#ransom drysdale reader insert

[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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[levans44]

Call me crazy, hold me down

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

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

word count: 3.4k

“Ransom? Ransom Drysdale?”

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

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

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

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

And, of course, the Gucci loafers. 

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

Soft, pink lips part, exhaling your name. 

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

“…is that really you, Sunshine?”

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

You blink in quick succession, chasing the thought away. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatcha been up to?”  

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

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

“…how’s Harlan doing?”

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

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

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

“Espresso?”

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

“Vodka.”

He chuckles, nodding his head.

“Of course. Classic.”

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

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

“Oh no, Ran, you don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

A small twitch in his brow as he murmurs:

“Married, huh?”

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

“Engaged.”

“Huh.” He murmurs, blinking.

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

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

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

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

He shrugs, mirroring the smile on your face.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Does your little boyfriend fuck you like this?’

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

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

He chuckles loudly, head cocking in a silent challenge.

“Is that right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is it?”

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

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

“That schmuck you’re marrying.”

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

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

“Drysdale, are you seriously jealous?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head feverishly, crooning into your ear:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-fuck you, Ransom, He’s…ah, shit—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three days later...

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

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

He barks out your name, laced with disdain. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eat shit, Drysdale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t so much as flinch.

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

“Hmm, takes one to know one.”

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

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

“… get the fuck off me!”

“See you in court, Mr. Drysdale!”

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

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

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

A low, southern drawl croons from beside you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blanc shrugs, smiling around his cigar.

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

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

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

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.”

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

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

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

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

‘Playing life like a game without consequence…’ 

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

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

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

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

“So long, Drysdale.”

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

[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.

[heli0s-writes]

You’re Toxic, I’m Slipping Under

Summary: He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it. “See you next week,” he hums.

A/n: To celebrate Glass Onion coming out, here’s ol’ boy Ransom because I hate him so much :) 4.1k words. Warnings: Smut; mild degradation, spitting, daddy kink; classism; Mind Games with Ransom Hour etc. etc. Please stop reading if you’re not 18+

Your whole apartment building seems to rattle when he arrives thirty minutes late. Like raucous fanfare to announce his appearance, the door slams shut, the latch clicks loudly, and then you hear his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs.

His shoes are still on—of course they are—stomping your floorboards and dragging in dirt. You can practically see them, the usual suede loafers switched out for leather boots with the late fall chill, and probably mud-caked because he’s thankless like that.

With your attention still on your laptop, already irritated because you’ve been attempting a paper that’s only chased its tail for the last three hours, you ask, “Did you misplace your watch, Ransom?”

Turning, you show him you’re the screen reading 8:32 and blink pointedly, “Is that a yes?”

“Don’t be smart,” he snaps back. “You know I don’t like that.”

Your head’s been a mess of fog, body tense and frustrated for days, and although you’ve always prided yourself on tact and grace—patient like a saint—Ransom manages to bring out the worst. You hiss, “Take your damn shoes off, you know I don’t like that.”

You watch mutely as he does so, not without a sneer here, a shitty comment there. He takes three long steps and plops himself on your bed, hands curling into the quilt, thumbs brushing over the patchwork fabric disparagingly. He pinches a loose thread and begins to pull, tugging slowly at first, and then finding joy in unraveling a line of stitching until nearly three inches rip apart.

“I always thought you needed to replace this thing.” He twirls the string disdainfully, “It’s ugly as sin.”

He pretends he doesn’t know how you obviously love this quilt—handstitched and affectionately made, your damn initials are embroidered into the corner, after all. He’s made a game of testing your patience, gleefully punching at every button as he tries to get you to snap.

Ransom Drysdale Thrombey. You’d met him at one of the Thrombey’s family… functions. Dysfunction, you’d muttered under your breath when Walt beat his cane against the floor in a drunken tirade and Meg ran out back to wolf down a pot cookie that she was supposed to be saving for later.

She was on the cusp of a panic attack, words tumbling out like a car crash, her hand in her beret, then hair, then trembling over her maroon-painted lips.

“God, I’m so sorry— I thought we could just make a pit stop before heading out. The food’s always catered and really good— god… it’s a fucking mess.”

You waved her off because it’s not like you haven’t witnessed at least one aunt having a meltdown during holiday dinner before— family’s just like that—and tried to placate her with, “Can’t be worse than the cousin who asked if we’d be scissoring later.”

Meg’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, ew! Fucking Jacob! He’s a skeezy little incel— I swear he’s a moderator on one of those internet forums where they post revenge porn and upskirt vids— honestly, he was adorable two years ago. Then I guess he went through puberty and got radicalized on Youtube.”

You paused as she lit a cigarette and inhaled furiously before realizing that the two of you were thinking of two entirely different cousins.

“I meant the big one, Meg. This one went through puberty twenty years ago.”

“Ew, Ransom,” Meg frowned, “That’s even worse.”

“Ransom? What is he, a Disney villain?”

Leaves crunched behind your back and Meg looked up from flicking ash into the yard toward the sound.

“Let’s be honest, I’ve got the face of a leading man.”

Meg blew smoke at him, as if the fumes were enough to threaten his sensibilities. You figured not, he looked like a cigar smoker anyway—one of those guys who’d dedicate a whole room in their house with the humidity just right to keep them fresh. Rich people shit.

“Go away, Ransom,” she said, to clarify.

“I don’t recall addressing you, Megan.” He took a drawn-out look, lips pursing in scrutiny before lifting a brow, making a real goddamn show about it. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll bite. 400 on the dresser for an hour; you can get yourself something nice.”

You’re still not sure what it was about either your attire or attitude that allowed him to conjure up such an offer.

Maybe it was your shitty jeans and your sweater from freshman year orientation. Maybe you looked like an easy mark to tear down.

His audacity shocked out a laugh from you—a loud, abrupt guffaw that eased Meg enough for her to dip back inside to grab more from her stash. And when she was out of sight, focused on rummaging in the old clock, you responded, “Yeah, okay. I’ll bite back.”

Maybe it was an act of rebellion against your background in contrast to all this excess. The bitter aftertaste of eating bottom shelf food out of necessity for weeks at a time—those awful chicken bouillon packets and dried blocks of instant noodles your first year of college. No one paid for your schooling or housing so learning to balance an over-abundance of classes and a job because you needed to graduate early, needed to spend less money on tuition, meant that you were working yourself to death.

If Youtube radicalized Jacob, then habitually sleeping three hours a night in the campus library and skipping meals to afford textbooks while men like Ransom crashed Maserati’s for fun radicalized you.

So, sure. Game on.

He picked you up the following weekend without anyone knowing and took you somewhere expensive. It was a whirlwind of exorbitant dinners and being quietly sneered at down the straight line of his tall nose bridge. The front door to his bachelor pad shutting but not bothered with locking. Falling into the thousand-count Egyptian cotton bedsheets naked, the skylight’s beam spilling like gold-flecked champagne.

You promised yourself it meant nothing. Just an experiment of unbridled spite. If he wanted to throw money at you, hell, that’s his problem. If he wanted to fuck you, well, you’d give him the best fuck of his life— let him see that despite wealth, at the end of the day, he was flesh and blood trembling for the right stroke.

And sure, he trembled, but it was your mistake to pare it down so simply.

Ransom juggled fuck buddies much longer than you’d been fucking at all. He knew it was best with the right amount of emotion involved. Just enough to yearn. If he laid roses at your feet, kissed your knees featherlight and worked his way up to your jaw, cradled the back of your head, nosed the pulse of your wrist, your collarbones, asked for your eyes on him, and panted the lightest breath of your name at the edge of it all—now who’s fucking who over, sweetheart?

You were out of your depth. He was powerful, older, and more experienced. He touched you in ways that emulated affection—that brought fire and danger. His hands were large and callused at the juncture of his fingers. His pretty mouth was pink, wet, kissed greedy. His sharp eyes took everything in.

But, as you predicted, his moods soon volleyed in every direction as consequence of never being told no, and once the novelty of crazy hot—often angry—sex grew stale, you crashed back down to earth burned out. You ghosted.

“You’re, what…” he called through the door the week after you texted that it was both too much and not enough to carry on with, “breaking up with me? Seriously. This is a fucking joke.”

And you could have practically seen it—how his bottom lip would jut out as his incisors crossed, how his brows would sink when he got angry. He was never belligerent, only calculating.

You told him to leave, and he did, after a single loud kick to the frame, because he’s never begged for anything, and he wasn’t going to start.

The guilt came afterwards, with the bouquet of roses on the doormat, petals scattered around because he’d slammed them down after being ignored again and again, and you swept them inside to throw into a vase next to the three other vases with flowers in various degrees of wilted.

“Breaking up” prickled complicatedly in the middle of your chest, because despite the many shows of affection, you knew you weren’t exactly breaking up. You had never really been with him anyway. People aren’t… with Ransom. They’re towed along by Ransom, dragged by their hair by Ransom. Played with by Ransom until he inevitably gets bored.

It devolved into needless melodrama. Weekly episodes of a teen show with grandiose gestures of toxic relationships perceived as romance. Ransom’s habit of whisking you away, fucking you senseless, turning around to fight with you about any-goddamn-thing he pleased. Dropping off flowers and champagne. Restarting the whole process.

It wasn’t healthy—isn’t healthy, probably, according to most therapists—since he’s here, present-day, in your room, beginning to undress.

You fiddle with the sleeves at your elbows, thumbing cool satin before advancing, arms subconsciously crossed.

He’s only in his underwear now. A pair of nondescript gray boxer briefs fitted on his muscular thighs, taut as he leans back on his palms. He slowly spreads his legs, inviting you between them. His lips purse when you stand passively, knee brushing his bulge, hands resting over his shoulders. He’s warm.

One palm caresses your lower back and the other on himself, gliding up and down. His lids are half open, voice low, “You miss this?”

“No,” which is a lie. You missed it when evenings were boring, half-heartedly nodding to some boy’s drivel about campus life, mind wandering to someone who didn’t look freshly 21, didn’t date like it. Didn’t talk themselves up just to get you into bed.

At least Ransom was honest; he always said exactly what he thought, told you exactly when you were pissing him off, how he was going to teach you a lesson—where he wanted you, how he wanted you, and— a chill races up your arms.

He’s downright smug when he notices.

“No? You prefer sloppy frat boys pawing at you like virgins over me? Every time, you think they might fuck right but, well, you’re always disappointed.” He reaches beneath the short hem of the robe, splays his hand out over your thigh and very slowly feels his way up.

Your eyes shutter as he pulls you forward, gripping tightly and massaging up toward your ass. The pit of your belly is tightening, the rest trying to push down being too eager for him all over you, his broad shoulders, his strong hands, how he bends his grasp on your shoulder, fixes you in a perfect curved arch just the way he likes.

Ransom noses the robe out of his path, sinking his teeth lightly down until he scrapes a line over your breastbone, laying his face gently down like a child—like a lover.

“You know,” he begins, taunting again, “You make a… face.” He says it as he trails down beneath the swell of one breast, letting your nipple graze his cheek, before he presses a kiss to your ribcage. Hot like a brand, searing into your belly. And then he bites.

You flinch, hand going to his hair to pull him away. He throws his head back into your grasp, eyes glittering and amused. He quickly works your thighs apart, dipping two fingers between and sinking into your heat.

“There it is,” he chuckles when your eyes flutter, “Yeah... Really gets me off.”

