#ransom drysdale x squish

[bigtreefest]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Ransom + kiss on the cheek + “You smell good.”

Meet the Parents

Boyfriend! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 1,998

A/N: The Shameless Hoe Fairy? At my doorstep? What a surprise!! I was so excited to write this prompt, and hope I did Ransom justice.

Drabble? I don’t know her. I’ll call this a double Drabble based off word count?

Warnings: probably the most suggestive fic I’ve written, so just to be safe, minors DNI, allusions to smut, schmoozing but it’s actually so genuine, family, L-bomb, nickname/pet name usage

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

You had spent two weeks coaching Ransom to meet your family. After a long phone call with your mom on the way home from work, she insisted you bring him over for dinner.

“Family should know everything about each other.” She insisted. You rolled your eyes and hummed in response. At this point, you knew that sometimes there was no fighting her and you just had to say whatever she wanted to hear.

“Okay, mom. I’ll talk to him about it, but to be fair, I haven’t even met his parents yet. Anyway, I’m pulling into my place right now. I’ve gotta let you go.” Your hand hovered over the keys in the ignition, eager to take them out as soon as she’d say goodbye.

“I don’t know why you’re kicking me off the phone so soon, but okay. We’ll plan it out for him to come over soon. Love you, bye.”

“Love you, too. Bye, mom.” You turned off the car and scooped up your bag and keys, heading inside.

As soon as you hit the kitchen, you flailed your arms out, dropping all your stuff on the island. You and Ransom had plans for him to come over and cook with you tonight, but after that call, there was no way that was gonna happen. You could only allocate your energy towards so much at a time.

You had considered asking Ransom if he wouldn’t mind doing the majority of the work for the meal tonight since the two of you had picked up the groceries over the weekend, but quickly thought better. You were already exhausted, no need to add a kitchen cluttered with dirty dishes and burnt food to the list.

You picked up your phone from the mess you made and called Ransom, surprised it only took one ring before he picked up.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I’m on the way over now. You better have a good recipe up your sleeve, because I’m driving through a row of restaurants and the scent is heavenly.” You wanted to laugh but your body felt too weighed down.

“About that, Ran. Can there be a change of plans? I know I said I’d teach you a new recipe tonight, but I have next to no energy left. Will you actually just pick something up? Your choice.”

The line went silent for a beat before you had to pull the phone away from your ear at Ransom’s boisterous response. “THANK GOD. Yes, I’ll do that. Be there in 20.”

And with that he hung up the phone and you flopped down on the couch waiting for him to arrive.

Ransom’s knock on your door jerked you awake. You responded with a rasp. “It’s open.”

He made his way over to you and set down the bags of food on your coffee table.

“Hi, Ranny.” You smiled up at him, your eyes still half lidded with sleep.

Ransom reached for your hands, draping them over the back of his neck as he crouched over you, eventually lowering himself down so his head was on your chest, the rest of his broad form blanketing you on the couch. You kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair as he mumbled through his squished cheeks. “What’s got you all like…this?” He gestured to your face without looking up.

He still wasn’t that great at expressing his care for the emotions of others, but for you, he was trying. You sighed and patted his shoulders.

“Food first, then I’ll tell you.”

You pushed back your takeout box on the coffee table and finally looked up at Ransom. He had been eyeing you skeptically the whole meal, leaning against the bottom of the couch, both of you sitting on the floor, as he ate his own food. It wasn’t like him to be that quiet. He must’ve been worried.

“Hi.” You softly whispered to him, looking back into his piercing gaze.

“Hi. You wanna tell me what’s going on now?” He returned with a gentle sternness in his tone.

You nodded, your shoulders rolling back as you built up the courage to address this big of a topic. “My parents want to meet you.”

Ransom’s jaw stopped chewing his food. He set down his utensils and swallowed, shifting to put his elbows on the table to look at you. “Okay… what’s so wrong with that? Parents love me.”

You grimaced, you really liked him, but didn’t want to subject your relationship to the gauntlet of your family.

“Nothing, really, it’s just, my parents are very traditional. Like, super religious and conservative.”

Ransom continued to look at you intently, nodding slowly. “So what exactly are you saying? I wouldn’t be approved by your parents?”

“No! I’m not saying that at all, I just want to make sure they see how great you are. They tend to judge harshly and quickly. The first time I brought a guy home, they literally said, ‘Yeah, I think you’d be better as friends. Let him down easy.’ And I never saw him again because couldn’t handle their disappointed faces every time I mentioned his name. I don’t want to have to go through that with you- no, I can’t go through that with you because I love you and you’re it for me.”

Ransom’s eyes went wide. That was the first time you had said it and he was surprised by how quotidian it seemed. Like you should’ve been saying it this whole time. Your eyes went wide as well with surprise at what had slipped out as his face morphed into a grin. It wasn’t shit-eating or mischievous, it was full of love and… lust?

“Get over here.” You silently scooted around the coffee table on your knees and made your way to Ransom as he reached his arms out and guided you into his lap. He pulled you close so your noses were touching, his long eyelashes fluttering along your cheeks as you whimpered.

“Let me show you how much I love you. I’ll savor you right here and treat you like the only woman on Earth, because you’re it for me, too.” Ransom made a move to press his lips against yours, but you pulled back.

“Wait, Ran. There’s something I have to tell you first.” His eyes darted in between yours with concern.

“My parents still think I’m a virgin.” His shoulders dropped as he looked at you incredulously, head cocked to the side.

“Is that it? I mean, we both know you’re far from pure already if I’ve got anything to say about it.” The corner of his mouth turned up and you hid your head in his neck. You pulled back, pushing your hands against his shoulders to keep distance so you could focus enough to get the rest of the information out.

“Just, with everything I told you, there are some household rules we’ll have to follow.”

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, kissing a trail up your forearm.

“Ran, I mean it. No kissing around them, not on the lips at least. Forehead and cheek only.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He continued, kissing his way up the other arm.

“Seriously, and no inappropriate touching, or private conversations in a separate room.”

His trail continued up your neck. “Is that all?”

You sighed and tilted your head back, closing your eyes. “You probably have to bring a bottle of wine. And flowers for my mom and sister.” You meant to sound stern, but it came out as more of a gasp.

“Consider it done, sweetheart.” He moved up your cheek, then leaned in for a deep kiss that left you breathless.

Two weeks later, you were staying at your parents’ house for a long weekend. They had come to pick you up, and Ransom was going to drive you back home after the meal so you could go to work the next morning. Letting Ransom stay over would probably never be a thought in their mind until the two of you were married, so he was only coming over for Sunday night dinner.

You were nervous and hoped his weeks of prep had been taken to heart. On a normal day with Ransom, he was all over you, so you had no idea how he was going to keep his hands to himself, if only for a few hours.

You had told him your parents valued punctuality, too, having met in the military, so you were delighted to hear the doorbell at 5:15 when they’d told him to be there at 5:30.

You ran down the steps and opened the door to be greeted by your boyfriend holding two bouquets and a bottle of wine as your mother followed closely behind you. Ransom was looking more handsome than usual, if that was even possible, with his signature sweater and carefully styled hair. You preferred it floofy and a little messy, as it was most mornings, but it was perfect for your mom to see him.

Ransom handed you the bottle of wine as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “You look beautiful, Sweetheart.” You blushed and gestured toward your mom with your free hand.

“Mom, this is Ransom, Ransom, I’d like you to mee-“

Before you could even finish the introduction, she cut you off. “Mom, you can call me Mom, dear. It’s so great to meet you.” Ransom laughed and handed her a bouquet of flowers with charm before she pulled him in for a hug. You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the greeting. You’d never seen her be this welcoming before, even when your sister brought her husband home for the first time. Ransom looked over his shoulder at you and winked as your mother dragged him into the living room to meet the rest of the family.

You made your way to the kitchen with the bottle of wine, catching your dad who was finishing up the meal.

“Hey Dad, Ransom just got here. Need any help finishing up?” He looked up from the pot he was stirring and squinted to read the label on the bottle of wine in your hands.

“Ah, that’s a good one. Why don’t you pull out some glasses and open it up so we can get it airing. Would you be a dear and help me take this all out to the table? I’m gonna go introduce myself.”

You nodded and got to work running the dishes out to the dining room.

Dinner with Ransom went off without a hitch. He was a perfect gentleman without it seeming forced, engaging in conversation with your family with ease. Every topic he brought up complimented you and touched on your best moments with each other, your sister and her husband chiming in on their similar experiences and your parents looking at the two of you with approval and admiration.

When it was time to go, your parents made you each a bag full of leftovers, insisting you’d both have dinners for the whole week. You smiled and happily took them, waving goodbye until they closed the door behind you. Ransom grabbed your hand, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between your bodies before walking you to the other side of his Beamer. He opened the passenger door for you before he grabbed the bag of food out of your hands and placed it in the back along with his. He leaned into the car, finally out of the line of sight of your parents’ windows as he buckled you into your seat. As he leaned back, he kissed you on the cheek again before nosing against your neck.

“You smell good. So good I almost went crazy when I first got here.” He pulled back, pupils blown with lust, swallowing his icy irises, as he leaned in with his arm resting against the roof of the car.

“Now let’s take you home so I can take you apart.”

Part 2

[holylulusworld]

Entitled rich people

Summary: Your boyfriend and his family are the worst.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader

Warning: snobbish rich people, cocky Bucky, running away with a stranger trope, a break-up

Your boyfriend and his family are the worst. Entitled rich people at their best. 

One moment they greet you sweetly, and the next they ask about your father’s business, and if the rumors are true.

To hell with rumors. Your father’s business was in trouble for a while, but he’s a smart and eloquent man.

He mastered the challenge and saved his company. But this doesn’t matter to people like Linda Drysdale.

If she finds a weak spot, she’ll hit you hard, and without mercy. 

“Oh, it’s so sweet of you to visit us with Ransom while your father’s business is in trouble. I thought you’d prefer helping your father,” Linda coos, her eyes set on you next to your boyfriend. 

“Business is fine,” you are your mother’s daughter, and never back down. Especially not in front of Linda Drysdale. “Sometimes the sea gets a little rougher, you know.” You flash her a perfect faked smile. “Luckily my father is a very good sailor and knows how to run his business. Unlike other people.” 

You dip your head to glance at Joni and her daughter. Two perfect examples of people who know how to live off the money of someone else. In their case, Harlan Thrombey. The only bearable member of this fucked up family.

“Sure, sure,” she waves your words off as if you are only an insect to her she can squish with her boot. “Your father knows best.” Linda sneers. “I hope he can save his business.”

“I think he already did.” You dip your head to look the man’s way. “Or so I heard. It was all over the news. Something about a fusion, and Miracle Inc. doing better than before.”

“Who asked you?” Linda’s nostrils flare, and she glares at the man daring to talk without her allowance. “I hired you for the garden, not to interrupt my conversation. People these days.”

“Right, people these days,” the cocky man mirrors her attitude. You chuckle. This guy doesn’t bow in front of Linda Drysdale, and it’s refreshing. “And you didn’t hire me for the garden.”

He steps closer, giving you a once-over while passing you by. He’s wearing black jeans, a matching black leather jacket and black boots. He looks like a bad boy, but his soft blue eyes tell you there is so much you don’t know about him…yet.

You glance in his way, waiting for him to say more. His voice is deep and rough. Something you like about a man.

“What? Of course, I hired you to take care of the garden. I remember our conversation,” she argues, but the stranger won’t have it.

“Lady, you didn’t hire me,” he points his index finger at her. “Your son,” the stranger now jerks his head toward Ransom standing next to you. Your boyfriend stiffens, and he shifts from one foot to the other, “came to my store, bought a bike, and never paid for it. I’m here to get either my money or the bike back.”

