You’d slept hard—the exhaustion of everything catching up with you. And yet you still hadn’t woken up feeling rested. You couldn’t remember the last time you did.

You grabbed your phone and groaned when you saw all the notifications. Texts, missed calls, two voicemails. All from Steve. He was freaking out. 

Are you ok?

Did something happen?

Please call me

And a few more just like them. You were too tired to answer. You didn’t know how. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t ignored your messages before. You grimaced at your own pettiness. You would answer him when you knew what to say.

As soon as Lola noticed you were awake, she hopped off your makeshift bed and ran to the door, scratching at it to be let out. You sighed. Of course, the safety of your isolation couldn’t last forever. The good news was that it was late enough that Ransom must be gone. You could put that off at least until the evening.

When you opened the door, Lola at your heels, you heard someone moving around downstairs. You hadn’t thought it was a Carol day, but you must’ve lost track. It wasn’t until you were halfway down the stairs that you saw Ransom puttering around in the kitchen, his back to you. Your stomach dropped. Shit shit shit. Why was he here? You contemplated running back into the gym, but as soon as she saw him, Lola darted out ahead of you and raced down the stairs so she could dance around at his feet. He crouched down to greet her. “Morning, Lola,” he rumbled, his voice still full of sleep. “D’you have a good night?” She hopped up and down, pawing at his leg.

You took a deep breath and gathered all of your courage. “She wants breakfast,” you said from your place on the stairs.

His head whipped up to you. He stood up awkwardly. “Oh, uh, where’s her food?”

You came down the rest of the stairs and passed in front of him into the kitchen. “I’ll do it,” you said as you went straight to the cabinet where you kept Lola’s meal supplies. 

Once you had her fed and briefly let her out the back door, you noticed multiple bags of take-out on the island. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, uh,” Ransom rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at you. “I thought we should probably have breakfast. Together. And I didn’t really know what you like, so…” he shrugged.

You quickly took stock of the food. There were diner waffles, pastries from a bakery, eggs benedict from a fancy brunch place. “Thank you,” you said. “That’s nice.” You grabbed a danish from the pastry bag and sat down at the island. “I, uh–” you started then stopped, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I freaked out last night. I, uh– I don’t know what happened. I– I was scared, I guess, by the–” you gestured to your stomach. “But um, I shouldn’t’ve– It won’t happen again, you know? I’m fine now. Everything’s fine.”

Ransom leaned against the counter, facing you, and closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then looked you straight in the eyes and said, “I’m so fucking tired of that word.”

You set down your pastry and looked at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re always so fucking fine, aren’t you? I ask how your day was, it was fine. I ask how you feel about something, it’s fine. I ask what’s wrong when you’re clearly upset, and you say, ‘Oh nothing, everything’s fine.’ It’s fine! It’s fine! It’s fine! I can’t hear it one more time.”

All you could do was sputter for a moment. “What– What are you talking about?! I’ve just been doing what you wanted!”

“How is this what I wanted?” he asked, his frustration shocking you..

But then, your mind started to catch up a bit and you were suddenly filled with indignation. “You told me to pack light! You– You– You made it clear! I know you don’t want me here so I’m just– I’m just trying to do what you want! I'm staying out of your way!”

He laughed and the hollow sound was so startling. “This is you staying out of my way? You’re just this presence that’s always here! That makes me feel unwelcome in my own home!”

That had you standing up so quickly that it sent the stool you’d been on tumbling to the floor behind you. A frightened Lola scampered up the stairs, her collar tinkling sharply, but neither of you noticed. 

“What?!” you shouted, “How could– I– This is your house! How could you ever feel unwelcome here? I’ve never felt welcome here for even a moment! I’m not even a guest here, I’m just this, this– I don’t know! I’m just this pest that you wish you could exterminate but you can’t. You don’t want me here and I feel it every single day.”