You’re in his lap before you know it, your hold on him fallen off and now scrambling for his wide shoulders to hold yourself steady. He’s got you leaned back on his thighs, hanging off the edge of the bed and perfectly helpless, the only thing planting you even close to secure are your folded knees, your arms around his neck. He’s shushing you, one large hand on the small of your back, the other still working inside your pussy.

He says, “Calm down unless you want to fall,” but it’s goddamn hard when your heart is pounding with equal parts fear and arousal. He’s sucking on your tits, balancing you just precariously enough to thrill, fingering you all the while—like it’s nothing to him, like you’re an object he can manipulate however he pleases.

His cock is erect, flexing against the fabric over his groin, a swell of hard, aching muscle. You want to put your hand around it, feel its girth in your palm, simply hold it because you do fucking miss it. The places he can reach, the ways he spreads you, rocking in and pulling out—how he sometimes settles inside, and then does nothing but watch you squirm.

It’s undeniably gorgeous—and he is too—when you fumble it out after he lays you down and hovers over you with interest. You’re wetting your lips automatically, staring in awe at his thick shaft sprouting from soft, dark, curls, the tip of it smooth and almost purple, swollen up with blood.

“Legs up,” and the way he says it, how he just goes right out and says it, makes you groan.

Boys don’t do that. Too busy in their heads about peacocking and re-enacting the kind of porno where performers wordlessly move into new positions in sync, nothing verbal exchanged but high-pitched shrieking and nasally fuck me’s.

Ransom’s extremely verbal in bed. He easily says, “Look at me. Show me how much you want it,” and flits his eyes between your bodies.  

You do, shivering, sliding two fingers along the sides of your folds, finding yourself aroused and damp, humiliated and incredibly turned on when he grins, simply content with watching. Your thighs are squeezing reflexively, abdomen crunching up trying to keep it together.

But he’s never been patient, and quickly tells you to hold your knees, rock back, make yourself small and exposed, and then he’s delving gently into your hole— thumbs taking turns, coaxing more.

Two fingers tuck in, then another two struggle next to them, and you can’t stop yourself from gasping and crying out at how he pulls apart the walls of your cunt.

The sound of it— sloppy, squelching, a light and hollow kind of noise like a tongue flicking inside an open mouth.

“Look at this pretty pussy.” He tugs a little more, and you wriggle into it, gripping your legs tighter, pulling your knees up, shins toward your burning face to hide.

He descends on your clit, tip of his tongue licking into your stretched hole, purposefully only running against the taut skin around his fingers. “You got a talent, baby,” he murmurs, buzzing. “I could fuck you the whole day, fuck you numb… but give you about half an hour and it’s good as new, tight and perfect.”

There had been marathon rounds of bouncing in his lap between being at each other’s throats, his thighs splitting yours, hands holding you up, nibbling at your ear. Then he’d turn you around, take you to the floor until you collapsed on the bearskin rug, the sweat on your neck and chest rolling into dark furs. Railed you until you were so sensitive anything would make you come; your body unsure if it was considered your own anymore.

Fuck, fight, rinse, and repeat.

“Are you—going to talk all night?” You grunt up to the ceiling, trying to steel yourself from panting or moaning and only barely making it.

“Thought you liked it when I talked.”  His dark head is still between your legs, nose pressed into your skin, licking agonizingly slow with his entire tongue. It’s so warm, and gentle, and assertive. “What, you don’t like being told how good you taste?”

He keeps licking, pushing at the back of your knees when you try to switch positions, holding you in that bent up pose. He’s suckling at your clit when his fingers find their way back inside, easily hooking in three and pumping them smoothly.

“How—” he sucks hard, the shape of his full, plush lips fitted over you making a filthy wet smack, “mmm—I love the taste of your sweet pussy?”

When you come like it’s being ripped out of you, legs shaking around his head, lines of his spit dripping down your ass and onto the sheets, he lets you go with a hard slap on your sex, and you nearly wail.

“That’s my girl,” he says. “Yeah, you missed me, huh? You missed it like this, didn’t you? Tell me.”

“Unnng …” a high whine, “Ransom.”

“I know,” he mumbles, kissing up your belly, your neck, your ear.

He moves into position, entering effortlessly after all his prep work, and the shine of your juice still on his beard is fucking unholy hot. He’s grinning and panting, eyes fluttering briefly as he slides home.

“I know it’s big, baby. But you can take it, you’re gonna take it.” He’s a fraction unfocused, letting himself enjoy how you squeeze around him before he begins to punish.

Jesus, you missed this. Missed the agonizing drag of his shaft that feels like it goes on and on forever. Miss the way you get full of him, miss how it almost hurts.

His hipbones are hitting against yours, a steady fast rhythm because he’s experienced like that. Whereas some others might go faster when you’re close, Ransom stays at the pace that got you there in the first place. If anything, he pushes just a bit harder, makes you listen to the sound of his skin on yours, the choke of your breath he punches out.

You crunch yourself up smaller, toes touching the headboard now. Anything to get him further in.

“Fuck, you’re a slut,” he laughs. “Pretty little slut, god you don’t give it up like this for anyone else, do you?”

There’s not enough sense in you to argue even if you wanted to. The room is swimming, undulating, slipping further and further out of reach as the bed rocks and squeaks in protest. You’re sure you met a very handsome guy at the bar weeks ago but as soon as he started hinting that he was interested and stirred up conversation by asking your major, you left.

It just… wasn’t there. It wasn’t the same. No way in hell.

That boy wouldn’t have done this—wouldn’t be planting one foot on the bed, the other knee still down, enormous hands tight on your hips and crashing in.

You could cry, it feels so goddamn good.

Tears dribble their way out from the corner of your eyes. You turn your face enough to get a breath of fresh air, gulping it in frantically between the drive of Ransom’s cock and the half second he slides out.

You vaguely register his hand moving from your hip to your cheek, knuckles brushing upward.

“Oh,” he sighs, “pretty, pretty girl.” He slows his pace, nearly stilling. You squirm beneath him, inching away from how deep he is inside you, how intimate it feels as he kisses the hollow of your cheek and then toward your brow.

“So sweet for me,” he says, pulsing, making you whine with how he pushes against your sore walls. “Did I make a slut out of you? Huh? Make you stupid for my dick?”

“Make me come,” you say. “Make me—“

“Ask me real nice, baby. Ask daddy to make you come.”

You want to hit him. Kill him.

“No?” He whispers into the sensitive shell of your ear, “You don’t want it?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassment clawing up your face, but Ransom’s hold is tighter, sharper, and he really is— so fucking right. You want it. And he’s made you a little stupid, so yeah--

“Please make me come, daddy. I wanna come.”

The Cheshire grin that unfurls on his face is more panther than cat. “You wanna come on daddy’s big cock?”

“Yes, daddy,” you admit. “I wanna so bad.”

“Oh, that’s it, baby. You’re a good girl, aren’t you. You put on a little show just for me? Act like you don’t want it but soon as I get in you and you let me lay you out anywhere, make you say anything.”

You turn away but he’s got your fucking number— got you as a boneless, spineless mess beneath him as he begins to fuck you again, and harder, his calculating, beautiful, cruel face hanging above you like a fever dream.

“You gonna come? Gonna cry?”

He’s melting away, he’s everywhere, and the lights behind your eyelids are starting to glare and threaten to explode.

“Gonna come for daddy, huh. That’s it, baby. That’s my girl, let me feel your pussy— ah— there it is— you can’t help it, can you? Mmm, swallow daddy’s cock with your pussy.”

Your orgasm is a wreck of curses and teeth on Ransom’s shoulder when he drops down close enough to make contact. You shake and whimper, struggling to calm yourself through the aftershocks.

When you’re done, still floaty but more aware, the mess of your humming insides less tight around him, he pulls out and shuffles up until his swollen tip is at your chin.  

You obey wordlessly, and afterwards, when the flex of his shaft is tell-tale, and he empties into your mouth, you hold it there, show him the mess.

“Baby,” he says, slowly making his way back down, admiring the come submerging your tongue.

Ransom licks his lips, licks the inside of his cheek, and leans back over again, his eyes liquid darkness and pleased as punch. And he drops a line of spit on top, drools it down over your teeth, into your mouth, and says, “Good girl.”

-

“You need a new laptop.” He’s tugging his belt until the clasp hooks into place.

“I don’t.”

“It looks old.”

“So do you.”

He bristles, offended. And you try, with as much dignity as you can muster after the last two hours of being fucked blind, to not look so smug about it.

“See you next week,” he hums.

You don’t say anything in response, only listening for the same heavy footsteps slam back downstairs—perhaps a fraction lighter—and the clunk of the door swinging shut. A long breath and you stretch slowly, letting your body regain its normal shape before he bent you into a goddamn pretzel. A few minutes pass, and then a few more, and you hear the roar of his car speed out of the parking lot.

Safe now, out of his reach, you amble back up into your computer chair to face the awful white, blank document staring back like a judgmental audience. You slide in and crack your neck, feeling the throb between your thighs yield to a less uncomfortable ache.

The problem, you’ve learned after leaving Ransom’s world, was that you had been ill-equipped to play his game. His game, and by extension, Meg’s game. All the Thrombeys and Drysdales and everyone in-between.

They belonged to a class you couldn’t really understand unless you were making a fucking killing—and graduation was just around the bend, so maybe you would, one day—but you were in the red with 45 grand of student debt and staring down the barrel of a subsequent degree because it was getting hard to make it with just a single bachelor’s in anything.

There was too much to do and not enough time to be jerked around by Ransom—not nearly enough time to feel frustrated about your situation in any sense. No, scraping by taught you to survive. You couldn’t be whisked off to the Caymans for brunch, couldn’t be fucked raw in hotel infinity pools, get lost for days meandering the Pacific on luxury yachts for the fun of it.

Your world was a little more drab, a little less rose-tinted.

So it was back to normal now, back to the grind, back to not wasting any part of your week on shitty dates, shitty sex, and coming home more frustrated than you left it. Because there was Ransom, so eager to make some kind of statement about proving you wrong that he’d be the last to know when he’s being used.

And maybe 4 out of 5 therapists would say that your coping mechanism to a normal sex drive is unhealthy—mind-fucking and regular-fucking your ex/not-ex will do that—but you wouldn’t know. You can’t afford therapy just yet.

You rub your back, patting out the tightness of overworked muscles. It doesn’t feel any worse than the cramp you’d gotten after staying up three nights in a row cramming for finals.

As if your brain has reset, your fingers begin tapping on the keys, and you realize your writer’s block’s been lifted.

[the-iceni-bitch]

You’ll Never Go Down to the Gods Again

Part X/X

Pairing: soft!stepbrother Alpha Ransom Drysdale x stepsister!fem Omega reader

Words: ~2.7k

Summary: You and Ransom navigate the aftermath of everything that’s happened, and finally start your new life together.

Chapter Warnings: explicit language, A/B/O, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, knotting), pregnancy symptoms, mentions of violence (nothing in detail just referenced), minor manipulations, hints at other series in the AU, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: It’s finished!!!! They’ve got their semi-happy ending and they made it all the way through. Our soft babies deserve all the happiness and safety and for nothing bad to happen to them ever again.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“Are you goddamn insane?” Ransom put his hands on his hips and drew in a deep breath as he stared at Harlan incredulously, tapping his foot and scoffing when the older man just shrugged and nodded. “I’m not a fucking politician.”