“You bought a bike like some vulture?” A gasp escapes Linda’s mouth. She stares at her son, shell-shocked at the news. “Y/N! Why didn’t you stop him? I knew you were trouble when Ransom brought you here for the first time. Before he met you, Ransom would’ve never done such a thing.”

“I’m not his mommy,” you huff, frustrated. “I have better things to do than watching your son’s every step. Unlike him, I got a job.”

“Because your daddy is bankrupt,” Ransom huffs, and pouts. He glares down at you, making sure you know your relationship just ended.

“No. Because my parents raised me right. They gave me roots, but freedom. I work because I want to make my own money, and not live off my trust fund. Which,” you grit your teeth, “by the way is way bigger than yours.”

“Back to the bike,” the stranger interrupts your break-up scene with Ransom. “Money, or my bike. Now!”

“I’ll call the cops. This is a home invasion,” Linda points at the stranger. “You better leave my house.”

“You better teach your son how to pay for the shit he buys,” the man grins. “Don’t you worry. I know where he parked my bike. The pretty boy fell off the bike the first time he tried to get on it.” The man chuckles now. 

“I want you to leave. Now.” Linda repeats. “Or I’ll call the cops.”

“Do it,” the man says. “We will see if you get away with stealing my bike.” He crosses his arms over his chest and quirks a brow. “I bet all your nice little friends would love to hear that your son is a thief.”

“No one will believe the likes of you,” she sneers and looks him up and down. “I’ll call my lawyer.”

“How about you call your lawyer, and I'll call mine,” he smirks. “If you want the public to know the Thrombey’s cannot pay their bills any longer.” 

You sigh deeply. “As much as I enjoyed this get-together, I’ll go home now. Ransom, lose my number.” The stranger looks at you when you throw Ransom an angry look. “Never call me again. I’m tired of being your arm candy, and to bear your family.”

“If you need a ride, I can help you out.” The man jerks his head toward the door. “It’d be my pleasure to offer my help to a lady in need.”

“Y/N,” you take his offered hand.

“James,” he says, eyes dropping to your hand in his. “You can call me Bucky, though.”

Bucky promised to drive you home, but he had to stop at this bike shop first. One of his partners called him on his way out of Harlan’s house.

“Y/N, this is Steve,” Bucky points at his friend. “He’s my partner and best friend.”

“Hey, what about me? I got the bike back!” Another man holds out his hand. “Name’s Brock, sweetness.”

“I hope you got it back in one piece,” Bucky jokes. “And no flirting with the lady.” He suddenly wraps his arm around your shoulders. “This one is mine…”

Tags in reblog.

[georgiapeach30513]

Hi, Jen. It's me again. The Desperate Lives AU Anon... So, the link to the Masterlist works, but the actual Phases may have been aftected too... Could use a little bit more help, please 🥺 sorry to be a bother

[themerchantsdaughter-fic]

The Merchant's Daughter by pagesoflauren - Chapter 1

Steve Rogers or Ransom Drysdale x partially named! Southast Asian/East Asian!Reader

Important Note: I gave the reader a last name in order to make her easy to identify when she's addressed and referred to in later chapters. I don't want to give her a first name, which is why I still consider it a reader-insert style story. You can name her whatever you'd like.

Summary: Just before the beginning of your first season out to society, you meet one man in the rain while your father hosts another as his esteemed guest. With your attention divided, both men stand a great loss in light of your possible rejection. Warnings: swearing, reader is backed into a lover corner (no throuple), racism/racial prejudice, misogyny eventual smut, angst. More warnings to come! A/N: Everyone can read this and feedback/constructive criticism is more than welcome. If any Asian readers want to drop some suggestions, please leave them here, send me an ask, slide into my DMs! for all her help and advice. This is my first time writing anything that takes place in the Regency era and Miss Ox was such a patient and generous guide ❤️ HUGE THANK YOU goes to@eightcevanscentral and@dbnightingale24 for beta'ing this. And I must thank@myoxisbroken

Tags are open!

Prologue Series Masterlist Main Blog

“I’m enchanted.”

You forget yourself for a moment, blatantly staring into this man’s eyes, your hand still in his.

Hearing a throat clear, your gaze flickers to the left to your mother’s. She says nothing, silently imploring you to remember your manners.

“Forgive me, sir,” you retract your hand and fold it with your other, “Again…”

Your mother looks mortified but Commodore Rogers doesn’t seem to mind, the corner of his lips curled into a dashing smile.

Attempting to spare your mother any more embarrassment, you vocalize the first thought that comes to your mind: “Surely, you can’t be Steven Rogers, Joseph Rogers’ son?” you question.

Steve bows his head slightly, his smile growing. “I am. I hope I don’t disappoint.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head eagerly. “No, I just...can’t believe I’m meeting you. Admiral Rogers spoke of you so often, and your letters…”

He chuckles. “Yes, he spoke of you often as well. And I remember your letters, too. He described you as…” You watch his eyes scan you again. “Very spirited.”

The two of you share a short laugh. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

He makes to speak but your mother clears her throat again, louder this time, catching everyone’s attention.

“My dear,” she says, “You should go upstairs and change. I don’t want you to develop a fever.”

Getting the hint, you nod and excuse yourself with a curtsy. As you retreat upstairs, you hear your shoes squishing underneath your steps. Beyond that sound, your father seems to give Commodore Rogers an explanation. “Your father wasn’t wrong when he called her spirited,” he says with a laugh. “My apologies, sir. Did your uniform get wet?”

“No, no, please don’t trouble yourself,” comes the reply right as you reach your bedroom. “I look forward to knowing her more.”

After a warm bath, your maid helps you change into fresh clothes to get ready for dinner. A knock on your door grabs your attention from the small braid you’re creating to pin into your bun.

“Yes?”

Your mother enters, her face displaying everything from anger to frustration. Dismissing your maid, you brace yourself as you begin to speak.

“Mother, I can explain--”

“It was supposed to be a quick trip to the market!”

You’re no stranger to your mother losing her patience with you. After many years under her guidance, you know to remain silent when she is like this.

“You were only meant to get oranges! And what happened, how on Earth did you get separated from Margery?! I sent you with a maid for a reason and you know very well why.”

You open your mouth to plead your case, but you quickly shut it as she speaks again.

“How could you have possibly gotten caught in the rain, ruining one of your new dresses, embarrassing your father in front of his guest!”

She closes her eyes and breathes in slowly, deeply, hands folded in front of her face. When she opens her eyes, she asks what kept you out so long.

“If I tell you, you must promise to wait until the story is done before you say anything more.”

She agrees, and you reveal what--or rather, who--distracted you.

“A man!” she cries out.

You throw her a look to remind her of her promise and she inhales deeply, fuming silently.

“I was going to grab the oranges, but I saw some flowers on another shelf and they were so beautiful, mother, I couldn’t resist looking at them. They were so fresh and ready to bloom; they would have looked lovely in the drawing room!”

She rolls her eyes and you continue.

“When I stepped around the cart, I bumped into the young man and, goodness, when I saw him...”

You don’t need to close your eyes to remember how blue his eyes were. Bluer than a jay’s wings, than glittering sapphires, than the seawater after a storm.

“Mother, he was so handsome, he could have been Apollo himself.”

“Did anyone see you with this man?”

“Not that I know of, maybe Margery, but everyone scattered shortly after. We apologized to each other and that’s when the rain started. He pulled me under the balcony of a building and I lost sight of Margery. We thought it would only shower for a few minutes and then I could find her, purchase the oranges and flowers, and be on my way. But the rain carried on and grew stronger--”

As if on cue, a clap of thunder roars above.

“And I told him I had to go home in time to prepare for dinner and he insisted on making sure I got here safely.”

It’s apparent now that the display you made in front of the Commodore is forgotten. Now your mother is anxious about something else.

“Do you know what people could say if they had seen you walking home with a man right before you’re to make your debut into society?!”

“Mother, who cares for gossip?” you rebuttal. “It was an innocent walk, he was escorting me! What if he had left me and I had fallen? What then?” You don’t know where your spirit comes from, but you carry on. “I would have been stranded in the rain and caught a fever! Do you not remember the last time--”

“I remember,” she cuts you off, hand up to signal you to halt.

It was miserable for all of you the last time you took ill with a fever after being in the rain. You remember the strange visions you had of hybrid animals and fairies, the sticky feeling of your skin constantly coated in a layer of sweat. Your mother cried often--occasionally your hallucinations stopped and you could hear her--and your father brought you soup. You would only take it if he fed you.

Breathing in deeply again, she exhales slowly. “I suppose I cannot fault you for the way things have unfolded. I do appreciate that young man for helping you and seeing you return here safely. But, to the matter of gossip.”

You close your eyes. You’ve heard this plenty of times before and you can recite this speech word for word, barring some variation from time to time.

“Gossip runs like blood in one’s veins. It gives life to the town. Bad gossip is an infection. It spreads and spreads until it completely ruins a family. We have a healthy reputation in this town; you cannot be so careless to let your decisions infect and ruin us.”

“Are you even listening?”

“I’m listening as well as I have in previous times,” you mutter, returning your attention to your reflection in the mirror and continue fixing your hair.

You jump when she snaps, saying your name with an authority you have never heard before. You quickly turn back to face her.

Sighing, she steps towards you. “You do not truly know the struggles your father and I had to endure to put our family in this position.”

You had heard some stories, overheard your father speaking to Admiral Rogers.

They barely spoke English when they arrived. While staying at an inn before being able to pay for a house, the innkeeper and his friends laughed at their expense. They were shooed out of every drawing room and study of all members of the landed gentry except one: Mr. Harlan Thrombey’s.

He gave them a discounted price for the house they first lived in and the dock that they used and connected them to the admiral, who took it upon himself to help your parents learn to speak and understand English.

By now, your father has paid that money back tenfold, making a name for himself as the town’s top silk distributor. You vaguely remember moving to the large townhouse you currently live in now, young as you were.

You do remember your mother teaching you from an early age to be a lady but falling short because she herself was not raised to be a lady in English society.

She knew how to walk upright and eat neatly. She knew how to embroider and draw. But she could not teach you how to read English, make conversation, or play the pianoforte. She could not teach you how to ride a horse.

You remember Mrs. Thrombey visiting the house one day, taking it upon herself to teach the lessons your mother could not. She had even gifted you the pianoforte that still stands in the drawing room. When she had died, you mourned as if she were an extension of your family.

Eyes drifting down, you realize one thing: while your father managed to belong among merchants, she did not belong amongst ladies.

Her English is good, slightly accented but she gets by. Sometimes she has to start sentences all over again because her syntax is incorrect.

How many parlors and dinners has she been laughed out of?

How many times did she tell you a story of fiction when you asked her how her evenings with other ladies went?

It’s clear to you now: she does not want you to be surrounded by snickers as you walk through a ballroom; she does not want you to be the joke of the dinner party or the silly girl who cannot converse when approached.

With her hands on your shoulders, she turns you to face the mirror again, taking it upon herself to do up your hair. “We sorely hope you never will have to know,” she says as she braids. “But that will only happen if you do as I say and take care with how you act.”

Closing your eyes, guilt and shame settle in your chest. “Do you really think I embarrassed him?”

With another huff, your mother shakes her head slightly. “We are lucky that it is just the Rogers boy. Joseph is a good friend of your father and his son is just as kind and gentle as he. I do not think he views us any differently than he did before his visit.”

You exhale in relief, not realizing you were holding your breath until just then. “That is reassuring to hear.” Looking up, you catch her eyes in the mirror. “I am sorry, mother. Truly. I shall do better next time.”