“Well, you’ve never told me that, have you?” He almost growled out. “I’m just supposed to know! I see you making this list in your head of everything I’m doing wrong, all the ways I’m disappointing you but you never say anything about any of it. But then when I don’t know how to fix any of it, because I don’t actually know what’s wrong, you resent me for it!” You started to open your mouth and he slammed a hand down on the island between you. “Don’t deny it. I can see it whenever you look at me. You’ve decided that I’m the villain here, right? I’m the bad guy in this story. And I don’t–” He moved his hands to his hips and looked away from you, shaking his head. “I have no idea who you are,” he said, quieter now but no less forceful. “You don’t want me to. You have me just grasping at straws and– But you’ve just decided, huh? That you know exactly who I am.”

All you could do for a full fifteen seconds was just gape at him. He looked tired suddenly. Sad, as if that made any sense at all with anything that had happened. But then you remembered everything that had happened and your anger came flooding back. “Yes, I know who you are. Of course, I do! Because you showed me! It’s like you’ve completely forgotten how we met. Or our wedding!” A tear fell down your cheek and you knew more were about to follow, ready to tip over your lashes. You wanted to wipe them away, but you also just couldn’t take the time to stop right now. “You were awful! Really fucking awful. Right from the beginning you were so cruel and– and now– No! I– How can you expect me to come to you with anything when you all but told me not to during that first dinner?! When you told me you didn’t want me taking up any space here? Or that you would get rid of Lola?! Of course I don’t talk to you! What am I supposed to talk to you about when you terrify me? When everything I have comes from you and you don’t give me anything? When you hold all of the power?!” 

“What fucking power?” Ransom shouted, throwing his arms wide. “If I had any power at all, neither of us would be in this mess!”

“It’s still more than I have! I have nothing! You’re the heir. You matter to people. I’ve only ever been a bargaining chip. And now that they’ve made the deal, no one gives a shit what happens to me. You could do anything to me, and they wouldn’t care! Even my mom–” You cut yourself off, tears choking your voice.

There was a beat of silence, and then, “Even your mom what?” Ransom asked, his voice rough. He was staring at you like the next words out of your mouth would be the most important ever spoken.

And it was only because you felt it too, everything riding on this, that you managed to say, your voice so small and your eyes downcast, “She only ever asks if I’m making you happy.”

When he didn’t say anything to that, you looked back up to find him staring at you, his eyes incredibly serious. But not angry, something– something else. Finally, he sighed and, putting both elbows on the island, said, “I’m really fucking miserable. How ‘bout you?”

You would try to examine it later, the way your instinct in that moment was to apologize or try to downplay your own feelings, your mom’s voice in your head no matter how much you hated it, but instead you took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, I’m– I’ve been so unhappy.”

He nodded then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think,” he said slowly. “I think we’ve both been acting like if we just ignore this hard enough we’ll wake up one day and this will be over and our lives will go back to normal. But now with the–,” he gestured to you. “We can’t keep doing that. We gotta– We have to figure out a way to live with this.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, wrapping one arm around your stomach. You couldn’t help but look at him a little warily. Was this real? Did he mean it? “How do we do that?” 

He chuckled ruefully. “I don’t know.”

You just looked at him for a moment before you were interrupted by your stomach growling loudly. “Sorry,” you said, awkwardly. “I didn’t eat much last night.”

“Right,” he said with a decisive nod, “breakfast.”

You each served yourselves from all the food he’d ordered. He righted the stool you knocked over and you both sat down to eat. You didn’t say anything, neither of you did. You figured he had just as much to think about as you did. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d said he had no idea who you were. It’d been easy, maybe, to forget that this was something that had happened to both of you, when you were in his house, facing his family, working your way into his life. It’d never occurred to you, after that first meeting, that he might want to get to know you, might want to see past all the walls you’d put up to protect yourself. But you felt like they were fortified now. You weren’t sure how to take them down.

Even though you kept your focus on your food, you could tell he kept glancing at you. You felt his eyes on you every few minutes. Finally, as you both finished up your food, he cleared his throat. “I’m an asshole,” he said quietly. “I just am. I always have been. But uh, you didn’t– You didn’t deserve that at dinner. Or the wedding. Or when I yelled at you last night. It didn’t– I don’t think it occurred to me that you’d take me, what I said, seriously. I’m not used to people listening to me, not like that.”

You stared at your plate for a moment and tried to keep breathing. “I– Of course, I took you seriously. What else would I do? I didn’t know you and I was already so scared and– How was I supposed to know you didn’t mean it?” You could feel yourself starting to cry again and wiped furiously at your eyes.