“Neither is he.” Harlan took a slow sip from his mug of coffee as he watched Ransom closely. “But as you’ve found out, the interests he’s controlled by are especially unsavory, whereas the only interest you’d be beholden to is mine.”

Ransom groaned as he sank into the chair on the other side of the desk, leaning his head back and letting his eyes fall closed as he tried to get a grip on himself.

He knew that asking for Harlan’s help would have strings attached, but this was something else. The two of you couldn’t be in the city anymore, though, not after idiots from your father’s church had started waiting outside the apartment to harass you and call you a filthy Omega slut every chance they got. Ransom was getting sick of calling the cops every fucking day, and he hated how absolutely terrified you had become. You’d practically refused to leave for your OB/GYN appointment yesterday, and it was making Ransom worried about your pup.

But Harlan could help you. He had the extra property outside of the city, access to medical personnel that would come directly to you, and private security, god the private security alone should make whatever he wanted from Ransom worth it. You were giving him his first great grandchild, he should have been willing to give you everything. And he was, but with his own price.

“She’s not coming on the campaign trail if I do this.” Ransom hated the thought of actually having to be a fucking dancing monkey for his grandfather, but then he remembered how panicked and distressed you had been when the brick had been thrown through your window three days ago, and how long it had taken him to settle you down and get you to sleep. “I’m not going to exploit her for political points.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you let the press run that story about her. Yes I know, you didn’t ‘let’ them, but they ran it, and now the Omega rights activists want a piece of her.” Harlan shook his head when Ransom buried his head in his hands and groaned again. “I agree with you, though, I don’t want her traveling right now. I will happily keep her and my great grandchild safe and happy no matter what, but that man is dangerous, and besmirching our family’s reputation, and you’ve afforded me a very unique opportunity to get rid of him.”

“By pimping me out?” Ransom snorted at the no nonsense look on Harlan’s face. “What about Linda?”

“Your mother took a calculated risk by marrying him, it’s not my fault it’s blowing up in her face.” Harlan sighed when Ransom still looked wary, tapping his fingertips on his desk and leaning forward with a small frown on his face. “He’s running unopposed, but the research shows that someone young and sympathetic could run away with the election easily. You won’t have to worry about her at all, I even have a new house just a little less than an hour away that I can set you both up in, and a secure estate in Washington for when you win the election.”

“If I win.” Ransom hadn’t worked a day in his life, he didn’t know why his grandfather was taking for granted that he could win a damn senate race.

“When, I’m backing you, and I only back winners.” The pleased smile teasing Harlan’s lips did not escape Ransom, the younger man blowing out a deep breath and giving him a resigned nod. “Excellent, I will set up a meeting for you with the speech writer and campaign manager later in the week. I want you both here at the manor until after the pregnancy, I have medical staff on site and I’d feel better knowing she has everything she needs without having to travel. Oh, hello dear!”

Ransom started when you shuffled into the room with Harlan’s nurse, he thought her name was Marla. You actually looked somewhat relaxed, and it made his heart melt, the small smile on your face getting wider when he rose to his feet and cradled your jaw in his hands as you chirped softly.

“How was your walk, bunny?” Ransom kissed the tip of your nose and chuckled at how chilly it was. “Is it cold outside?”

“Just a little, it’s nice though.” You purred when he slid a hand down to rest against your growing bump, placing your hand over his and scenting his cheek when you felt a small kick. “Pup seemed to like it, she’s been so active. And it’s beautiful and quiet, and the dogs are so sweet.”

“I’m so glad, bunny.” Ransom took a deep breath and gave Harlan a sideways look before leaning down to rub your noses together. “Would you like to stay here for a bit, bunny? Harlan has agreed to let us stay here until she comes while he helps me find a new place outside of the city.”

“Really?” You looked so happy, beaming with watery eyes when Ransom nodded and turning to Harlan. “Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Thrombey, the city is so terrifying and there’s too many people, I just…”

“Oh, my dear girl, it’s alright.” Harlan stood up and took your hands in his when you started crying happy tears, smiling warmly at you while Ransom rested his chin on the top of your head. “And you need to start calling me Harlan, you're carrying my great granddaughter. You are always welcome here.”

“Thank you, Harlan.” You drew in a shuddering breath and chirped again when Ransom slid his arms around you and kissed your temple. “I promise we’ll treat your house like our own, we can’t thank you enough.”

“Al-alpha…” you whined when Ransom grunted against your neck as he drove his cock into you again, your cunt spasming around him when you came without warning as his balls smacked against your clit. “More, don’t stop.”

“Greedy little bunny.” Ransom cooed and grinned into your shoulder when you just shoved your hips back and bit your pillow as you made desperate noises for him. “You’ve already had three, how many more do you want?”

“All of them, please…” you didn’t even care when you felt warmth starting to stream down your chest while he squeezed your breasts, your arms giving out and your toes curling when he brought you to the edge again right away. “It’s so good.”

“It is so good, Omegamine.” Ransom chuffed and sucked on your mark when he felt you gushing all over his thighs. “This poor pussy is so needy, so hungry all the time.”

“Mmhm.” You gasped and your back arched violently when you came again, your swollen belly brushing against the bed while your pussy squirted for him. “Need my Alpha, don’t want you to go.”

“Oh, bunny, shit.” Ransom slowed down when he heard the emotion in your voice, cradling your chin gently and turning your head so he could press his lips to yours. “I hate it too, sweet girl, but I have to do these town halls.”

“I know, oh!” Your eyes fluttered closed when his knot swelled and locked you together, sighing when you were flooded with warmth and he rolled the both of you onto your sides. “I understand, but she’s going to be here so soon, I worry about you missing it.”

“I won’t miss our girl finally getting here, I promise.” Ransom stroked your hair as your breathing started to slow down, kissing your cheek and rumbling for you when you started fussing with the blankets and your milk soaked nightie. “Harlan said he’d send a helicopter if I need it, he would kill me if I wasn’t here for you.”

“He would, wouldn’t he?” You giggled a little when Ransom nibbled on your ear, winding your fingers through his when he rested them on your stomach.

“Yes, he would.” Feeling you relax made Ransom smile against your cheek. “I’m pretty sure he likes you more than me.”

“Mmhm.” You peeked at him over your shoulder and sank your body into his when he trailed soft kisses along your jaw. “Just promise me you’ll be home tonight?”

“I promise.” He kissed your mark almost reverently as his hand rubbed your belly gently and crooned against your skin. “I’ll always come home to you.”

“No.” Ransom frowned when he looked over the agreement Andy had placed in front of him, tossing it on the desk and leaning back in his chair while the bearded man let out a deep sigh. “I told you, she’s not testifying. Tell the DA she can have a written statement or come up with a better plea agreement so she doesn’t have to go to trial. She’s not setting foot in a courtroom with that bastard.”

“DA isn’t gonna like that.” Andy shrugged and grabbed the takeout container he had set aside. “She’ll get over it though, she likes me. Hates that fucker, she wants to nail him to the damn wall.”

“Good.” Ransom snarled when his thoughts dwelled on Lance for just a few seconds, wishing like he did every time that he had killed the asshole when he had the chance. “Hope she cuts his fucking knot off.”

“She would if she could.” Andy snorted before shoving some noodles into his mouth. “Can you get her statement to me by next month?”

“I think so.” Ransom cocked his brow at Andy when the man practically growled when his paralegal came into the room to hand him some paperwork, not missing how his eyes raked over her possessively when she walked away before he turned his attention back to his friend. “Pup is due any day and that could put a dent in it, but I’ll get it as soon as I can.”

“Alright, that’s fine.” Andy tossed his empty container and followed Ransom when he stood up to leave. “I think there’s press outside, man. You wanna head out the back?”

“No, I’m used to them.” Ransom sighed as he steeled himself. “They’ve been up my ass ever since the election. I’m hoping they’ll calm down by the time we’re in Washington.”

Andy just nodded as he held the door open for Ransom, squinting against the sudden flashing of camera bulbs and snorting before turning to head back to his office. Ransom just clenched his jaw when they started shouting questions at him, shaking his head at being bombarded with inquiries about where you were, were you going to testify, was the baby here yet, were you going to go with him to Washington…

“My wife was the victim of an extremely heinous crime, and is still the target of multiple threats from her father’s congregation. I will not entertain any questions that invade her privacy.” Ransom frowned when one of them asked what names you had picked out. “Nor will I be discussing our child. The election was tumultuous enough, all you need to know is that she will not be testifying, she will not be taking part in any of the numerous activist campaigns that have been harassing her, and that we appreciate you respecting our requests for privacy and discretion while our family does its best to recover from an incredibly difficult year, good night.”

He ignored their continued questions and climbed into the beemer, slamming the door behind him and drawing in a deep breath as he started the engine. Ransom pulled out his phone when he felt it vibrating, almost dropping it when he saw the message and peeling out as he dialed frantically.

“Harlan!” Ransom winced when he ran right through a red light, taking a turn a bit faster than advisable and slamming into the door since he forgot to buckle up. “Please tell me she just started.”

“She did, contractions are about five minutes apart, so you have time.” Harlan trailed off when you called out for Ransom, the need in your voice making your mate press the gas pedal all the way down to the floor and pray that no cops would be between the city and Harlan’s manor. “The doctor is monitoring her very closely and pleased with how she’s doing so far, but she wants you.”

“Twenty minutes.” Ransom finally hit the open road and breathed a sigh of relief, watching the speedometer creep up while he tried to remain calm. “I’ll be there soon.”

He made it in fifteen, slamming the front door open without a second thought and sprinting up the stairs when he heard you moan. You looked so beautiful when he finally saw you, already slick with sweat and doing your breathing exercises while Marta held your hand and told you how good you were doing.

“Alpha…” you tried to smile at him but could only groan when another contraction wracked your body, your grip on Marta’s hand tightening until Ransom replaced it with his own and sitting behind you on the bed so you could lean against him for support. “She’s coming fast, my water already broke.”

“It’s alright, it’s common with first births.” The doctor gave you and Ransom a reassuring smile when he frowned at her, checking your blood pressure again and nodding when Ransom started scenting you and rumbling to help soothe you. “You are doing so well, honey, very brave.”

“Yes, so brave, bunny.” Ransom kissed your hair when you let out a shuddering breath, letting you hold his hands tightly and matching his breathing to yours while he felt you tensing up again. “Just keep breathing, Omega, you’re so good.”

You felt infinitely better with Ransom there, able to relax even through the pain and smiling each time he kissed your cheek or your temple and told you how proud he was of you. Even though later they told you it had taken six hours, it felt like it took no time at all, Ransom holding your knees up to your chest and helping you push when you felt like you couldn’t anymore once the doctor had gotten everyone else out of the room.

“Almost there, just one more big push, mommy.” The doctor gave you a small smile when you nodded tersely, guiding the baby’s body out of you while you screamed. “Here’s the head, and shoulders, and here she is!”

The first loud cry from your daughter had you breaking down into the most joyous tears of your life, shaking in Ransom’s arms and beaming at him when he kissed you like you were the air he breathed. You had never been happier, sobbing and letting Ransom stand up so he could cut the cord.

“Oh, shit.” Ransom felt his own tears leaking down his cheeks when they bundled her up and placed her into his arms, laughing when she kept squalling and wriggling like a little fiend. “Bunny, she’s so beautiful. She’s amazing, I can’t believe we made her.”