“Only there won’t be a next time,” she says as she pins your braid, her tone resolute. “You will go into town with no less than two companions. One to stay with you and the other to run the errands. And I’ll no longer be sending you with Margery. Far too unreliable if she left you at the sight of rain.”

“Mother,” you begin to protest for yourself and for Margery. It’s not her fault that this had happened.

When she turned her head, you made quick work of slotting into an alleyway and ducking behind a barrel. You giggled as she called for you, feeling successful that you had slipped away. You'd go about and do your business. When she would inevitably see you, you would have feigned ignorance. You were so focused on the oranges and flowers, you didn’t realize she wasn’t beside you.

Only the latter part of that plan was foiled by the rain.

“None of that,” she snaps. “It is far too close to the start of the season and you were only so lucky with the circumstances--”

“But wouldn’t my luck afford me another chance--”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you are not meant to be seen without--”

“You, a chaperone, or a servant,” you recite with her, begrudgingly.

Your mother huffs. “Exactly. My decision is final.”

You slouch, pouting.

“Gather yourself, dinner will be ready soon. I expect you to be in the dining room in no more than ten minutes.”

With that, you watch her reflection turn and walk to the door. She throws you a look before shutting it behind her.

“Damn,” you hiss under your breath. You know better than to use such language, even in an empty room, but your emotions sometimes get the best of you and the word tumbles out.

Your gaze drifts into the mirror, looking into your own eyes.

You know you’ll never fully understand what your parents experienced to come from their home and build a life here. Your father with his business, now one of the most successful in your entire town; your mother with her position in society, though you still take note of the glances and whispers amongst others behind her back.

You do understand that there is a point to your mother’s lectures and analogies about gossip. She doesn’t wish for you to experience that, though you feel it’s inevitable solely because your parents decided to come to this country to make a better life for you, your children, and the generations that will follow. You do not have the same features as the other women in the town. Surely you will stand out during the season, the only lotus in the English garden; a citrine amongst the pearls.

Your mother’s actions, though frustrating, only act to protect you. You stand out enough. You do not need to garner any more attention than you will already have (or not have, depending on how shallow the men are this season).

Solely because of your ancestry, there is a chance you will not end this season with a betrothal.

For a moment, you hate the world.

Slamming your hands on your vanity, some things rattle, but you hear a heavier sound--an item tipping over onto its side.

Surveying the surface, you find the object: a carved wooden horse.

It was a gift given to you by Admiral Rogers, though it did not come from him.

“A gift for you, madam,” he had presented it to you while kneeling down to be at your level and bowing. You curtsied in return, giggling as you retrieved the box from his hand.

The wrapping was simple; just a bow around a paperboard box. You undid the ribbon, loving the feeling of the satin between your fingers.

Tucking it between your fingers, you lifted the lid. Inside, lying sideways, was a wooden horse. There were deeper grooves to represent markings, much like your beloved horse that had just died.

“I told my son of your grief over your horse. He spent hours asking me questions about what it looked like so that he could get the pattern right.”

You smile, tears already clouding your vision.

“Is it a true likeness?” the admiral asks, seeming to check if you like the gift.

“Yes,” you sigh, overflowing with emotion as tears slide down your cheeks as you look at him. “Please-please tell your son I am grateful.”

“He will be overjoyed to hear. It shall be the first thing I say when I return.”

You smile at the memory, picking up the horse. It was bigger back then, larger than your palm when you were twelve. At that time, you could only wrap your hand around it at its most narrow points.

Your hand hasn’t grown much since then, but now you’re able to envelop most of it.

You feel grateful for the Rogers family, especially the admiral.

Looking in the mirror, you breathe in deeply, sending out a hope into the universe that the commodore is truly just as good.

You place the horse back on your vanity, giving yourself one last look and standing up to go downstairs.

Commodore Rogers has enough stories to tell that he has spent the first two courses recounting tales from his training. He’s mostly talking to your father because he’s the one asking the questions. Your mother has been listening intently; you’ve been doing the same, though you cringe at the bad jokes your father makes. The commodore is so gracious though, laughing along, even at his own expense, occasionally.

“Miss Lascar,” he addresses you at the end of the meal, voice rich and enticing you to look up from your dessert plate.

“Commodore,” you reply.

“Please, you can call me Steve. I consider us friends given that we’ve written to each other so often as children.”

You smile. “As much as I would be so happy to oblige, sir, I couldn’t disrespect you and your accomplishments by addressing you as such.”

“Is it truly disrespect if I insist?”

Pursing your lips, your smile broadens and you know you’ll hear it from your mother, but you can’t resist. “I suppose not, S--” you say, barely beginning to say his name before you feel a swift kick on your right leg--your mother. Covering your pause with a cough and sip from your glass, you start again. “I suppose not, Commodore, but I must insist.” You chew on the last of your baked apple, feeling your mother relax at the end of the table.

Your father, though, seems not to be bothered.

He smiles too and your breath is stolen. “I cannot argue with you then. Though, I wondered, are your pastimes the same as the ones you wrote to me about?”

“It depends which pastimes you think they are.”

“Well, from what I recall,” he shrugs before holding up his hand and counting on his fingers, “Floral arrangements, embroidery, playing the pianoforte, drawing--though I recall you saying that’s your least favorite--reading, and horseback riding.”

Your heart feels like it could burst. How could he possibly remember all of that?

“Bravo,” you express how impressed you are. “If you recall drawing was my least favorite--”

“Your favorite is horseback riding,” he answers your question before it ever passes your lips.

You’re bashful suddenly, looking back down at your plate and pushing around the remaining scraps with your fork.

Where is this coming from? You know how to converse, you can speak with anyone. As a child, your mother often reprimanded you for distracting the house staff with your incessant ramblings.

Why, now, are you barely able to form a sentence?

“That’s correct,” you laugh. Then remember the gift on your vanity. “Do you still do wooden carvings?”

“Yes,” he laughs. “Remember when I made that horse for you?”

“Of course,” you smile, leaning back in your chair as a footman clears away your plate. “I still have it, it’s sitting on my vanity. It’s one of my favorite possessions.”

A look of surprise comes over his face, supplemented by delight. “You’ve kept it all these years?”

Your heart races, slightly embarrassed at such an admission. To try and recover your pride, you quickly explain, “Well, it would be difficult to part with. It looks so much like my horse from my childhood.”

His eyes drift down, now looking slightly disappointed.

Have you wounded him? You didn’t intend to!

Your mouth opens to say something else, but your father clears his throat.

It sends a shock through you as you turn to look at him. While conversing with Steve, you had forgotten that they were in the room with you as well.

“Apologies for the interruption, my lotus blossom; Commodore.” He puts his hand up in a show of his apology. “I wonder if you would indulge us, or rather me, blossom. The commodore mentioned the pianoforte and now I have that song stuck in my head…”

He hums the tune and you nod, providing the title for him.

“Yes! That one. Will you play that after dessert, my dear?”

Wanting to escape the discomfort of possibly bruising the Commodore’s ego, you eagerly agree with a nod.

Your father stands first, followed by your mother. You stand, then Steve does.

He can’t help but watch the way you seem to float out of the room, stepping with a certain grace he had never seen.

His mother came from a low status, married off to his father, who led an equally simple life. Never having to impress anyone, his mother stepped heavier than you did.

Though, he’d never complain about it. He liked the simplicity of his upbringing.

In the drawing room, Steve sits next to your father on one sofa while your mother sits across from them on the other.

He watches as you scoop the back of your dress so that it can lay properly as you sit on the bench in front of the pianoforte. When you lift the cover, he watches the delicate movement of your hands.

Placing them above the keys, you begin to play. Your father sighs in delight while your mother smiles.

Steve, on the other hand, is enthralled. Neither relaxed nor uncomfortable, he sits up, eager. He leans this way and that as he watches, trying to catch a glimpse of your face.

Your eyes are closed, your head beginning to tilt as you lean to the side then the other, lost in the music that you’re playing.

It’s effortless for you and you seem to find so much joy in playing that it makes him smile too.

The song is over too soon and your mother is strongly suggesting the two of you retire for the evening.

His chest deflates as you nod, approaching your father for a kiss and a hug. When you turn to him, his throat closes.

“Goodnight, Commodore Rogers,” you say, curtsying.

“Goodnight,” he says weakly before clearing his throat. “Goodnight, Miss Lascar.” He bows then turns to your mother and bows to her. “Mrs. Lascar, goodnight. Thank you for your hospitality.”

She scoffs happily. “We are more than happy to accommodate you, Commodore. I hope you find your room to your liking.”

“I’m sure I will.”

With another nod, she puts her arm through yours, escorting you out of the room. His eyes follow your figure, needing one last look before you go.

“Well, Commodore, I’m sure you’ll be enjoying yourself here for the time being as you await your orders.”

Steve smiles politely. “Yes, my father was very correct in suggesting I stay here.”

“You simply cannot go wrong. I hope you will find our house comfortable and entertaining. And hopefully it will be quiet with the ladies going off to whatever parties and balls--”

“Parties and balls?”

“Oh, yes, the social season is beginning. My daughter will be making her debut into society.”

A debut into society. They’re looking to marry you off, Steve realizes.

“But I won’t bore you with that.” Mr. Lascar waves his hand to dismiss the topic before he rambles on, “Anyway, I’m certain my wife has nothing to worry about in regards to your comfort.”

With that comment, Steve sees his opportunity to make his escape. “Indeed. I find myself quite eager to rest, a long day’s journey, is all--”

“Oh, forgive me, sir, I did not mean to keep you. Come, I shall show you to your bedroom.”

Walking out of the drawing room into the foyer, the two men walk up the stairs and down the hall.

“You’ll just be here,” Mr. Lascar says, opening the door.

A candle is lit, yellow light illuminating the room just enough to allow Steve a decent look. His bed is large with two rows of pillows and thick sheets to keep him warm. He spies his trunk next to the dresser straight across from the bed. On the other side in the corner is a desk with a stack of paper and a quill perched in an inkwell.

The room isn’t overly large nor terribly small.

“How do you find it?”

“Very agreeable,” Steve nods with a smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Only the best for the son of my greatest friend. Now, should you need anything, you may call any of the servants, but do not hesitate to knock upon my door. It’s just at the end of the hallway.”

Steve thanks him again and they say goodnight for a final time.

Sighing heavily after a long day, Steve undresses, discarding his uniform into a basket next to the dresser for washing. Popping open his trunk, he finds his nightshirt and slips it on.

When he settles underneath the covers, he mentally recounts his day, growing drowsy until recalling the moment he met you.

He couldn’t help but smile then and he can’t help but smile now at the memory.

He remembers extending his hand towards you and you hesitating before obliging--was he not supposed to extend his hand? He wasn’t raised to be a gentleman; no formal schooling or etiquette lessons. He got by today by waiting for cues and watching your father.

Perhaps he should have bowed; he’ll do that next time.

He told you he was enchanted and goodness, he was. Who wouldn’t be?

With a smile like yours and a demeanor so shy and sweet, what man could resist you?

With you making a debut into society, Steve harbors a small hope that maybe the gentlemen of the higher classes will be able to withstand your charm.