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I– I didn’t do a good job of understanding how hard this was for you. And I– I’ll try not to do that again.”

All you could do with that was nod.

“But uh– I need you to talk to me, tell me when something’s wrong. I can’t– I need you to talk to me. I’ll, uh, I won’t be mad or– I feel like the few times you’ve let yourself be upset, those are the only times I felt like I could actually see you. I want to be able to see you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m uh,” you started, trying to find your words. “I’m used to having to put on a mask. It’s really hard for me to not do that.”

He nodded slowly. “How ‘bout,” he said, “I’ll try to be less of an asshole if you try to let yourself be more of one?”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it, it just bubbled out of you, to your own surprise. “Sure,” you smiled, “yeah. Deal.” You met his eyes and he looked proud of himself. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made you have to look away. You put all your attention into taking a last bite of your food.

“So,” he said, and he sounded serious again. “I think we should talk about last night.”

It took everything in you to not shrink down. You wanted to do anything else, but he was right. You needed to. So you nodded and waited for him to start.

“You said– Well. You said a lot of things. But let’s start with– You said I keep you trapped here.”

Your brow furrowed a little bit. “Well, yeah, you only have one car and you don’t have a driver. How am I supposed to go anywhere?”

The dawning realization on his face would have almost been comical if it had been about something that hadn’t caused you so much pain. “Oh my god,” he said. “I– Why didn’t you– No, right. Yeah.” He took out his phone and started typing. “I’ll figure something out. Do you drive?”

“Steve taught me, a little, when I was a teenager. But I’m not– I’m not super comfortable,” you shrugged.

“Ok,” he said typing a few more words, then put his phone down. He looked at you very seriously and said, “Now I need you to tell me exactly what you meant about siccing my mom on you.”

“Oh, well, just that she came over, you know, the next day after I told you I wanted to find a job.”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here? She came here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, not entirely sure what was happening. “She let herself in and said you’d talked to her about how I wanted to work and that you wanted me to focus on giving you a family. That that was my job now.”

Ransom’s face darkened in a way you’d never seen before. “Fucking–” he growled. “Goddamnit.” You watched him warily and when he made eye contact, you saw the way he worked to soften his expression. He shook his head. “I never said that. I just, I brought it up to her because she has connections, you know, in surprising places. I should have known. I was stupid. And when you didn’t bring it up again, I just, I assumed it hadn’t worked out and you didn’t want to talk about it.” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to make himself calm down. “Did she say anything else?”

You looked at him carefully. It was almost like he looked different today, something about him. It really did seem like he was trying. So you took a breath and decided to trust him. “She wasn’t very nice to me. She never is. She’s– She’s only ever been awful to me.”

“Yeah,” he said grimly, “that’s fucking Linda. Alright, she comes here again, I want you to tell me. Don’t even talk to her, just call me right away. She tries to call you, you tell me. She ever says anything to you, you tell me, ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, and you didn’t know how to guard yourself from the warmth that spread through you. “I’ll tell you.”

He nodded. “Good. And if you still want to get a job, I’ll help you, ok? I want to do that.”

“Yeah, I,” you sighed, “I don’t know. Everything’s really overwhelming right now.”

“I get that,” he said, “but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will,” you promised. Then, when he didn’t immediately bring up another topic from the night before, you raised one of your own. “Um, you never use your gym.” He looked at you, confused, and you shook your head at yourself. “Sorry, it’s just, you have all those rooms upstairs that you never use, and well, you and I,” you rested a hand on your belly, “we did what we needed to do, right? So, uh, I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here and if it’s alright, I’d like to, uh, turn that room into my room.” 

There was a long pause, long enough for you to get uncomfortable, start to worry that you’d messed up. His face was blank, you couldn’t find any clues there. Then, finally, he seemed to shake himself and said, “Yeah, sure, of course. I’ll, uh, I’ll have it cleared out for you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Great! Thank you! I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your own space back.”

“Right, yeah,” he said and nodded several times. “Yeah.”   