“Let me see her.” You were still crying when he came to sit next to you, cooing when he placed her into your arms and leaning against him as he pressed soft kisses all over your cheek. “She’s so perfect, our pup. Amelia Clementine Drysdale. I want to give her everything, Alpha.”

“We will, I promise.” Ransom didn’t think such euphoria could ever be possible, gazing at you and then back at your daughter and knowing that he would do anything either of you wanted for the rest of your lives. “I will keep you both safe, nothing will ever happen to you as long as I’m here. My sweet Omega. I love you, Bunny.”

You purred and started scenting your pup while he wound you in his arms, peeking up at him through your lashes and feeling warmth bloom in your chest as you felt the deepest love and affection flowing through the bond, knowing that no matter what happened, he would always be your Alpha.

[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

[krirebr]

More Than This 6

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

Word Count: ~3.4k

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: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, the threat of Linda, explicit language, panic & anxiety, my own rampant abuse of italics, 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: Well. Here we go. Things are coming to a head now.

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

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! 💜

You sat on the closed toilet seat in Ransom’s ensuite, your knees pulled up to your chest, as you watched the seconds on the timer tick by, Linda’s gift bag sitting right beside the under-the-sink cabinet you’d pulled it out of. This time would be different, you told yourself. It wouldn’t be the same result as the last three tests you took. It couldn’t. It couldn’t. 

Your phone buzzed and you turned the timer off as you closed your eyes tight. Please please please, you chanted to yourself. After forcing yourself to breathe, you opened your eyes and picked up the test off the counter. Pregnant said the easy-read display. Just like the others. Shit.

This was what you wanted. You knew that. But– But you were stupid. You were so fucking stupid. You were so focused on getting pregnant that you’d forced yourself to forget about what would come when you actually were – a baby. You and Ransom were going to have a baby. You were fully trapped now. Completely fucked. This had cemented the rest of your life, no way out.

And the same for this poor baby you carried inside of you. A childhood just like yours. The same future too. You cradled your stomach even knowing there was barely anything there yet. 

You wandered into the hall. You wondered where you would even put a baby as you looked across at the home gym you'd never seen Ransom use. His study. The storage rooms. You tried to imagine a little kid running around in this house. You couldn’t. You couldn’t picture a single moment of your future beyond this day. It terrified you.

The rest of the day passed in a haze before Ransom came home at his usual time. You froze at the sight of him, just staring as he bent down to pat Lola and tell her hello as she yipped excitedly at him. He turned to you and his brow furrowed. Oh god. Could he tell? Could he see it on you? You opened your mouth to tell him. You had to tell him. But no words came out. After gaping at him for who knows how long, while his brow just got more and more furrowed, you asked “Are you hungry?” and moved into the kitchen without waiting for a response. You had no idea how he’d react. 

Would he be happy you’d finally fulfilled your purpose? Angry because he’d never wanted a kid to begin with? Or maybe he did want a kid, he just didn’t want one with you? Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe you didn’t even factor into this equation. Maybe the kid would be good enough on it’s own. That might be the best outcome you could hope for. That thought terrified you just as much as the others.

You pulled two of the premade meals out of the fridge. You hadn’t tried to make dinner again since your disastrous first attempt. You thought of your kid. Eating the housekeeper’s meals, being taken care of by a nanny, driven around by a chauffeur, while you just faded away into the background.

Ransom calling your name brought you back to the present. He was just on the other side of the kitchen island from you now. “Are you okay?” he asked, and you couldn’t tell if it was concern or annoyance in his tone.

Tell him tell him tell him. You had to. You knew you had to. But. You couldn’t right now. It wasn’t the right time. You’d come up with a plan. The right way to do it. That’s what you needed. You forced a benign smile. “I’m fine,” you said. 

Something passed over his features. Frustration, maybe. But what did he have to be frustrated by? You were doing what he wanted. Making yourself as small as possible, doing everything you could not to intrude on his life. 

He just stared at you as you plated a meal for him and put it in the microwave. He looked at you as if there was something to decode. The more he stared, the more afraid you became that he’d be able to ferret out your secret. Not yet. Please not yet. It wasn’t the right time. “Actually,” you said, as you took his dinner out of the microwave and replaced it with your own, “I’m not feeling great. I think I’m just going to take this upstairs with me and maybe read until I fall asleep. Don’t bother waking me if I’m sleeping when you come up. Think I just need to sleep off whatever this is.” You were babbling. You knew it. You needed to get out of this room.

“Are you ok?” He asked. “Do you need anything?”

“No, no,” You said, taking your plate out as soon as the microwave beeped, not bothering to check if it was truly done. “I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix, I’m sure. Goodnight.” Then you fled upstairs, not looking back.

You spent the next day trying to pretend like everything was normal. You read one of Harlan’s books, you took Lola for a long walk, you hid from Carol. Everything was fine.

Late in the afternoon, you got a text from Ransom.

How are you feeling?

You stared at it, confused. He didn’t know. He couldn’t. You hadn’t told him. What was– Oh! Last night you’d told him you were sick. Right.

I’m feeling much better. Thank you.

A few minutes later your phone dinged again.  

Ok. My parents want to take us to dinner. I’ll be home around 6 and we’ll go right to the restaurant.

You looked at the time. That was less than two hours from now. Less than two hours to get ready for Linda. That– that was not enough time. You tried to push down the panic building in your chest. This was fine. You’d just start getting ready now. It was fine.

  You went into Ransom’s bathroom and started doing your makeup. It was fine. Your hand only shook a little. 

When that was done, you went into the closet. All you had to do was pick an outfit. You could do that.

But as you rifled through the closet, the panic you’d tried so hard to shove deep down came back. Not only that, it grew. You didn’t know how you were supposed to pick something to wear when you didn’t know what Linda wanted. But if you didn’t get it right, she would look at you and she would say something. And she would hate you even more. But every time you thought you might have found something that would please her, you became overcome with worry over what Richard might think – if it showed too much chest, or too much leg, or too much neck or maybe it highlighted your ass and he would take it as an invitation. It was too much. You sank down to the floor, surrounded by all the clothes you’d pulled off hangers. You were paralyzed. There was no option that wouldn’t get you in trouble, wouldn’t cause problems.

You didn’t even realize Ransom was home until he was in the closet too, standing over you, with an impatient scowl on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why aren’t you ready? We have to go! Linda’s gonna lose her shit if we’re late for the reservation. Get up and get fucking dressed already.”

You looked up at him, at the way he was glaring at you, and suddenly you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. None of it. Not a single thing. 

“Then tell me what to wear!” you yelled, and Ransom took a step back, surprised. “Because none of this is going to be good enough! Not for your mom, who hates me. Or your dad who looks at me, and– and– And you! I have no fucking idea what you want. I can’t figure it out! But I’m here. I have to be here. And I have to do what you want, but I don’t know what that is because you won’t tell me! I only know what you don’t want. You don’t want me to cook and you don’t want to fuck me and you don’t want me to work! And I really don’t understand that one because you told me I could but then you sicced your mother on me–”

“Wait, what?” Ransome tried to interrupt. “What did–”

You barely even noticed he’d said anything, too much on a roll now to even think about stopping. “And you don’t want me to leave! You keep me locked up here, stranded and I think I’m starting to lose my mind. I don’t– I don’t have anything to do or anyone to talk to! Steve is too busy for me and that’s probably good because your mom is sure we’re fucking, so I probably shouldn’t talk to him anymore anyway. But I miss him. He’s the only one who cares about me. I’m so alone. And even Lola loves you now. I don’t have anyone or anything! And I know, I know I’m supposed to make you happy. I know that’s what I’m for now, but I don’t know how! You don’t want me. You don’t want me here but you won’t let me leave. And now I’m pregnant! And I’m stuck. This is just my life now, the way it’ll always be and I–” 

A hand on your wrist shocked you back into the room, into the present, where Ransom was crouching down in front of you, eyes wide. “You’re pregnant?” he breathed. 

You froze. Oh god, had you said that? You didn’t really remember. You barely remembered anything you’d just said. It’d all come tumbling out of you without much conscious thought. But as he stared at you, you knew that you must have. You locked eyes with him for what might have been just a moment or an entire age. And then suddenly, this, fucking everything, was too much for you and you bolted.

Up and out of the closet, out of the bedroom, and into the hall. You looked around wildly. You didn’t have anywhere to go. You heard Ransom start to move, so you ducked through the nearest doorway, into his gym, slamming the door and locking it behind you. You paced around the room, wringing your hands. What the fuck had you done? Why had you said all that? You were just so tired. You’d been so tired since that day in Joseph’s office. You just couldn’t muster the energy to keep everything inside anymore.

A knock came at the door and you froze. Ransom called your name gently, but you couldn’t say anything. He called it again, a little louder, but you still kept quiet. The doorknob rattled as he tried to get in. You backed up, still feeling the urge to run but there was nowhere to go. Your back hit the far wall and you slid down it.

“I just–” he started through the door, “you don’t have to talk to me. I just– I just need to know that you’re ok.” It was his tone that surprised you more than his words. He sounded– you weren’t sure how he sounded, honestly. Wrecked, maybe, if that wasn’t so fucking ridiculous. “Can you at least tell me you aren’t having a panic attack? I’m–” You swore you could hear him grinding his teeth. “I’m worried.”

You gaped at the door for a moment, then forced out, “I’m not having a panic attack,” just loud enough to travel through the wood. 

“You’re sure? Your breathing’s normal?”

“Yeah,” you said, hunched over by the wall now.

You heard him let out a deep breath. “Ok, good, that’s good. Uh, will you please come out? I’d really like to talk to you.”

You were shaking your head before he finished speaking, your stomach clenching in fear. You couldn’t face him. Not yet. Not ever, a voice inside you whispered. That wouldn’t be possible, you knew. But you’d hold off as long as you possibly could. “No,” you finally said out loud, your voice unsteady. 

There was just silence at first. It stretched on. Then, finally, you heard him move away from the door and down the stairs. You took a slow, deep breath. Then another and another. You stood up and started moving again. Around and around the room. You were so relieved he was gone but you were terrified of where he might be going, what he might be doing. How he might feel. How angry was he? And was he just upset about the outburst or was he mad about the baby? He’d never been an enthusiastic participant in the making of it, just doing what he had to. This baby wasn’t his choice, it’d been pushed on him, just like you were pushed on him. Of course he resented you. And he’d resent your child, your family. A whole life he never wanted. 

You cradled your stomach as you crumpled down to the floor. This poor baby. Parents who barely spoke, a mother who was only ever sad. Tears slid down your cheeks. History just kept repeating. Over and over again. There’d never been anything you could do to stop it. 

Your pathetic spiral was interrupted by a scratching at the door. Then a huff and then whimpers. Lola. You started to get up, move towards the door, but then you stopped. Opening that door felt insurmountable. Like it would destroy any small modicum of safety you currently felt. Like everything outside, everything you were scared of would come crashing in. You couldn’t do it. Even for Lola, you couldn’t do it.

You heard footsteps on the stairs again and you pushed yourself into the wall. You heard him stop in front of the door and then say, so softly you could barely hear it, “Hey, Lola, she just needs some time alone right now. It’ll be okay. Come on, let’s go downstairs.” Then there was more movement – was he picking her up? – and footsteps on the stairs again.