Perhaps then, he can be afforded a chance with you.

xfPermatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou @bangtan-serendipity @stargazingfangirl18 @lovemarvelousfics @rainbowkisses31 @richonne4life @damnndeanndamnn @meetmeatyourworst @tinyplanet-explorer @vivien-1211 @unknownmystery22 @nerdygirl8203 @xoxabs88xox @mariaenchanted @gotnofucks @denisemarieangelina @myoxisbroken @kelbabyblue @pspice639 @maynay43 @just-another-wretched-egg @jennmurawski13 @avantgardium-leviosa @random-butterfly @rachelderivia @kenzieam @bluemusickid @asiaaisa77 @angrybirdcr @inactivewhore @velvetcardiganbucky @madbaddic7ed @mysweetlittledesire @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit @astheworlddturns @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @maeleeme @tvckerlance @thiskindahotkindamusic @fizzahocleirigh

Ransom tag: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile

Steve tag: @twittytelly

Promises & Sacrifice: @speechlessxx @spntiel @finneve @chase-your-dreams-away @o0fortheloveofcupcakes0o @themaskismyface

[buckysbitch107]

Diffuse and Distract | Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: It’s your first 4th of July with your son AND Ransom’s family under the same roof, and to say you’re nervous is an understatement. Ransom is known for his asshole-ish personality, and you’re just really hoping today goes smoothly. Everything seems to be going to plan, but when your son starts throwing a tantrum, you know exactly what to do.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual activity

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: Hope you guys like this one! Sorry if it’s bad, I’m starting this at 3 AM. Classic Y/N trope, hope y��all understand the abbreviations. ~~~ means a time skip, because I’m not writing out every single detail. I don’t do that. But all in all, I hope you enjoy the first actual post on my tumblr!

“Y’know, I could turn the car around right now. Tell them Levi is sick and we wouldn’t have to go.” Ransom mentions, taking his eyes off of the road for only a second to look at you in the passenger seat. His hand lightly squeezes yours, bringing your clasped hands to his lips for a light kiss before setting them back on your thigh. You sigh and move your head, taking your eyes off the beautiful Massachusetts scenery around you to look at your husband.

“Sweetie, I know you hate your family, but Harlan loves Levi, plus he wants to see the fireworks. Isn’t that right, big guy?” You ask, peering at the rear view mirror to see your son excitedly bouncing up and down in his car seat.

“Wanna see the booms!” Levi exclaims, his words causing a soft smile to appear on Ransom’s face. Ransom once again turns his focus back to the road, occasionally looking in the rear view mirror to peek at the head of brown locks Levi inherited from him.

“Do you think he’s gonna like it there? I mean we know he likes Harlan, but what about everyone else?” Your husband whispers, growing a little more antsy as the scenery becomes more and more familiar.

“He’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll love him, if they don’t already.” You respond, trying to reassure the worrying man next to you. It’s common knowledge that Linda and Richard aren’t exactly the most present grandparents, but you can’t exactly blame them. Harlan on the other hand, has taken his responsibility as great-grandfather to the max, being there every step of the way. You glance down at the ring on your finger, thinking back to the day you vowed to love the man next to you for the rest of your days. All too soon, you pull up to the esteemed Thrombey mansion. Ransom gets out of the car, opening the passenger side door for you like the gentleman he is (sometimes). You open the back door and take Levi out of his car seat, placing him on your hip before the three of you walk inside, dread already filling the back of your mind. Harlan almost immediately greets you, his smile growing a little wider once he sees Levi. The four of you walk outside to the patio, where the rest of the Thrombey/Drysdale family is scattered around the lawn.

“Y/N! So nice to see you!” Linda greets, her smile most likely fake based on her opinions about you. She doesn’t exactly like the fact that her son married someone of your background, whatever that means.

“Nice to see you too, Linda!” You reply, giving her a side hug while trying not to squish your son. She says hi to Levi before returning to her seat under the cabana by Richard, her husband giving you almost the exact same greeting. You sit down at the table next to Ransom, pulling a chair up next to you for Levi to sit in. Ransom strikes up a conversation with his uncle and his father, causing you to only slightly pay attention, most of your focus on the three year old in front of you.

“So Ransom, are you still depending on that trust fund?” Walt asks, obviously wanting to rile up your husband. Ransom just lets out a short laugh and runs his hand down his jaw, obviously not trying to get pissed off.

“Not anymore. I actually have a job at an international accounting firm in Boston. When I do use the trust fund money, it’s either for Levi or Y/N.” Walt is obviously surprised by this answer. As you wait for Walt’s response, Levi starts getting a little antsy, so you let him out of the chair to play with the dogs. They always get him passed out by 8 pm.

“That’s all it took huh? A dumb piece of arm candy pops out a kid and all of a sudden you’re Mr. Responsible?”

“Listen here you little-” Ransom is cut off when your elbow digs into his ribs, an obvious sign for him to shut up. His head snaps towards you where you are silently nodding your head towards the small child who stands only a few feet away from the conversation. Your husband sighs before leaning back in his chair, already predicting what’s going to happen. Walt has a smug grin on his face, as if he feels he’s won something. He doesn’t know who he messed with. Levi waves at you before running after the dogs, and once he’s out of earshot, you explode.

“Listen here you little piece of shit. I don’t know what your problem is with me, but here’s the deal. I am NOT arm candy. I did not work my way through high school, getting a bachelor’s degree AND getting a master’s degree for someone who relies on their own father’s company for money to call me dumb. I don’t know what world you live in, but not many women like being called arm candy. And as a matter of fact, I-” You would continue, if it weren’t for the almost inaudible whine coming from the grill area of the patio. “Excuse me.” You stand up and walk over to the small outdoor kitchen area, finding your son on the verge of tears. He’s standing next to the counter, his focus on the whole watermelon sitting next to the sink.

“Mama-” He whines, pointing at it. You squat down, Levi slightly calming down once you’re on his level. Tears form in his eyes, and it's evident that a tantrum is on the horizon. You think of the method you’ve used on him before and immediately put it into action, hoping he doesn’t start screaming.

“You want the watermelon?” Levi simply nods and you smile a bit, the plan already working. “Well the watermelon isn’t cut yet, so we have to wait.” The realization that he isn’t getting what he wants when he wants kicks in, and his legs start to wobble as he whines more. Just like his father.

“But mamaaaaa.” He cries, drawing a little more attention to the two of you.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.” You whisper, wiping the tears off his cheeks. “There’s no need for tears. Are you hungry?” He nods and an idea pops in your head. “Why don’t we go get you some other food, and when Grandpa cuts the watermelon, we can get you some, okay?” Levi hiccups again before responding.

“Okay mama.” You stand up and grab his hand, leading him to the table full of classic 4th of July foods. Harlan immediately gets to work on cutting the watermelon, and you shoot him a short “thank you” over your shoulder. You pick Levi up, placing him on your hip in order for him to see all the food.

“Do you want a hamburger?”

“No.”

“Do you want a hot dog?” Your son thinks for a second before nodding, making you internally smile. You grab him a hot dog and some chips before walking over to the table. Unbeknownst to you, both Ransom and Walt were watching that entire interaction, and as you set Levi down in a chair with his cut up hot dog, you hear Walter whisper something.

“I’ve gotta admit, she’s a good mom.” A large smile appears on Ransom’s face as you walk over to the little kitchen area, coming back with a plate of watermelon for the three of you to share.

“She really is. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Ransom whispers, watching his son eat all of his food before asking to go play again. You nod and once Levi leaves, Ransom turns to you with a look of awe on his face. “So how’d you do it?”

“Do what?” You ask, eating a piece of watermelon.

“Get him to not throw a tantrum.”

“I used a tactic called Diffuse and Distract.”

“Please explain.” Walt comments, honestly intrigued by how you did it. You let out a laugh before explaining your “mystical ways” as Ransom calls it.

“Toddlers aren’t exactly the best at explaining their emotions. So you have to think on their level. They want something. They can’t have that something. You have to explain the situation calmly, to diffuse the chance of a temper tantrum. Then you can provide other options to distract them until what they want is available, or until they forget about it.” You pause, stifling a laugh. “I use it on him all the time.” You point at Ransom, both you and Walt erupting into laughter.

“Wait what? When?!” Ransom exclaims.

“Literally today. You were whining about how you didn’t want to come today, so I explained that Levi really wants to see the firework to diffuse your tantrum, then I suggested that we talk about another kid when we got home so you wouldn’t be a big baby about going.” Ransom simply huffs at your statement, popping a piece of watermelon in his mouth while sending you a glare.

~~~

“Are you sure he’s gonna be okay?” Ransom questions, the three of you sitting on the grass waiting for the fireworks to start.

“He’s gonna do great, babe. He handled the thunderstorm on Sunday pretty well, I’m sure he’ll handle the fireworks well too.” Your husband simply nods and the fireworks begin, the sky illuminated in reds, blues, purples, greens, oranges, whites and yellows. Levi’s mouth is stuck open in awe as he looks up at the sky, the sight amazing him to his heart’s content. You and Ransom look at each other proudly, silently wondering how you got so lucky with such an amazing son.

~~~

“Oh yeah, he’s passed out.” You whisper, turning your head to face forward once again. Ransom’s hand rests on your thigh, a common occurrence when you two drive together. The ride home is mostly silent, Levi’s snores being the main noise in the car. The three of you arrive home and get out of the vehicle, Ransom carefully carrying your son to his bedroom. You tuck him in, giving him a kiss on his forehead and turning on his nightlight before sneaking out the door, quietly shutting it so as to not wake him. You turn around and run straight into Ransom’s chest, a sly grin resting on his face.

“So about that second kid.”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs

Please let me know if you have any requests! As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

[georgiapeach30513]

Please write more about big sissy Squish! As much as she loves Eggy, I can just picture her telling Papa that she asked her parents for a sister.

Squish is such a Drysdale! So dramatic and while she loves her bubba, like really loves him, her wants to speak to management about this brother business, because she wanted a sister! And what Squish wants, she usually gets because Blade spoils her.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Making Sisters

Summary:  Fable needs to talk to someone that's in charge

Pairings:  Ransom X Squish

Rating:  explicit

Warnings: Fable talking, Fable is very opinionated, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  550

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

"Papa!” Fable screams running down the hallway of the estate.  Ransom catches the little girl in his arms, and throws her up in the air.  “Papa we bwought bwought the egg!”

“Why do you insist on calling him that?” Ransom laughs, waiting you and his son.

“Because daddy fuw, fuwtiwi, you know da chicken poop thingy.  He do that to mommy’s egg,” Ransom glares at his son as you two make your way through with Beckett.  “And wook, him him has an egg head.  Weww,” she looks at you, and you’re making a face of disapproval.  “Hims egg head has gotten bettew.  Him him wooked funny when he came out of mommy’s butt.”

“Fable!”

“Dats, what daddy said.”

“No, I didn’t, I said her belly.”

Fable looks between you and Blade, and walks closer to you, lifting your shirt.  “Whewe’s da howe den?  Me don’t see no howe.  How did the Egg get out den?”

“Dad, do you mind keeping Squish for a bit.  She’s needing a break from Eggy.”

“You’re calling the egg head that too?” 

You look down at your most beautiful little boy, and smile, “It’s kinda stuck now.  Squishy girl, and Eggy boy.”

“Fine, take your cooked egg, and get out of here.  It’s me and you today, Squish.  Mimi, and Luce took your cousins shopping, and Kissy is working.  What do you want to do?”

“Meneed to tawk to someone who who is in chawge.  And you awe da owdest, so dat dats you.  Okay?” Ransom smirks, and nods.  “Me wanted that egg, to be a giwl.”

“Is having a brother that bad?” Fable shrugs her shoulders, and crosses her arms.  “But I see you’re very concerned about the straw in his diaper,” she scrunches her face up in confusion.  “I guess you’re not around for diaper changes.”

“Why wouwd me be?  Dats nasty, yuck!  But Papa, him him needs to be a giwl.  So me got a pwan,” she wiggles her body closer to Papa, giving his beard a little sniff, “You smeww wike Cawtew.”

“Carter smells like me.  That kid...What is your plan Squish?  I can tell that this is really bothering you,” he settles back and watches his granddaughter who has the most serious face.