You both got quiet again after that, but it didn’t feel as oppressive as it often had before. Eventually, you began cleaning up breakfast together. As you moved around him in the kitchen to load the dishwasher, you paused. “Hey, uh, what’d you tell your parents? About last night, dinner?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to you from the fridge. “Just that I was suddenly violently ill and we couldn’t make it.”

That stopped you completely. You’d been bent over as you loaded plates, but now you stood up, giving him all of your attention. “Really? You didn’t– didn’t blame me? Or uh, tell them about–”

He finished what he was doing and closed the fridge, then closed some of the space between you. “What? No, fuck that. Listen, any excuse to not have to deal with Richard and Linda is welcome. I’m serious. Fuck them.”

That was when everything really hit you, just how badly you'd misread so much of what had happened. Of all the pain you’d suffered over the past months, how much of it had been self-inflicted? Would everything have been so much easier, for both of you, if you’d just been willing to talk to him? For what felt like the thousandth time that morning, you felt your eyes beginning to well. You tried to turn your head away, but Ransom noticed before you could.

“Hey,” Ransom said quietly as he approached you cautiously, stopping right in front of you, his hands hovering in the air between you both. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said, your voice tight. “I don’t know. I just– Everything’s just been so hard.”

Ransom sighed, heavily. “Yeah. I know.”

“Um,” you let out a defeated, embarrassed little laugh as the tears began to fall down your face. “Do you think it’s too early to blame pregnancy hormones?” you asked, as you tried to make yourself stop crying.

Instead of dismissing it as a joke, Ransom looked at you very seriously. “I think that you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

There was something about that, the way it felt like acceptance, that made the tears come even harder.

It was then, of course, that your phone started vibrating on the counter, Steve’s ID flashing on the screen. “Oh,” you said, “um, shit.” You just stared at it, not quite able to pick it up. “I, uh, texted him last night. During everything. I’m sure he’s freaking out now.”

“Right,” Ransom nodded. “Well, I’ll give you some privacy.”

You were suddenly filled with the ridiculous need to not be alone right now. “Uh, yeah, thanks. But, uh, maybe, maybe don’t go far.” Your voice dropped out a little at the end of the sentence, embarrassed.

He looked at you carefully and you couldn’t imagine what he saw. A mess, probably. “Yeah,” he said, “of course. I’ll be just upstairs. Shout if you need me.”

Then he left and you took a deep breath. The call had gone to voicemail while you’d dithered, so you called Steve back, sure he’d try again anyway if you delayed any further.

He picked up immediately. “Oh thank god,” he breathed. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just–” you began, trying to keep your voice strong. But of course, you couldn’t hide from Steve.

“Are you crying?” he asked gruffly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not, Steve,” you lied.

“Chipmunk,” he said, sadly, knowing how hard the childhood nickname would hit you. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You closed your eyes as tightly as you could. “Nothing. It’s just–” You knew you had to tell him something but you had no idea where to start. You could tell him, you supposed, about– about the baby, but it felt impossible to say out loud. And you had no idea how he’d react. Or, rather you had a very good idea, and it was very, very bad. You didn’t have the energy for that. Or the strength and courage. Not now. Maybe not ever. But you couldn’t talk about what happened the night before and this morning without mentioning that part, so really, you couldn’t talk about anything. And you knew your brother. You knew how that would go over. “I’m tired. And I miss you.”

He was silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, all he said was, “I know something happened.”

“It didn’t Steve. Everything’s fine.”

“I know you’re lying to me. Why are you lying?” He was pleading now and you were too tired and hormonal for this.

“Steve,” you pleaded right back, your voice breaking just a little. “Can you please just believe me? Just this once?”

There was another long pause, and then, “Goddammit, I hate this. I can’t– I worry about you all the time. Every time I see a missed call or text from you, my stomach drops. But now you won’t talk to me. And I can’t help you. I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

“Steve,” you sighed. “I know you think you should always be able to fix everything, but there’s just nothing for you to fix this time, ok? Please?”

He just sighed and you both quietly sat on the phone together. You didn’t know what to say to him but couldn’t hang up. Finally, he broke the silence with “I really fucking miss you.”