You couldn’t explain why that made you so angry, but– He hated dogs! He’d told you! And now he was comforting Lola? Gently picking her up? Taking her from you? He didn’t make any sense. He’d constantly say one thing then do the opposite. The only consistent thing about him seemed to be that he didn’t want you, didn’t like you, didn’t need you here. Maybe once the baby was born, he’d send you both away. Maybe that’d be a good thing. Maybe that was the best you could hope for.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before there was a soft knock on the door. Ransom’s voice came through. “Can you let Lola in? She’s freaking out. You can stay in there, I just– She needs you.”

You moved towards the door. “I– She can come in, but I don’t want to talk,” you said. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “you’ve made that clear.”

Then there was more shuffling before you heard him walk away. You just stood there until there was a desperate little scratch at the bottom of the door. You unlocked and opened it quickly, just enough to let her in, then closed and locked it behind her. She immediately jumped on you, torn between her excitement at seeing you and her annoyance that she’d been shut out to begin with.

You picked her up. “I’m so sorry baby,” you whispered. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You didn’t know if that was true. You held her close as you went back to pacing. What were you doing? You were being childish, probably. Hiding from your problems. It wouldn’t be so bad, maybe, if you weren’t so fucking alone. You got out your phone and without thinking texted Steve

I really hate that you’re so far away.

You stared at it for a few moments but the little checkmark that showed he’d read it never appeared. That was fine. Working still probably. Or at an important dinner or event. He had his own life to lead. You couldn’t expect him to always have time for you.

Another knock on the door. You looked up with a sharp “What?” Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“Are you planning on coming to bed tonight?” he asked through the door.

“No,” you said, voice much more firm than you felt.

“What?! You’re just gonna sleep on the floor between my weights?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

“Oh my god,” he grumbled. “You can’t sleep on the floor!”

“I’m fine, Ransom,” you growled.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for you to still hear him, before he stomped down the stairs. 

You rolled your eyes and checked your phone. Still no response from Steve. It was fine it was fine. 

He came back up, his gait significantly slower and uneven, and dropped something in front of the door, which hit the floor with a muted ‘oomph.’ Then he was stomping down the stairs again. You froze, staring at the door, your curiosity warring with your fear. What the fuck was he doing?

He came back up, adding something to his pile with a faint ‘tink.’ “You can’t fucking sleep on the floor,” he growled, then thundered into his room across the hall and slammed the door.

You counted to thirty before you were brave enough to open the door. Stacked just to the side in the hallway was a collection of cushions and blankets, along with your pillow and Lola’s favorite blanket. Carefully placed on top of all that was one of Carol’s dinners with utensils and a bottle of water. You just blinked at it all for a moment, before lugging everything into the room. 

You sat down to eat first. You’d been so stressed and anxious you hadn’t even realized you skipped dinne– Oh fucking shit. Dinner. With Ransom’s parents. Well, if Linda hadn’t hated you already, she certainly did now. You wondered what he’d told her. That you were crazy. Ridiculous. A child. Had he told her you were pregnant? If you’d been able to tell her yourself, under better circumstances, would it make her like you more? 

You put the plate aside. You weren’t very hungry.

Next was making space for you to sleep. It took you a while. Neither the stationary bike nor the treadmill would budge. You didn’t even try the rowing machine. So it was just moving his weights out of the way, which you did one by one with both hands, trying to shoo Lola out of the way when she insisted on being underfoot. When you were done, you sat down against the wall for a moment, trying to catch your breath, before arranging all the cushions and blankets into something you’d be able to sleep on.

You looked around. He never fucking used this gym. You were sure it’d be covered in dust if Carol didn’t clean it every week. He had all these rooms you’d never seen him enter, let alone use, while you had absolutely nothing. Well. Fuck that. Fuck him.

You pulled out your phone and hurriedly typed out an email to the manager of your storage unit. Your bedroom furniture was just languishing in LA, while all these rooms went unused. Well, you were done with that. You’d done your job. Your goals were accomplished. You were pregnant. There was no reason to share a room with him anymore. He’d be relieved too, you were sure of it.

As you unfolded all the blankets, you also found your comfiest pair of pajamas. You changed into them, knowing it was just a coincidence, that they must have been the first pair he’d found in your drawer, but you still appreciated it. As odd as it felt to appreciate anything from him, especially now. 

You sank down onto the cushions. It was early still, but you were exhausted. You hoped that you might sleep, even though you were terrified of what the next day might bring.

Tag list is open

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[brandycranby]

not me suddenly remembering how much i loved pjo bc of u @boxofbonesfic and thinking character thoughts 🫡 anyways

steve, son of apollo. joseph rogers? he never found out, good for sarah. she was just a tired nurse with a bastard of a husband who caught apollo's eye and ended up having a short affair with him at the hospital (he was probably a hot doctor at the time) but she never tells steve who grows up sickly and frail but no less loved by sarah who tells him lore of her homeland instead of apollo and his kin. apollo's no better as a dad when he finally gets to camp, even with the sudden gift of health he bestows on him

andy, son of ares. has anger issues and he knows it. he'd rather be a son of athena but alas that's not how the cards fall. he studies and studies in the hopes that he can change his legacy, change his fate. law instead of fighting, order instead of chaos and blood. it's futile. his father would rather he give into his savageness instead.

ransom, son of nemesis. look he's pretty and he fucks but that dont mean he's an aphrodite kid. linda probably invoked the goddess through sheer vengeful will when richard cheats for the third time. so nemesis goes and fucks the bastard, brings him his kid and linda says he can stay. damn right ransom is staying and he's stealing his dad's mistresses too. why have some shriveled weasel when his hot son is there. probably part time camper leaning towards full year. petty as he is, home isnt... great and it's not like he likes himself after he gets w those women.

---

open for discussion and thoughts 😌 i'll definitely do more for the other characters hehe if i do self insert fics for them, then they'll all be older camp leaders, like late 20s-30s. idc if its not pjo canon 🫡

[wiypt-writes]

Brothers In Arms

Part 9: Spinning Around

Summary: After hearing about the events in Boston, you come to a decision about your future…

Warnings: Bad language, violence, smut (NSFW) 18+

Pairing: MOB Ransom Drysdale x Reader. Mentions of MOB Steve Rogers x Reader. 

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any of the characters contained within this series bar the Reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. I do not give permission for this to be translated and/or reposted on any other platforms. Reblogs are fine: Sharing is caring.

By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: Here we are, the penultimate chapter. Eeeek. thanks to @spectre-posts as always.

Brothers In Arms Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 8

W/C: 6k

It wasn't long before you'd made it back to your brother. Natasha drove and you were thankful, as the entire way to the hospital your mind was distracted. Your thoughts remained on Ransom and the situation you were in. 

You’d decided to call him yourself and tell him Ari was awake, instead of asking Natasha do it. It felt more real that way. And also, if you were honest, a part of you wanted to hear his voice. 

You hadn’t been prepared, however, for the fact that the first thing he’d basically asked when you’d called was if there was something wrong with you or the baby. It was something you’d seen and heard other expectant fathers ask their pregnant partners when they called, and it had made you feel all sorts of emotions. 

You still didn’t know what you were going to do about the baby. Your heart and mind were so conflicted, not only over that but Ransom. It all made your head hurt when you thought about it. 

Setting foot into your brother's room, you noticed that there was a crowd. Ari in bed; looking more colorful than when you'd left him, Sam, Kebede and Max all stood round. Their words were in a hushed tone as they conversed. Silence began the moment you appeared in the doorway.

“What…what’s going on?” You asked, dropping the bag of Ari’s belongings onto one of the free chairs as Natasha hung back a little. She then excused herself as her phone rang, ducking out to answer.

"There's been a development," Ari spoke with zero emotion, as if he were back on the job.

You felt flushed from the inside out, heat coursing through you in a panic you hadn't yet identified. You felt your stomach knot as you asked, "what do you mean?"

"Walt's dead, Steve's dead and Ransom has been stabbed," Ari looked at you and no one else as he answered. He wanted you to know there was not one iota of mistruth in what he told you.

You blinked, “what…Walt? I…” and then your brain registered what else he had said, and your stomach stopped. “Ran…he’s…is he okay?”

Sammy stepped forward to catch you as you started to wobble, "sit down, love."

"I don't know," Ari admitted.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You looked at Ari, “what…what happened?”

"I called and when he answered he was in bad shape," your brother, again, replied stoically. "He asked for help, then the line went dead.

“But you got him help, right?”

"If they got to him in time," he nodded. "I haven't heard either way."

Your eyes filled with tears, and you were about to give your brother a full verbal lashing for his blasé attitude but you stopped yourself. Ari was angry about what Ransom did to you and what had happened to him. And deep down you knew he had every right to be. 

But that didn’t stop you worrying about Ransom. Because despite everything, you still loved him.

“Harlan found him.” 

You turned to look at Natasha, who waved her phone in explanation as she stepped into the room. “He’s lost a lot of blood but he’s alive.”

Your chest shuddered as the breath you held let go. Your left hand covered your mouth while your right clutched your chest, just over your heart. "I need to go, now. The fastest you can get me there," you looked only at Natasha. If you'd looked at your brother, you knew already the look on his face would be of sad eyes and disappointment. He'd try to delay your exit possibly only to talk you out of leaving in his mind.

Natasha nodded, “Harlan suspected you might say that. His private jet is on the way.”

You stood slowly and began to walk forward, one foot out the threshold when Ari stopped you.

"Y/N," he spoke. When you turned to face him, he spoke again, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

You took a deep breath and shook your head, a tear trickling down your cheek. “I don’t know what I want, but I need to see him, Ari. I still love him. I’m not asking you for permission, or for you to understand because fuck knows I don’t understand it myself. But I need to go.”

"Alright," he nodded. Ari looked to Max, "get her there safe. Then get back here so we can figure out how to clean this shit up. If he survives, that bastard owes me the rest of his life."

"Sure thing, boss," Max spoke with his gravely East Coast accent. He turned toward you and Natasha, with a single nod, and Nat began to follow. You took a final glance at your brother.

"Thank you," you whispered. Ari nodded and you were beyond the threshold.

*****

Less than three hours later you were touching down in Boston. A car was waiting for you and Natasha, and she gently ushered you over the tarmac of the private air field towards it, Max casting a watchful eye from the top of the steps.

A familiar face was waiting for you in the driver’s seat.

“Carter…” it was almost a relief to see his face.

"Doll," he nodded at you. 

"How's..." you began but Carter interrupted you as Natasha slid in beside you. 

“He’s in a bad way, but being cared for by the best.” Carter swallowed. “I’m under instructions to take you straight to the house.”

“The house, is he not…”

“He’s being cared for by Doctors at Harlan’s mansion. We couldn’t call the authorities…too many questions.”

You had a few questions of your own, especially now you’d had an entire flight to sit and think about them.

“What happened? I know Steve stabbed him, but what…”

“Mr Thrombey has asked that I let him explain. He’s waiting for you, I’m under instructions to send you to see him before you see Ransom.”

"No, I want to see Ransom first, Carter," your voice held a pleading tone.

"Harlan first." Carter said firmly. He wasn't about to negotiate.

“Why does everyone in this damned family get off on pushing me around?” You grumbled.

Natasha caught your under-breath comment and smirked, "it keeps their dicks bigger. Mobsters lose control, they lose their rights."

You glanced at her, and she gave you a small smile as you scoffed. 

The drive to Harlan’s was a familiar one, you’d been plenty of times before. Soon, Carter was pulling the car up to the front of the house. You didn’t even wait for it to stop before you opened the door to let yourself out.

"She's eager," Carter joked with Natasha as you left the door open. 