“Daddy needs to do it again.”

“Do what?”

“Papa, me can’t say dat wowd.  The chicken poop wowd.  Fuwtiwi...don’t make me say it.  Me sound wike a newd,” Ransom laughs deep from his belly and she boops his nose, “Not funny.”

“No, Squishers, I’m sorry, it’s not funny.  So you need your dad to fertilize what?”

She throws her hands up in the air in frustration.  “Mommy’s egg that’s in her fwont butt.  Me need a sistew.”

“Did you just say a front butt?  There’s five hundred of you guys, and I have never heard it called a front butt.  A muffin, a cookie, a toot too, but a front butt?”

“Papa!  Stay wif me.  Me need a sistew.  Make it happen.”

“I heard Kissy has good advice on how to make sisters.”

“Me wiww tawk to him when he gets back.  Now, pway Fwozen,” Ransom shakes his head no.  “Awexa, pway Fwozen,” she settles back on Ransom’s lap with with a satisfied grin.  “If me had a sistew me couwd pway wif hew.  But now you gotta watch Fwozen again.”

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

Okay I can just imagine how Ransom would gush over Squishy girl Fable when he’s babysitting her 🥺 My heart would not survive, I fear

Ransom gushes over all his grandbabies. But he does love his Squish. Him and Blade are about the only ones who get the pleasure of holding her squishy chubby self. And like her nickname implies, Blade and Ransom SQUISH her all the time. They squish the legs, those cheeks, the arms, play with her wittle toes. And she even wears a pearl bracelet. But there is something else that Squish loves...

🖤🖤🖤🖤

For You

Summary: Squish is not happy with Papa

Pairings: Papa/Mimi X Squish

Rating: Pitiful sweet baby floof

Warnings: Squish tears, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 600

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

Ransom rests a sleeping squishy girl on his shoulder, but even in sleep her fingers rub on his beard. Her hands pet down the course hair, but also give his jaw a little bit of a scratch. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes she even pulls it in her sleep. But Ransom's favorite is when she dives in open mouth first to give him some messy kissies. That man and those dark blue eyes nearly look like a kid as he attacks her with his own set of smooches.

The two of you just sit and stare at that sweet and chunky girl, whenever she's at the estate. You love all your grandbabies, but she is one of the happiest.

Fable always smiles, she always coos and giggles with anyone that talks to her. When she gets especially playful she blows bubbles out of her fat wittle cheeks. The chub on them just jiggling around, and Ransom's whole body vibrates before leaning in for a playful bite of the whole cheek.

Her belly rolls just shake with each laugh she makes, which is why she rarely has more than a diaper on. One of Ransom's favorite games is to count each roll, going on to each little dimple. "Good grief why is she so cute and CHONKY!" you giggle at your husband squishing those chubby cheeks; staring at her like a prized possession.

One day while keeping that sweet thing, you walk around the estate holding onto her, looking for Papa. He had been doing a bit of extra work, so you got to spend some one on one time with the babe. Her voice squeals and chatters every time you say the name Papa, and when he finally hears her, he does his squeal of an answer back.

Her eyes brighten up, and her fists clench tightly close. Those chubby arms and legs wiggling around to the sound of his voice. Ransom turns the corner, making that squeal again; his face covered for a quick round of peekaboo. Fable can't help but to squirm around in your arms, but when he removes those hands and he has a baby smooth face, she turns and looks at you confused.

"C'mere squishy girl," his hands reach over towards him, and she shakes her head no, burying her face in your neck. "Fable Pearl, come see your Papa," that pudgy lip puckers out, and she looks up at you, tears welled in her eyes when she hears her Papa's voice, but no sees him. "Squish?" he asks like a hurt puppy.

That little lip just trembles, and her chubby hands cling onto you, screaming out a pitiful, "No, Mimi."

With one look at your husband, you're not sure who is ready to cry more. He pouts just as much as she does, his voice sweet and soothing, and it only makes her cry more, "Kitten, put it back on."

"Baby we can't."

"Glue it back, rub on it, make it come back. Squish, it's me Papa," she still wails and attempts to get away whenever he gets close to her. "I ruined her. She won't even look at me."

"Why did you shave it off?"

"I wanted you to ride my face. You said you get raw," you blow out an exasperated puff of air at him starting to walk away. "I made you both mad? Kitten! Kitten, you get back here. I shaved it off for you, and...Mrs. Drysdale! I demand you to come back! KITTEN!"

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

I know we’ve established that Bladey is a big mama’s boy and that he’s not half as close to Ransom as he is to his mama, but Ransom and Blade’s relationship is literally the best among all. It’s so peculiar and I love it so much. Ransom calling his son a whore who puts his glory days to shame is such a mood! Honestly, I feel like in this life, we only need more Bladey and Daddy moments throughout the years, starting from when he was a small bit, to his manwhore days, to post-Squish 😻

Bladey does get all the love with hims mama, but he does have such a fun and unique relationship with Ransom. Ransom didn't always know how to connect with Blade, even though he had a good relationship with him. But one thing is true, Ransom loves his one and only son.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Poopy Diapers

Summary:  Blade and hims daddy through the years

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Blade Drysdale

Rating:  3 poopy diapers

Warnings: 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.4K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

Blade pushes his glasses up on his nose.  Still hadn’t got adjusted to them.  Constantly telling you that they’re too big, and he doesn’t like them.  But you can’t help but look at his sweet little face, and want to give him all the kisses.  You think he’s the most adorable little boy in his glasses.

His body leans over on the table, reading something.  Ransom tells you he’s not reading, he’s memorized it, but instead of an argument, you let it go.  You know your baby is smart.  He takes a look down at Story sitting in the floor beside her brother, her face giggling up at him while her fingers squeeze tightly to her stuffed princess rabbit, while Ransom is supposed to be watching them, but there’s a game on and he’s distracted.

“Want me to take them with me?” you ask him, as you grab your bag, about to go grocery shopping.  He just shakes his head no, and you walk over to your pretty husband, lifting his chin up to give him a kiss on those pouty lips.  “Then watch my babies.  I’m picking the twins up from Steve’s on the way home.  Watch my babies,” you give him a final warning, placing a kiss on Story’s head, and getting a squishy faced kiss from Blade.

Walking out the door it isn’t long until Blade starts asking Ransom questions.  He tries to answer them, but Ransom just looks at him confused, “What’re you talking about?”

“Weww...weww, weww, Uncwe JJ said dat...dat, dat footbaww has...has, has facts, too.  So what...what, what awe da facts?”

“Stats?  Oh, come here,” Story watches her bubba leave, and gives a pitiful little pout, and starts fake crying.  “You poor little thing you.  Come on, get up and walk over here,” Story gives her dad a pout, but pushes her body up out of the floor and stomps over to him.  “You’re dramatic.  Come on,” he taps at his leg, and his youngest child smacks at it, too, giving him a grunt.  “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hew...hew, hew wikes to be wif...wif, wif me, but mommy won’t wet...wet, wet me pick hew up.  Hew can sit wight...wight, wight hewe,” his little hand pats at the spot in between Ransom and himself, and when he sets her down those fake little cries stop.  “See, I towd...towd, towd, ya,” he giggles up at Ransom, and leans to give Story a forehead kiss.  “Hew wike me mowe...mowe, mowe dan you.”

“No her doesn’t.”

“Daddy, you not...not, not supposed to tawk wike dat.”

“I’m sorry,” Ransom starts with the quarterback, and gives Blade a few stats, before moving to the linebacker.  Shocked when his son can start calling off the stats that he had to look up.  “You know, Bladey, I think I found something you and I can do together.”

“Stowy too...too, too?”

“As long as she doesn’t poop in her diaper.  If she does you gotta change it,” Blade crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head no.  “Oh yeah, you wanna be a big brother, you got change poopy diapers.”

“I’m not...not, not da daddy.  Dats youw job.”

________________________________________________________________

Blade rapidly texts on his phone before sending the email.  His eyes roll up to meet his father’s, but with that wicked grin, he goes back to his phone worried about what he’s going to say.  Already trying to come up with an excuse to leave before the game even started.  “Son?”

“Nope.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said son, I didn’t like the way it sounded.  Can we just watch this game?” Blade cradles a babbling Otto, looking down at the baby, “Your Papa is up to no good.”

“I just have questions.”

“Nope.  No questions.  I have an Otto,” Ransom looks down at the baby who is currently fighting sleep, and he also can’t talk.  “You have an Ellie.”

“They can’t talk,” Blade mocks offense, and starts cooing down at the baby.  Turning to give a quick look over at Ellie in his dad’s arm.  “Listen.”

“Nope.”

“Blade, how did you get that girl up there?”

“Oh.  My.  God.  We’re back on this again?”

Ransom nods his head yes, “I don’t want major details.  Won’t talk about me and your mother, I just need to know how she got up there.”

“Pulley system.  Reinforced ceilings, had it professionally installed.  Look the game is about to start.”

“What do you get out of it?” Blade’s body slowly sinks into the couch and refuses to look at his father.  “I mean, there was a lot more going on than jumping on the bed.  I can’t call it that when she was hanging from the ceiling.  Oooh...she’s a bat.  Bat Woman.  No, a spider.  Black Widow?  Spider Girl?  Those work, it looked like a web on her.  She was dangling from a rope like a spider.  That’s not as catchy.  Blade!  She got caught in your web.  Ahh...my son has a web in his...”

“Shut up!”

“Well, I have never.  I’m your father.”

“It’s beautiful okay?  They trust me to take control of them, and I use the ropes to tie up their body in this way that shows off their curves, and I think it makes them look more beautiful.  The game please,” his hand goes to point at the tv, and Ransom take a deep breath.  “Just stop.”

"So, would you consider yourself a Dom?” Blade slaps his face with his hand getting a giggle and toot from Otto.  Hearing the gas he starts laughing again.  “That kid and his farting and laughing.  Your mama doesn’t like that, Otto.  I’m going to tell her that Blade is the one teaching you that,” Otto releases a string of nonsense over to his Papa, tooting again, and then it’s belly laughs from the noise.  “I think it tickles his butt.  Seriously though.  Is my son a Dom?”

“Something like that.  Back to Otto’s giggles with his farts.”

“He’s not farting right now,” Blade gives the baby’s belly a few pushes with his fingers, and Otto does actually release a toot, giggling uncontrollably, and pulls up his feet, releasing more gas.  “When he poops, you’re changing his diaper.  My goah, blech, what are they, Otto put your legs down, you stink.”

________________________________________________________________

Blade kneels on the floor playing with his squishy girl.  His face so animated when he leans over her, blowing raspberries on her chubby belly, causing the biggest squeals and giggles from her.  Intaking a big gasp of air, Fable starts laughing even harder, “I’m not...” her little two teeth gums on full display, while her chubby cheeks and big smile nearly makes her eyes disappear.

Blade takes another quick breath, before he’s blowing on her belly again.  Laughing so hard she squirms and lashes around on her back.  Ransom sits on the couch watching his son with his very own baby.  “I did that with you, too.”

“Remember when I’d do this with Otto and he’d,” Fable releases a rolling toot, and her laughing stops, as her eyes go wide staring up at her dad, “Yep, just like that.  That’s exactly,” Blade takes a big whiff, and his face turns up in disgust.  “What would you do a thing like that for?”

“Oh that is nothing.  One time you had shit all up your back.  Your mom didn’t eat shrimp the rest of the time she was nursing you.  It was awful.  We got a new tub installed because of your nasty ass.”

“No you didn’t old man.  He didn’t Squish.  Hims wying to you,” he leans over rubbing his nose against Fable’s, and gets another whiff.  “You did it didn’t you?  Mommy is not here to deal with this.  Papa?”