You smiled just a little, even as you wiped the tears from your face. “I fucking miss you too. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said quietly. He sighed again. “Ok, I should go. But we’ll talk again soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Ok,” you said softly. “Bye.” You hung up and set your phone down then put your head in your hands and let yourself cry without trying to stop it. You didn’t notice anything happening around you until you felt a weight settle onto the couch beside you and suddenly your lap was full of Lola. Then a hand gingerly touched your back. When you didn’t move away, it started gently moving up and down. You couldn’t help but lean into it.

The strangest sensation came over you. You couldn’t explain it, but as you sat there on the couch, crying while Ransom rubbed your back, you somehow felt the best you had in months.

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[likeahorribledream]

I know I keep saying I’m going to write, and then I don’t, but inspiration keeps leaving me every time I open a new doc to write.

Right now, I’m feeling like writing something angsty so if you have any requests please send them to me!

Just please mention if you want the story to have a happy ending, no happy ending, or dealer’s choice and which character you want it to be about!

Thank you my loves 😘

[supraveng]

Writing Prompt #2889

"You disgust me."

"Disgust or arouse?"

"...get out of here."

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Who'd You Have to Blow to Get That Part?"

Rated: Teen

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Tags: mild D/s elements, mild degradation, reference to past sexual encounters, slight daddy kink, lovers to enemies

Summary: Ransom won't let you leave the room until you agree to go out with him again.

You’ve been ignoring Ransom’s calls for a week when he finally corners you in your dressing room

“Well well well,” he simpers. “The Lyceum. You’re really making your way up from the chorus line, little girl.” You glare at him and he chuckles, doing a slow walk around your body, appraising you in a way that manages to feel both admiring and ridiculing at the same time. He plucks at the ribboned hoop of one of your panniers as he passes. “Well, la-dee-da,” he mocks. “What on earth is this? I think I like it.”

You swat at his retreating hand with a huff. “Who let you back here, Ransom?” 

“Oh didn’t you know I know everybody? The director’s an old friend. He knows I have an interest in … the theater. Said I could poke around backstage if I wanted.”

“Great. I’m sure he didn’t mean in my dressing room.”

“Your very own dressing room, by the way: how fancy.” He doesn’t look at you as he says it, instead sauntering along past the couch and then over to the dressing table, feeling free to snoop around. You cringe when his fingers drag across the vanity top and land on the script you’ve left lying there. He picks it up and starts flipping through its pages. “Hmm …”

You fluster at the idea of him seeing all the notes you’ve scribbled in the margins. “Do you mind not touching my stuff?” you gripe. “Ugh.” Looking around for your robe, you spot it draped over the back of the dressing chair but realize that it won’t stretch around when you’re wearing the panniers. You huff and try to plant your hands on your hips assertively—a motion that is likewise hindered. You settle for gripping the sides of your whalebone-stiffened waist. “I don’t have time for this. Why are you here?”

“You’re one of the leads,” Ransom says, feigning impressed as he waves the packet of papers in the air. “So Daddy finally bought you a speaking part, huh?”

You feel your cheeks heat, hating him with every fiber of your being. “No,” you grit, hurrying over to snatch the script from his hands and set it back on the table. “I got this part myself, you insufferable piece of shit.”

“Been practicing those blowjob skills, then?”

Your jaw works as you fight not to react. “Why are you here?”

“I tried calling,” he says. “But you’re surprisingly hard to get a hold of these days.”

“Ever consider that I lost your number?”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s it.” He smirks and leans in close enough that you can smell his cologne, can see every detail of that stupid-pretty face, the hair that’s gelled and combed to perfection. He looks good, just like he always does, which only makes you hate him more. “I haven’t seen you twirling in your usual circles, bunny,” purrs. "Not since we parted ways. What’s it been now, three months?”

“Five,” you say tightly. “Though who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you,” he teases, eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll admit I’ve hardly thought of you at all, since then, but …” He’s wearing a camel-colored coat and cashmere scarf, and he reaches past said coat’s lapel to produce a single, long-stemmed rose, presenting it to you with an earnest pout. “I heard about the role. Thought I’d stop by and congratulate you, see how you’re doing.” He lets his gaze drag over your half-dressed form again, eyeing you up appreciatively. “I still think about you, you know.”