Fran, Harlan's housemaid, thew open the door just as you reached for the handle. "He's in his study," she directed you.

You nodded, walking down the hall, ignoring both Ransom’s mother and father as your sneakers squeaked on the well-polished tiles. The mahogany doors were heavy as you pushed both open with your palms flat on their surface. You didn't even bother knocking, and frankly, you didn't give a shit. You wanted the answers you were seeking and you wanted to see Ransom.

Harlan wasn’t surprised to see you, he was stood by the window, clearly having seen you arrive.

“Y/N.” He gave you a soft smile.

“Where’s Ransom?” Your voice was quiet.

"He's upstairs," the oldest Thrombey said with softness. "You can see him in a moment, if you choose to after we talk. Have a seat."

"I'd rather stand," you stood your ground.

"Alright," he nodded.

You took a deep breath, waiting for Harlan to explain.

“The feud between Ransom and Steve, the one which you were regrettably caught in the middle of. It was started by Walt.”

You felt your jaw go slack as your brows furrowed and eyes squinted. "What?"

“Walter ordered the hit that went wrong. He’s the reason Peggy is dead and the reason Steve…well…” he trailed off.

“You know?” You whispered. 

Harlan nodded. “Ari came to me, not long after it happened.”

“I know, I just wasn’t sure if he told you everything.”

Harlan took a deep breath as you licked your lips.

"Why am I just hearing this?" You shook your head, "So much could have been...I could..."

"Unfortunately, this is how these things play out. It's pathetic really. Cliché dramas that sometimes translate from screen to life." Harlan’s tone was gentle. A little like you found the man himself to be, despite the fact he was a ruthless mob boss. “That and I didn’t know.” Harlan shook his head. “‘None of us did, not until photos of Walt meeting with Rumlow emerged.”

“Photos?”

Harlan nodded. “Copies were sent to both your brother and Ransom.”

"Who took them?"

“No idea.” Harlan shrugged. “And I don’t think it matters much. Not now. Steve got his revenge, and then Ransom got his.”

Harlan studied you for a moment as you took the entire situation in. He watched as your face screwed up a little and you pinched the bridge of your nose, a desperate attempt to keep yourself from crying. Almost as if you didn’t want to give into the jumble of emotions you were feeling. Like you didn’t want to show weakness, or admit to anyone other than yourself that you cared what had happened to either of them. 

But he knew you did, because you were here. 

To Harlan, it was no wonder Ransom had fallen for you the way he had. You took crap from no one, but yet underneath it all, you were an incredibly kind hearted and loving person. You rounded off Ransom’s gruff and rough edges perfectly. And, as he stood there now, watching you in his study, it struck the older man exactly how much you reminded him of someone he knew extremely well, and missed every single day. 

You looked to him after a moment or two and wondered about the expression on his face. It was like he was somewhere else, but not quite, caught in a memory almost. And as you watched, a soft smile spread across his face. 

“Forgive me, but you’re a lot like Ransom’s mother, you know. Fierce, strong, independent. Well, she was until Rogers sucked it out of her. God I hated him. Cruel twist of fate really that the boys looked so much like him. Steve is…was his double, and well, apart from Ransom’s hair colour, he is too.”

At that you frowned, “their hair colour?”

“Steve is…was blonde, Ransom isn’t.” 

You frowned. “Steve…had different hair colour?”

Harlan nodded.

Your frown deepened. You’d done everything you could to push that night from your mind. But…how could you have not noticed? You swallowed as you tried and tried to remember. The bathroom had been dimly lit, it wasn’t like you’d really had chance to look at his hair either…but then you shook your head.

“That’s not possible.” You looked at Harlan, “they’re identical twins!”

Harlan gave you a curious glance, “they’re not identical, Honey. They’re fraternal. Or they were. I mean, they did look ridiculously alike, but there are subtle differences, the hair colour being one, and then there’s a slight height difference, not much but…”

You swallowed, again zoning out of the conversation as the impact of Harlan’s revelation hit you.

You had come to terms with the fact that you would never know for sure who was your baby’s father. A paternity test for identical twins would mean shit, as they had identical DNA. But fraternal ones however, did not. And now, you were fast realising that there was a way for you to find out if the baby you were carrying belonged to Ransom. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harlan’s voice cut through the fog and you looked at him, nodding.

Your face felt void of emotion but your mind and heart were overflowing in competitive thoughts, "is he going to live?"

“Yes,” Harlan nodded. “He's battered and bruised, lost a lot of blood but they've patched him up. Unlike your brother, his spleen remains in act and nothing else was damaged apart from some muscle in his rib cage.”

The shaky breath you inhaled opened up your emotions for your eyes to flood, "I want to see him."

Harlan nodded. “He’s sleeping at the moment, still undergoing the blood transfusion, but he’ll be glad to see you. I haven’t mentioned you were coming in case you changed your mind.”

"Where?"

"Upstairs, the guest room to the left after the landing," he softly spoke. “The one the pair of you usually, well, did usually stay in.”

"Thank you," you whispered. You'd only just stood when Harlan spoke your name. You waited for him to continue. 

"Ransom has not made the best choices," he sighed, "but despite the unbearable act he's done to you, I know he loves you. I'm not trying to sway a decision for you, my dear. I only speak my truths with those I care for and you, no matter what, will always be a part of this family."

You swallowed, nodding as you licked your lips. “I…I still love him too, Harlan, but what I don’t know is whether if that’s gonna be enough, not after all this.”

Harlan seemed to have had an understanding for he only nodded once, dismissing you to go. So, with a deep breath, you headed up the grandiose staircase and turned to the left. You stopped at the cracked open door and closed your eyes. Your hands were shaking and your throat felt dry. Your eyes stung with salty tears but you took a steeling breath anyway and slowly cracked the door open enough for you to step in.

Looking small, feeble even, with his complexion pale, Ransom looked anaemic already. There was a canula under his nose along with a half full bag of blood which was being administered via IV into the back of his left hand. His body was covered by blankets and you stopped halfway between the door and the foot of the large bed, listening to the beeps and bleeps of the heart monitor.

His hair was out of place only a little, cuts and bruises, even dried blood was still visible and the sight worried and scared you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and closed the space between he and you. There was already a chair on his left side, presumably from Linda, whom no doubt had sat there to at least show face and play the part of worried mother so those on staff and the goons in and out of the house would buy into it. You didn't, not really. 

You took a seat at his right side and glanced down at your shaking hands. They felt cold even by your own touch. Worrying them in your lap, you slowly looked up, your eyes roaming over your former lover and fiancé.

As you sat there you tried to figure out why had Ransom not corrected you when you’d said there could be no way to know which one of the brothers had fathered your unborn child.

Why would he lie? The only plausible reason you could think of was that he didn’t want to know, and he didn’t want you to know either. Was this some cruel attempt to keep control of you?

“If you keep it…I’ll support you. I’ll do whatever, be as involved as a father or as not involved as you want, but you’ll want for nothing. Either of you. Whatever you decide…”

Whatever you decide…

“Oh, Ran…” you sniffed, your hand reached for his right. You gently held it, your thumb skating softly over his bruises and split knuckles as you looked at his face. “This is such a fucking mess.”

*****

The beeping of his alarm was most certainly not welcome. Ransom was too warm, too comfortable.

There was a sleep laden grumble that wanted to force its way out of his throat but instead he grunted and slung his arm out to shut the damn thing off on his phone.

But his phone wasn’t there.

Odd.

Nevertheless, the noise stopped and he turned himself over onto his other side, and felt the tickle of hair on his face.

He cracked an eye open, in surprise more than anything. You were here. Back in his bed. After everything…

His brow twitched downward and his chest tightened a bit. He sat up onto his elbow and took you in fully.

You were led on your side, back to him, the bed covers pulled up to your chin. Your features soft as you slept.

His hand reached out to run a knuckle over your cheek but he stopped. What if he touched you and you melted away? What if he touched you and you just vanished. But he had to know. So, he curled his first and fingers, delicately dragging them over your cheekbone towards your ear and down your jaw. You were real, you were there. He knew so now, his fingers over your soft skin. So kept going, slowly down your neck, pulling back that bedding just a bit.

His hand paused at the crook of your shoulder, before it carried on, slipping underneath the comforter. He traced a line down your ribs, your naked body felt just as he remembered. 

His heart filled with so many emotions. And those very emotions tickled his nose and made his eyes pool. His hand now opened wide and splayed over your little swollen belly.

The second his palm came to rest over the life which was growing inside of you, a long breath left his nose. It relaxed his chest and dropped his shoulders.

You stirred a little, your nose twitching in that adorable way it did when you were someplace between sleep and consciousness. 

His thumb swept up and down over your skin. His eyes flicked between your face and what he was doing. His mind whirring.

How did he get to this? How was this possible? Did he die and now this is his purgatory?

A soft sigh left you as Ransom shuffled and snuggled into you as closely as he could get. He pressed his lips to your bare shoulder, inhaling deeply.

"Hi...." you whispered as your arm covered his as it wrapped over you.

“Hi, Princess…”

"You been up long?"

“No,” his lips brushed your skin again. “Just woke…”

You hummed a little smile.

“I love you.” He whispered, his lips moving to your neck.

"We love you too."

His lips curved into a smile against your skin before he sniffed. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

You were caught off guard by the comment, "why wouldn't I be?" You turned your body towards him a little more so as not to crane your neck so hard.

“Because I’m a no good, son of a bitch who treat you like shit.”

"What? Did you have a bad dream or something?" You grew concerned. "Ransom, are you okay?"

That was when he noticed it, the sparkle and twinkle on your left hand.

“I…I…I don’t know.” He whispered.

You turned completely over, "hey," you cupped his cheek with your left hand, "whatever it is, it's okay. I'm here, baby. You can tell me."

He sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter…I have a feeling I’m dreaming now and…I just wanna stay here with you for as long as possible.”

You smiled warmly with a slight shake of your head. "Oh Ran...."

“I love you…and I’m so sorry…” he sniffed, as he pressed his lips to yours. 

He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. It had been so long since ha had last kissed you.

You pulled back just a breath's distance, "I don't know," you kissed him, "what you're sorry for," your lips ghosted his. "But I love you too." You kissed him one more time, "soon we won't get mornings like this."

“Let’s make the most of it…” he whispered, his lips back on yours as his hand cupped your cheek.

He felt you shiver a bit as you hummed at his touch.

His lips never left yours as he eased himself over you, a little more, his hand sliding down your body and coming to rest at your hip.

He gave his baby in your belly enough space as he held himself up with his free arm. That hand at your hip gently rubbed along your skin as he moved down your thigh. His strong hand curled under knee and lifted your leg over his hip, opening you up for him.

You sighed, your nails running lightly up his back, coming to rest in the shorter strands of his hair at the back. Your eyes met his, and he saw nothing but love. A stark contrast to the fear and hurt he had seen in them the last time you’d been under him.

"I love you so much," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "Forgive me, baby, please forgive me." He whimpered as he bent to kiss you again, "I'm so sorry." His final apology was spoke against your lips. And whilst he kissed you, he slipped into you. 

He choked a little as your body responded to him. Your leg hooked round him, heel digging into his ass. Your head sank further into the pillows, leaving your neck bare for him to lavish affection on with his mouth and tongue.

You were made for him. 

How could he have ever hurt you the way he had? Why had he ever doubted you? He was disgusted. Ashamed.