“Son, that is your baby.  You gotta change her diaper.”

Blade is spoiled.  He knows how spoiled he is, and he knows by this confession, it’s going to be prove how spoiled he is.  Even his niece and nephews, he’d always hand them back to their parents, but he can’t get out of this.  “I don’t know how.”

Ransom heaves himself out of the chair and looks down at his stinky squishy girl and son, “Well, come on.  That changing room your mother insisted be put in, is about to pay off.”

Ransom and Kitten have a plethora of grandchildren.  So it only made sense to have a room dedicated to changing nasty diapers, and even a place for nursing mother’s to have privacy if they so choose.  “On the table,” Ransom points at the changing table.  “Thankfully, you’re naked a lot,” he speaks down at Fable before looking at Blade, “So that tab, then that tab.  Girls always front to back.  There’s your wipes, that’s the diapers, she looks like she’s a size two, there’s butt paste, and some powder.”

Blade follows his father’s awkward instructions, but in the end gets his Squish so good and clean.  Her fat little legs wiggle with happiness, and those rolly arms slap at the changing table.  “You think you wanna put some clothes on her?” Fable growls up at her Papa, before going back to her giggles.  “Fine then, ya heathen.  Stay naked.”

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

Look at this!! Squishy girl facetiming Papa 🥰

- floof

OH MY GOSH 🥺🥺 Wook at the Squishers!! You know Papa looks forward to these calls every morning! He will accept nothing less, and then when Squish barely knows how to walk, she's calling Papa up all on her own!

[georgiapeach30513]

Now we need the whole nines with little AJ 😂 the boob hurting, the finding out, the bump, Squishers finding out, the family finding out, changing his name, Kitten reacting to the name 😭 PLS IM BEGGING IM ON MY KNEES JUST FOR YOU 🧎🏻‍♀️

AJ was the first Drysdale baby that was a complete surprise…well, they weren’t explicitly trying for a baby. But Blade didn’t do anything to prevent it either. He loved the raw deal without the pressure of checking every month. Blade is basically his father you know.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Anders Jefferson Drysdale

Summary: Blade gets his fifth

Pairings: Blade X Lo

Rating: 🥺🥺

Warnings: Squishers is older 😭😭, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.8K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

You drop the knife down on the counter, and turn and stare right back your husband. He had that dopey look about him, and still so hungry for you. Willow holding on tight to her daddy, while her head rests on his shoulder, her little hand patting on his back, and if he wasn’t so damn hot with his workout clothes, and his sleeves of tattoos on full display, you would be more annoyed.

“What do you want Blade?”

“You look different,” he singsongs, getting a sweet little encore of ‘Mommy’s different’ from Willow.

“I’m wearing green today, yesterday I wore black.”

“Nope, you’re glowing. Those jugs of yours have been spilling over your bra.”

“Steven Blade!”

“Daddy,” Willow leans back and shakes her head at him, “Those are her boobies. Be nice. Say boobies.”

“Mommy’s boobies look bigger.”

“I want big boobies like mommy.”

“No!” he shouts at her, making her giggle at him. “Nobody but mommy gets boobies. Lo?” he looks up at you as you still giggle, “I’m talking about boobies with my daughter.”

“You brought it up,” you remind him, returning to the chopping when he puts Willow down to play with her twin. He walks behind you, wrapping those large arms around you body, taking a deep sniff on your neck, before kissing on the sensitive skin.

“Blade, what are you doing?”

“I need you to take a test.”

“I’m not pregnant. I’m fine. My ‘boobies’ aren’t hurting, I’m not sick, I’m fine.”

“You’ve missed a period,” your movements freeze, and you turn to creepily look at him, “My brain is full of equations, don’t question this too much. But by my guess, I’m thinking your two weeks late.”

“Two weeks?” panicking you walk the two of you to the calendar, and count back, that crazy husband of yours right. “Hmm.”

“And I haven’t held back. And you’ve started to get more sensitive. And even Squishers made a comment about how you looked different. Eggbert is doing that sniffing thing around you that Squish did. Just take a test, and put me out of my misery. My Willie and Elfie are getting too old, and I want a baby.”

You give him a playful growl, “Go to your sister’s then.”

“Lo! Give me a baby. Pretty sure you already are. It’s not a lack of trying.”

“Fable is eight,” Blade bites at your neck, growling about how he knows how old his children are. “You wanting your fifth, Ransom?”

“Ah!” he finally backs away from you, “I despise the day that mom told you that! I am not my father. You take that back.”

“Your father is a great man. There’s worse people to be compared to. You’ve definitely got his ridiculousness,” you have to giggle because he is so ridiculous. His Drysdale showing as he retches. “I’ll take a test!”

“And if you’re not pregnant,” he starts following you through the house. Walking past the playroom, and it gets too quiet.

“Shh, she heard you.”

“You act like my little, ah,” he lets out yip when Fable runs in and stands in front of her dad, giving him a snaggle toothed grin. “Squishers, what are you doing?”

“You…you, you, you, you,” he waits patiently as your daughter tries to collect her thoughts, “You said the p word. Why?”

“There’s a nugget in mommy’s belly,” you wince a bit, because silly nicknames like that stick in your family. “I mean, I don’t actually know.”

“Mommy, do you have a nuggie in that belly? Do you? Why am I always the last to know about these things? Just wait, Beckers! Come here Eggy boy.”

“Do we have to call my beautiful boy that?”

Fable nods her head and waits for Beckett to join her. Slapping on your belly, while she looks at him, “Daddy did it again. He did the chicken poop…”

“You know how to say fertilizer now,” you remind her, already starting to laugh.

“Chicken poop sounds funner. Listen, Eggbert, we’ve been infiltrated again. Willie and Elfie are just now getting trained, and I’m not getting any younger. If there is in fact a Dino nuggie in that belly, I’m giving you the reigns.”

“No. Me don’t want no reigns. Me don’t like training giggle boxes. It’s up to you.”

“If you want something done right. Am I right, mommy?” her lashes bat up at you, and she moves behind you to push you towards the bathroom, “Pee on your stick, and find out. I can’t handle this suspense. And the stress I’m gonna be under. If there’s two in there, we’re giving one to Becks and Azzie. No, James and Iris. No, Lucy and Chris. Let Mimi and Papa handle it. Is it an it or a boy or a girl? It doesn’t matter. Pee on your stick.”

“I’m trying Squish. Out,” you close the door in everyone’s face including Blade’s. You hear the giggling voices of Willow and Elswyth running outside the bathroom, and suddenly you start overthinking.

“Blade, I can’t perform with all of you guys out there.”

“You have peed in front of all of us. We’re needy,” Fable calls out. “You can do it mommy. We just need to know.”

They wait outside the bedroom what seems hours, until you open the door, tears already in your eyes, and you give your big man a nod.

“We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby! If this is just one, I may need another one so I’m not like…”

“Steven Blade!”

“We’ll talk when you’re finished with the Dino nugget.”

“No! Don’t call him that.”

“Dino Nuggies!” Willow shouts, it stuck.

————————————

Blade made things way too obvious by always touching you, and you had two out of four children who didn’t know how to be quiet, Fable and Elswyth. Fable wanted to burst through the door at the estate screaming about the Dino nuggie that was in your belly.

Five kids later, you didn’t even care. But it was hilarious her thinking that she was doing something big. She would tap on someone, and pull them down to her for a quick whisper about your bundle. Waiting until Blade’s mom was last.

Letting little Beckett be the one to crawl in her lap, and tell her how there was a dinosaur in your belly. “A dinosaur? Did mommy eat it?”

“Daddy put it there.”

“Daddy did what?” when she looks up at the two of you, Blade just cups you belly, and you see her sweet tears well up in her eyes. “You’re…you’re having your fifth?”

You giggle a bit but Blade’s face falls flat, “I’m not my father.”

“You are, son. Just embrace it. I still look good for my age. It is a privilege to look like me, and you act,” his mom cuts her eyes over at her husband, and he laughs, “You act nothing like me. Not at all. Nope. You act like Steve.”

“Like that’s any better,” James gives a chuckle, going over to shake Blade’s hand, “I told you when you were just a puny bean pole, you’d fill out. Now look at you, fertile and thick, just like I knew you would be.”

————————————

Frustratingly you try and nurse Suede, but there was nothing that would soothe him. Blade tried holding him, and still your beautiful little boy cried. So much smaller than your other babies, and you wonder if he would get that rotund belly like his siblings. But he wouldn’t if he won’t eat.

You let out a whine looking at Blade, who reaches over to hold him, “Bladey, what am I doing wrong?”

“Babe, he’s new. You didn’t think all the kids were going to precious angels,” Suede lets out a squeal, and Blade apologizes, “You’re an angel, too, son. You’re just really loud.”

You and him hold back your own tears, exhausted, and unsure what to do. The other ones were never like this. He sighs as his parents walk in, his mom looking at your newest bundle of tears instead of joy. “Oh, my sweet Suede-y what’s wrong? Here, let me hold the baby, Blade you comfort Lo. Ran, baby this room is in dire need of some good coffee. Tell BB you’re heading over for the birth special. Suede-y Jefferson, no more tears,” she coos, sitting down on the couch.

It takes a mere moment for your baby to hiccup, trying to catch his breath. Her fingers pets over his skin softly, and she starts singing You Are My Sunshine, “Hey, that’s my song.”

“Blade, shh,” yourself begins to get sleepier with the sound of her voice, and your baby not crying. “Blade?”

“Hmm?” he turns to look at you, and you give him the biggest smile. His mother in a world of her own rocking the sweet babe to sleep.

“Remember one of the names we tossed around?”

“Yes, but we have a Beckett. We don’t need another child named after,” his own gaze watches his mother with tears in her eyes. His dad leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“You look kinda like your daddy, kinda like what I thought your uncle would look like.”

“Mom? I know we said his name was going to be Suede, but.”

“I love that name, and your such a handsome boy. Did you pinch the baby or something?”

“No, it was a name we tossed around in the beginning. And I know that we’ve got Beckett, and Z’s middle name, we’re changing it,” she looks between the two of you, looking confused, and she’s back to looking at your baby when he whimpers. “It sounds good as to what we want thought of calling him.”

“When he’s not being called Dino nuggie. Kitten, can we name him Anders Jefferson? He can go by AJ.”

She pauses, petting over his skin, before leaning over on Ransom’s arm. Her head bobbing as she nods yes. Tears freely flow down her eyes, and Ransom has to wrap his arms around her. “It’s beautiful, but you don’t have to.”

“I want to, Kitten. It seems like he’s got a bit of Anders’ spirit. He hasn’t really stopped crying until you held him.”

“Have you been nothing but tears? We’re gonna to work on that, huh? Anders Jefferson, you were named after two uncles. How very special you are, sweet boy. Do you think you can let mommy hold you, so she can feed you. You’re a little shrimp compared to the other babies.”

She continues her little baby talk to him before walking him over to you. He sniffles a bit, but is calm enough to where he’ll latch on.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispers kissing the top of your head. “Not just for his name. But for giving my baby boy this life. He’s just like his dad, and he loves his babies. So thank you. Ransom, we’re going to get coffee. You two rest, we’ll be back later.”

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

I kindly request you stop breaking my brain with cuteness, but also maybe a smidge of squish content. 💕

But......Squish will do all that to you!

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Squishy Girl

Summary: Blade talks to his Squish

Pairings: Blade Drysdale X Squish Drysdale

Rating: THE FLOOFIEST OF FLOOF

Warnings: Squish, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 400

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

Blade holds his squishy girl on his lap. His fingers constantly squishing her cheeks together, just to hear the best and cutest little sound he's ever heard. Her hands scrunched in a tight fist as she wiggles around. "You're my squishy girl aren't ya?" giving her cheeks another squeeze while you still sleep on the bed next to him.