“I thought you’d hardly thought about me at all."

He looks surprised for a second, before he’s chuckling at you again with that trademark blend of affection and condescension that you wish you hated more than you do. “Oh, bunny,” he coos, nudging your chin with the rose’s fragrant bloom. “You pay attention to what I say. I always liked that about you. That’s just how you are, isn’t it? So attentive, such a good girl.” You color mightily at that, too flustered to think of a waspish response like you want to. He sees this and smirks, dragging the rose’s velvet petals over your lips and humming in satisfaction when you hastily snatch it from his hand. “There we go,” he praises softly. “Pretty flower for a pretty girl. Though I worry how you’re doing when you don’t turn up in public for months on end.”

You force a prim smile. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to worry about me, or bring me gifts.” You turn around and stick the rose into a nearby vase, which already has a number of similar blossoms in it. Ransom’s is the biggest and freshest, but you rearrange it into the middle of the pack so that it doesn’t stand out as much. “And I’m doing just fine, if you really want to know.”

“Are you, though?” he presses. He steps closer, close enough that the frame of the panniers presses against his pants, and it’s easy for him to reach up and finger the strap of your stays. “I seem to remember you being quite the social butterfly.”

“Yep. That’s me.”

“You’ve missed the last several big events of the season, and I know you well enough to know that it’s not like you to play the shut-in.” He traces the strap from your shoulder, down to the top of the busk. You see his blond eyelashes lower onto his smug fucking cheeks as he shamelessly leers at the swell of your breasts, his fingers hovering just over the skin. “Who’re you supposed to be?” he asks. “Marie Antoinette?”

You scoff and push past him. “Unlike you, I get busy. I actually work for a living. And yes, that sometimes means that frivolous parties aren’t my number one engagement. So if you’ll excuse me.” You’re supposed to be over in wardrobe, getting fitted for your costumes. Danielle is probably already waiting for you. But Ransom blocks the door when you try to leave, and he does nothing to disguise the way he looks at your body when you stand back to regard him with another huff. “Ransom, move.”

“You should wear corsets more often,” he drawls, ignoring your protests entirely. “It actually makes your waist look tiny.”

You glare at him and try to move around him to grab the door handle, but he leans back against it so that you can’t pull it open. He grins, eyes raking over you from head to toe. You fight not to squirm, feeling more ridiculous than anything else, decked out as you are in your eighteenth century reproduction undergarments. You sigh and stand back, frustrated at how goddamn entitled he is. “What do you want?” you ask, knowing that he wouldn’t be here bugging you right now if he didn’t want something. 

“I want to give us another try,” he says. 

You wait for the punchline, or for him to crack a mean smile and laugh at how gullible you are, but neither happens and you’re left standing there blinking at him like a dummy, heart in your throat. “What?” 

“You heard me.” He pushes off from the door and stares you down as he steps up close. He cups your face in a palm that’s soft from never having seen a day of work in its life. You have to fight not to press your cheek into it, and of course he notices, the overconfident prick. “I think we called things off too soon,” he murmurs. “Don’t you?”

“‘We’? You’re the one who ended it.”

He frowns thoughtfully. “Hhhm, did I though?”

“Yes.”

“Ehh, I don’t know if I remember it that way.”

You purse your lips. “I said I wanted to be exclusive, and you called me clingy.”

“Well that’s hardly ‘ending’ things …”

You scoff. “You said my pussy wasn’t ‘anything to write home about’ and left me at the restaurant.”

“Hmm. Well … maybe I was too hasty.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Hasty’.” More like genetically predisposed to assholery, you think.

“Hey, I mean it.” He grabs you when you try to move around him, holding you still by your upper arms.

“Let me go.”

“Maybe I never gave things between us a real chance, bunny” he says, trying to ply you with his words and sheer proximity. “That’s what I’ve been thinking these past months. That I let you go too soon, didn’t think things through. That I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“More like your dick,” you mutter, but he ignores you. 

“After all, we had good times together, didn’t we? And you always look amazing on my arm, and the sex was soo …” he trails off, letting his fingers trace your skin. His mouth twitches when he notices your breathing picking up, your chest heaving visibly against the front of the stays. “Come on, princess. Just think about it,” he coaxes, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “You and I fit so well together. Don’t you remember how it was?”