Walt hadn’t made him do that to you. Neither had Steve. He did it himself. Blinded by the hurt and anger, he’d brutally fucked you, despite you asking him not to.

Ransom knew this wasn’t real. Each thrust and roll of his hips was ecstasy but he knew, it was all in his head.

Or he was dead, and this was his new forever.

Either way, he didn’t want it to end.

There was a sharp pain in his side, one which made him hiss and close his eyes in discomfort. And when he opened them, your features were blurring, as if he was seeing them through a dirty window.

“No, please…don’t…don’t go…” he begged.

You opened your mouth, his name a whisper, your voice soft and faraway.

And then there was that damned alarm again. A persistent, annoying fucking beeping.

*****

Your eyes looked to the monitor as Ransom's heart rate had sped up. It worried you, your hand squeezing his.

“Ransom…” you spoke, your voice croaky. “Ran…”

"You came," he said hoarsely. Then he flinched as that searing pain came again.

“Yeah…” you squeezed his hand again, your heart thudding at the fact he was awake. “I did.”

“I didn’t…didn’t know if you would.” His speech was slow, quiet and you took a deep breath.

“Just take a moment, let me go find the doctor. I’m assuming he or she is around somewhere.”

His hand squeezed around yours, a silent plea for you to stay.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

You quickly headed out into the landing and called out for anyone. Fran immediately appeared from one of the other bedrooms and you looked at her.

“He’s awake…and he’s in a lot of pain.”

She nodded, “the doctor is in with Harlan, Linda and Richard, I’ll go get him.”

You nodded and return to Ransom's side. You knew a conversation needed to be had, but you weren't about to have it when doctors, and most likely his parents, were about to barge in.

"It'll be just a minute," you told him.

He nodded and lay back, his eyes closing. 

“Can’t believe the cunt stabbed me.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, well, you killed him so…I’d say you came out on top.” You swallowed as you looked at your hand where it still held his.

The doctor and, as you predicted, Linda and Richard came in quickly. His mother gave you a jerk of her head, but Richard barely registered your existence not that you cared. You’d never given much of a shit about either of them to be honest. 

You went to move from the chair to give them space. But Ransom's hold on your hand remained. You weren't going anywhere. You looked at him, squeezing right back, "It's okay."

You glanced up at the doctor, he wasn’t someone you recognised but it didn’t surprise you. The Thrombey firm had many a professional on its payroll, all of whom were willing to look the other way for backhanders.

You zoned out as he began to talk, instead your eyes simply focussed on your hand which was wrapped around Ransom’s battered one.

You inspected his knuckles, the bruises and the cuts that were raw and still covered with dried blood. In fact, you'd noticed that most of his still had some remnants of the blood bath he no doubt endured with his brother. You barely registered the doctor working on him and stepping away.

It was all a blur. 

But what broke through was the stern tone he had with Linda when he told them to go. Your glance shot up from his hand to his face. That busted lip moved as he spoke again.

"I want to talk to Y/N, alone. I don't need the two of you squabbling and worrying with your bullshit feelings right now."

Linda took a deep breath. “Son, we’re just…it’s a big shock. You, here like this. Steve…Steve dead…”

"Go, Linda." He demanded.

“Ransom…” Harlan spoke from the door, his voice soft but stern. 

Ransom groaned, “I’m sorry mom, but please. Go. I’ll see you in the morning.”

"Alright," she relented. Richard waled her out, his hands on her forearms. Harlan gave the two of you a nod and walked away.

Just before the doctor made his last check on Ransom, he spoke, "These won't take long to kick in. So, just so you're aware, you may nod off."

Ransom nodded.

Once the doctor was gone, you took a deep breath and turned back to him. You didn't know how to start, and maybe he didn't either. But the conversation needed to be had. So you started with the obvious. "Why?"

"It had to be done," he simply stated as if there were no other choice. "Walt and Steve both deserved it. This could have all been avoided." He settled himself with a wince. "Walt's wrecklessness caused a war. No matter what happens between you and I, I couldn't let Steve get away with what he'd done to you. I told Ari I’d kill him. And I did.”

“But I don’t understand, why did Walt arrange the hit in the first place?”

“Apparently he wanted the head seat and if he could frame me for Steve’s death it would lead the way. But…I don’t know, the more I think about it, the more I can’t understand it myself. But then Walt never was the sharpest tool in the box.”

"So this was over a seriously bent ego and power struggle?" You were deeply frowning as you registered Ransom’s explanation.

“That’s what Walt explained before Steve put a bullet in his head.”

You sighed. It hurt to think about all the logistics and how much damage was caused. How confusing even the smallest details were because of one man's jealousy. It trickled so far down the line that it had even affected you. Ari had become a target, he'd nearly died. And that assessment didn't even include what had happened to you. How Ransom had treated you, what he'd done to you. It was a lot to take in. But you had to press on, "And Steve? How..."

Ransom sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. “He…he figured it out. That you’re pregnant.” Ransom blinked heavily as he looked back to you. “When he stabbed me, he said he’d find you, and take you and the baby…and if it was the last thing I did, I wasn’t gonna let that happen. So I shot him. Same way be shot Walt, right between the eyes.”

You swallowed as Ransom took a deep breath, wincing a little as he did. 

“And I don’t regret it. What I do regret is the fact I hurt you, that I…I forced myself on you the way I did. I should have listened and believed you…and I’ll never forgive myself.”

You bowed your head and sighed. Your words stuck to your tongue like glue on a paper. You weakly nodded and lifted your eyes to meet his.

“I know, we never really talked about kids, I just thought it would be something we figured out together along the way. But…I meant what I said.” Ransom licked his lips, “I’ll support you in anyway that you want or need. I’m not expecting you to forgive me for what I did. I don’t expect you to take me back. But, if you wanna keep the baby, I’ll be there for you both. 

“Even if it isn’t yours?” You asked softly. 

As his eyes looked at yours, he blinked slowly. “You know, don’t you?  About me and Steve, how we’re not…”

You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?.”

Ransom licked his lips. “I was scared…” He took a deep breath, a grimace on his face. “I should have, but…I was scared that if you knew, you’d want to find out…and then I’d…I don’t know, if I could could…” he shook his head, “So, instead, whilst I still had hope that one day you could forgive me, then…I guess I didn’t want to know. Because whilst I didn’t for sure, then there would be a chance it is mine and for that reason alone I’d be able to love it like it is. But I see…you have a right to. That was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

In that split second, as you looked at his battered and bruised face, his eyes filled with remorseful tears, you suddenly realised there and what you wanted.

You didn’t truly understand why, after everything that happened but you did. You loved him, and the simple fact was you’d never love another in the same way. So, if Ransom was willing to go through life bringing up and loving you and your child, a child that may or may not be his, then who were you to stop him? Why would you deny your child a father? And why would you deny yourself the love of a man who you still loved with all your heart.

You didn’t need to know and, moreover, you didn’t want to know. It might be an ultimately selfish decision, but seeing as there hadn’t been a single thing in the shit show that had been your life for the last two months or so that you had been able to control, you were taking this one for yourself.

“I wanna keep it,” you spoke softly. “You’re right, the likelihood is that it is yours. And that’s…that’s good enough for me, if it is for you…”

“Y/N…” Ransom let out a little choked sob, and you sniffed, shushing him gently.

“I want you to be a part of its life.” You took his hand and kissed his knuckles, “and I want you to be a part of my life, too.”

[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

[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.

[the-iceni-bitch]

You’ll Never Go Down to the Gods Again

Part IX/X

Pairing: soft!dark (mostly soft at this point) Alpha stepbrother Ransom Drysdale x innocent!Omega stepsister reader

Summary: Shit hits the fan in the biggest way possible when your father and Linda show up.

Chapter Warnings: A/B/O, explicit language, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, domestic violence, mentions of sexual assault and abortion, abusive relationship, religious trauma, medical setting, 18+ ONLY SERIES!!

A/N: Another fucking doozy, I���m so sorry, you guys! This heavy shit is killing me, but good news is there’s only one more chapter after this one. And just remember, they’re endgame!!!! It’ll all be okay!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

Ransom heard the low buzzing of the hospital bustle suddenly get more intense and knew your family must have arrived, scrubbing his hand over his face and shaking his leg with nerves while you squeezed his hand. The way you were looking at him was only making things worse, like he would always be there for you and was the only thing that could make you happy. He had never felt like a bigger piece of shit in his entire life, he almost hoped your father would kill him.

“Yes, thank you so much for all the work you do, God bless you.” Ransom felt every muscle tense up when your father opened the door and kept chatting with the hospital staff, practically groaning when his mother flitted into the room followed by the giant bodyguards that attended your parents wherever they went. “We do so appreciate you letting our family have some privacy during this difficult time. How the hell could you let this happen?”

As soon as the door was closed your father dropped the facade, sneering at Ransom and stomping over to him while he just shook with barely contained rage and kept looking at you. He hated the man.

“You were supposed to look out for her, Ransom.” Linda’s mouth was pursed tight while she too glared at her son, huffing when he refused to turn his attention to either of them and instead kept gazing at you. “Why would you ever let that man anywhere near her?”

“It wasn’t Ransom’s fault.” You were starting to cry again, the desire to lean up and bury your face in Ransom’s chest strong but not enough to overcome the sedative they gave you. “He saved me. Please don’t fight.”

“He introduced that monster to you.” Your father snarled when Ransom continued to ignore him. “The fact that he almost killed that pervert is the only reason I think he didn’t have anything to do with this and I haven’t had him hauled out of here.”

“I want him to stay, daddy.” You tilted your head up to Ransom and choked on a sob when he squeezed your hand. “I need him.”

The door opening cut your father off when he opened his mouth again, his attempt to school his face abandoned once he saw that it was just the family doctor and nurse they had brought with them.

“The doctor here is a little too eager, she did not want to give up her chart. You might need to fill out some paperwork so she doesn’t raise a stink.” The man didn’t even acknowledge you or Ransom, just flipping through your medical records and talking to your father like you didn’t matter. “Wants to send her to therapy too, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“We’ll find a nice Omega pastor for you to talk to, honey.” Linda ignored the way Ransom snarled when she came to stand on your other side and gave your hand a demeaning pat. “These doctors don’t understand what you need. And we’re still going to find you a mate, it will be someone who will treat you sweetly and take care of you.”

“Oh, I don’t…” you swallowed what you were about to say when your father shouldered Ransom away from you after the doctor handed him your records, chewing on your lip as he frowned at you and passed the chart to Linda. “Daddy?”

His backhand caught all of you off guard, Linda catching you when you screamed and almost fell out of the bed while Ransom grabbed your father and shoved him up against the wall with a low growl. He might’ve done more if it wasn’t for those damn bodyguards, thrown to the floor and pinned there before he even knew what was happening and left to watch helplessly while your father grabbed your cheeks and started snarling in your face.

“How much knot have you taken, you little slut?” He was shaking you violently while you started crying, ignoring the increasingly vicious growls that were coming from Ransom as he thrashed to get out of the hold he was in so he could tear the man off you. “Do you have any idea what this is gonna do to me? Were you even raped or did you just make it up when you got caught?”

“Don’t you fucking talk to her like that, you goddamn bastard.” Ransom struggled to get off the floor and groaned when he couldn’t. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Both of you stop, we’re in a public hospital!” Linda hissed at the two of them until they calmed down, storming to the door when someone pounded on it and popping her head out to reassure them. “Everything is fine, there’s just a lot of emotions right now, thank you so much for your concern. You two idiots quit thinking with your fucking knots, Jesus. Let him up. Sweetheart, you need to explain to us how you’re pregnant.”