"You and your mama are my favorite things in life my beautiful little Fa..."

"Are you seriously about to use her real name, instead of Squish?" you turn over to see his fingers pause with the squishes. "Blade Drysdale, I never thought I would see the day."

His smiling face looks down at his daughter, giving another squish to those cheeks just to hear her musical laughter reverberate through the bedroom, "You hear that Squish? Your mom has finally decided it's time to change your birth certificate."

"I did not say that."

"She doesn't want me to call you by your whole name."

"Blade Drysdale, I didn't say that!" he continues to coo down to your daughter. His whole face and eyes lit up the more that chubby girl wiggles around.

"Squish Drysdale...or maybe we should call you Squishy Girl Drysdale. See Lo, she likes it," you narrow your eyes at him, but when that screeching giggle comes out of her mouth at seeing your face, you can't help but to lean forward, giving those chunky cheeks the sweetest nibbles.

"Her name is Fab..."

"Squish Drysdale. It's official. Tell her baby, say even Papa calls me Squish. Because she is mine, and my squishy girl."

"You're ridiculous."

"Don't," he puts a single finger up looking at you with a feigned serious expression. "Don't say that. My god we're turning into my parents."

"There's worse people to turn into."

"Squish, your mom just made me very upset. I'm Ransom Drysdale. Lo," he takes a deep and slow breath. Those deep blue eyes moving between yours and your daughter's faces. "Lo, I don't want five kids. Or six. Squish is perfect. I'm okay with just her."

"Aww, but Squish may need a friend."

"Woman! She's not even a year old! No, wait...she's not getting older. Squishy, I will come up with a way to stunt your growth. Stay this cute chubby blob of squishiness okay?" she squeals up at your boyfriend as an answer. Those legs wiggling and moving around so much. "I'm glad we're agreeing on this!"

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

Since we are starting to get a look at 3rd gen growing up(which feels so weird to me since I feel like it was yesterday we saw baby blade) can we see some of fable and her so, I think you said he was a lawyer?

I just want to state, I'm not going to fully dive into the third generation yet, we haven't fully told the stories of the first, and even the second. But It's fun to look a bit into the future.

I do NOT think you guys are ready for this! So Fable does marry a lawyer, she's known this lawyer since he could walk. AND they're already featured in a little drabble...for references Fable is twenty-seven, Dean is twenty-seven, and Sam is twenty-four.  Dean is also three years younger than Brooks.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Promptly At Six

Summary:  Someone has a crush on Fable

Pairings:  Fable X Sam

Rating: 😂😂

Warnings:  Fable Pearl Drysdale, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  750

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Fable Drysdale Masterlist

Sam huffs out air as they drive up the long road to the estate.  Becoming more nervous with each roll of the tires, “Why are you nervous?”

“Why are you not?” Dean just gives him a confident shrug.  Dean looks over to his brother, and slaps him on the shoulder.  “I just haven’t seen her in a few years.  I’m almost done with Stanford.”

“So is Sammy Winchester finally making it back to Boston, because of a sweet little Squish?” Sam rolls his eyes looking out the window, and seeing her childhood home come into view.  “Women, love younger men, too.  And you shot up there. Last time I saw her,” Dean stops when he sees a woman jump out of the car, his eyes staying on her for a bit too long.

“What was that you were saying?” Sam chuckles.  “You gonna tell Brooks you were checking his sister out?  How often do you stalk her social media?  Lucky for you that’s her job, huh?”

“Shut up.  At least I talk to Illiana.  When was the last time you said anything to Fable?”

“She’s older than me!  Illiana is how old?”

“Twenty-two,” Dean answers quickly.  Already getting out of the car so Sam doesn’t make another dumb ass comment about he knows too much about the girl.  “Keep your mouth shut Sammy.  I’ve got a best friend to worry about, you’ve just got a pretty little Drysdale and a sweet Birdie.  Eat lots of turkey.”

________________________________________________________________

Sam peeks out into the hallway, spotting Fable chatting it up with Birdie Mae, and just about loses his cool.  He turns to walk in the other direction, when he hears some giggles, “Sam Winchester,” he takes a deep gulp, turning around to see the beautiful Fable Pearl Drysdale.  “You’ve grown up, huh?”

Birdie Mae gives her friend a cheek kiss before leaving the two of them.  “You gonna talk to me, or are you just gonna follow me around?”

“I-I-I didn’t.”

“You were standing in the hallway, where there’s a mirror right over there, and I could see you,” she points at the mirror that was a perfect angle for her to see his reflection, just staring at her.  “So why were you lurking around in corners?  Dean got you playing those weird games again?” 

“No.  I just...”

“Is there a secret passage you haven’t got to explore yet?  I know one that Brookie and Dean don’t know.  Care to join me, or are you gonna stand there and stutter?  I don’t bite.”

With a nod of his head, Sam follows Fable through a few rooms, before going into her grandfather’s office, “I know there’s one in here.  Ransom always threatened to lock us in there if we went into this passage.  He always scared me.”

“Boo...well, since we’re in here, have a seat,” he waits for her to sit first before he joins her.  “You really look good Samuel.  Grew up a bit, huh?  Legs for days.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You were looking pretty good back in summer, too.”

“You did, too.”

Fable sits a moment looking at the shy boy, before she sighs in frustration, “Fine.  I’ll let you take me to dinner Saturday night.  I can’t go Friday, because I’m going shopping with my mom, aunts, and a few cousins.  There, you twisted my arm.”

“I’m still in school.”

“Only about a semester, left right?”

“Bachelors, yeah.”

“Hmm,” Fable looks over the man a bit more.  “I’m sure that there’s a law school in Boston.  What’s keeping you at Stanford?”

“So about that date, Saturday?”

“Yes, I like Italian food, but not as much as I like Indian food.  I expect you to pick me up, promptly at six.  Don’t make me wait.  And tell your brother to quit looking Ills up and down.  She’s got a car that she needs repaired, and he needs to insert himself in that.  She’s got a lot of suitors, and quite frankly, I just prefer your brother.”

“Fabes?” Fable looks at her little cousin Daisy as she stands in the doorway.  “Mimi and Papa said to tell you and the tall one that dinner is ready,” she turns around, and swats at the other giants stomach, “Brian, I don’t need to be carried everywhere.”

"You’ve got a weak heart,” he looks at Fable and Sam, smiling and laughing, “She’s got a weak heart.  She only likes reminding me of things like that when she doesn’t get her way.  Like every summer when I cut my hair.”

“I love the curls.”

“Sam, man, just follow her instructions.  She’s already got the reservations at her favorite restaurant.”

“Brian!  I’m gonna murder you!” Fable screams chasing the two out the door, “Come on Sam, you can sit next to me.”

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

Let’s Walk the Giant

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Summary:  WAFFLE

Pairings:  Ransom X Kitten, Foxley

Rating:  cotton ball

Warnings:  floofy animals, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  650

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Papa & Mimi’s Grandbabies Masterlist

This was completely @marveloustaylortot​ idea, down to the cute doggo, and even hims name.  It’s about time the rest of the Drysdale’s get pets!

Ransom comes to a complete stop as he looks at the open dishwasher.  Dramatically he looks around the kitchen.  And the thing squats down, butt up in the air.  “Nope.  No.  Kitten!  Kitten there is a cotton ball in the dishwasher.  Kitten!  Where is my wife?  KITTEN!”

“Papapapapapapapapa,” Foxley waddles in and stares up at Ransom.  “Waffle.”

“Foxy, I’ll make you some waffles when the white cloud dissipates.  Kitten!”

“Waffle!” Foxley shouts stomping her foot.  “My Waffle,” she growls up at Ransom, which only confuses him more.

“Let me figure out the mystery of the puff ball first.”

“Papa,” Foxley grunts at him.

“Foxley.”

“Waffle.”

“I know.”

“Ransom,” both Ransom and Foxley turn to look at his wife, and his whole hand gestures to the white fluff ball.  

“Waffle.”

“Your granddaughter wants waffles, and there’s a thing in the dishwasher.”

“She doesn’t want waffles,” feigning more agitation than he feels he throws up his hands, while she squats.  “Waffle, come here boy.”

“Waffle, Papa.”

“Waffle?  She named the dog Waffle?”

“Yep.  My Waffle,” sitting completely in the floor, Waffle licks all over her face.  “Waffle.”

“First, the giant bunny, because Poppy didn’t want to be without something fluffy when she was here,” she rolls her eyes at him, and gives the fluffy dog some pets.  “Now, cotton candy.”

“You love Biscoff.”

“I have to take care of him.”

“Ran,” she rolls her eyes, walking over to close the dishwasher.  “You ordered Biscoff a special harness.”

“He needs to go for walks.”

“How much did that harness cost?” 

“He has a lot of fluff, and the other one made him uncomfortable.  He’s a big boy,” Kitten looks down at Foxley before back at her husband.  “What I’m saying is,” he stops when Buttercup walks in and sits down beside Ransom.

“Why is Story’s dog here?”

“She was being neglected, because of the babies, so I went and got her.”

“Do you even hear yourself?  You complain more about the animals than anyone else, but you buy Biscoff a custom two hundred dollar harness, you kidnap Buttercup, and every time Noodle is here, she sits in your lap.  Now, you have another fluffy thing to complain about, but secretly you love it completely.”

“Well,” he sputters as she walks away.  “Biscoff was uncomfortable.  Noodle loves me, Buttercup is my princess, and,” he looks down at the marshmallow that follows him, “Shoo.”

“Waffle.”

“I know, the cloud paint is Waffle.  Kitten, why are you walking away from me.”

"Your son is also bringing Squish’s dog by.”

“No!”

“Waffle friend!”

She stops, to glare at Ransom.  “Oh, you just wait.  Harry went against Blade, and got the pet Fable really wanted.  She looks like a teddy bear.”

“Tell him to take it back.  Next we’re going to have something stupid like a llama in our yard or something,” Kitten gives him the biggest smirk, but he shakes his head no.  “No!  No more animals.”

“You sound like Aster.  How many kids does she have now?”

“Kitten, don’t do it.”

“Ooh, which child would want a guinea pig or a parrot?  How majestic you would look with a parrot on your shoulder.  Put you in a puffy shirt and you can be captain of my ship,” she gives him a wink before walking off, followed by Foxley and Waffle.

“Did you hear that?” he asks looking down at Buttercup.  “Your mom has two babies that aren’t a year apart, so I do you a favor.  And that woman, she called me captain, but also is mocking me at the same time.  She’s ridic...”

“You’re ridiculous!” Kitten screams from off.

“I was saying it first!  Buttercup, you wanna take Biscoff for a walk?” Snorting, Buttercup lays down on the floor.  “You’ve got to get along with the giant rabbit.  Poppy said she wants me and her to take all the bunnies for a walk.  Go get your leash.  I’ll give you a strawberry when we get back,” Buttercup perks up, her tongue hanging out her mouth as she looks at him.  “Who’s a good girl?  Go get your leash, lets walk the giant.”

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

I think we need some Blade and Lo in the new house or building the new house adventures… because I’m sure Bladey wants to give her her perfect dream house but she’s always telling him it’s too much.

-🥭

Blade and Lo building/and the new house!  It took a long time for Blade to actually POP the question, but he also wanted Lo to know he was serious.  So when she became pregnant, his gift to her was to build a house, on the estate property, just like Story (Iris and James, while not on the actual estate property, they’re not far.  Aster and Beck currently live in Ransom and Kitten’s townhouse).