You shiver instinctively, body reacting to the words he’s murmuring so intimately against you, to the way he’s touching you like he owns you. “Ransom,” you breathe. “I don’t—”

“I miss you, you know. I do. In my life, in my bed. I don’t like waking up alone.”

You ignore the flutter in your belly at hearing him admit that, and force yourself to shrug his hands away. “Well that would be your problem, not mine,” you say. He’s not good for you, and letting him bust in like this and insinuate himself back into your life will only lead to disappointment at best, heartbreak at worst. “Excuse me,” you grit when he walks backwards to block the door again. So fucking entitled. “Seriously, Ransom. I have somewhere to be!”

“I don’t really care. We’re not finished here,” he growls, eyes losing their charming sheen. “You can leave when I’m done talking to you.”

Your core clenches at those domineering words, and you have to square your jaw before you can bring yourself to insist, “Ransom, get out of the way. I’m warning you …”

“No, I’m warning you,” he says darkly, grabbing your arm and yanking you in hard against him. You gasp and catch yourself with a hand against his chest, but he keeps you off balance as his other arm scoops in behind you and holds you tight to him by your lower back. “Mmm, I like this,” he purrs, fingers finding the laces of your stays and grabbing onto them. He grabs you by the back of your neck with one hand while he tugs at the laces with the other. “Makes a nice handle. Good for moving you where I want you.”

“Get your hands off me.”

He tugs the laces again, jostling you forcefully. “Thought you liked it when I handle you.”

“What I’d like is for you to let me go,” you grit. 

But he only narrows his eyes and sticks his face closer in yours. When he speaks, his breath fans out warm against your lips. “You’re confused, bunny. I should bend you over that vanity and remind you just how much you like it.”

To your shame, his manhandling and his domineering words turn you on, and you know he can tell—he can always tell what he does to you. That’s part of what makes him so infuriating, and so dangerous. “Let go of me,” you say lowly, surprised (and disappointed) when he actually listens, his hands releasing you so suddenly that you stumble back a step in your heels. His eyes bore into you slyly as you huff and right yourself. “What is your problem?!” you fume at him. 

“Come with me to the Governor’s Ball,” he demands, confident and cocky as always, as if the past few minutes and your numerous refusals haven’t even happened. “You have an invitation, I presume?”

You glower at him. “Of course I do, you twat.” Given that your father is the Governor, it’d be odd indeed if you didn’t have an invite. “Awful presumptuous of you that I don’t have plans to go with somebody else,” you snap. “After the way you treated me? I wouldn’t take you as my date to a dive bar.”

He chuckles, and it’s in that low, self-assured way that drives you absolutely bonkers and makes you feel like a “pick me” girl all at the same time. “Oh, bunny. You think I don’t know you better than that?”

You shoulder your way around him to yank open the door. “You don’t know me at all, jerk.” 

You inhale sharply when his hand clamps around your wrist and he shoves into you from behind suddenly, pressing you up against the door and slamming it shut with your combined bodyweight. “I know you better than any man alive, princess,” he hisses, grinding his hips against your ass and kissing your cheekbone in gentle counterpoint when you gasp at his audacity. “Shhh shsh,” he hushes. “Don’t worry, now. You’ll have an excellent time, I promise. Now, you go get fitted for your little costume, and I’ll send a car to pick you up Saturday evening. Say nine o’clock?”

You huff, flustered by what an utterly presumptuous asshole he is (and by the way your cunt is clenching on nothing, being pressed up against a surface full-body by him like this). “You know what your problem is, Ransom?”

He drags his nose across your cheek with a chuckle. “What’s that, bunny?”

You can’t get as much leverage as you’d like, pressed up against the door the way you are, but you do your best and jab back into his solar plexus. And his shocked, breathless grunt is a satisfying indicator that your elbow has met its mark. You turn around and take his face between your hands to peck a kiss of your own to his cheek. “It’s that people’ve been paid to make you think you’re better than you are your whole life,” you whisper sweetly. You kiss his cheek and then let him go, leaving the room before he can regain his breath.

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