“I am?” You rubbed your cheek and sniveled while Linda let you lean against her shoulder and patted your hair, looking warily at your father and trying to breathe deeply while tears continued to leak down your cheeks. “But that’s wonderful, Ransom…”

He groaned when you looked at him with watery eyes, feeling your parents’ gazes snapping onto him as he leaned against the wall and tried to avoid looking at anyone else. This was it, he didn’t know why he was surprised that he’d actually managed to get you pregnant since you’d spent your entire shared heat and rut locked together. They were going to kill him.

“You?!?” Ransom pushed your father away when he tried to get in his space, rising to his full height and sneering at the supposedly threatening look on his face. “You little asshole, I can’t believe I trusted you with her, you’re such a fucking pervert. You ruin everything.”

“Daddy, please stop!” You started crying harder when they kept posturing at each other, trying to curl in on yourself and breathing heavily while you felt panic starting to set in. “He was helping me like you wanted, we just fell in love.”

“Like I wanted? What the hell are you talking about?” Your father blinked at you then just growled as he rolled his eyes. “So you’re not just a slut, you’re a damn idiot too.”

“I’m not, why would you say that?” You were sobbing again, longing for Ransom to come hold you instead of his mother. “I was good, I did everything I was told so I could be a good mate…”

“A good mate doesn’t fuck her stepbrother.” He finally turned away from Ransom and back to you and you cowered. “Did he tell you he was helping you? He lied, you moron.”

“No, he didn’t.” You shook your head and refused to look at your father as your chest started heaving with tortured breaths. “You’re lying, why are you lying? Why are you saying these things? Ransom…”

“Bunny…” his heart broke when you looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered, and he didn’t know how he was going to live with himself. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Ransom tried to go to you when you crumpled and started weeping uncontrollably, snarling when your father pushed him back and feeling his chest start to ache as you shook in Linda’s arms. “You said you loved me.”

“I do, I love you so much.” He knew if he could just hold you he could make it alright, but they wouldn’t let him close to you and he felt like he was going to start screaming. “I didn’t want to hurt you, please…”

“You didn’t care what you did, I can’t believe you.” Linda hushed you when you kept bawling, frowning at her son and rubbing your back when you heaved suddenly. “And now we have to take care of your little problem.”

“What do you mean?” You whimpered when Linda ignored you and looked at your father, your eyes flicking between the two of them and your chest getting even tighter. “No…no it’s a baby, my baby. A baby is a blessing, you can’t mean this.”

“Hush, do you have a sedative for her?” Your father nodded when the doctor pulled out a needle, snorting when Ransom tried to charge him and ended up pinned to the wall by his two goons. “We’re not doing this here. Linda, do your best at managing any staff that may have seen her test results so it doesn’t leak to the press. We’re taking you home.”

“No, don’t touch me.” You slapped away the doctor’s hands when he tried to restrain you, looking at Linda and your father pleadingly while she pulled out her phone to talk to one of her team members. “Daddy, please, don’t do this to me.”

“You’re not having this bastard’s pup.” Your father sighed when you pushed the doctor away again, holding your face in his hands and ignoring Ransom’s snarl as he tried to soothe you. “He lied to you, his friend hurt you, he doesn’t care about you. Do you really want to have his baby?”

“I don’t know.” You shuddered and tried to look at Ransom, whining when your father’s hold on your head prevented it and licking your lips as you struggled with yourself. “You said it’s a sin, Daddy. It’s an innocent little baby.”

“We can talk about this at home.” You missed the frustrated tic in your father’s jaw before he kissed your forehead, but Ransom saw it, and it made him try even harder to get out of the grip they had him in. “Don’t you want to go home, peanut? Away from all these strangers?”

“Mmhm.” You were still crying, and you were exhausted, so when the nurse brought you a coat and helped you out of bed you just let her, avoiding Ransom’s eyes and seating yourself in the wheelchair beside your bed. “Home.”

“What do you want us to do with him?” Ransom sneered when one of the bodyguards talked about him to your father like he wasn’t even there, wanting nothing so much as to call out to you when they started rolling you away.

“You.” Your father got right in Ransom’s face and smiled wickedly when he couldn’t do anything except grumble. “If only I could just fucking get rid of you, you little shit. But I can settle for finally getting your mother to cut you off and ruining your life. You come anywhere near my daughter again, though, you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life in a fucking jail cell.”

Ransom just sagged to the floor once they were all gone, running his hands through his hair and groaning at the mess of emotions he could feel rising in his chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about the broken look on your face when you found out he’d lied, hating himself and trying not to start crying when he considered how badly he’d fucked up.

He’d never felt so absolutely wretched in his entire life. He always knew he was a bastard, but hurting you was maybe the lowest thing he’d ever done. You were so good, and pure, and completely innocent and he’d ruined you for nothing but the chance to pull one over on your parents.

But he’d never hit you. And now he’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, not even be with him.

He might not deserve you, but neither did they.

“Paul.” Ransom charged out of the room and found the detective leaning against the counter and chatting with the doctor who had been so kind to you. “They can’t take her.”

“She went with them, man.” Paul looked uncomfortable at the raw emotion that was written all over Ransom’s face. “I can’t do anything if she went of her own free will.”

“He hit her.” Ransom was desperate, sighing when Paul just gave him a defeated shrug and turning to the doctor. “He hit her, and called her a slut. They’re not gonna get her counseling and force her to have an abortion.”

“I fucking knew it, these goddamn religious assholes.” The doctor turned to Paul and gave him a look that would’ve cut through steel. “We can do a welfare hold or something, she’s a victim of a crime, Diskant, c’mon.”

“I just need a minute to talk to her.” Ransom scrubbed his fingers through his hair when Paul finally nodded. “And witnesses so I don’t kill that fucker.”

Maybe he should’ve been worried by the sheer number of cops and hospital staff that were suddenly swarming the parking lot, but he only saw you. He barely heard Paul telling your parents that no, they couldn’t just run off with a victim of a violent crime before her doctors released her and yes, they could have the number of his supervising officer who would tell them the same thing. All he saw was the doctor and three large Beta nurses arguing with your parents’ medical staff until one of them managed to pull you away from them and started comforting you when you began to mewl quietly.

“Bunny.” Ransom winced when you hissed at him as he knelt in front of you, fighting the urge to hold your hands in his while you cried silent tears. “Bunny, I’m sorry. I lied about my reasons but I didn’t lie about loving you, I promise. And you can hate me and never see me again, but I can’t let you go with them.”

“They’re my family.” You hated everything you were feeling right now, sick at the thought that you had betrayed all of your values for the man in front of you but also wanting nothing more than to bury your face in his neck and let him take you away. “They wouldn’t hurt me.”

“He hit you.” Ransom didn’t have time to be as gentle with you as he would have preferred, not when he heard your father starting to raise his voice as he threatened to sue the police department for impinging on his rights. “Was this the first time?”

You nodded, but you had never seen your father as angry as you had in that hospital room, or heard him say such hateful things that went against everything he had taught you. He had scared you, and it made you sick to your stomach the thought that your father could strike you for any reason.

“He’ll do it again, you know he will. He has expectations you’ll never be able to meet and he’ll take it out on you when you can’t.” He wanted to hold you and never let you go, you looked so small and helpless and the knowledge that you were carrying his pup was sending his hindbrain into overdrive. “He won’t let you keep it, he might say he will, but he and that fucking doctor will cook up some way to sneak you something then pawn you off on the first Alpha they can find who won’t care about how supposedly ‘used’ you are. Look at me, Omega.”

Ransom chuffed softly when you finally brought your eyes back to his, leaning forward until his nose was almost brushing yours and sighing when you placed your hands on his shoulders. Even after everything he had done, you felt safe with him, and only with him. You shouldn’t believe anything that came out of his mouth, but you still wanted him in spite of everything.

“I love you, Omega.” Ransom cupped your face gently and rubbed the tears from your cheek with his thumb, crooning when you purred at his touch. “You don’t have to believe me, I don’t deserve it. But I can’t let you go with them. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want, you can keep it, or not. But it’s your choice, bunny, no one else’s. Please don’t let them take you.”

“Ransom…” you felt your bottom lip quiver as you gazed at him, pulling him closer and nuzzling at his cheek until the rest of the world faded away. “I want our pup, I want you, only you, my Alpha.”

It all hit you in the chest at once; how much you needed him, how close it had come to the two of you never seeing each other again, how everyone and everything else seemed terrifying if he wasn’t going to be there with you. Something came over you that was close to panic, the thought of being apart from him painful and crippling and making you keen. You needed to make sure he couldn’t be taken from you, you thought you might die if that ever happened.

“Bunny, what are you doing?” Ransom looked at the nurse who was still holding your wheelchair awkwardly when you started nosing your way down his neck until your lips were pressed against his gland, groaning when you bared your teeth and trying to gauge what your intentions were. “Omega…”

“I want the bond, we need it.” You gazed up at him with watery eyes and he melted, cradling the back of your head and feeling himself start to tear up. “Please, I don’t want them to take me from you, my Alpha.”

“Omegamine.” Ransom nodded at you and rumbled gently when he felt your teeth dig into his gland, a thin trickle of blood running down his throat and the crimson liquid staining your lips when you pulled back to gaze at him with wide blown eyes. “They’ll never take you from me, I swear.”

You buried your hands in his hair and whined when he ducked and sank his teeth into your gland, your body arching towards him and your heart pounding against your ribs as a flood of emotions washed over you. All you could feel was relief and warmth as the bond opened up and your love for Ransom was mirrored back to you, crying when he brought his face back to yours and smashed your lips together with a deep moan.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Your father looked like his head was about to explode when he spotted the two of you, Ransom kissing you gently and letting you tuck your face into the crook of his neck while he turned to snarl at the man. “I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit. Why the fuck aren’t you arresting him? He just bonded her without consent.”

“She consented.” Ransom could’ve kissed the giant nurse he’d wished wasn’t near you just a few moments ago, nodding back at him and stroking your hair while you sniffled at having so much attention on you. “She marked him first, and was adamant that she did not want to go anywhere with you.”

“I’m her father, she doesn’t get a say.” Ransom wanted to rip the man’s heart out when he heard you whimper, he was never going to let that man within fifty feet of you for the rest of your life. “Get her away from him.”

“That’s not how things work anymore.” Paul stepped between your father and Ransom when the man growled viciously, Linda holding your father’s arm and trying to calm him down while the hospital staff began wheeling you back into the hospital while Ransom held your hand. “They’ve got a witness, and the bond takes precedence over whatever shit you’ve got going on. I suggest you go home before the doctor here decides to trespass you.”

The two of you could still hear him screaming once you were inside, but you ignored him, gazing at your mate and relaxing when you felt him sending waves of reassurance and protection through the bond. He did love you, that was all that mattered, your body succumbing to the exhaustion that had been plaguing you once they got you back into a bed and he sat next to you.

“You’re safe, bunny.” Ransom kissed your forehead and chuffed when he saw your breathing grow deep and easy, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb gazing lovingly at you while you finally slept. “And I’ll make sure you stay safe, I promise.”

[thefallennightmare]

Ransom Drysdale

Mine: Ransom is known around town as a playboy so why does it bother him when he see’s reader out on a date with another guy?