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Limited Enough

Summary:  your house still isn’t finished

Pairings:  Blade X Reader

Rating:  sweet

Warnings:  Squish in the womb, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  800

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Blade Drysdale Masterlist

Blade shows you yet another book of fixtures for the kitchen.  Giving you the pros and cons of each one.  Overwhelmed you rub at your little bump, trying to listen to what he has to say.  Everyday, it’s a new set of decisions to make.  While you understand his want to build on the estate property, you can’t help but think that buying would have been easier.

“Blade,” he continues to talk about something, and you repeat his name again.  Still ignoring you, until you pick up his hand to place on your bump.  “Blade, I trust you.  I helped in the design and layout of the house, and maybe when I don’t have have your daughter kicking my ribs like she’s trying to break out of her the oven, I might think differently.  I want light and bright.  I showed you my inspiration photos.  Figure it out.”

“But...”

“Make an executive decision.  I’d like to think you know me, and us well enough.  Gotta make sure things are safe for our wee little...what’s she the size of this week?”  Blade bashfully looks down at the table, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.  “I think it’s adorable you know what kind of fruit or vegetable our sweet girl is.  So what is she this week?”

“A head of lettuce,” you gasp rubbing his hand over yours.  “Almost ten weeks away, and we’ve still got so much to do.”

“I told you the house was getting too big.”

“Kids, Lolita!  You want kids,” rolling your eyes you look around the penthouse of mostly packed up boxes.  You were told that you would feel the need to start nesting.  It’s here.  You’re ready now, and it makes your skin crawl that you’re packing things up, instead of setting up your baby’s room.  “We want kids.  I definitely want this little one.  I’ll make sure that Beau and James bring in some extra people.  This is a bigger build than they normally work on, but I didn’t want anyone else working on the house.”

“I just need it finished.  I want to decorate our daughter’s room.  You figure out the light switches, the nobs, the latches, and whatever else.  Light and bright in our kitchen and living room.  And for the love of god, quit adding to the house,” Blade only gives you a smile.  “You thought I wouldn’t notice?  Or notice you hiring that Hal Carter kid to transform the yard?”

“Fable needs a place to play.”

“Blade, it’s too much.”

“Lo,” his hand resting on your belly moves to cup your cheek.  “This is our home.  The only one I wanna live in.  It’s on my family land, and I want Fable, and whoever else comes after to grow up and come back to visit us, like we do at the estate.  I have all these memories of playing in that big ass house and all the secret passages, and I want that for our kids.  I know it’s big, but we got the estate and the castle to contend with.”

“I’m not having that many kids.  We don’t need a castle.”

“I know.  My kids will have a bad ass tree house like that though,” he pulls out his phone to show you a picture of a tree, “That’s it.  Beau is already working on a design for it, and it’s on an incline to those rowdy Baizen boys’ treehouse.  Zipline.”

“One of our kids falls off that, we won’t be too happy.”

“Lo, a zipline to the two coolest treehouses in history!  A treehouse that we can go into, until Fable gets big enough to climb up,” you shake your head no answering him.  “A zipline!  Do know how much fun Otto would have going from that tree to his?”

“Or how much fun Blade would have?  That’s what this is about.  Blade and Harry, and you’re dragging that sweet little boy in on your plans,” he may try to add more, “Otto is a sweet little boy, that you and Harry have corrupted and taught him how to gamble using gushers.  That’s on you.  But before you start worrying about that treehouse for a child that’s not even been born yet.  Let’s get the house finished.  I’m limited enough as it is, okay?”

“Okay.  I’ll tell Beau to halt construction on the treehouse.”

“Please tell me he didn’t start?”

“We have to get the powerlines to reach to it.  It’s not something simple.”

“You’re ridiculous,” standing up you go to walk away, packing up even more things.

“My father is ridiculous!” Blade looks back to these stupid fixtures, “I’m not ridiculous.  I’m giving my kids the best.  And now I sound like my dad.  I hate myself.”

“Quit talking to yourself!”

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

hi jen it’s me again 😏😏😏

thank you so much for giving us your brats so many ellie and becks content lately!!! but is it okay if we get a floofy history of her nickname ellie belly coz i really feel like papa was the one who gave that nickname because ellie as a baby was always milk drunk and then when she was teething, she was always eating papa’s secret stash of biscoff so she had a squishy belly HAHAHAHA

thank you, jen! 💗💗💗💗💗

🍁

It was Papa who gave Ellie her nickname, and while Ellie was a chonky girl, she still wasn't as much of a chunk as Squish!

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Ellie Belly

Summary:  Ransom can not get enough of Eliana Rune Henry

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Eliana

Rating:  CUTEST STUFF

Warnings: soft!Ransom, Ellie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  600

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Aster Drysdale Masterlist

Ransom can hardly contain his excitement about having two babies at the estate.  Otto is typically with his mom and dad, while Ellie?  She is always with Ransom.  Constantly in his arms is where you’ll find her.  Making sure that she’s always got a clean diaper and well fed.  Ransom adores when her cheeks got extra chubby, so when she sneezes they jiggle a bit.

Holding a Biscoff cookie near her mouth, so Ellie can gum it to mush Aster scolds him.  “Daddy, we talked about this.”

“I know, and I’m not listening.  Why can’t she teethe on Biscoffs?  Look at her, she loves them, Az,” she rolls her eyes and continues packing her things for work.  “Tell her baby, tell mommy that Papa is number one,’ Ellie lets out a bit of gurgles giggling to her mom.

“Well, Ellie, you make sure you’re a sweet girl for Papa, Mimi, and Story okay?” more random chatter is spoken to her mom before Ransom nibbles on that chubby cheek.  Getting a bit of Biscoff mush with it.

“It’s gross, but I missed that,” Aster rolls her eyes giving her dad a kiss before leaving.  “It’s just you and me Ellie girl.  Everyone else is asleep, but I like waking up to spend extra time with you, before Otto comes and takes you away form me, huh?”

He continues playing with the little girl, until his nose curls up, “You’re nasty.  You finished?” letting out another gassy giggle she smiles up at Ransom, “You’re starting to sound just like Otto.  That boy loves to laugh with his toots.  You’re supposed to be a lady,” he playfully chastises her, walking her into the changing area downstairs.  

Smiling and cooing down at her, while he has to completely change her, “You are such a stinky girl, Ellie,” washing her off before he puts her in a diaper, searching for an outfit for the chubby girl.  “Wook at this belly.  Goah I could eat it up,” Ransom looks around the room, deciding it is in fact time to bite at that chubby squishy belly.  

Leaning back dramatically before he dives right in, nipping and blowing raspberries all over her belly, and Ellie just laughs and giggles uncontrollably.  Leaning back once more, Ellie’s fist clench tightly together while she releases a playful screech, “I’m gonnna get cha belly,” before he’s back to tickling her belly with his mouth.  

“Baby, she can barely breathe she’s laughing so hard,” you tell him.  Loving seeing your grumpy cat husband so animated with one of his grandbabies.  He looks down at Ellie, and it’s true.  Her laughs and breaths nearly come out as gasps, and Ransom stands there letting her calm down before inhaling sharply.

“Gonna get my Ellie Belly,” before he ever touches her, those laughs turn into screams.  Her fingers pull at his hair, but still that baby giggles.  “Dis is my Ellie Belly,” he warns her a final time.  Giggling himself.  “Kitten, you know I love our kids, but this...grandbabies are the best.  Why are they happier?”

“Because for the hard parts we let their parents deal with them?”

He turns to gape at you.  Picking Ellie up to squish up against his face, “I will take whatever I can get.  They are precious.  Ellie Belly, Mimi is being mean to Papa.”

“Oh geeze,” rolling your eyes at him, while he continues dressing her.  “We did good, baby.  I know Ellie wasn’t conceived under the best circumstances, nor Otto, but man, they’re perfect huh?”

“Yes, they are,” you kiss along his neck as he does his baby talk, making sure to give her toes a little nibble.  “We have the most perfect grandbabies, and I love it!”

Masterlist

[georgiapeach30513]

we haven’t seen poppy and thorn 🥺🥺🥺 can we have some random moments with poppy, thorn, and papa throughout the years? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

OH MY GOODNESS!!  Do you think Kitten is ready for another set of twins!  Or just babies in general.  Kitten loves all the babies.  And Papa...he loves them babies too!  And finally someone else having boys besides Story!

🖤🖤🖤🖤

The Day You Were Born

Summary:  Papa loves hims babies

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Reader, Poppy and Thorne

Rating:  FLUFF

Warnings:  soft!Ransom, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  600

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Iris Drysdale Masterlist

Iris leans her head over on James’ shoulder as Ransom holds both Poppy and Thorne.  His eyes shining down at the twins.  Iris drifting off to sleep knowing that her little babies will be taken care of.   Not to mention she’s just so comfortable on her husband.  

Posie takes her fingers, squishing Thorne’s chubby cheeks, and looks up at Ransom smiling.  “Do you remember when I was that little?”

“Oh, my sweet girl, I remember the day you were born.  Just this tiny little thing.  I had forgot how small babies could be.  Everyone was excited about you being home.  Always fighting over who would hold you.”

She smiles up at her dad before looking back down at her baby brother and sister.  “They’re miracles, Papa.”

“So were you.”

________________________________________________________________

Ransom sitting at the table with two glass jars of freshly made baby food; one for Poppy and one for Thorne.  Their toddler selves sitting in Bumbos, feeding them, while you cook supper.  Thorne’s fists squeeze tightly together as he gives a little screech.  Gritting his two teeth together, and getting a belly laugh from his twin.  Her body jiggling at the fact that Papa isn’t feeding him fast enough.

“No sir.  You’ve got to take turns.  That was Poppy’s turn,” Poppy won’t even close her mouth over the spoon, making the orange substance squish out of her mouth.  “Now, it’s Thorne’s turn.”  When the food goes into Thorne’s mouth, he blows a big raspberry.  Spewing the substance on Ransom who looks over to you.  “Hawthorne Sterling Rogers,” he scolds, but when Thorne gives a dramatic pout Ransom’s own face softens.

“Oh I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you buddy.  You’re okay.  No don’t,” one look at her brother, and Poppy starts her own pout, “No, no, Poppy not you too.”

“Aw, come here Thorne,” you pull up the chubby fellow out of his seat and start bouncing him.  Slowly he calms down, and Poppy gives him a teared smile.  

“How did you do it?” he asks you looking at the two of them, and you hum a hmm, questioning him.  “Two of them.  They’re always just there.”

“Well, Captain, when you don’t have a choice, you just make it happen.”

“How much longer until Iris picks them up?” you give him a questioning look, “You’re the one that brought up Captain.”

“Oh for Pete's sake, Ran.  Are you ever not going to want to jump on the bed?”

“Never, woman.”

________________________________________________________________

Ransom stands out in the garden that his grandfather started all those years ago.  New flowers and plants have continued to be added through the years.  The newest hawthorn bushes and bright red poppies added to the mix.  He sighs watching the two of his littlest grandbabies holding hands as they wobbly walk through the garden.  

He takes a deep breath, and sips at his warm coffee when the two of them stop to give him a toothy smile, continuing to walk further away.  Coming from behind you slide your hands around his back, resting them around his waist, and rest your chin on his shoulder.  “I don’t think I tell you enough, Kitten, but thank you?”

“For what baby?”

“All these years.  You didn’t have to choose me.  Didn’t have to keep giving me babies.  And now look, our daughters just keep having little rug rats, and your son has finally knocked someone up,” you give his little tush a pinch and he laughs.  Tilting his head to the side he gives you a soft peck.  “I love you and our life.”

“I love you, too, Ran.  It was all worth it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling you from behind him, to standing right by his side.

“Yeah.”

Masterlist